INTO THE NEBULA

Chapter One
THE MAPPING NEVER STOPS.
As long as a starship computer system has the power
to function and sensor inputs to process, some part of
that system is analyzing those inputs, comparing the
results with its own internal image of the external
universe and correcting that image when differences are
detected. Even under battle conditions-especially
under battle conditions, when even the smallest of
discrepancies between image and reality could
conceivably spell disaster-this
nanosecond-by-nanosecond updating is going
on.
The only time the updating stops is when the
sensors encounter an anomaly, something that is
simply outside the parameters of what the computer,
acting on both its programming and its
experience, defines as "normal." Of course, the
incoming data continues to be stored, so that, when and if
the anomalous data is proven to be correct, it
is still available.
The first thing the computer does when it encounters such
an anomaly is run a complete diagnostic of the
sensors involved, then of itself. If no
malfunctions, no miscalibrations are found, it
alerts the crew and awaits instructions.
"Come in."
Lieutenant Commander Data did not look up from
the tricorder as the door to his living quarters
hissed open and Commander Geordi La Forge stepped
inside. His cat, Spot, on the other hand, darted
under the bed.
"Data, does that cat hate everyone? Or is
it just me?" Geordi shook his head. "Never mind.
Just tell me, why did you want to see me? And
what is so fascinating about your tricorder?"
"I do not believe she hates anyone," Data
said, still not looking up. "Most of the material I have
been able to access indicates that, except when
directly threatened, cats are essentially
indifferent to humans."
"I wouldn't call that a display of
indifference," Geordi said, glancing toward the
space beneath the bed, where Spot's high feline body
temperature still produced a distinctive infrared
signature in his VISOR even though the cat had
retreated to the far side, completely out of sight.
"Perhaps not," Data said, finally looking up from his
tricorder, "but neither is it open hostility."
"I'll take your word for it," Geordi sighed,
wondering if beating around the bush was part of Data's
continuing effort to be more human, "but you still haven't
told me why you wanted to see me."
"As you know, I have been observing Spot's
behavior for some time now, and I often find it most
intriguing. For example, I have noticed that Spot
will often dart suddenly from one place to another. I have
been unable to detect any visual, auditory,
or olfactory stimulus to which she might be
responding, so I have been attempting-was
"You're using a tricorder to find out what sets
her OV Data, she's just being a cat! I'm no
expert on feline behavior, but even I know that
much. Something in her tiny little cat mind makes her
decide she has to be somewhere else-immediately. And she
goes."
"If you are suggesting that her actions are the
result of random synaptic discharges or similar
phenomena, I do not believe that to be the case."
Geordi chuckled as he shook his head. Data
no longer took every remark as literally as he once
had, but he still had his moments. "That's not what I
meant, Data. I just meant-actually, I don't
know what I meant. But nobody knows what a cat
thinks about, if anything. Maybe she just suddenly
remembers that she liked it a lot better someplace
else, so she decides to check it out. You should
probably get Counselor Troi down here. If
you could get Spot to perform for her, maybe she could
at least tell if Spot is frightened or happy
or whatever it is cats feel."
Data seemed to consider the advice for a moment.
"That is an excellent suggestion, Geordi,"
he said. "I will ask the counselor."
"Then you won't be needing me." Geordi started
to turn toward the door.
"I still would like your assistance, Geordi."
Geordi sighed again and turned back to Data.
"All right. But you still haven't told me just what it
is you want me to do."
"I would like you to watch Spot."
Geordi shook his head. "No, thanks,
Data. I did that once, remember? We just
didn't get along. Maybe Worfcom9 at
"I did not mean I wished you to care for her,
only to watch her. A possibility exists that your
VISOR might enable you to detect something that would not be
detectable either by myself or by the tricorder."
"When she does her
'I-gotta-be-someplace-else" act?"
"That is correct, Geordi. I realize it
might take some time before such an event occurs, but-was
"Hold on a minute. You want me to just sit
around and stare at your cat? For hours? I don't
think so.
Look, Data, I don't want to dampen your
scientific curiosity, but I really think you're
wasting your time.
Cats have been around since the pyramids and no
one's been able to figure them out yet. And
franklyno offense intended, Spot-it's
probably because there's nothing there to figure out."
"Perhaps you are right, Geordi, but there is a great
deal of research indicating that cats and other
animals are able to sense phenomena that humans can
not.
For example, there is strong statistical
evidence that both cats and dogs sense impending
earthquakes."
"Statistical?" Geordi frowned skeptically.
"Sure, lots of people talk about how their cat or
dog went bananas before an earthquake, but that's
anecdotal, not statistical."
"I understand that, Geordi, and that is not the
phenomenon I was referring to. There were a number of
statistical studies made of the classified
advertisements in newspapers in areas in which
earthquakes occurred. In a significant
percentage of instances, the number of advertisements
for missing and runaway pets, both feline and
canine, increased by fifty percent or more in the week
immediately prior to a significant earthquake."
Geordi grinned. "Data, unless I missed a
Starfleet bulletin recently, an earthquake is
one of the few hazards a starship doesn't have
to worry about, SO I seriously doubt that that's
what's making Spot twitchy."
"Of course not, Geordi. I merely cited that
as an example of animal behavior that has never
been adequately explained. However, there is much
that has never been fully understood about the natural
abilities of not only eats but of other
animals. Migrating birds, for example-was
"Data, don't go mystical on me. Birds
have a directional sense. I don't remember how
it works, exactly, but I do know that scientific
explanations were found all the way back in the
twentieth century."
"That is precisely my point, Geordi.
Among the explanations for certain migratory
birds was a sensitivity both to earth's magnetic
field and to polarized light. Even lower life-forms
were found to have similar sensitivities. Certain
worms, for example, determined "up" and
"down" in response to the magnetic field."
Geordi laughed. "You're joking, right?
Worms?"
"I am not joking, Geordi. A number of
experiments were conducted with worms taken from Earth's
southern hemisphere to the northern, where the direction
of the vertical component of the magnetic field was
essentially reversed. The worms consistently behaved
in ways that indicated they thought up was down and vice
versa."
"With a worm, how can you tell?"
"I do not know, Geordi. However, I can access
the complete text of the reports if you wish.
The rationale of the experiments-was
"No, thanks, Data. Thanks, but no
thanks."
As if to add her own commentary, Spot chose that
moment to dart from under the bed, streak across the floor, and
disappear behind Data's desk.
,11 didn't see a thing," Geordi said
hastily as he turned to the door, "and I'm
probably needed in engineering."
A moment later, to his surprise, the voice
of the computer confirmed that. he actually was needed in
engineering, on a matter involving anomalous sensor
data. it added that Data's presence on the bridge
would also be appreciated regarding the same matter.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard was in his quarters,
grimly working on the seemingly never-ending crew
fitness reports, when the computer, in effect, threw
in the towel and asked for help. Picard, who
welcomed any interruption of this particular duty,
q " uickly abandoned the barely started reports
and headed for the bridge even though he knew he could have
just as easily handled the situation-whatever it turned out
to be-from his quarters. Lieutenant Commander Data and
Commander La Forge were far better qualified than
he to deal with whatever the computer was worrying
about-Mr. Data if the anomaly proved to be out
there in the real world, Mr. La'eorge if it proved
to be the result of some momentary glitch within the
Enterprise itself. Nonetheless, if rank had its
obligations-such as having to struggle with the fitness
reports-it also had its privileges, such as being
able to delay that particular struggle on a
relatively flimsy pretext.
Data was already seating himself at the ops console when
Picard emerged onto the bridge. A red-haired
ensign-Curtis, Picard noted automatically,
among the top ten percent in her class last year
at the Academy-sat at the conn. The unmoving
starfield on the main viewscreen indicated that the
Enterprise had dropped out of warp drive, standard
procedure under the circumstances.
Picard gave Data a few seconds to pull
the necessary information from his console, then asked, "What
seems to be the problem, Mr. Data?"
"There are two anomalies, Captain, both
related to a star approximately half a parsec
distant, bearing forty-two-point-six-three, mark
twenty-seven-pointone-four. Visual
spectroscopic analysis indicates a
middle-aged star similar to Earth's sun.
It has at least four planets, but there is also a
substantial ring of what appears to be nebular
dust centered on the ecliptic. Such a ring would be
typical of a young sun whose planets had not yet
formed but decidedly atypical of a mature sun with
an existing family of planets."
"You said it 'appears" to be nebular dust."
There was no change in Picard's voice or
demeanor, but an anticipatory tingle rippled
up his spine, as it always did when the Enterprise
encountered something new and unexpected in unexplored
space. "What, precisely, is its makeup?"
"That is the second anomaly, Captain. The
sensors cannot obtain a reliable analysis. There
is interference of some sort, possibly a
systemwide energy field."
Picard frowned. Red flags, born of other
encounters and other times, sprang up in his mind,
intensifying the tingle and partially changing its nature,
from anticipatory to apprehensive. "A shield,
you mean?"
"No, Captain, a different sort of
interference. The sensors do not appear to be blocked
in any way, but the information they return from the dust
cloud varies widely from moment to moment and
is therefore obviously unreliable."
"And the source of this interfering energy field, if
that's what it is?"
"Unknown, Captain. I cannot be certain that it is
I even an energy field. It is possible that the
interference is the result of a property of space
itself in that region. were we to approach more closely,
however, the sensors might be able to-was
"Not yet, Mr. Data. What you describe
indicates the possible existence of a highly advanced
technology. It also suggests that the possessors of
that technology feel they have something to hide. It is
not a situation to charge into blindly." He turned
to Lieutenant Worf at the tactical station.
comIs there any indication of communication traffic,
Mr. Worf, either subspace or old-style?"
"None in t e system, Sir," the Mingon
rumbled, then paused, his massive fingers moving
deftly across the console before him. "That at ere is a
faint EM signal originating at least a quarter
parsec outside the system."
"Source, Mr. Data? Or is it subject
to interference as well?"
"The interference appears to be limited to the star
Captain. I will redirect the long-range
system itself, sensors."
f the signal? Information "Mr. Worf, the
nature o content?"
"It appears to employ a form of frequency
modulation, Sir. The limited bandwidth indicates
that whatt is almost certainly limited ever information is
presen i to audio. The signal is being fed into the
computer for analysis."
"Put it on the speakers as soon as you get
anything, intelligible or not."
"Yes, Sir."
As Picard turned back to Data and the
viewscreen, deck exercise," he said hastily as
he joined Pi) in the command area behind Data and
Ensign tis. "Counselor Troi convinced me I
should try the new table-tennis program. That game
is not as easy as it looks. Now, what have we run
into that stumped the computer?"
Tersely, Picard explained. As he finished,
the image on the main viewscreen went from the
slow-moving Starfield in front of the Enterprise
to a seemingly stationary one. In the center of the screen
was a faint, metallic dot. A ship of some kind?
"Maximum magnification," Picard ordered, the
tingle spreading out from his spine to brush at his
entire body. "Is that the source of the EM
signal?"
"It would appear to be, Captain," Data said.
On the screen, the dot further confirmed
Picard's suspicion by expanding into a slowly
rotating ship.
Without realizing he was doing it, he leaned forward a
fraction of an inch in his chair, as if by that
minuscule motion he could bring the ship closer, force
it to reveal its secrets more quickly. The forward
section, he saw, was an almost featureless cylinder.
At the rear of the cylinder, protruding dozens of
meters in all directions like a massive
Elizabethan collar, was a disk-shaped shield.
Beyond the shield, only partly visible from this angle,
was a second, smaller segment, presumably
containing the ship's drive.
"And there is only the one ship?" Picard
prompted.
t The only one in that immediate vicinity, Capain,"
Data replied. "We would have to conduct a
comprehensive sensor scan of the entire volume of
space surrounding the star to determine if other ships
exist but are not generating detectable subspace or
EM signals."
Commander Will Riker, looking a bit flushed but
"Life-forms, Mr. Data?" Picard had voiced
the otherwise presentable, strode onto the bridge-
"Holo- question in one form or another more times than he
could remember, in more parts of the galaxy than once
he could have dreamed of seeing, but each time it was as
fresh as the first, an unneeded reminder of one of the
central reasons for the existence of the Enterprise and of
Starfleet itself.
"Approximately ten thousand humanoid
life-forms in the forward cylinder, Captain, and
abundant plant and animal life."
"A generation ship?"
"It would appear to be, Captain. It is
rotating at a rate that would provide
approximately one gravity at the outermost point
of the cylindrical habitat. And the drive is
pre-impulse, powered by a primitive form of
nuclear fission," Data said, but even as he
spoke, the stubby rear section of the ship came
into view, not a cylinder but a squat oval with
numerous protrusions that Abruptly, a sinking
sensation in Picard's stomach muted the tingle that still
played along his spine.
Protruding haphazardly from the rear of the
ship was a series of what must once have been
massive jets. But now they were barely
recognizable, looking as if they had partially melted
and then rehardened into Dalilike caricatures of
themselves.
The ship was, Picard realized, a derelict,
but a derelict with roughly ten thousand living,
intelligent beings aboard.
Chapter Two
EACH NIGHT when finally sleep approached,
Koralus vowed that when he awakened he would make the
announcement. He would share with the Ten Thousand the
secret-the burden-that had dominated his life for more
than ten years.
Each morning, faced with the reality of the ship and the
Ten Thousand whose lives he was planning to disrupt,
he would hesitate. Most mornings he got no
farther than the entrance to the dozen flights of metal
steps that led to the long-vacant bridge. Perhaps one
time in ten, he would reach the top and speak the code that
unlocked the door, only to enter and stare at F'the
now-useless controls and the slowly turning but otherwise
unchanging starfield that still filled the ,forward port.
A dozen times in the last year, he had gone so far
as to activate the seldom-used shipwide
system of screens and speakers, but each time, when the
acknowledgments from the sector leaders had
expectant, begun to come in and he had seen their
trusting faces one by one, his resolve had failed and
he had passed it off as simply another test of the
system.
What was the point in shattering their lives for no his
own burden, his own reason other than to lessen
isolation?
In truth, there was no point. There was nothing any
of them could do. There was nothing he could do, either for himself
or for them. Except keep them safe, d to know, a
for a time, from a truth they had no nee ence pointless.
truth that would make their very exist As it had already
made his.
The original Ten Thousand had known from the moment the
Hope of Krantin had been launched that without ever
again setting they would die in space comany planet.
A dying' foot on the surface of a planet
Krantin was being left irrevocably behind, and the
hypothetical worlds that circled the star that was their
destination were centuries distant, if they existedddat
all. If they did not, it would be even more centuries
and more generations to the next likely star.
had been filled with opti But the Ten
Thousand mism and hope, if not for themselves, then for their
descendants, a dozen generations down the line, and
tion that would be rebuilt for the Krantinese
civiliza on one of those worlds. If they had not, they
would never have volunteered. If they had not believed
Koralus and the handful of others who had stood
otherwise have been his wife, had even entertained some
hope for himself personally, for himself and the rest of the One
Hundred. If the statistical models proved
true, at least one in four of their group would
survive the series of hibernations and awakenings.
Beyond that, theory said, it was up to them. If during
their waking periods they were able to teach and train each
new generation, if they were able to maintain the
Hope-including their own hibernation chambers through the
centuries, they would survive. If they were able
to maintain the reality of Krantin-and of their destination
worlds-in the minds of the Ten Thousand through generation after
generation of knowing only the world of the ship, then Krantin
itself would have a chance, not of surviving but of being reborn
through their descendants. Even Koralus himself,
fifty years old when the Hope departed, could
conceivably live to see the beginnings of that rebirth.
Or so he had hoped.
But then, less than ninety years into their
journey, barely a month into what had been scheduled
to be his first five-year watch, those hopes had been
shattered. All of the hopes, not just those for himself
personally.
The drive had failed, not in any of the thousands of
failure modes its designers and builders had
predicted but in one that none had anticipated. He
had awak ened nearly a quarter of the One Hundred
to try to against all odds to get the ships built, they
would have at right the situation, but all to no avail.
He had been thrown all their efforts into the sealing of the
cities' able only to watch as they lost their lives,
slowly and and lived their lives out on Krantin
among their at painfully, journeying down the central
core past the friends and families rather than isolated
in mammoth! shield to the drive pod again and again, with
nothing metal canisters drifting through space.
tgained for their sacrifice except the certainty of
fail And Koralus, though he dared not share it with
any, ure. The last of the awakened technicians had
reof the Ten Thousand, not even the one who might"...stored
and diverted the power that still maintained
Gene oeWeese life-support and other
necessities in the sections forward of the shield, but
the drive remained dead, unrepairable without
the facilities that were ninety years behind them and
probably no longer existed in any case.
He had donned a suit himself at the last, but he
had ming party in the core been met by the final retu
passageway before he reached the shield. The
telitales on their suits had already told them they
would be dead within days if not hours, but
collectively they had had the strength to turn him
back and the compassion to convince him that his own death uld
only make matters would serve no purpose, co
worse for the Ten Thousand for however many years or
decades the Hope had left.
Repeatedly, then, he transmitted a message
to Krantin, tersely informing them of the Hope's
fate, but he had no expectation of a reply.
Krantin had had no reason to think that been silent
for decades;
This particular morning had so far proved little
different from the thousands that had gone before. If anything,
his decision to yet again delay the announcement had come
more easily, more quickly than usual; his memory of the
previous night's resolve was more tenuous, as if
he were finally beginning to acknowledge that it was only a
ritual, that its only meaning, its only importance
was in its contribution to his own
psychological survival.
Tired in spite of his decreasing weight, he
climbed-almost floated-the last dozen steps to the
entrance to the bridge, his eyes avoiding the other
door, the one that led to the total weightlessness of the
core and the frost-rimed hibernation chambers where the
remnants of the One Hundred waited. Waited I
accusingly, he imagined for the thousandth time. As
accusingly as the Ten Thousand would look at him if
they knew the truth, that the Hope was doomed and that he
was one of the handful most responsible for e still alive
on "their presence on it, for its very existence.
word of his failure-if there was anyon Krantin
to hear it-,wd spur any survivors to new For a
long moment he hovered at the top of the activity.
Messages to the other ships were still being: stairs, not so
much debating whether or not to continsent, though
expectations of a reply from that quarter ue but simply
existing, like a particle caught between were equally low.
Since the first decade after launch two energy
states. Finally, as if nudged by an errant hip
communication- The 1 breeze from the air-circulation
system, he drifted there had been no inters other
ships might have suffered even more disastrous toward the
door. He heard his own voice speaking the
code that released the door, though he hadn't been
failures than the Hope.
And even if they were still functioning, even if one
conscious of making the decision to speak.
of them did reply, even offer to help,
Koralus could The door slid open, as soundlessly
as it had the day not accept that help. The others had
their own desti- they had launched from orbit. It, at
least, was still in nations. Diverting them to rendezvous with the
Hope at perfect working order.
would only add more generations and more dangers He
stepped-glided-in.
to their journeys, and that was the last thing he And
froze, his stomach knotting, his heart suddenly of
what had'racing.
wanted. He could only warn them happened to the
Hope and remind them that their at On a panel far
to the left of the ponderously own survival was therefore
all the more important. at rotating starfield, a
light glowed-a light that had not come alive even
once in the years since he had been awakened. A
light he had never expected-nor, truth be known,
wanted-to see.
A twin to the light that had been glowing
intermittently since his own messages had
begun to be transmitted.
A reply.
Or at least a signal. From somewhere. The first in
more than ninety years.
Surprised at the intensity of his reaction,
Kora us gripped the waist-high handrail and pulled
his virltually weightless body to the panel and
strapped himself into the seat in front of the glowing light.
How long, he wondered, had it shone unnoticed?
Not that it mattered, he told himself grimly as he
fought to keep his hands from shaking as he reached out to the
controls. When the nearest possible source-one of the
Hope's sister ships-was half a light-year
distant, there was little urgency for an immediate reply.
Hope continued to send out to be of any use to the
Hope itself.
His stomach twisted painfully as he worked the
controls that would play back the message. If there
was a message, if the light and the recorders had not
simply been triggered by a random burst of static.
If it had not been the result of yet another
malfunctionA voice emerged from the console, a
voice that could have been a twin to his own.
Starship? The Hope and its five sister ships were
the only starships. There was no way
Krantin could have built more, even if the Plague
had reversed itself the very day the Hope had been
launched.
The message was repeating itself for perhaps the tenth time
when Koralus finally realized that, despite the
fact that the words were in the one surviving Krantinese
language and that the voice was almost indistinguishable from
his own, the speaker was not from Krantin or any of the
Hope's sister ships.
It was an alien, from another star system.
And it was offering assistance.
A mixture of hope and fear twisted at him as
he darted a look at the still-rotating, still-empty
starfield and reached again for the controls.
Picard turned back to the main viewscreen and the
Slowly rotating alien ship that now half-filled
it. The situation was not as bad as he had feared when
he had first seen the distorted, almost unrecognizable
drive Koralus frowned puzzledly as the brief
message 1 But still there was no response to a
continuous hail began to repeat itself. The words were
familiar, but ion all EM frequencies within
hundreds of megahertz his mind refused to make
sense of them. Federation"...lof the frequency that carried
the message.
WhatFederation"...FarbackinKrantin'shistoryeathere
at "Is their receiving equipment functional, Mr.
had been alliances that might have called
theniselvesData?" Picard asked finally.
Federations, but those had been gone for centuries.
at
"It appears to be, Captain. It is Possible
they are though the jets themselves were useless, the fission
reactor, buried deep within the bulbous drive
unit, still functioned and supplied Power to the
habitat cylinder.
Then the Universal Translator DrOgrain
had mastered the almost melodic languag at of the
alien ship's automated message, and the evidence
of the sensors had been confirmed by the words of one who
called himself Koralus.
And it was far too late for warnings like the ones the
f jets. Early on, the Enterprim sensors had
shown that, simply not monitoring it, however, and are not
aware of our hail.
"How many years have they been traveling?" Riker
wondered, seeming to echo Picard's own thought. "If
as their present velocity indicates, it's it's
been as Ion te. no wonder they aren't listening every
minu
"That is true, Commander," Data volunteered.
"In fact, if their life spans are equivalent
to those of ny 'resentlally aboard were humans, it is
doubtful that a p alive when the
,6Then it's system that sti
"Not certain surning that V con remained esser
nated in or pas";
that systei ne hundred Years ago.
in the star likely. As ion have
"None that I can detect, Captain. The ship
itself is completely unarmed, and there are no energy
signatures indicating personal energy weapons.
Based on the technology level of the ship, however,
it is unlikely they would have developed phasers or
disruptors.
They might still be dependent upon projectile
weapons, which our sensors could not detect."
Riker shook his head. "Projectile weapons
on a spacecraft? Not likely."
"Not likely," Picard agreed, "but far from
impossible." Supposedly intelligent beings had
done far more foolish things, he thought as the misshapen
drive jets grew clearer on the viewscreen.
One, he saw, had folded in on itself and appeared
completely sealed, and he couldn't help but
wonder if Koralus's message had told the
complete truth when it spoke of the damage being
solely the result of equipment nial0 11 ation
ships" Riker said, a touch of admira- I
function.
A gener lucky Cochrane came up " "How
long can they survive on their own, Mr. tion in his
voice. "Earth was with the warp drive when he did.
Without it, I doubt 'Data?" he asked grimly.
utside the Sol system-was
"That is impossible to estimate accurately,
Capthat we'd ever have gotten o e theirs is
. the same shap itain. The reactor has been
repaired in makeshift ways, comIf our system were
in Number One, I suspect we would not haveg"
Picard at but it could continue to function for
decades, though said. . He *with increasing radiation
leakage. Ultimately, howev shape that isea"9
Riker countered Ler the repairs will fail and the
reactor will destroy
"Whatever comI suggest an at at s'elf and the
ship."
looked again at the ship on the screen.
away team, Captain. From the condition of their,
Picard grimaced mentally, the only outward
sign a viously need help, even if they
aren'trlight tightening of his lips. He had listened
to the I Wlessly repeating message at least a
half-dozen drive, they oh answering our hail."
"Not yet, Number One at not before we gather more
at imes, and each time the feeling of kinship with the ed
information. was The red flags raised by the unexplain ,
at peaker, the one who called himself Koralus, had
sensor interference in the nearby star system
stilltrown more pronounced. The message was
straightdictated caution to Picard. "Ensign,
take us in to a*ward and to the point, a simple
account of the thousand kilometers, quarter impulse."
"Aye, Captain."
Essentially hopeless situation his ship, the Hope
of Krantin, found itself in, followed by a succinct
de-Mr. Data, is there still no evidence of
weaponry"..."...at cription of the warning signs that had
preceded the failure of the drive-warning signs that,
if reacted to ly on other ships, might differently
and more quick save them from the same fate.
Picard hoped that the message was true, but even
more he hoped that the man who had recorded it and started
it on its snail-like way across the light-years was still
alive to see it answered, and not just because of the
kinship he felt. if Koralus was dead or no
longer in control, if no one responded to their hail
and an away team was forced to beam onto the ship with
current Jay of the landno idea of the abruptly,
64 are there un "Mr. Data," Picard said
populated areas of the ship to which an away team ould
beam unnoticed?"
C GfiMany, Captain. The entire central
section-the core-is essentially unoccupied except
for one large area that might be employed for
recreation."
"Captain," Worf broke in, "they are
responding to our hail."
A moment later, the same voice they had heard
on the recorded message emerged from the bridge
speakers.
"This is Koralus of the Hope of Krantin.
Who are you?"
So he was still alive! Picard thought with relief.
Quickly, he began to identify himself and the
Enterprise, but before he could finish, the voice
broke in.
"That is the same as the message I have already
heard, and it means nothing to me. What are you? Where
are you from? What is this Federation you speak
of?"
Patiently, fully understanding Koralus's
impatient desire for information, Picard tried
to explain, weaving his way around the other's rapid
comfire and often incisive questions. When he finished, the
alien was "A zero-g rec room?" Riker
murmured. "Interest- isilent for several
seconds.
ing." A momentary smile pulled at his neatly
bearded I "This offer of assistance-was Koralus
began finally.
face as his words brought a sidelong glance from "You
have heard my message, so you understand our Picard.
Situation. What type of assistance can you offer? Can
"There is something else, Captain," Data went
on. at out repair our drive, for example?"
"The sensors are beginning to indicate that another
"Based on our preliminary observations, that would be
difficult," Picard admitted. "It would be asier
to return your people to your own world or take Captain,
was Data said, continuing to (out to another habitable
one."
"That is correct, ugh there a "Your ship is that
large?" The Universal Translator study the
ops console readouts. "ThO
mate ten thousand fully active humanoid lid
little to disguise the mixture of skepticism and
'y lus appicion in Koralus's voice.
lifeationol s, there are also approximately
seventy sim, jar life-forms whose metabolic
rates indicate that they "We could handle your ten
thousand for as long have undergone some type of cryonic
preservation. is it would take to move you, yes."
Their life signs were too faint for our sensors
to deted There was a long silence before Koralus's
voice at greater distances." eturned. "'As long
as it would take . . ." How long
"That area would appear to be the place to start,
iould that be? We are almost a light-year from our
Number One. You can get a look at them without-"
wn world and farther than that from any other."
part of the core is a hibernation facility."
Picard frowned. "In a generation ship?"
"A few hours at most," Picard said.
"Transferring your people from your ship to the Enterprise
would " likely take longer than the trip itself" .
"You are speaking of subjective time, surely,"
Koralus said after a moment, his voice still
skeptical.
GGE-VEN if you approached tie speed
of light-was
"We have a way around that particular limitation."
Picard glanced briefly toward Riker. was
Perhaps it would be best if some of our people came aboard
the Hope to evaluate your situation firsthand."
"Came aboard? No, I would prefer no one
come aboard at this time."
astily spoken protest. Had Picard frowned
at the h his feeling of kinship for this alien captain
been misplaced? "Why not, Koralus?"
There was a long silence before the voice returned.
"Our nuclear power generator is no longer
safe. Our section of the ship is protected from its
radiation by a shield, but surrounding space is not.
It would be unsafe for you to approach."
"We are aware of the radiation levels surrounding
your drive unit," Picard said, certain that the
alier had not yet revealed his real reasons. "They
do no pose a threat to us." Another uneasy
silence, and then Koralus said, "I will be honest.
I do not wish to offend, but I must know more before I
allow your presence to be known to the others."
interrupted. "Our people can transport directly
to any point within your ship that you specify."
"Transport? I do not understand."
"It is how we often come and go from our own ship.
It is a form of matter transmission. Perhaps a
demonstration would-was
"You can simply disappear from your ship and reappear
here, on the Hope?"
"Precisely."
"How would you get back to your ship, then?"
"We can transport both ways."
For Several seconds, there was only silence.
Then: "You can simply move things-people-from one point
to another, regardless of any barriers between the
points?"
"Within certain limits, yes."
"You can go 'through, the hulls of both our ships?"
"Easily. Another silent Pause. "Does
that mean you could bring me aboard your ship in the same
manner?
Without our two ships ever coming in physical
contact?"
"It could be done, yes. We are already within
transporter range."
"Then that is what I would like, if it is
permissible."
Picard considered. He still felt that his initial
impression of this alien was correct, even
though the always-present analytical-skeptical-part
of his The real reason this time, but far from a complett
mind knew that this feeling could be nothing more explanation.
"There is no need for anyone other than than wishful
thinking. However, if Koralus could not yoursel 0
know of our presence on your ship unt be trusted, it
would be safer to bring him aboard the lEnterprise than
to send an away team to the Hope.
"That is not possible. The Hope has only
Oni "Very well, Koralus," Picard said.
"If that is your airlock, and anyone entering through it
could notwish, it is acceptable to us. However, you will have
to avoid being seen by-was Itell us precisely where
you are within your ship. And d that problem, too,"
Picarlyou must separate yourself from everyone else."
"We have a way aroun
" t you wish to disclose it."
"I imagine I am already at least a hundred
meters Picard had spoken of a "Federation," which
meant away from anyone else. I am in the
bridge. That is there must indeed be others out there in the
galaxy essentially at the center of the forward end of the
ship, with equal or greater powers. Who was to say they
had within a few meters of the rotational axis."
not visited Krantin in the past? Who could
say what "Is that sufficient, Mr. Data?"
they might have done?
"I believe it is, Captain. I have
identified a single He shivered again, waiting, his
mind whirling, his humanoid life-form at
approximately the location stomach queasy with a
sudden feeling of utter helpdescribed." lessness.
If they had the powers they claimed, if they
"Transfer the coordinates to the
transporters." Pi- were capable of creating-or
stopping-the Plague, card stood up and headed for the
turbolift. "Number there was nothing he could do that
would keep them One, with me. And ask Counselor
Troi to join us in from doing whatever they wished, nothing
he could transporter room number two."
do to make them do anything they didn't wish to do.
He wanted to trust Koralus, but there was no
point He only hoped that whenin taking unnecessary
chances. A sudden tingling sensation gripped him and
spread instantaneously throughout his entire body.
Koralus stood waiting, his heart pounding. What
Involuntarily, he started to pull back, but before
he was he letting himself in for? Matter
transmission? It had more than tensed his muscles,
he was frozen, was an absurd idea on the
face of it, but so was their unmoving. The bridge
shimmered around him and claim of being able to "get
around" the limit of the faded out of existence, replaced
by a surreal, silvery speed of light.
light that refused to hold still.
But if it was all true ... Then he was in
another room, several times the size He shivered,
wondering suddenly if there was hope of the bridge of the
Hope, standing on a raised not only for himself and the
Ten Thousand but for platform. A woman stood at a
console of some kind at Krantin as well. With the
kind of technology these the far end of the room. To one
side, two men and a people obviously had-or claimed
to have-almost woman, all wearing odd, one-piece
garments, their anything was possible. They might even be
able to exposed skin several shades darker than his own
find what Krantin's scientists had failed
to find-the sunless white, stood watching him.
source of the Plague, a reason for its existence,
even al The shorter man, almost totally hairless,
stepped way of turning it back. [forward.
"Welcome to the Enterprise, Mr. Koralus."
On the other hand, everything they said could be a) So,
he thought, they were telling the truth. About lie, a
trick. These beings, if they indeed had the I
Vheir "transporter, at least.
powers they claimed, particularly the ability W
transport" objects unseen through space, might
evep at be the ones responsible for the Plague in the
first place.
Or others like them. The one who called himself!
chapter Three
THE BRIEF TOUR of the Enterprise completed,
Koralus and six of the starship's officers adjourned
to what they called a "conference room." Koralus
lowered himself uneasily into a seat at one end of a
table long enough to accommodate a dozen or more- The
captain, the hairless one named Picard, sat at the
oppothe truth. Crusher, another woman, a
doctor who could learn the most remarkable things about a
person simply by running a small device over that
person's body, was on Koralus's left. On
his right was the one called Data, the only one whose
skin tone matched his own. They described him as an
android, an artificial human, but he was also
considered an officer like the others.
The final participant was the frightening-looking
creature they called Worf. A "Klingon,"
whatever that was. Koralus watched him uneasily.
Despite their assurances, he could not
completely overcome the terror that had gripped him
when he had emerged onto the bridge and almost run
into the creature.
Visible through a series of windows-or
viewscreens?-in one wall of the conference room were the
stars, motionless. There was no need for the constant rotation
the Hope required, they had said.
Their gravity was another of their technological
miracles, generated at will. On their bridge, they
had shown him an image of the Hope on a huge
screen, and for the first time he had been able to see what it
was that had killed two dozen of his friends. And why it was
beyond repair. It was only luck-and the skill site
end, hunched slightly forward, his hands clasped and
courage of those who had died-that had kept on the table
in front of him. His second-in-command, the
habitat section of the Hope intact and the nuclear
Commander Riker, sat easily on Picard's
left. Next power generator even marginally
functional.
was Commander La Forge, an extremely dark-
Uneasily, still not certain of their motives,
Koralus skinned man with a strange silvery
device hiding his nonetheless answered their questions,
truthfully in eyes. He was the one who, if
any repairs to the Hope the main, about the Hope,
about its sister ships, but were found to be possible, would
do the work or mostly about the Plague, never letting
his suspicions watch over those who did. Troi,
the woman who had behow through his words.
been in the transporter room to greet him at
was orl "Nebular dust," they called it at first,
until he told Picard's right. Her
function-"counselor"-was un- conhem that it fouled
Krantin's atmosphere even more cleareaexcept that
she seemed to be the one the others han it did the
surrounding space, and their seeming looked to when they
wanted to know if he was tellinoPuzzlement at that
information both encouraged and frightened him. Encouraged
because their seeming ignorance indicated that they were not the
ones responsible for the Plague. Frightened because their
puzzlement cast doubt on their ability to help.
Five hundred years ago there had been no
Plague, he assured them when they expressed not
only puzzlement but doubt. The stars had shone as
brightly on Krantin as they did here in interstellar
space. Five hundred years ago, when
Krantin's technology had just begun to develop
and the world was emerging from a long agricultural stage,
the atmosphere had been clean and breathable,
and more than a billion had lived on the planet's
surface.
No one was sure precisely when the Plague
began.
Krantin's fledgling industrialization began
to pollute the air, and for nearly a century, most
assumed that was the sole source of the pollution. But
then, as efforts to eliminate it evolved from determined
to desperate, scientists gradually came to see that
there had to be another source. Finally, Krantin's
technology reached a point at which its machines
produced virtually no pollution of any kind, and
still the atmosphere continued to grow worse. It was as
if the very air was being converted into toxic materials of
were invisible altogether from Krantin. Even their sun began
to dim and redden in the sky.
The atmospheric Plague was the critical
factor, however. Long before the dust in space had
enveloped Krantin, the atmosphere had become a
disaster. Entire species of plants and animals
were dying off, and breathing masks were becoming a
necessity. Finally, when all else failed and they
seemed faced with extinction, they began a campaign
to enclose their largest cities and to convert all their
food production to hydroponics. Soon
after the first of the enclosures was begun, Koralus and
several others managed to divert some of the money and
resources to building the Hope and its sister ships.
Even the enclosures could not protect the
Krantinese forever, Koralus had argued. Small
amounts Of Pollution were already appearing within supp
sed y airtight individual structures,
indicating that, in the long run, the Plague could not be
kept out, no matter how tightly sealed the cities
became.
There were only two chances for long-term survival
of the race, Koralus and his allies said. Either the
scientists must find the source of the Plague and stop
it, or ships must be built to allow at least a few
tens of all kinds. Even radioactive
contaminants began toeathousands to attempt to reach
other star systems.
appear, though no one realized at the time what they
tnough people agreed for enough time to construct were. It was
another fifty years before Krantin devel- "and
launch the Hope and five other ships. It all
ended oped nuclear power and scientists recognized
the when a seventh ship nearing completion was
deradioactive parts of the pollution for what they
were: stroyed by a group Of workers who
became furious elements found in the waste
products of nuclear- when they found they would not be
among the one in fission power plants.
ten who would be given space on the ships they were
Meanwhile, the Plague had apparently spread te
building.
space. The "nebular dust" had begun to appear
in "That was the end of the Program," Koralus said.
their asteroid belt and slowly thickened and expanded
"The seventh ship and three others under construcuntil
the cloud-the Plague-enveloped Krantin itItion
were also destroyed, along with most of the self. The
'stars faded year by year until finally the r
rbital facilities needed for the construction. Tens
of thousands of stranded workers died as well, including the
ones who caused the destruction. After that . . ."
He paused, lowering his eyes to the glistening
surface of the conference table. "After that, I don't
know what happened. We were a year on our way, and the
few messages we received after the disaster indicated that
there were no plans to even try to build any more
ships. All their efforts were going to be concentrated
on enclosing the cities. Most wanted to simply
forget that any ships had ever been built. Some, I
think, would have killed us all if they had been
able to reach us. Because the ships had been built, they
said, fewer cities would be enclosed and more people would have
to die." He shook his head. "Perhaps they were right.
Perhaps Krantin would have been served better had we
all concentrated on enclosing the cities and searching
for the source of the Plague. There have been no
messages from the other ships. None of them anyone
is still alive on Krantin."
"Is it safe to enter, Mr. Data?" Picard
asked.
"I believe it is, Captain. Though the
associated energy field is highly variable both
from one moment to the next'and from one location to another, the
intensity is too low, even at its peak levels,
to have a significant effect on either physical
structures or lifeforms."
"What effect would higher levels have?" bears a
"I could not say, Captain. The energy itself s
insuperficial resemblance to some of the energie i
volved in molecular-level transporter operation,
but its only observable effect is to interfere with the
sensor beams."
"But you say it varies wildly in intensity. Is
there a pattern to the variability?"
"None that the computer can discern. It
appears totally random from moment to moment and location
to location. It is also impossible to rule out may have
survived. At this point, I don't even know if
sudden, massive upswings at any moment, in any
location."
"And the dust itself?"
Once again on the bridge, Picard watched the
"At our present distance, interference from the
irregular torus that Koralus called the
Plague grow energy field prevents reliable
sensor readings's ever larger on the viewscreen.
Koralus, his face a stoic "Can the interference be
compensated for?"
mask, sat in Riker's chair while the
commander-stood "I have been attempting to do so, but the
random to one side. The alien had rejected the
suggestion that variations make it impossible."
he return to the Hope and explain the sit ten
thousand charges.
was Until I know there is a world they ca he had
said, "I would prefer not to have the Hope is doomed.
Nor do I wish t hopes. That is the reason I
did not wa aboard the Hope and reveal your existence
to them."
A billion kilometers from the outer edge
of the Plague " cloud, the Enterprise slowed
to quartei impulse.
"Mr. La Forge, is there anything Engineering can
I've been trying, too, Captain," Geordi's
voice e from the Engineering deck, "but I think
getting s the only solution. I tried boosting
the-power sensors and narrowing their focus, which elped a
little, but not enough to give us anything ,liable. It's like
trying to look into a lake that's mstantly being stirred
up by millions of little Orms. Up close, I
think the extra power and tight focus will give us
relatively reliable readings, at least for small
areas."
"Very well. Keep me informed, Mr. La
Forge, Mr. Data. Ensign, take us in,
minimum impulse."
Once again, though he still didn't realize he was
doing it, Picard leaned forward a fraction in his
chair.
This was something he never tired of, was never
completely comfortable withand probably never would be-never
should be. If the time came when approaching an
unknown star system became routine, that would be the time
to retire to a desk somewhere in the depths of
Starfleet-before such an attitude had a
chance to kill him or his crew.
At a million kilometers, Data reported
the first stable readings, but only of the outer fringes of the
cloud, where the energy field was as attenuated as the
cloud.
"This is quite remarkable, Captain," he reported
after a moment's silence. "Sensors indicate the
presence of hundreds of elements and compounds bul
nothing larger than individual atoms and
molecules More appear to be coming into existence ever)
moment."
pulse quickened. "Are you positive this isn't still
result of the energy field's interference?"
"I cannot be one hundred percent positive at
thi at distance, Captain."
At a hundred thousand kilometers, Data an)
Geordi agreed-they were positive. The sensors
stil wouldn't penetrate more than a few thousand
kiloine ters into the cloud, but the readings at the ver
" fringes, where the energy field was weakest, were
noation rock solid.
"Matter is being created right before our eyes-
Coming into existence," Mr. Data?" Picard"!
Frowning, Picard turned to Data. The thought had
over Data's shoulders at the ops
readouts. "Are yol saying we've stumbled across a
pocket of steady-state matter creation?"
"That is unlikely, Captain. There have been no
confirmed instances of such a phenomenon in Starfleet
history."
"But there's always a first time."
"That is correct, Captain. However, the theory
regarding such hypothetical phenomena states that the
matter thus created would be of a more elemental
nature, primarily individual particles.
Helium atoms are the most complex that could be
produced within the framework of current theory."
Koralus had come to stand next to Picard.
4'Captain, you have said that an energy field of some
kind blankets virtually the entire Krantin
system, and that this energy is similar in some ways to the
energy you use for your so-called transporters. Have
I understood the situation correctly?"
"Essentially, yes," Picard admitted.
"Then is it possible that someone is doing this?
Transporting this material here, from another part of
space?"
crossed his mind, but he had not verbalized it
yet, perhaps hoping it would be proven wrong before ipeaking
it aloud made it real. "Possible, Mr.
Data?"
"I would never say anything is totally
impossible, --aptain, but it is highly
unlikely. There is no obvious beource for the
material within sensor range. To transggort
anything over the necessary distance would a subspace
transporter, which itself would eave a distinctive
signature."
"Is it any more unlikely than that-that "steady
,tate" idea?" Koralus asked.
sensors?" Picard stood abruptly and moved
to lool com"...With no more information than we have," Data
said, "both suggestions can be said to be equally
unlikely."
"But you don't have anything to offer that's any
(,nore likely!" Koralus persisted testily.
"that we suggest, gentlemen," Picard broke in,
move on to Krantin itself. Perhaps the scientists there
have found something that will be helpful."
"If there are any still alive," Koralus said
bleakly Picard's eyes were on Koralus as often
as they were on the viewscreen as the Enterprise
skirted the upper surface of the cloud, more than ten
million kilometers above the orbital plane of the
planets. It was obvious from the alien's
expression and occasional muttered words that the situation
he was being confronted with after his hundred years'
absence was even worse than he had feared.
huddered as, at the orbit of Krantin, the The
alien s ship nosed down into the Plague at
minimum impulse. Before they had descended half the
distance to where Krantin lay hidden, the stars had faded
to invisibility. By the time they reached Krantin and
matter Stream could be interfered with, if not interrupted
entirely."
"We can take a shuttle-if there is a reason
for us to descend to the surface Picard said. "Are
there any life-form readings?"
"Yes, Captain, but they convey only the most
rudimentary information. Many areas of the surface appear
totally lifeless. Others show minimal signs of
lower life-forms, both plant and animal. Even the
upper layers of the oceans appear sparsely
populated."
"And humanoid life-forms?"
"Unknown, Captain. There is only one area which
higher life-forms are present in great enough concentration
to register despite the interference. The sensors cannot
determine if they are specifically humanoid."
"Only one?" Koralus broke in.
"They were working on nclosures for ten cities when
communication ceased. They were hoping to build a
hundred more." He shuddered. "How many? How many are
left alive?"
went into orbit around it, the sun was the only other
Data glanced questioningly at Picard, who nodded
object visible, and even it was reduced to an
indistinct assent. "It is impossible to determine
the number to red ball. any degree of accuracy
under the present conditional The planet itself was almost as
indistinct. Its entire Data explained.
"However, there are certainly no surface, land and
water alike, was obscured by 2 more than a few
million."
reddish orange haze, translucent in some
places Koralus slumped. "A few million
.
he muropaque in others. mured, and after a moment
he turned his back to the And the energy field in the
vicinity of the planet (leak image on the
viewscreen. "There were more Data reported, was
several times as powerful as any ban a billion. .
. ."
where else.
Tower sources, Mr. Data?" Picard
prompted, comx would be inadvisable to use the
transporters b dishough his eyes remained on
Koralus. "Energy reach the surface from a standard
orbit, Captain," this, sage?"
exists that this "There is what appears to be a
functioning nuclear android went on. "A strong
possibility fusion power source approximately
one hundred kilometers from the concentration of
life-forms. It appears to be delivering its output
in the form of electrical energy to the area of the
life-form concentration itself, where there are indications of
extensive electrical activity."
"But no communications of any kind?"
"None that the sensors can detect, Captain."
Picard turned to the alien. "Your assessment?"
he asked quietly.
Koralus shook his head. "I don't know.
Obviously, enclosing the cities was not as
successful as they hoped."
"Obviously. However, the immediate question is, how do
we contact anyone if they aren't listening to any
frequency?"
"Sir," Lieutenant Worf broke in, "a
localized surge in the energy field, bearing
approximately one-sixty mark forty."
Picard turned sharply toward the tactical
station.
"Distance?"
"Unknown, sir. The sensors are not reliable beyond
fifty thousand kilometers, and-was The Klingon
broke off, scowling at the tactical station
readouts. "It is gone, sir."
"How powerful was the surge?"
"Also unknown, sir, but at a minimum it was a
hundredfold increase."
"Any residual effects?"
"None detectable, sir."
"Mr. Data? Anything else?"
"I cannot be positive, Captain, but there
appears to have been a qualitative as well as a
quantitative difference in the localized surge."
"It was a different kind of energy, Mr.
Data?"
"Not entirely, Captain. It still bears a strong
resem.
blance to the energy fields associated with
transpoi operation. However, while the low-level
energy resembles that associated with
molecular-resolution transport, the pattern and
frequency of the surge energy indicated a
finer resolution."
"Quantum level, Mr. Data? Suitable for
transmission of living matter?"
"Again, Captain, not entirely. The readings
themselves are unreliable, so a Precise comparison
is impossible. However, even taking that
unreliability into account, the indicated resolution
was very probably not at a quantum level. At
best, the resolution Would be at some intermediate
level of Precision."
Picard glanced at Koralus, then back at the
shrouded planet that still filled the viewscreen.
Whatever the resolution level, this sudden burst lent
weight to Koralus's suggestion-and I his own
suspicionthat the Plague was not entire y a
natural phenomenon.
More importantly, it provided a new avenue
of investigation. "Ensign, take us out of orbit,
quarter impulse, heading one-sixty mark forty.
Full stop the moment any artificial construct-or
another energy surge-is detected."
Chapter Four
ALONG WITH EVERYONE BuThat DATA,
Captain Jean-Luc Picard could not completely
suppress another wince as the fiery display
on the viewscreen once again flared even brighter, as
if the Enterprise were swooping through a star's
corona. All the flare really meant, though, was that
they had just passed through a slightly denser area of the
Plague. The constant and coruscating bow shock that
preceded and half surrounded the Enterprise simply
marked the location of the forward shields as they plowed through
the molecular soup of the Plague. Without them, even
at quarter impulse, the unprotected duranium
hull would start to show damage within minutes. At
full impulse, even the shields could not protect
the ship for long, any more than they could protect it
forever against a sustained barrage of phaser fire. The
raw energies involved would not be dissimilar.
They had gone nearly two hundred million
kilome A%
ters and passed within range of more than a hundred
asteroids when Worf barked out a command for full
stop. Instantly the flare of the bow shock vanished from
the viewscreen, replaced by the featureless haze of the
Plague. "Object directly ahead," Worf
announced, "range less than one hundred thousand
kilometers."
"A ship, Mr. Worf?"
"Unknown, sir. Sensors indicate that
the object is artificial, but beyond that, all readings
are inconclusive at this range."
"Very well. Ensign, take us closer, minimum
impulse."
The shields flared again, this time at a lower, almost
undetectable level, as the Enterprise crept
forward.
"The object directly ahead appears to be
another asteroid, Captain," Data announced
minutes later, "diameter more than fifty
kilometers."
"An artificial asteroid?"
"No, Captain. The sensors are beginning
to detect a second object approximately
five hundred kilometers from the asteroid. This
second object is almost certainly responsible
for the earlier readings. Because of the interference, the sensors
could not previously determine that there were two
objects rather than one."
"Ensign, alter course to close with the new
object.
Full stop as soon as sensor readings are
reliable."
"Aye, Captain."
"Sir," Worf rumbled a minute
later, "we have just crossed the trail of an
impulse drive. The signature is
unmistakable and is less than a day old. There
is no trace of the ship that produced it."
A jolt of adrenaline nudged Picard's
level of concentration even higher at this further
indication of the unnatural "nature" of the so-called
Plague.
Koralus had sworn that Krantin had never
developed an impulse engine, and yet an
impulse-drive ship had passed through this very spot
only hours ago.
Picard turned toward the alien as, slowly, the
Enterprise continued forward. "Could your world have
developed impulse technology in the time since you
left?" he asked, though he knew what the answer
must be.
Koralus shook his head. "I can't imagine
how.
From the few communications we received after the ships
under construction were destroyed, it was obvious that space
travel was dead and no one was interested in reviving
it. And you saw Krantin just now. Your machines say
there are only a few million left alive,
huddled in a single city."
Picard nodded imperceptibly as he turned
back to the viewscreen. "Nonetheless," he said
softly, "someone with impulse-drive technology
has been here within the last twenty-four hours."
On the viewscreen, the shields flared more brightly
as Data announced they were again passing through a
denser-than-average pocket of the cloud. Almost as
soon as the incandescence returned to its "normal"
level, Worf brought the ship again to a full stop.
"The object is definitely a ship, sir,"
he said a moment later. "Mass is in the
thousand-ton range."
"Impulse drive?"
Worf was silent a moment, adding to his everyday
scowl as he studied the tactical station readouts.
"Yes, sir, but of extremely low power for a
vessel of that size. It is little more powerful than those
that drive our shuttlecraft."
"It appears to be a cargo ship of some kind,
Captain," Data supplied. "There is a single
humanoid life-form aboard, and most of the mass
appears to consist of several hundred tons of ore,
containing iron, nickel, and traces of uranium."
"Hail it, Mr. Worf, all EM
channels. Ensign, take us in to visual
range, directly in its path."
As if emerging from a fog, a bulbous ship took
shape on the viewscreen. There were no rockets or
other drives visible, only sets of comparatively
tiny attitude-control jets. At the front, a
tiny bubble protruded from the otherwise featureless
surface. It was coasting directly across the path
of the Enterprise.
Slowly, the Enterprise moved ahead of it, and
then kept pace with it at a distance of little more than a
kilometer.
"No response to our hail, sir," Worf
reported, but even as he spoke, the ship on the
screen fired a series of attitude jets, which
set it slowly to turning. After a quarter turn, the
ship began to lumber away, apparently under
impulse power.
"Stay in front of it, Ensign, and maintain our
present distance. Mr. Worf, keep trying
to contact them."
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. Data-was
"It is emitting a signal," Worf rumbled,
"but it does not appear to be directed at us. It
is totally unmodulated, with no discernible
information content."
"Captain," Data broke in, "the energy
field surrounding the ship is increasing
precipitately-was The viewscreen flared
blindingly bright.
When it cleared, the screen was empty except for the
featureless cloud that was the Plague.
"Was it destroyed?" Picard asked sharply.
"I do not believe so, Captain," Data said.
"There is no residue of any kind. Even
destruction by maximum-strength phaser fire or
photon torpedo leaves a residue."
"Then where is it? Could it have escaped while we were
blinded by the flash?"
"Only if it accelerated to full impulse
speed virtually instantaneously, which would be
impossible for a ship of that mass with that size
impulse engine, even without the Plague to contend with.
And even if it were possible, the impulse drive would
have left an easily identifiable energy trail, which
it did not. The existing energy trail ends at
precisely the point at which the ship vanished. Neither
are there any indications of either the existence or the
activation of a warp drive."
Picard scowled at the starless screen,
forced to give voice to the thought that had been in his mind,
unwelcomed, since moments after the flash. "It was
transported away, then, is that what you're
saying?"
"Not precisely, Captain, but it is a
reasonable supposition. The energy burst was
essentially identical to the earlier burst, although there
was no indication of either a matter stream or a
containment field, both of which are essential
to transporters as we know them."
"Play the entire sequence back, Mr.
Data. Go to slow motion for the final seconds."
The viewscreen flickered and went blank for an
instant as Data's fingers darted across the controls.
A moment later, the missing ship was once again
emerging from the haze, coasting across the bow of the
Enterprise.
"The pilot was in the pod at the front of the
ship," Data said as the replay continued. "The pod
also contained the impulse drive and appeared to be
detachable, just as the saucer unit of the Enterprise
is detachable. The remainder is essentially nothing
but a large cargo hold."
Picard frowned. "It has no drive of its
own?"
"Only the attitude jets, Captain."
"What kind of range would this combination have?"
"Extremely limited, Captain. Also, it would
dare not venture close to any asteroid
substantially larger than the ones we have so far
encountered. were it to approach one even a hundred
kilometers in diameter, it could be trapped in the
gravity well."
Once again the massive ship made its turn and
began to lumber away, essentially being towed by the tiny
control and drive pod. It was, Picard couldn't
help but think, as if the Enterprise were to be towed
by one of the shuttlecraft. But what was the point? Why
drag a thousand tons of mass through space at a
snail's pace when you have the ability
to instantaneously transport objects to-to
somewhere else?
Perhaps they could only transport objects from
certain points in space? Or perhaps it was easier
to do it from certain points, but it was possible, in an
emergency-such as being confronted by an unknown and
potentially dangerous alien craft like the
Enterprise-to do it from anywhere? And perhaps the
signal it had emitted was a distress call, a
demand to be rescued then and there, regardless
of the difficulty, regardless of the power required?
Picard shook his head. As was so often the case,
all he had was questions, not answers.
On the screen, the alien ship was once more seen
head-on. The Enterprise had maneuvered in front
of it after the ninety-degree turn.
"This is when the signal was emitted," Data
continued. "The computer is still unable to detect any
form of modulation."
Abruptly, the image seemed to freeze. The
only perceptible motion was the exhaust from the
attitude jets as they continued to fire to slow the
ship's rotation.
"This is the point at which the energy buildup
began," Data supplied a few seconds later.
The image of the ship remained unchanged, except that
the attitude jets had stopped firing. "It is
almost certainly a form of transporter energy, but it
is equally certainly not consistent with the
quantum-level resolution required for
transporting life-forms safely. At best, it
operates at the level of individual atoms."
"Then whoever was aboard the ship was killed?"
"Not necessarily, Captain. There might be
damage at the cellular level and below, but
there is no way of knowing how serious that damage is,
or how reversible."
On the screen, a brilliant pinpoint of light
appeared near the center of the ship. An instant
later, the pinpoint had become a blinding sheet of
light enveloping half the ship. Another instant,
and the ship was swallowed up entirely.
"Can it be slowed down any more?" Picard asked as
the entire screen was flooded with the light. There was a
maddening familiarity to the images, but its source
eluded him.
"Not in the sense that I believe you mean,
Captain.
What you have seen was the individual images that the
computer, operating at its maximum speed,
captured from the sensors. The actual time that
elapsed between the first appearance of the light and the full
envelopment of the ship was less than a
millisecond."
On the screen, the light vanished almost as quickly
as it had appeared, taking five images instead of
three to shrink from the ship-enveloping size to a
pinpoint.
Then it was gone.
And so was the ship.
"The light, and presumably the ship, were gone within
less than two milliseconds," Data went
on.
"The energy field accompanying the light took
approximately two seconds to build up and
another two seconds to decay."
Picard turned to Koralus, who had been
watching the screen in scowling puzzlement. "Could that have
been a Krantinese ship?"
"I cannot imagine how it could be-unless the situation
on Krantin is radically different from what it
seems."
Precisely Picard's own assessment. "Perhaps
it's time we found out," he said, turning back to the
viewscreen. "Ensign, take us out of this-this
"plague" and back to Krantin."
It Sir," Worf rumbled from the tactical station
before the order could be carried out, "something is
approaching, bearing one-ten mark eighty-five."
"Onscreen," Picard snapped.
"It is not within visual range," Data
volunteered, "under current conditions."
"Focus the sensors on it as tightly as
possible, Mr. Data. Get whatever you can before it
gets here."
"I am working on it, Captain. It appears
to be moving at a speed consistent with an impulse
drive, but the sensor readings are becoming even more
erratic."
"There is a concentration of the energy field, sir,"
Worf reported, "that appears to be moving with the
object. That could be causing the added interference with the
sensors."
"Or it could be the object," Riker said, "a
moving energy field. Captain, whatever it is, I
suggest we raise the shields until we know more about
it."
"Agreed, Number One. Make it so."
They waited.
Finally, what looked like a tiny fireball
emerged from the haze of the dust cloud. It was small,
little larger than a two-person shuttlepod,
apparently powered by an impulse engine similar in
size to the one in the previous, much larger ship.
Beyond the signature of an impulse drive,
however, even the most tightly focused sensor beams
revealed little-except that the pyrotechnic display
surrounding it was associated with a concentrated form of the
energy field that permeated this system. Apparently the
ship-if there was indeed a ship inside the
fireball-was using it for the same purpose the
Enterprise used its shields when traveling through the
cloud at impulse speeds: to protect it from the
cloud of matter it was racing through.
Abruptly, the newcomer stopped less than ten
kilometers distant. The energy field collapsed
instantly, the attendant flare vanishing with it.
"One humanoid life-form aboard, Captain,"
Data reported a moment later. "No indication of
energy weapons. Power is provided by hydrogen
fusion."
"Lower shields," Picard ordered. "Mr.
Worf, hail it on all EM frequencies."
But it didn't respond. Almost as quickly as the
tiny ship had stopped, it turned about and raced
away, its image on the viewscreen turning
instantly from ship to fireball.
"Tractor beam," Picard snapped, and a moment
later the fireball lurched to a halt and once again
became a ship. "Maintain position, Ensign.
Number One, assemble an away team in the
shuttlebay. I want-was
"Sir," Worf broke in, "the alien has
transmitted the same signal as the first ship."
Almost before' the KJ-INGON had finished
speaking, the viewscreen was once again swamped by a
blinding flash of light, immeasurably brighter than
the fireball had been. The Enterprise lurched very
slightly as the tractor beam found itself focusing on
nothing.
When the viewscreen cleared, it was once again
empty.
Another moment, and Worf reported a second
surge in the energy field, this one almost directly
astern.
Then another, this one in the general direction of
Krantin.
And another, now from high above the ecliptic.
And another.
And another.
There were seventeen in all when finally they stopped.
Picard grimaced mentally as he sat down in the
command chair and tugged automatically at his uniform.
In the back of his mind, he wondered if each of the
surges marked the departure-or arrival?-of another
of the alien ships. At the same time, the elusive
reason for the feeling of familiarity triggered by the
images of the first disappearance continued to hover just beyond
reach.
"Take us back to Krantin, Ensign,"
he said. "Let's hope it doesn't vanish as
well."
Koralus, watched the viewscreen with
apprehension as the giant ship once again approached
Krantin. On the trip back from the asteroid
belt, the Enterprise sensors had detected, he
was told, over a hundred more "energy bursts." They
had come in groups of ten to twenty, with no discernible
pattern except that all the bursts in a single
group seemed to come from the same general volume of
space, and all groups originated, as best their
hampered instruments could determine, within the Plague
cloud, possibly within the asteroid belt.
Whatever was going on, it was beyond him. He didn't
know whether to be encouraged or frightened that it seemed
to be beyond these people as well.
Either way, there wasn't a lot he could do about it,
which wasn't that much of a change from his position the last
ten years on the Hope.
But at least now there was a chance-if these people and the
"Federation" they said they represented could be taken at
their word. And if whatever had been happening in the
Krantin system for the last five hundred years
wasn't as far beyond their abilities as theirs were beyond
Krantin's.
Again, as they slid into orbit smoothly and
effortlessly, they did whatever it was they did to try
to find a way to communicate with someone on the
surface of Krantin. But there apparently was nothing
to be found. Their calls, like his own messages of a
decade ago, went unanswered, if they were even
received.
Finally, the captain ordered the
second-in-command, the Klingon, and the android
to descend to the surface in one of their auxiliary
ships, a socalled shuttlecraft. It was not
ordered but strongly suggested that Koralus
accompany them and lend them his "native
perspective."
"Survey the situation from the air before you commit
yourself to landing," the captain instructed.
"And relay all sensor data directly to the
Enterprise.
Unless the energy field within the atmosphere is more
han it appears, the shuttle sensors should with
considerably more information than ain from up here."
Then the four of them were in the shuttlecraft and
swooping down through the hazy upper atmosphere and
into a layer of clouds that blanketed more than half
of the main continent.
Antrovar, Koralus thought, and wondered if the
name was still used. were any of the names still used, now that
virtually everyone apparently lived in a single,
enclosed city?
Koralus suppressed a gasp as they emerged from
the low-hanging clouds and the ground was suddenly visible.
He had been prepared for desolation, but not this.
When he had left a hundred years ago, there
had been plant life. Not the lush and abundant
forests and fields and meadows that pre-Plague
paintings and even some early photographs showed, but
something.
More land had been covered than was bare. Hundreds
of species had survived seemingly
unchangedcertain hardy breeds of grass, a
scattering of longlived trees, enough food plants
to let the dwindling population survive until the
conversion to hydroponics was completed.
But now ...
The only trees were leafless, lifeless
skeletons.
Here and there were grotesque patches of green and
purple and gray groundcover, surrounded by bare
ground or rock or mud.
The little ship's sensors apparently had
things to say about the vegetation and the few animals still
living.
Koralus understood little of it, but he understood
enough. "Mutated" he understood-and the android's
emotionlessly delivered verdict: "Even using the
most optimistic assumptions, there will be nothing
alive in twenty years."
So this is what it comes to.
Then the city-Jalkor? once the greatest
metropolis on Krantin?-became visible through the
haze, and Koralus's heart sank even further.
It was not one of the graceful domes the original
planners had envisioned, nor even one of the low,
smooth hexagonal shapes that had been the plan when
the Hope had departed. Instead, it was a squat,
misshapen box, each corroded, irregular side
at least fifty kilometers long and fifty meters
high. The "roof was was an endless collection of
flat, slightly sloped terraced segments, as if
the height of the roof at any given point had been
determined by the height of the buildings beneath it. Some
areas near the center were at least five hundred
meters high. All around the outside of the enclosure
were skeletal remnants of tens of thousands of what
might have once been houses, apparently
abandoned and cannibalized for what they could
contribute to the enclosure and what was inside.
Inside, if he was to believe what he heard as
the android and the Kfingon read the craft's instruments,
was a haphazard mixture, again as if a sprawling
city of twenty or forty million or more had
simply been roofed over and modified. Streets and
individual houses still existed in many areas, while in
others they had been torn down and replaced
by kilometer after kilometer of boxlike
hydroponic enclosures. In still others they had
been replaced by hivelike buildings, each capable
of housing tens of thousands. In the center were warrens of
cramped passageways and corridors, as if
offices and apartments and industrial structures had
been fused into a single block, half of which had been
converted to living quarters, the rest to house more
hydroponics and food-processing plants. There
were even remnants of half a dozen of what must have
been parks, but the vegetation was long since dead.
And beneath it all, just barely within reach of those same
instruments, the android described what Koralus
recognized as the remnants of a vast underground
complex of tunnels and storerooms and sewers. Now
there was one section with tens of thousands of
sterile hydroponics tanks, although less than a
quarter of them seemed to be in use. The rest was
filled with pipes and machinery of every description,
constantly taking in the waste of the millions and
processing and reprocessing it and sending it back for
yet another cycle. As in the hydroponics
sections, less than half of what was there was
functioning.
Better to die aboard the Hope than here, he
thought despairingly.
There were dozens of tiny
entrances-airlocksscattered about the bases of the outer
walls, but none appeared operational. Four
massive airlocks, one on each side, led
into what must once have been storage and repair areas
for the machines used outside during the construction of the
enclosure, but only one of those showed any signs of
use or repair. The remnants of a road led out
into the haze and desolation, through the long-dead and
cannibalized "suburbs."
The one called Riker was scowling at the image
when the Klingon looked up from the panel he had been
hovering over since their entry into the atmosphere.
"Commander, I am detecting a signal."
A moment later, a crackling sound
erupted from the panel. There were no voices, no
sounds other than the static.
"Data, can you locate the source?"
"Not precisely, Commander. It is coming from the
direction of the fusion-power-generating facility that was
detected from the Enterprise. The facility itself is
approximately one hundred kilometers
distant."
Riker was silent a moment, listening to the static.
Then he straightened, his fingers darting to the control
panel. "Let's take a closer look," he
said, the image on the screen shifting as the
shuttlecraft wheeled about.
Chapter Five
AHL DENBAHR COUGHED as she scaled the inner
door of the driver's compartment of the converted hauler and
pulled the clogged breathing mask from her sweatand
grime-streaked face. Like everything else that really
mattered on Krantin, it was obviously not in the
best working order. It was also desperately in need of
recharging. It had not, after all, been designed for the
kind of continuous use she had been putting it to.
It had been designed to get her from her vehicle
to the safe" areas inside the sprawling plant, a
journey of no more than a few minutes.
But there were no more safe areas, not the control
cubicles, not the supply rooms, not the emergency
access and inspection corridors and crawlspaces.
For whatever reason, the filtering and recycling system
had not started up at her remote command, and the air
inside the plant had been almost as bad as the air
outside when she arrived. It was certainly not good enough
to breathe unfiltered for hours on end.
But that was the least of her problems, she conceded to herself
as she nursed the engine into noisy life and set the
vehicle to lumbering down the last remnants of the
hundred-kilometer road back to Jalkor.
Theoretically, the plant had been designed
to repair itself and continue functioning near maximum
efficiency indefinitely, but for design theory to be
translated into fact, an inventory of reliable
spare parts had to be maintained, particularly the
laser confinement units that were the heart of the fusion
assemblies. The plant could replace its own
decaying units once they were delivered to it, but it
couldn't manufacture or repair them.
And neither, it was becoming increasingly apparent, could
she or anyone else. The last dozen, brought to the
plant barely a year ago, had already been used and
ten of the twenty she had brought today had been
scooped out of their "storage" compartments the moment she
had deposited them. Worse, three of the modules
that were being replaced were part of the twelve from the year
before. They had lasted less than a year.
And, based on the final tests she had done on the
new units, they would likely fail " just as
quickly. The high-level vacuums required for them
to function safely, let alone efficiently, were
becoming ever harder to produce and literally impossible
to maintain.
Most of the last year, she had spent with the other
technicians, testing and retesting, building and
rebuilding the machines used in fabricating the
units, and yet each day the vacuums degraded more
rapidly and the life expectancy of the units
decreased. Even Zalkan had spent several days
with them, suggesting new techniques, new
experiments, but his efforts had been as fruitless as
hers. If the trend continued, the life expectancy
of new laser confinement units would someday be too
short for them to be transported to the plant and
installed.
And then?
Then they would either shut the plant down, one fusion
unit at a time, or they would
miscalculate and wait too long, and the plant would
shut itself down, permanently and probably
catastrophically.
Either way, once the power plant failed,
Jalkor would go the way of all the other cities.
It would be over.
The Plague would have won its final victory.
Five hundred years of struggle would be over.
Only the dying would be left, and death would be quick in
coming.
And the Deserters would have been proven right.
For a moment, anger pulsed through her, not against the
Deserters but against herself for continuing this futile
struggle. And against Zalkan for having "rescued"
her from the electronic womb she had retreated into a
dozen years before. Like millions of other
"survivors," she had one day looked at the world
around her and realized she was no longer able to deny what
her future-what Krantin's futurewas. Like
millions of others, she had cursed her parents for
having brought her into a world so obviously dying.
And she had surrendered.
Unlike millions of others, however, she had
"recovered." After two years-she still had trouble
believing it had been only two years, so
endless had it finally begun to seem-after two years of
emerging from the computer-generated fantasies only
long enough to eat and sleep, she had awakened one day
to find the fantasies temporarily replaced by the
frail figure of a man she had never seen before,
awake or dreaming.
His name was Zalkan, he said, and he was the latest
to take up the increasingly impossible task of
maintaining the machinery that kept the city alive. He
was searching out all who had worked for his predecessors,
trying to coax and bully them back into the real world,
where they and thousands of others were desperately needed.
Unlike most, Ahl Denbahr had been ready
to return.
For all the good it had done.
The power plant-the single most critical piece
of machinery; if it went, everything went-was barely
limping along, as was everything else. If demand had
not decreased-the hundred million who had filled
Jalkor when it had been sealed had dwindled to five
million or less-the systems would have long ago
broken down completely.
But if the population had not decreased, if more and more
of those who remained had not simply given up and
retreated from reality, then there would have been more
than enough skilled and willing workers to keep the systems
going, even improve and replace them. Or such was
Zalkan's constant litany against the sin of
surrender.
Sometimes Ahl agreed with him, sometimes she
didn't. Today she had serious doubts. No matter
how skilled or how willing a workforce existed, there
was still only so much that could be done in the face of the
Plague. The inability to produce new units
for the power plant was only one example, though by far
the most critical. More and more often, surrender to the
inevitable was once again striking her as the rational
alternative, while constant struggle seemed both
futile and foolish. It certainly wasn't
pleasant, and more than once she had found herself envying
those who were able to simply retreat into the fantasies
and, unlike herself, resist the temptation to be drawn
back to reality.
Coughing again, she wondered if, this time, the mask
had let something truly deadly into her lungs.
Shoving the useless thought away, she switched on the
radio and tried to raise Zalkan.
But there was no response.
Sighing, she set the call on automatic and
settled back to drive and wait. She
couldn't blame Zalkan for not responding
instantly. Though he never complained, his health was
obviously bad. He had never been strong, even
ten years ago when he had dragged her back
to reality, and in the last few months he had seemed
increasingly frail, as if he had finally reached a
point at which even his iron will and determination were not enough
to keep him going much longer.
Also, he was doubtless anticipating what her
report would be, and he could be no more eager to hear it
than she was to deliver it.
The Plague was winning even faster than they had
feared, and there was nothing that could be done about it.
Zalkan insisted-had always insisted-that the only
solution that held any real hope was, first,
to build new construction and storage facilities
deep underground, and then to build a new power plant
at the same depth. The Plague, he believed,
grew progressively weaker the deeper underground
they went.
Go far enough down, and it would be weak enough to overcome,
or at least work around.
But a massive project such as that-far more
massive than the sealing of Jalkor had been-would
require, first and foremost, massive
numbers of workers, tens of thousands if not hundreds
of thousands, even millions. And Zalkan knew
all too well that such numbers were impossible. After
more than a decade of coaxing and cajoling and
threatening, he had begun to lose ground, with more workers
surrendering than he was able to recruit. "We'll
all be dead in another five years or maybe a
year, maybe even a month," he was told again and
again, when he received an a.....e.
at all, "and I'm not going to spend what little time
is left working myself to death even faster."
Even the Council, the only governing body
left , such as it was, refused to use what little
power it still retained to back Zalkan. "You might as
well ask us to build a new fleet of Deserter
ships!" was a typical response whenever Zalkan
or anyone else brought the subject up.
Only Council President Khozak had ever
had even limited enthusiasm for the project, and he
had long ago realized it was hopeless. There simply
weren't enough willing workers to even scratch the surface
of such a project. There weren't even enough to properly
hold the city together, let alone start something new.
Most of the people had retreated into their computer-generated
fantasies, while more and more of those who stayed
in the real world had abandoned all discipline, taking and
doing and destroying whatever they wanted. Some had even
attempted to breach the city's walls, and more and more of
Khozak's dwindling security forces had to be
given over to fighting that and other lesser kinds of
pointless destruction.
No, Denbahr thought, the Plague was winning, and
there was nothing Zalkan or Khozak or anyone could
do about it at this late date. A hundred years
ago, if her ancestors had known what she knew
now, if they had thrown all their efforts into building
more and better ships instead of fighting among themselves and,
in the end, abandoning space altogether, things would be
better. Not specifically for her or for the few
million still existing in the patchwork monstrosity
Jalkor had become, but for Krantin. She and most
of the others, without the covered cities, would never have
been born. Their ancestors, their parents and
grandparents, would have been long dead. Nothing could
change that. But at least a few more tens of thousands,
possibly as many as a million, could have been-not
saved, necessarily, but at least put on the road
to finding a new home for their many-timesremoved
great-grandchildren.
Bddut the kind of selflessness required for
such a project was rare. Few were willing to work for
years, even decades, under the harshest of conditions,
not to save themselves but to save, at best, the distant
descendants of one in a hundred of their fellow
workers, particularly when there were those who, despite the
disquieting evidence that was beginning to appear even then,
insisted that sealing the cities was a better, safer
way. Sealing the cities would not save a paltry
million but virtually everyone.
Domes, they had said at first, but that had been when
they thought they would have fifty years before the Plague
drove them from the open air. When the Plague had
accelerated, leaving them twenty, then ten years, the
planners and engineers had thrown up their hands. They
abandoned the domes, they abandoned excavations for the
barely begun subterranean complexes planned
to hold all the hydroponics, all the food
production, all the recycling machinery-in short,
everything needed to keep the city alive. Instead,
to beat the Plague's accelerating deadline, they had
improvised, done what they could with what materials
they could get their hands on. Great tracts of
"wasteful" individual homes were wiped out,
replaced by square kilometer after square
kilometer of hydroponics enclosures and
everything else that they had hoped to seal neatly
underground. Other tracts were replaced by hastily
constructed "hives," each capable of housing tens of
thousands. Instead of a complex series of massive
domes, simple walls and roofs and support
columns were all that could be managed. Even the "glow
panels" planned to cover the inner surface of the
domes, then the roofs, could not be perfected in time and
were replaced by rings of harsher light that circled the
upper reaches of the support columns.
It had been the same everywhere, every city for itself.
Cooperation had vanished as each city raced
to complete its own enclosure, of whatever size or
shape it could manage.
And for another eighty years they had continued
to struggle to survive even as they continued to die out.
Most of the enclosures were never finished. Lack of
raw materials, lack of energy, lack of time,
lack of will, a lack of the same kind of selflessness
that would have been needed to complete another hundred
Deserter ships-all contributed to the failures and the
wars and the deaths.
And it had all been for nothing. Jalkor had been
the largest, and now it was the last. Originally holding
more than a hundred million within its five
thousand square kilometers, it had been reduced
to less than five million by four generations of
desperation. And less than one in a hundred of that
five million spent more than an hour or two a
day in the real world. And half of those, she thought with a
new flare of anger, were not trying to save themselves or
the city but, one way or another, trying to destroy it
even more quickly than the Plague. Barring a
miracle, Jalkor would soon be as dead as all the
others, as dead as the barren landscape outside the A
rasping buzz filled the tiny driver's compartment.
"Zalkan?" she said, almost shouting over the rumble
of the engine as she slowed it to a somewhat less deafening
idle. "It's even worse than you thought.
Unless we find a way to produce and maintain a
hard vacuum-was
"My name is Koralus," an oddly accented
voice broke in. "I must speak with you."
"What?" Ahl frowned at the unfamiliar
voice and name. "Where's Zalkan?"
"I know nothing of anyone named Zalkan," the
voice said. "Please, I must-was
"Who are you? Whoever you are, get off the air!
I don't have time for any-was
Another, deeper voice with the same odd
accent broke in. "Look up, in front of your
vehicle."
"What? Are you insane?" Despite her
protest, she looked up. "Now, just who-was
She broke off, her jaw dropping. Hanging
motionless in the hazy air not twenty meters away,
half that high off the ground, was-something.
At least twice the size of her own lumbering
vehicle, it looked like a rectangular box with a
streamlined front end and a pair of eerily glowing
tubes running the length of the sides.
Fighting down a growing feeling of panic, she
turned back to the radio. "What are you? What do
you want.
And the voices explained.
If not for the apparition floating in plain sight in
front of her, she would have assumed that, like countless
others in recent years, the owners of the voices had
been pushed over the edge into insanity by the strain that
living on Krantin had become. With that thing staring her
in the face, however, she realized that she was more
likely the one who had been pushed over the edge.
She was simply having an elaborate, pointless
hallucination of her own, without even the help of the
computer.
Unless this whole thing-her whole life the last ten
years-had been a computer-generated fantasy.
Unless, rather than being pulled back into reality
by Zalkan, his appearance had simply marked the
beginning of a grimmer fantasy She shook her head
sharply. Hallucination or not, it was not in her
nature to ignore it, and she forced herself to listen and
to absorb what they were saying about federations and generation
ships and someone named Koralus who Abruptly, the
name clicked into place in her mind.
Someone named Koralus, according to the histories, had
been a leader of the Deserters! He had departed on
one of half a dozen ships that had left orbit
around Krantin a hundred years ago! They had not
been heard offor at least ninety years. For a few
years after the departures, the surviving supporters
of the program struggled to keep in touch, and for another
few years, isolated individuals continued to listen
for transmissions from the ships even though they had no
means of replying. Within a decade, the so-called
Desertions had begun to recede from public awareness
until they became just another unpleasant incident
on the downslope of Krantinese history, one
small but bitter skirmish in the long, losing
battle with the Plague.
And now one of these voices was saying he was
Koralus, one of the leaders of this almost forgotten
exodus?
it was of course impossible, she told herself, just
another symptom of her insanity, or a new twist
in the fantasy she was still trapped in. Only
minutes before, she had been thinking about the Deserters
and the ships they had left in, and now, conveniently,
here was a disembodied voice coming from a glowing,
floating apparition saying he was Koralus, that he
had been rescued by the other voices and brought back
to Krantin in a magical ship that blithely defied
the laws of physics!
At least, she thought, it was an interesting
hallucination. And a persistent one.
Finally, one of the voices-the one that called itself
Commander Riker-asked if she would like to come on board
his ship. He called it a "shuttlecraft," which, the
Koralus voice explained, was an auxiliary
ship of some kind, carried by the main ship and used
to take small numbers of people places the main ship
couldn't go-like to the surface of a planet.
Sighing, she acquiesced. If this was all
happening in her own mind or in the semiconductor
synapses of a computer, w did she have
to lose?
And if, by any chance, it was real ...
Only a few minutes earlier, she had been
thinking that only a miracle could save Krantin.
And she couldn't help thinking now, despite all
common sense, that maybe, just maybe, this was it.
In her stained coverall, Ahl Denbahr
reminded Riker of an attractive Starfleet
engineering cadet who had just emerged from one of the
beldecks training exercises the Academy liked
to throw you into without warning. As Riker had hoped,
bringing her aboard the shuttlecraft seemed to dispel
her suspicion that she was hallucinating. "There's
no way I could imagine that!" she said, recovering from
a momentary Worf-induced paralysis.
After that, she was willing, even eager, to answer their
questions, as long as they would answer hers in return.
Unfortunately, her answers did nothing to clear
up I the mystery of the disappearing ships. Not only
had I Krantin not developed impulse drive in
the century since the Hope had departed from orbit,
they had not sent a single ship of any kind into space
since the destruction of the half-constructed generation
ships-"Deserter ships," she called them, a hint
of apology in her voice-and most of the
orbital con I struction facilities.
Nor had they made any progress in understanding
or stopping the Plague. "There may be people still working
on it besides Zalkan," she said, grimacing, "but
whoever they are, if they've made any progress,
I they haven't let me in on it. The few of us that
haven't given up altogether are just trying to cope with the
effects. And losing ground faster every day."
She looked around at the group and at the image of
Picard and the Enterprise bridge on the tiny
viewscreen. "Now you people think these mysterious ships
may have something to do with the Plague? But You can't catch
one to ask? Have I got that right?"
Riker suppressed a smile. He only hoped
that whoever else they would have to deal with was equally sharp and
as adaptable. "You have," he said.
"Meanwhile," she went on, looking toward
Koralus, "you're hoping to have your ten thousand brought
back to Krantin."
Koralus shook his head. "No more. Unless the
Plague is overcome, they-we-will be better off
on the Hope.
She leaned toward the viewscreen and the miniature
image of Picard. "So, what are our chances against
the Plague? Can you help us? Are you
willing to help us?"
"If we are able," he replied. "We must first
speak with your leaders, of course, and with those who have
studied the phenomenon. In the meantime, our chief
engineer has been listening in, and he would like
to inspect your fusion power generators."
"Can he do something for them?"
"He won't know until he looks the situation
over personally, but it is likely that he would be able
to produce the replacement laser units you say are
needed. He would like to begin by bringing one of your units
on board the Enterprise to analyze."
She was silent for several seconds before closing
her eyes briefly and pulling in a deep breath.
"Tell your chief engineer I will be glad to give
him anything he wants or needs. Assuming I can
get in touch with Zalkan, and also assuming I
don't get overruled. And if I am," she added
with a laugh, "let me know how I can help you steal
one."
She didn't get overruled, at least not
by Zalkan.
When he finally responded and she told him what
had happened, all he wanted to know, after several
seconds of silence, was "Are you convinced they
are genuine?"
"As convinced as I can be. Either they're genuine
or this entire thing, including this conversation with you, is
one giant hallucination."
He was silent again, uncharacteristically so, for several
more seconds. "Tell me about the one who calls
himself Koralus. I would like-was He broke off.
"No, I am wasting time. The laser unit is more
important than my own curiosity. I will meet
you at the airlock. I will try to have one of the laser
units there as well," he said, then signed off.
After a brief discussion, Ahl was returned to her
machine long enough to drive it back to the power
'More
plant, where it was left. Minutes later, she was
back in their vehicle, waiting at the city I s
one functioning airlock, a wastefully massive
thing that opened into what had once been the maintenance
area for the countless machines that had, a hundred years
ago, ventured out to aid in the final sealing of the city
and then to scavenge the surrounding area for anything
useful. Now it was a junkyard for all but a
half-dozen of those machines, the only ones that were still
functioning.
Their chief engineer, as dark as the one
called Worf but not at all frightening despite a
strange silvery device that covered his eyes, had
arrived a few minutes later in a second
vehicle, where he sat waiting at the controls.
He was to pick up the laser unit from Zalkan and
return it to their orbiting ship for analysis while
she and Zalkan notified President Khozak
of the aliens" arrival and their offer of help. If
Khozak had any sense at all, he would arrange
to meet with them and discuss their offer.
When, finally, the outer airlock door creaked
open a couple of meters, she began to suspect that
Khozak, not surprisingly, didn't have the
requisite amount of sense and that, somehow, he had
managed to interfere. Instead of Zalkan, a nervous
young man in a breathing mask and a Council coverall
several shades lighter than her own stood in the
lock. Despite her uneasiness at this
development, she couldn't help but grin as the young
man flinched backward a step when he saw Worf
emerge from the vehicle a step behind her.
"Welcome," the young man said, his voice stiff
and uneasy at the same time. "President
Khozak is most anxious to meet with you. Please
come with me."
"Where is Zalkan?" Ahl demanded. "He said
he would meet us here. With one of the replacement laser
units."
"You will have to discuss that with President Khozak,"
he said.
"Look, whoever you are, you're wasting time!" Ahl
snapped. "Khozak has nothing to do with maintaining that
plant. That's Zalkan's responsibility. And
mine. Now, where is he? Why isn't he here?"
"I told you," the young man said, glancin
nervously at Worf, was u will have to discuss this g
YO
at with President Khozak. In any event,
please step inside.
You of all people should know it is not safe to breathe this
air any longer than absolutely necessary."
Ahl started to protest again, to tell the irritating
young man that the tiny unit attached to her coverall was
something called a "field-effect suit," but the one
called Riker intervened before she had gotten out more
than a half-dozen words.
"Yes, whatever disagreements we have," he said
smoothly, "I suggest we discuss them where the air
is less toxic. Geordi," he added, tappin
emblem on the chest of his unifo -- g the
metallic I'm, "you can return to the Enterprise
until we get the situation sorted out." He
turned to the Klingon as the second vehicle lifted
off and vanished into the haze. "Lieutenant Worf,
stay with the shuttlecraft. If our direct link with the
Enterprise is interrupted for any reason, you can
relay our messages."
The Klingon hesitated a moment; a new
expression, equally as unreadable as the previous
one, altered his features slightly. "As you wish,
Commander," he said, then turned and marched back into the
shuttlecraft.
As the vehicle's door closed behind him, the
others, Ahl still frowning, stepped into the airlock.
Slowly, the massive door slid down, almost as
noisily as it had risen. When it reached bottom,
the usual whirring noise started up, and the air
gradually cleared.
Finally, the inner door inched up. When it reached
approximately head height, several men in dark,
loose-fitting jackets with the chevronlike
insignia of Khozak's security forces on their
sleeves stepped abruptly into view.
They all carried something she had rarely seen
outside the computer fantasies she had
once been trapped in, something she had never wished
to see again: guns.
And every one was leveled at Ahl and the group in the
airlock.
chapter six
PRESIDENT KHOZAK WORRIEDLY PACED
the length of the empty Council Chambers. Had
Zalkan lost his mind?
First, without even asking for authorization, the
scientist and one of his technicians had taken one
of the newly and laboriously produced laser units
from storage. Khozak would never have known except for a
sharp-eyed security officer.
And when the two of them had been stopped, Zalkan
had first blustered something about its being none of the
officer's business. Even when Khozak himself, on
the officer's radio, had demanded an explanation,
Zalkan had lied, saying it was for "Denbahr, the
technician he had sent to the power plant. She had
not taken enough with her and needed this one to replace a
unit that was about to fail.
Denbahr, however, couldn't possibly be back for
another five hours, and the idea of Zalkan, in his
condition, trekking a hundred kilometers across that
no-man's-land out there in one of the converted
construction machines they used was ridiculous.
Finally, either from desperation or insanity, Zalkan
had spun a fairy tale so ludicrous it defied
imagination. Apparently with a straight face, he had
spewed out a story of how one of the leaders of the
Deserters had not only returned from the dead but been
ferried back to Krantin from the depths of interstellar
space by some magical star-traveling ship that just
happened to be in the neighborhood. And the beings on this
ship had offered to produce new laser units for the
power plant, in order to do which they needed a sample
unit. They were, Zalkan had said angrily,
waiting outside the airlock while valuable time was
being wasted by "interfering" guards.
Ordinarily-if anything about this could be thought of as
ordinary-that piece of insanity would have been the end of
it. Khozak had never completely trusted
Zalkan, and Zalkan had from the very start seemed
to take an instinctive dislike to the president.
And the scientist was far too secretive and
independent for Khozak's liking.
But Zalkan was also good. He had kept what was
left of the city running, after his predecessor had
simply surrendered and retreated into the fantasy world
of the computer, and Khozak was forced to accept
his eccentricities, no matter how annoying they
might be. Even so, this outlandish story was pushing
things too far, even for Zalkan, and Khozak had
been on the verge of ordering the scientist and his
accomplice locked away until Denbahr
returned from the power plant and could help make some
sense of the situation. But " the security officer
had, on his own initiative, checked the one
monitor that still sporadi cally relayed indistinct
images from outside the airlock.
And there was, the guard said nervously, something there!
Two somethings! A pair of strange, glowing
objects, they were obviously not the cumbersome,
rumbling vehicles the technicians used on their
trips to the power plant. But what they were, neither the
security officer nor Khozak had any idea.
So Khozak had pulled a dozen off-duty
security officers together and sent them, grumbling, to the
airlock. One of them, weaponless and out of uniform,
had gone to the outer door. The others had remained
inside.
And now six of the officers, along with Zalkan and the
technician and the Koralus impostor and two of the
"aliens," were on their way here. The weapons had not
even been necessary, if the "aliens" were to be
believed, which was something Khozak was far from ready
to grant. They had been more than willing to accompany
the officers, although one of them, according to Alkred, had
decided at the last minute to stay with one of the
"ships," and there had been nothing he could do about it.
Nor had he been able to stop the second "ship" from
leaving. Khozak was tempted to order the six who had
remained at the airlock to go outside and take the
remaining one over and find out what it really was, but
that could wait until he learned more from its
occupants. He would find the truth, one way or
another-if not from them, then from Zalkan or his
technician.
Abruptly the door to the corridor opened. An
angry Zalkan, preceded by two of the security
officers, stalked into the room, followed by his
technician, three strangers, and the remainder of the
guards. it was immediately obvious which of the three
strangers were supposed to be the aliens, though
physically they looked almost as human as the woman
Denbahr. Both wore formatting, one-piece
uniforms that did not look at all utilitarian.
In addition, one not only had a short growth of
hair over much of the lower part of his face but had skin
of a darker shade than had been seen on
Krantin since the Plague had stolen the sun from the
sky. The other, aside from oddly colored eyes,
looked far less exotic, and Khozak wondered
why, if they had gone to such trouble with the bearded one,
they had not bothered to similarly darken the exposed
features of the other.
"Welcome," Khozak said into the silence. "I
am Khozak, president of the Council of
Jalkor."
"Thank you," the bearded one said, or at least
seemed to say. His lips moved, but the movements
did not match the oddly accented Krantinese words.
"I am Commander William Riker of the Federation
Starship Enterprise, and this"-a glance at the less
exotic alien-"is Lieutenant Commander Data."
"And you are Ahl Denbahr," Khozak said,
turning to the woman, "the technician? You were the first
to speak with these ... beings?"
She nodded brusquely, taking no pains to hide
either her impatience or her annoyance with his tone.
"Their ship approached me as I was leaving the power
plant."
"I see." His eyes settled on the third
stranger, a conventional-appearing male, at least in
his fifties.
"And you, I am given to understand, are the Deserter
Koralus."
The man grimaced at the obviously intentional
slur, but when he spoke, his voice reflected no
anger or injury, only a modicum of sarcasm.
"I am given to understand I have been called that,
yes."
"You look remarkably well for a man nearly a
hundred and fifty years old," Khozak said,
smiling faintly.
"As would you, if you had spent more than eighty of
them in cryogenic hibernation."
"President Khozak," Ahl Denbahr
broke in, "I think we can all save some time if
you'll allow a little demonstration."
"Demonstration?" Khozak looked more irritated
than puzzled. "I don't understand."
"You obviously think this is a trick of some
kind, am I right?"
"I did not say.that. I merely-was
"You don't have to say it in so many words. And I
can't say that I wouldn't feel the same, were I in
your position. To be honest, I thought I was losing
my mind when I first encountered these people, so I
anticipated some level of skepticism
on your part."
She turned to the one called Data. "You don't
mind?
The little demonstration we discussed on the way in
here?"
"Of course not, if it will facilitate our
mission."
She smiled, turning toward the darker, bearded
alien. "Too bad you left your Klingon outside,
Commander. He would be all the demonstration we would
need. Commander Riker?"
The one called Riker nodded and raised his hands
to the back of the other alien's head-and carefully
peeled up a wide strip of hair.
"What nonsense is this?" Khozak protested
angrily.
"Just watch," Denbahr said, still smiling.
"Lieutenant Commander Data, though he looks like
a normal human on the outside, is actually an
android, an artificially created life-form with a
positronic brain."
Even as she spoke, a section of the alien's
skull-or just scalp?-came loose under the bearded
one's fingers and was raised up like a small door.
Inside, where skull or brain should be, was
a mass of tiny blinking lights and circuits.
Khozak's mouth gaped open. Zalkan looked
startled but recovered quickly. Koralus smiled, his
eyes meeting Denbahr's.
"Would you care to inspect it more closely,
President Khozak?" Denbahr asked with
exaggerated graciousness.
Steeling himself, Khozak stepped forward and looked
closely.
And was convinced.
It was obvious to Riker as he resealed the access
plate in Data's head that Khozak had been
converted from skeptic to believer. Gone were the
defiant posture and the patronizing tone that the
Universal Translator had done nothing
to disguise. In the first moments after Data's
cranial circuitry had been exposed, the
president's eyes had widened in confusion, perhaps
even fear, but then, when he stood back from his
inspection of the lights and circuits beneath the access
plate, his expression had turned to something else,
perhaps determination, though what the object of that
determination was, Riker couldn't tell. It would be
helpful if Deanna were here, he thought, but they would have
to do without her, at least for the time being.
Dismissing all but one of the guards, Khozak
motioned the group to seats around the long council table.
Riker, after some necessarily imprecise answers
to Khozak's frowning questions about the nature, size,
and location of the Federation, explained briefly how they
had discovered the Hope and had come to bring Koralus
back to Krantin. Koralus remained silent
except to lay out the fate of his own ship. "Do you
know what happened to the other ships, President
Khozak?" he asked when he had finished.
Khozak, looking as if he resented even being
addressed by a Deserter, shook his head curtly.
Denbahr, however, who Riker had noticed
seemed to be forming a wordless alliance with Koralus,
perhaps because of their shared and open dislike of Khozak,
gave Koralus a brief, apologetic summary
of what little she could remember.
"Your arrival," she finished, "is the first real
news of any of the ships since the years immediately after
their launch."
"And proof," Khozak said with a scowl, "if any
were ever needed, that the Desertion was a criminal waste
of valuable resources on a massive scale.
If those same resources had been devoted to saving
Krantin rather than attempting to escape from
it-was
"I don't mean to sound impatient, President
Khozak," Denbahr broke in with obvious
impatience, "but who was right or wrong a hundred
years ago doesn't matter now. What matters
is that these people from the stars have offered to help us. And now
that you're convinced they're genuine, I'd like to get on
with it. In particular, I'd like to get that laser unit
delivered to them, the laser unit that was supposed to be
waiting for us at the airlock."
Khozak turned on her with a frown. "Let me
understand this, Technician Denbahr. According to your
reports to Zalkan, it will soon be impossible for
us to produce certain units needed to keep the power
plant running."
"The laser confinement units and a number of other
items," Denbahr said, "but the laser units, with
their hard vacuums, are the most pressing need."
"And these people," Khozak persisted, "have of fered
to produce a new and perhaps even better version of these
items, but they will need one of ours to use as a
model. Is that correct?"
"Essentially, yes."
He turned to Riker and Data. "Is this true?
Can you indeed produce these units?"
"I believe we can," Riker said, "but I can't
guarantee it."
"And how long will this take, once you've determined
it's possible? Months? Years?"
Riker shook his head. "Hours, assuming it can be
done at all."
Khozak's eyes widened. For a moment, he
looked as if he were going to protest, or even
scoff, but after a thoughtful glance at Data, he
nodded. "Very well," he said, turning to Zalkan.
"Have the unit brought up immediately. Technician
Denbahr and I will accompany it."
"There's no need for you to-was Denbahr began
to protest but was cut off by Khozak.
"As president, it is my responsibility.
In addition," Khozak went on, turning to Riker,
"it would be advisable for me to speak directly with your
leader.
Picard, I believe you said he was called. Is
that acceptable to you?"
"Of course, Mr. President," Riker said in
his best diplomatic voice. "I'm sure the
captain will be more than pleased to speak with you." With the
conversation heing monitored by Counselor Troi, he
added mentally.
Zalkan, despite a scowl that vanished as
quickly as it appeared, did not protest. Instead, he
joined Khozak in making the call that would get the
confiscated laser unit once again on its way to the
airlock.
As he released the button on the wall-mounted
communication unit, Denbahr heaved a sigh of
obvious relief. Riker couldn't help but
notice, however, that her eyes went to Koralus rather
than to the scientist, and that a surreptitious smile
softened her features as their eyes met.
Only a trace of the smile remained as she
turned to Khozak. "Your suspicions are all
wrong, by the way, Mr. President."
Riker was not surprised when Khozak's frown
returned. "Suspicions at What are you talking
about?"
She almost laughed. "Armed guards waiting for us
at the airlock? I wouldn't call that being
particularly trusting."
"There's little to inspire trust these days,"
Khozak sai id, "in anyone, let alone in
beings who claim the things these do."
"You're right, of course," Denbahr admitted
briskly. "But now that you realize they're
real, you're thinking they might be the ones responsible
for the Plague."
"Don't be ridiculous! That is-was
"That is one of the commonest of the fantasies the
computer puts out," she interrupted, "the fantasy that
we somehow discover who caused the Plague and then
turn the tables on them. I should know. I lived in
those fantasies for two years."
"I don't have time for such indulgences,
Technician!"
"I didn't say you did, but you're obviously
aware of them. But what I wanted to make clear
was, these people are not the ones responsible for the
Plaguebut they may have stumbled across the ones who
are.
As both Khozak and Zalkan gaped at her,
she hurried through an account of the disappearing ships and the
rest. As he listened, Riker's ebledimate-of her
intelligence and adaptability escalated yet
another notch. She had obviously understood his and
Data's
explanations, and now she produced an
abbreviated and simplified account of the basics of the
transporter system that would have done credit to an
Academy instructor, followed by an
account of how imilar I i energies had been
detected throughout what they I called the Plague,
Particularly in the atmosphere of Krantin itself.
Khozak, however, seemed to remain skeptical
until Koralus recounted his own ex erience of being
snatched literally from theeamiddlep of the Hope and
deposited a moment later in the Enterprise.
When Denbahr and Koralus fell silent,
Zalkan sat stony-faced, saying nothing.
Khozak, too, was silent for several seconds before
turning to Riker. "You're saying, then, that the
Plague could be the result of these ships
"transporting" it here from somewhere else? From
another star system?" He frowned suddenly. "From
your Federation?"
Riker shook his head. "Not from the Federation, for a
number of reasons. But, yes, it's possible that the
matter that's been appearing in here in your solar
system has been-and is still being-transported here from
somewhere else. And if it is, then these ships are very
probably involved in some way. It would be too much
to think it was all just a coincidence."
"Then if you can destroy these ships-was
was Being "involved" doesn't necessarily
mean being
,responsible,"" Riker said quickly. "Before
anyone starts shooting, it would be nice to find out where
the ships and the rest of the matter are being transported
from. And how it's being done."
Khozak's frown deepened. "Whoever is
controlling these ships, then-you're saying their science
is beyond even your understanding?"
"Not at all," Riker said. "The ships themselves were
comparatively primitive. And our analysis of the
transporter energy associated with them indicates
that the technology that Produced it is less
advanced than our own. It's just that it's ...
different in some way we don't yet understand."
"It is only a matter of time, then, until you
do understand it?" Khozak persisted.
"in all robability, yes, although we on the
Enter p Prise may not be able to do it alone-.
We may need to bring in a team of specialists from
the Federation."
"But when you do understand it, you will be able to devise a
defense against it? To reverse it?"
"It's impossible to say at this point. All we
can promise to do is gather as much information as we can and
report back to the Federation."
"And what about the disappearing ships them
selves?" Khozak asked. "If they are, as you
say, primitive compared to your own ship, it should be
easy enough for you to capture one and question the occupants."
"It hasn't been easy so far," Riker said
ruefully.
"We tried to restrain one with a tractor beam, and
it vanished as quickly as the others."
"But what of your weapons? Surely you have
weapons."
"We do."
"If you object to destroying these ships, could out not
at least disable them? Prevent them from esca at
and capture them?"
ping
"Again, I don't know. It hasn't gotten to that
point yet, and it won't until we know
considerably more than we know now. In any event, as
I understand it, the immediate priority is to save your
reactor. Is the laser unit-was
Riker broke off as Worf's voice erupted
from his comm unit. "Commander there have been two more bursts
of the transporter-like energy. They were- Riker
suppressed a frown as he cut Worf off. Two
more bursts were hardly news after the hundreds they had
already detected. "Thank you,
Lieutenant. We can discuss it when we return
to-was
"This time the sources of the energy were not in space,"
Worf broke in. "Both were somewhere on or below the
surface of this world."
Riker grimaced mentally at his own slip. He
should have realized that Worf would not have contacted him if
the information were not important.
"Can you be more specific, Lieutenant?" he
asked, darting a glance at the Council president.
He was relieved to see that Khozak looked
genuinely startled, but he still wished Deanna were here.
She would have to be given a chance at Khozak and the
others before any final decisions were made.
"The first burst was in an easterly direction from our
present location, sir," Worf was reporting. "It
very probably originated well below ground. The
distance is likely less than one hundred
kilometers.
The second, less than a minute later, was
southerly and probably much more distant."
"Keep watch for any more," Riker said
unnecessarily. "Enterprise, can you-was
"Commander!" Khozak broke in. "Does this
mean these ships you found in space are now
here on Krantin?"
"At this point, I don't know what it means."
"Can your ship-your 'shuttlecraft" go to where these
energy bursts originated?"
"To the general areas, yes," Riker said
impatiently, suppressing another frown as he
wondered what Khozak was driving at.
"Then I suggest you send them there immediately.
If there are more bursts, you would then be better able
to pinpoint the location of the ships responsible for them.
Am I not rights"
So that was it. "Pos'sibly," Riker said, "if
they were caused by ships. And if there are more bursts, and
if they come from the same areas as the first. Do you have any
reason to expect the bursts to continue?"
Khozak blinked, seemingly startled at the question.
Only what you have already told us-that each time y"...ou
detected one in space, it was followed by several more.
If the same is true here-was
"You are wasting time, Khozak," Zalkan
broke in, his voice touched with anger despite its
weakness. "If these ships and their "energy bursts"
do indeed have something to do with the Plague, they have most
likely been here for hundreds of years and will just as
likely continue to be for hundreds more. There
is no need to rush out instantly to try to trap them
or destroy them or whatever it is you want to do with
them. On the other hand, our need for fully operational
laser units could become critical at any
moment. I insist that that be dealt with first, as quickly as
possible. Do you understand?"
"Of course I understand!" Khozak snapped.
"Do you think me a fool? In any case, the one
need not interfere with the other. Am I right, Commander?"
he asked, turning toward Riker. "A second of
your ships is already on its way back down to pick
up the laser unit, is it not?"
"It is. And I believe you and Technician
Denbahr were planning to accompany it to the
Enterprise?"
Khozak shook his head. "She was right when' she
protested. My presence would be purely
ceremonial.
She knows how the units operate and can answer
any questions better than 1. I will accompany you in
your search for-was
"For the moment, President Khozak," Riker
said firmly, "there will be no search. Before we do
anything else, I suggest both you and Zalkan come
with us to the Enterprise. You can speak
directly with Captain Picard, and you can give us
as much information on the Plague as you can. Then we can
discuss the best course of action to take."
And Deanna can perhaps tell us who, if anyone,
is telling the truth around here, he added to himself,
remembering the weapons that had been leveled at him
by Khozak's men little more than an hour earlier.
Chapter seven
KHOZAK AND ZALKAN, once they recovered
from their first sight of Worf, were silent as the
shuttlecraft shot up through the hazy atmosphere and
into only slightly less hazy space. As the
approaching Enterprise loomed ever larger until
its graceful lines and colorful lights were all they
could see, Denbahr was the only one to speak.
"This thing actually moves? Faster than light
Riker only smiled and surreptitiously motioned
Data to remain quiet. She had digested the
rudiments of transporter technology with remarkable
ease, but there was no reason, yet, to get into warp
theory, which virtually no one truly understood.
As Riker had requested, Counselor Troi was
waiting for them when they emerged from the shuttlecraft,
her eyes meeting his in brief acknowledgment of their
conspiracy before turning her full attention
to the three Krantinese.
Except for Data, who had data to analyze,
the entire group made their way to the bridge, where
Picard was waiting. As they started from there to a conference
room, Riker and Troi lagged behind, ostensibly
waiting for a second turbolift.
Riker turned questioningly to Troi the moment the
doors closed behind the others.
"The woman is by far the most open," Troi
began without further prompting. "I can sense no
desire to hold anything back, only a-a feeling
of hope or optimism, something I gather she has
not had before.
There is also an overwhelming impatience to
"get on with it," to waste no more time."
Riker nodded. "That's how she struck me as
well, although she was very skeptical at first contact.
But the moment she entered the shuttlecraft and saw
Worf, it was as if every doubt she had vanished. From
that point on, she's been focused almost entirely
on getting help for her world. But what about the other
two?"
"Both are very guarded. The one called Khozak
is more suspicious than skeptical, I think.
Each new sight, each new crew member
he saw, he became more tense. He simply
doesn't trust us or Koralus. He may not
even believe we are who we say we are. He's
very wary, very apprehensive. The other, the scientist,
is more puzzling. With him, there is very little feeling of
distrust, but a great sense of fear."
"Fear? Of what? Of us? Of the Plague?"
"It is difficult to tell. Perhaps I can learn
more as you and the captain discuss things with him. But he is
definitely holding things back to a much greater
degree than President Khozak."
"Even though he trusts us?"
"Perhaps 'bblieves" is a better word. I
don't think he doubts that we are who we say we
are, nor that we mean to help if we can. Khozak,
on the other hand, reacts to all of us like someone who
is afraid we might stab him in the back
regardless of who we are or what we want.
Zalkan's fear is different. It is not a fear of
us but of something or someone else, and it is quite strong.
At the same time, underneath it, there is a feeling of
hope that is almost as strong as Denbahr's."
"I suppose I was being naive, hoping for a
simple answer."
"Where feelings are concerned, Will," she
said with a rueful smile, "answers are rarely
simple."
Riker sighed. "Unfortunately true. There are
times I envy Data."
"But not many, I sense."
A smile slipped briefly across his face.
"No, I suppose not."
They were silent as the turbolift doors opened and
deposited them a few meters from the conference room.
"The scientist, Zalkan, is also quite ill, I
believe," Troi said.
Riker nodded. "I suspected as much. Do you
think he would allow Beverly to look him over?"
"It's hard to say, W. He might. Khozak,
never. He mistrusts us too much. Simply being
on the Enterprise is as much as he can take."
"And Koralus?"
"He is much like the woman, except I don't
feel that he shares her optimism. It's almost as
if he were consciously trying to keep his hopes reined
in.
"Understandable, considering what happened to him and the
Hope. And possibly to the other generation ships as
well."
Both fell silent as the door to the
conference room hissed open and they stepped inside.
Except for Data, everyone was there, Picard at the
head of the table.
Riker and Troi took two of the seats left
vacant on Picard's right, facing the four aliens
on the opposite side of the long table. Geordi,
who had already delivered the laser unit to Engineering,
was at the far end, next to Worf.
A moment later, the door hissed open again and
Data came quickly through and seated himself next
to Troi. Leaning close, in a voice barely
audible to Riker, he said, "Counselor, if it is
not entirely outside your purview, I would
appreciate your spending a few moments observing
Spot when you have the opportunity."
Troi's eyebrows rose slightly as she
turned toward the android. "Your cat?"
"Yes, Counselor. I stopped in my quarters
to assure myself she was all right, and she seemed
unusually ... nervous."
Troi smiled and Riker suppressed a laugh.
"I assume you're familiar with the expression
"nervous as a cat," Data," Troi said.
"Certainly, Counselor, but I do not believe
it has ever been applicable to Spot.
Even during her pregnancy and temporary
devolution, she remained quite calm."
Before Troi could answer, Picard was speaking.
"Mr. La Forge, a preliminary report?"
"The laser unit is being analyzed in Engineering.
Based on its appearance and on Technician
Denbahr's explanation of its function, we should be
able to duplicate it with little difficulty."
Denbahr, directly across from Data, leaned
back with a grin and an explosive sigh of relief.
"I knew you could do it!"
Geordi smiled at her enthusiasm but shook his
head. "No guarantees, at least not until the
analysis is complete. And even then, we won't
be one hundred percent certain until a new unit
is produced and is actually installed and operating."
"I understand," she said, but her grin remained
broad despite Geordi's caveat and the
disapproving frown directed at her by President
Khozak.
Picard, after an almost imperceptible glance toward
Troi, turned to the four Krantinese, and as he
did, a hologram of the first of the two alien ships
appeared in the air above the conference table.
All four looked startled, but only
Khozak darted a frowning look toward Picard.
The eyes of the other three seemed glued to the image,
even those of Koralus, who had seen it all before on
the main viewscreen.
Troi surveyed all four silently, with no show
of emotion, but after a few seconds, her gaze
settled on the scientist Zalkan.
"This is an image of the first ship we encountered in
your system," Picard said. "It appears to be a
cargo vessel with an impulse drive barely
powerful enough to move it from one asteroid to the next. Is
it familiar to any of you?"
Picard looked slowly and deliberately from one
to the next, addressing each by name as his eyes met
theirs. One by one, they denied it, Khozak
belligerently, Denbahr with a puzzled shake of her
head, Zalkan with an expressionless "No."
"Or this?" With Picard's words, the cargo
vessel was replaced by the second, smaller ship.
"It appeared to be a scout ship of some kind. It,
too, was equipped with an impulse drive."
Khozak's frown became a scowl as he shook
his head. "Your people were already told we know nothing of
any ships-or anything else-that you may have found in the
Plague! It has been a hundred years
since we sent anything or anyone into space."
"I understand that, President Khozak," Picard
said. "But I also understand that your world was in space for
many years before you were forced to retreat to Krantin
entirely."
"But we did retreat! We had no choice! I
see no reason to show us these objects when it is
perfectly obvious none of us could ever have seen
anything like them!"
"Please accept my apologies for any offense
you might feel," Picard said. "However, I felt
it important to determine if these ships bore any
resemblance to those that your people built and used in
centuries past."
"I wouldn't know! The history of our efforts at
space travel is not something that has ever occupied
my thoughts! Except occasionally," he added with a
glare at Koralus, "to curse the Deserters and the
waste they were responsible for!"
"I can confirm that neither ship bears any
resemblance to anything ever built or conceived of on
Krantin," Koralus said softly, "at least
prior to my departure. In my role as a leader
of the so-called Deserters, I made it my business
to be familiar with every type of spacecraft
and propulsion system ever built or proposed, and
I neither saw nor heard of anything like these two,
certainly none powered by this 'impulse drive" you
mention."
"Thank you," Picard said, returning his eyes
to the image that still hung above the table. "This," he
went on as the image started to move, "is what
happened when it vanished."
Except for Khozak, who fidgeted
irritably, the Krantinese watched the image
by image disappearance of both ships raptly.
"Those flashes," Denbahr said when the last
image faded, "those are the "transporter
energies" you say you detected?"
"The flashes were only the visible signature of the
energies involved," Data volunteered when
Picard nodded in his direction. "In effect, what
you saw was a waste product of the process."
Denbahr's eyes widened. "You're saying that was
only a small part of the energy that made those ships
disappear."
"That is correct. With our own transporters
there is a similar but much smaller visible
signature. The process used on these ships was
much less efficient, almost crude
by comparison."
"But even with this signature," Zalkan said,
straightening in his chair with a visible effort, "you are
unable to determine where these ships were transported
to."
"So far, that is true," Picard said, and then
continued, overriding any other questions, "What I would
like now is for each of you to tell us as much as you can about
the Plague. If we are to have any chance of understanding
it, any chance of learning what, if any, connection it
has with these ships, we will need all the information you can
give us."
It was not surprising to Riker that Denbahr was the
first to respond, nor that she responded
enthusiastically and encyclopedically. Even so,
except for outlining Zalkan's persistent
suspicion that the effects of the Plague decreased
as you went deeper underground, she provided little beyond the
basics. No one knew precisely when the
Plague had started. It had been fouling the
atmosphere of Krantin for at least five hundred
years, and it had been detected in nearby space,
starting in the midst of the asteroid belt, not long after.
No source had ever been found, certainly nothing as
obvious as a fleet of ships like the ones the
Enterprise had seen, and no barrier had ever proven
perfect. Most but not all of the planetary pollution
seemed to form in the upper reaches of the atmosphere and
drift downward. Increasingly in the last few
decades, however, it had been appearing lower down,
including inside the enclosed cities, and only
massive filtering and recirculation systems kept
the interior air breathable. Worst of all, hard
vacuums-the sort needed in the laser units-were
becoming contaminated ever more rapidly.
When she was finished, there was little the others could add,
nor did they try, except for Zalkan, who
cautiously explained that it was the progression of the
Plague downward through the atmosphere that was
responsible for his theory and his subsequent efforts
to move everything underground, starting with the power plant and the
facilities used to build new laser units.
When nothing else was forthcoming except more of
Khozak's questions about the Federation, Picard rose,
cutting the discussion short and offering to arrange for a
tour of the Enterprise, individually or together, before
they were returned to Krantin. "I will be certain,"
he added to Khozak, "that whoever escorts you will be
able to answer all of your questions."
The president accepted immediately, while
Denbahr said she would very much like a tour as well, but
could it wait until she and Commander La Forge
checked on the progress with the laser unit. Only
Zalkan was reluctant, wanting to return
to Krantin as soon as possible, at which point
Troi caught Picard's eye and almost
imperceptibly shook her head.
"You can all wait here," Picard continued without
missing a beat, "and I will send someone to escort
whoever wishes to see the rest of the Enterprise. In the
meantime, Commander La Forge, you can escort
Technician Denbahr to Engineering to check on their
progress with the laser unit."
A minute later, Picard and the other officers,
except for Geordi, who was already on his way
to Engineering with Denbahr, were in the corridor
outside the conference room.
Hurriedly, Troi filled them in on what she
had already told Riker and went on to tell them what
she had learned in the conference room. "Zalkan
recognized those ships," she said, "I'm sure of
it. They are part of whatever it is that he's afraid
of. The others recognized nothing. And the president,
despite his lack of trust for us and his dislike of
Koralus-which is completely mutual-did
not appear to be lying in any way. Another odd thing
is Zalkan's reaction to Koralus. He has
said nothing, but I sense what I can only
describe as a degree of admiration and affection in
his feelings toward Koralus. And he was offended
whenever Khozak made one of his remarks about the
"Deserters.""
"Good work, Counselor," Picard said. "Do you
have any suggestions for getting the truth out of
Zalkan?"
"Other than questioning him directly, no," she said,
"and I doubt that he would respond well to that.
His fear of those ships or what they represent is
too great, although this time I was able to detect an
undercurrent of anger as well as fear."
"We could start," Riker volunteered, "by seeing
if he would be interested in our medical services.
Deanna and I discussed this briefly before, and we
feel that, in addition to possibly helping him, it could
be informative."
Picard nodded thoughtfully. "Very well.
Counselor, suggest it as tactfully as you can.
See how he reacts."
The scientist's outward reaction was almost
nonexistent, a slight tensing of the jaw but
nothing more.
Behind that mask, however, Troi sensed a flare of
hope that for a moment overcame the fear that had been a
constant, debilitating presence from the moment she had
first encountered him in the shuttlebay.
There was no anger at her presumption in making the
suggestion, no hint of denial of his illness, just the
sudden flare of hope, but an instant later, the fear
flooded back, smothering the hope and turning it
to despair.
Lowering his eyes, he shook his head in the gesture
of negation that so many humanoid races seemed
to adopt. "I appreciate the offer, but I must
return to Krantin as soon as possible."
Troi smiled soothingly. "Our medical
technology is such that Dr. Crusher could perform a
reasonably comprehensive examination in a few
minutes. It would be completed long before a
shuttlecraft will be available to take you and the others
down."
He was silent for several seconds, and Troi
could sense the battle raging within him despite the
continuing surface calm. Finally he nodded. "Very
well," he said. "As long as my return is not
delayed."
As he walked with her toward the turbolift,
however, it was obvious to Troi that his inner battle was
far from over. It, was only slightly less obvious
that Zalkan knew more than he was admitting about his
own illness and that, at least in his mind, there was a
connection between the illness and whatever it was about the
disappearing ships that he feared.
The results of a complete scan with a medical
tricorder were, at best, puzzling. No single
reading or group of readings was radically different from
those obtained from a similar scan given Koralus
shortly after he first came on board. Every organ,
every cell seemed to be functioning approximately the
way it was intended to function-except at a
drastically lowered level of efficiency.
Zalkan sighed when Dr. Crusher told him the
results. "Old age," he murmured. "I
take it that's one medical problem you haven't yet
solved."
"Not entirely, no," she said. "However, your
readings are not consistent with those resulting from normal
aging."
"How can you be so certain? After all, your only
reference points are the readings you obtained from
Koralus."
"I can't be certain, of course. However, there is
a progression that is common to most advanced
lifeforms, almost universal to humanoids, and your
readings do not conform to that progression."
"But there is nothing you can do to help me, am I
right?"
"We have no magical cure for whatever this is,
Zalkan, I'll admit that. However, if we were
allowed to do a more detailed examination, comparing the inner
workings of your cells with those of Koralus or
others-was
"And this detailed comparison-I assume it would
take more time than the few minutes it took to run
your machine over my body."
"Longer, yes, hours perhaps."
"Or days?"
"That is also a possibility. It all depends
on what we find and how deep we have to go."
He shook his head firmly. "No, I must
return to Krantin with the others."
And that was his final word. He insisted on joining
Denbahr, who was being shown around Engineering
by Geordi now that she had been convinced there was nothing
more she could do to help with the laser unit.
Once there, Troi saw, the scientist
became so involved with Geordi's running commentary that
the cloud of fear and impatience that seemed to hover
over him constantly almost dissipated. It returned
with a vengeance, however, when they reached the towering
matter-antimatter reactor and Geordi did his
best to give them a simplified explanation " of
its inner workings, dilithium crystals and all. From
then on, despite continued outer calm, Zalkan was
so distracted it was doubtful that he heard one word in
ten that Geordi spoke.
By the time the tour was completed and they rejoined
Picard and Riker to make their way back to the
shuttlebay, cracks in Zalkan's surface
calm were beginning to show, and he flinched visibly when
Picard revealed that a second pair of energy
surges had been detected from roughly the same areas
of Krantin that had produced the earlier surges.
"I hope, Captain Picard," Khozak said
immediately, "that you and Commander Riker will now reconsider
the decision to not conduct a search of the areas in which these
energy surges originate."
"We will discuss the matter when we bring the new
laser unit down," Riker said, glancing at
Lieutenant Worf, who was standing in the door to the
shuttlecraft. "As Zalkan suggested
earlier, if these energy surges are associated with the
Plague, they've been around for hundreds of years
and are unlikely to stop overnight."
"Quite right," Zalkan added quickly. "In any
event, I have difficulty believing that these particular
surges have any relationship to the Plague. As I
have pointed out for years, its direct effects are
less drastic at the surface than they are higher
in the atmosphere and are very likely even weaker the
farther beneath the surface you go."
"Which is unproven nonsense!" Khozak
snapped, glaring at the scientist.
"Unproven only because you have refused to give the
necessary priority to the research necessary to prove it! If
you were not so obsessed with controlling every aspect of-
"Think of the search, then, Zalkan," Picard
broke in, "as part of that research. Unless, of
course," he added after an almost imperceptible
sideward glance at Troi, "you know of some reasons
that such a search would be inadvisable or even
dangerous."
Zalkan opened his mouth as if to reply but halted
himself abruptly. After a second, he shook his
head.
"No, I know of nothing. Waste your time
if you wish."
With that, he turned and climbed past Worf into the
waiting shuttlecraft, leaving Khozak to glare at
his back while Denbahr hurried in after him.
"Conclusions?" Picard looked around at the
group, gathered in the same conference room, joined this
time by Guinan, whose latest peculiar garb didn't
look quite as out of place as it seemed it should.
"Guinan, you said you observed him for a time in
Ten-Forward."
"I always observe my customers, Captain,"
she said with a toothy smile, "particularly those who
ask as many questions as your friend Khozak did."
"And you learned what from these observations?"
"Little more than the counselor has already told you,
I'm sure. He was very curious and probably
believed very little of what he was told."
"If he was questioning you, I wouldn't blame him,"
Riker said with a grin.
"Now, now, Commander. It's not my fault that the
truth is usually more complex than you'd like."
"Your truth, at any rate. What sort of
questions did he ask you?"
"Pretty much the same as he asked everyone
else.
What world was I from." She shrugged as she favored
Riker with another smile. "Where was it. What did
I know about the Federation. Had my world been forced
to join. What was the Enterprise doing in this part of
space. And he tried to avoid officers. He even
asked me if there were any civilians he could talk
to other than myself, although I can't imagine why he
thought I might be a civilian."
Riker nodded. "Just what I would do if I were in
a strange place and didn't know who
to trust-avoid people in authority. They always have the most
reason to be ... less than completely truthful.
Present company excepted, of course."
"Of course, Number One," Picard said
dryly as he turned to Troi. "Counselor, you
accompanied them to the shuttlebay. Was President
Khozak any more trusting toward us than when he
arrived?"
"Only slightly, Captain, and most of the gain
was lost when Will refused to consider an immediate search for the
source of the energy surges."
"And the scientist Zalkan?"
"He still believes we are who we say we are,
but he's terrified of telling us whatever it is he's
holding back."
"Were you able to learn anything about what that might
be?"
"Nothing substantial, Captain. However,
I'm certain it has something to do with the ships and, now,
with the energy surges we detected on the planet."
Picard nodded. "I noticed his reaction when I
told them of the second pair of surges. Does
he fear them as well as the ships?"
"I don't know, Captain. I don't even know
that he fears the ships themselves. All I know is that
he is very fearful of something, and that fear was triggered
or made worse whenever either the ships or the energy
surges were mentioned. However, there was an anger
sometimes associated with the ships but not with the planetary
surges. Also, as I have noted before, I do not
believe the fear is for himself personally."
"For what, then? All of Krantin?"
"Again, I do not know, but it is almost certainly not
for himself. For one thing, based on his reaction to the
results of Dr. Crusher's examination of him, I
suspect he I has resigned himself to dying."
'Is there anything you can do for him?" Picard
asked, turning toward Dr. Crusher.
"Perhaps, but without further tests, I have no way of
knowing, and I doubt that he will consent to that."
"And, Counselor, you said you suspect that he
knows more about his own illness than he is saying?"
"I am almost positive, Captain. But he
flatly denied knowing anything about it when Dr.
Crusher questioned him."
"The same way," Riker said, a touch of
sarcasm in his voice, "that he flatly denied knowing
anything about the disappearing ships and those planetary
energy surges. Could there be a connection between the
lies?"
There was silence for a moment before Data spoke.
"It is possible, Commander. If we assume that
the disappearances are the result of the ships being
transported somewhere, and if we additionally assume
that he is not only familiar with the ships but has
actually been aboard one when it was transported,
then his 'illness" could be the result. All our
sensor readings indicated that the associated
transporter-like energies did not have full
quantum-level resolution and therefore could damage
living matter during the transport process."
Crusher's eyes widened, but then she nodded.
"You're right, of course, Data. I don't know
why I didn't think of it myself." She turned
toward Picard.
"Remember the rebels on Rutia Four,
Jean-Luc-the device they used to kidnap us was a
result of some form of transporter technology, and
it caused irreversible damage to anyone using it
often enough."
Picard grimaced as he suddenly realized why the
images of the disappearing ships had seemed so
elusively familiar to him. "I remember," he
said, not elaborating. "But the problem there was not the
resolution level, was it? Mr. Data?"
"It was not the primary problem, Captain, so far
as we determined at the time. However, we did not
analyze the resolution level once we discovered
that the process was based on the Elway theorem.
We assumed, as did the rebels, that the dimensional
shifting involved in the process was the cause of the
damage."
Dr. Crusher nodded. "And the damage
to Zalkan, if that's what it is, is different.
On Rutia Four, the damage was primarily to the
DNA, and the pattern was identifiable. In
Zalkan, the DNA may be damaged, but I
haven't been able to detect it as yet.
Instead, there appears to be simply a lowering of the
efficiency of virtually every biological
process at every level."
"As if," Riker said, "he had been
transported and rematerialized, but not with full
quantum-level resolution. As if he were alive
but not quite a at alive as he was before."
Crusher smiled faintly. "It's as good a way
for a layman to look at it as any, Commander-as long
as the layman doesn't try to develop a treatment
based on the analogy." She sobered. "In any
event, I've already fed the results of the blood and
tissue analysis into the computer and initiated a
search for possible remedies. Preliminary
results, however, are not encouraging."
She glanced around the conference table. "I'm sure
you're all familiar with CZ'-FOURTEEN."
Riker frowned. "That isn't still around, is it?"
"There are rumors that the Ferengi picked up the
formula for either that or one of the other illicit
descendants of cordrazine," Picard said, "but
there is no proof as yet."
Crusher nodded. "No proof that the Ferengi were
involved, but traces were Positively identified
in three would-be entrants in the Josarian games
last year."
"I hope, Doctor," Picard said,
"that you're not going to tell us that CZ'-FOURTEEN is
what the computer sees as an antidote for
Zalkan's condition."
"It is one of the strongest metabolic enhancers
known, Captain, and the computer noted that it would be
especially effective with the Krantinese
metabolism."
"It is also often fatal in a matter of hours,
Doctor."
"Exactly, Jean-Luc. As I said, it is not
encouraging.@., Picard nodded grimly. "As you
said. Let me know if the computer comes up with anything
more useful."
"Captain," Data spoke up, "your Rutian
experience may have provided us with another clue.
There could be a form of dimensional shifting involved here
as well. However, instead of returning to this dimension,
it is possible that the ships remain in that other
dimension."
"An alternate universe, Mr. Data?"
Picard frowned.
"The existence of such alternate realities has
been proven many times, Captain."
"I fully realize that, Mr. Data. The
Enterprise has been involved in such
"proof" more often than I like to remember. I was
merely hoping that we were not involved once more." comx
would certainly explain why there were no indications of
either a matter stream or a confinement field,"
Riker said. "And no traces of subspace
energy."
"Captain," Ensign Thompson's voice
emerged abruptly from Picard's comm unit,
"Lieutenant Worf is reporting from the
shuttlecraft."
"Patch him through, Ensign." e replaced
Ensign A moment later, Worf's voic
Thompson's. "Captain, there has been another
pair of energy surges."
"Were you able to pinpoint the location of either?"
s instructed, I have
"To some extent, Captain. A been patrolling
the area indicated by the surges nearer the city since
delivering Khozak and the others. The second in this
pair was, like the others, far to the south, but the first was
almost directly beneath the shuttlecraft. it
definitely originated deep underground, at least a
kilometer, and in the same general area as the earlier
surges."
"A cavern of some kind?"
"Possibly, sir. The shuttlecraft's
sensors are not reliable at that depth, but they do
indicate an extensive network of tunnels and
shafts at levels closer to the surface."
"Are there any life-forms in the tunnels?"
"None in the levels accessible to the sensors,
sir. At the level of the surge, it is impossible
to tell."
"Very well. Good work, Lieutenant. Continue
where you are for the time being. Keep watch for lifeforms
at any level."
When Picard signed off, Koralus spoke
up. "Captain Picard, I may have knowledge of the
tunnels that your lieutenant detected."
All eyes turned to Koralus. "Enlighten us,
then," Riker said.
"They are abandoned mines. Over a hundred
years ago-no, over two hundred years ago-that was
the richest mining area in all of Krantin. Dozens
of different minerals, from lead and iron to uranium,
were found and extracted in great quantities. Those
mines, in fact, were in part responsible for Jalkor
becoming the largest and most powerful city on
Krantin. The mining went on for at least fifty
years, until the entire area, hundreds
of square kilometers, was a honeycomb of
tunnels more than a kilometer deep."
He paused, shaking his head. "Of course, I have
no idea what has been done with them in the last
hundred years, but Jalkor's records computer
would certainly have the information. If anyone has
bothered. to keep it up to date."
Picard glanced at Troi, who nodded
affirmatively.
He was telling the truth.
"Very well," Picard said, standing, "we will contact
President Khozak and see if he can-or
will-fill in the blanks for us when you take the laser
unit down tomorrow."
Chapter Eight
"THANK YOU FOR COMING, COUNSELOR,"
Data said as the door to his quarters hissed shut
behind Troi. "I realize you are accustomed to dealing
with more highly sentient beings than Spot, but-was
"That's perfectly all right, Data," she said
with a smile. "I'm responsible for the emotional
well-being of all the crew, and a pet, once it is
adopted by a crew member, is one aspect of that
well-being." She paused and looked around. "Where is
she?"
"Under the bed. She was there when I returned and
has refused to come out, even for food."
"Perhaps it is something physical, Data. When
cats are ill, they tend to keep to themselves."
"I understand that, Counselor, but I do not believe
that is the case with Spot. Dr. Crusher says she
is in perfect health, except for a nascent
furball. Also, I spoke with Ensign
Thompson, who has Spot's brother, Fido, and
he indicated that Fido has been similarly
uneasy the last few hours."
Deanna smiled faintly. "I see. Well,
perhaps I should examine the patient. Can you coax her
out, or must I crawl under with her?"
Data seemed to consider for a moment. "I will get
her out," he said, dropping to his knees next to the
bed. "Your movements would be quite restricted, and that
might not be entirely safe, considering Spot's
present mood."
Dropping flat on his stomach, Data looked
under the bed. "Counselor, if you could watch the other
side of the bed while I approach her from this side .
. ."
"Of course, Data." Dropping to her knees and
leaning down, Deanna could see Spot near
the head of the bed, watching Data apprehensively.
As Data made what passed for soothing noises and
reached under the bed, the cat pulled back for a moment,
then streaked out under the foot of the bed, raced across the
room, and disappeared over the back of the couch.
"I believe I have her now," Data said, standing
effortlessly and crossing to the couch. Kneeling on the
couch, he leaned over its back and darted his right hand
down into the triangular area behind it. A moment
later, he brought the squirming animal into view,
placed it on the couch and, still restraining it gently,
sat down next to it. It wasn't hissing, but its
ears werb laid back, its tail lashing.
"Spot, you are behaving quite badly," he said,
scratching the top of the cat's head between its ears, which
seemed to calm it slightly. "Counselor Troi
is only here to help you."
Smiling at Data's so-human interaction with the
cat, Deanna sat down on the other side of
Spot.
Cautiously, she extended her right hand, holding
the fingers directly in front of the cat's muzzle.
Just as cautiously, the cat stretched forward
slightly and sniffed at the fingers.
After a minute, the tail slowed its
lashing and the ears were at least partially raised. Finally,
it rubbed the side of its mouth against the tips of
Deanna's fingers.
"That is quite impressive, Counselor," Data
said.
"This is the calmest she has been for quite some time."
"It's nothing, Data, just a small amount of
empathic feedback. I wasn't certain it would work
with a non-Betazoid animal, least of all a
cat."
"I see. But I am not surprised that it worked,
Counselor. There is much anecdotal evidence
regarding the ability of cats to sense emotions in
humans, though I must admit there is considerable
evidence as well that the ability is due to their keen
sense of smell."
Deanna laughed. "Are you implying that I smell
calm to Spot?"
"It is possible, Counselor. The fact that I
do not possess the same scents as humans may in
fact explain a part of Spot's uneasiness.
While Ensign Thompson has noticed similar
behavior in Fido, he has been able to calm him
while I have been unable to do the same with Spot."
"Perhaps you're right, Data. You might
want to test your hypothesis by having Ensign
Thompson-Without warning, Spot tensed, and Troi
was shaken by the sudden, sourceless fear that radiated from
the animal. An instant later, the hair along the
cat's spine bristled and her mouth opened in a
teeth-baring hiss as she ducked her head and, half
turning on her back, lashed out with her claws.
Only Data's lightning-fast reaction kept the
claws from raking Deanna's unprotected hand.
A moment later, the hiss turned to a yowl, and
Data held the struggling animal only for the
fraction of a second it took Deanna to pull
away and stand up. The instant he released the cat,
it streaked back under the bed.
"Something terrified her," Troi said, her eyes
wide.
"I could feel the fear."
"It would be interesting to learn if Fido or any
of the other cats on board the Enterprise-was
"Commander Data, Counselor Troi,"
Picard's voice erupted from their comm units
simultaneously, "to the bridge. There has been
another surge of energy, the most powerful one yet."
"On our way, Captain," Data answered for
them both. At the door, he paused.
"Computer," he said, darting a look toward the bed that
Spot still crouched under, "initiate constant visual
and audio scan of these quarters. Retain all
records until further notice."
Picard's eyes remained fixed on the
viewscreen as Troi took her position on his
left and Data slid smoothly into the ops station
seat. Koralus was again in Riker's seat, while the
commander stood to one side. Ensign Thompson,
short and bearded and constantly on a diet, was at the
tactical station in Worf's place. On the
screen, Krantin had been replaced by the flare of the
shields as the Enterprise moved at quarter
impulse in the general direction of the source of the
latest energy surge.
Barely a minute had gone by when Data
reported an object almost dead ahead, moving
toward the Enterprise at a similar velocity.
"It would appear,"
Data said, "that the surge was not more powerful than the
earlier ones, only closer. It may even have been
in high orbit around the planet."
"Mr. Wort" Riker said, "was there another
energy surge beneath the surface of the planet?"
"No, sir," Worf's voice came
back a second later.
"There has been no detectable activity since
my last report."
"I knew that would be too easy, Riker said with a
curt sigh, "for the ships to be coming from down there."
"Get us as close as possible to this new ship,
Mr. Data," Picard said. "I want as
reliable a set of readings as you can get before it
disappears."
"Yes, Captain. Sensors at maximum."
Another minute, and a glowing dot appeared on the
viewscreen.
"It appears to be similar to the object we
encountered in the asteroid belt," Data said. "As with
that one, the sensors cannot penetrate the shell of
transporter-like energy that surrounds it. I can only
assume that, like the first, it is using the energy field
to clear a path through the dust."
"Another of the scout-type vessels?" Picard
wondered aloud.
"It is probably of a similar size,
Captain, but it is moving more rapidly, indicating
that its impulse engines are more powerful than those of the
previous ship. They might be the equal of one of
our larger shuttlecraft."
For another minute, the glow grew larger and brighter
on the viewscreen. Then, abruptly, it vanished
and was replaced by the image of a ship, this one bearing-
a slight resemblance to Federation shuttlecraft of
half a century earlier. It continued to move
closer, but more slowly, the equivalent of minimum
impulse.
"Captain," Data said an instant later, "there
are two laser devices that can only be described
as weapons, although they are not powerful enough to pose a
threat to the Enterprise. They appear to be fully
primed and ready to fire. There is one life-form on
board, definitely humanoid, possibly
Krantinese."
"Continue to monitor."
"Should I hail it, sir?" Ensign Thompson
at the tactical station asked hesitantly.
Picard considered a moment. The previous ships
had not responded to hails, only vanished. "Not
yet, Ensign," he said, "not until it becomes
obvious the pilot is aware of us."
On the screen, the image of the ship grew
steadily larger and more detailed, finally revealing the
snouts of what must have been the laser weapons.
"The pilot does appear to be
indistinguishable from the Krantinese, Captain,"
Data announced finally.
"Koralus?" Riker looked down at the
Krantinese.
"Can you enlighten us in any way?"
Koralus shook his head vigorously. "This ship
could not possibly be from Krantin!"
"Counselor?" Picard leaned toward Troi,
who, taking her cue, whispered briefly in his ear,
confirming the alien's truthfulness. Nodding, he
turned his attention back to the viewscreen.
"It has stopped," Data announced. "I
assume the pilot has become aware of us."
"Very well. Ensign, hail the ship, all EM
channels."
"The laser devices are being redirected,
Captain," Data said. "I suspect they are being
aimed at the Enterprise. They could be fired at
any moment."
"Ensign," Picard said, "on my command,
transmit my words on all EM channels."
Pausing, he took the auxiliary earpiece from the
panel in the arm of Riker's seat and handed it
to Koralus. "If there is a response,
Ensign, patch the raw sound through to Commander
Riker's station. Koralus, listen and tell us if
it is a language you recognize."
Obediently, the Krantinese inserted the tiny
device in his right ear and waited as it adjusted itself
to fit.
By the time it had finished, Thompson had made the
necessary adjustments to the comm panel controls.
"Ready, sir."
"Now, Ensign," Picard said, beginning his
message moments later when Thompson nodded
acknowledgment.
"Unidentified ship, this is Captain
Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship
Enterprise. Please identify yourself." Another
pause, and then: "We are aware of the weapons you have
trained on us."
For a full minute there was no response.
Finally, it came. "Where are you from? Why are you
here?"
"We represent the United Federation of
Planets.
We are currently negotiating with the natives of
this world, Krantin, to assist them. Now we would like
answers to the same questions from you."
There was another silence, not so long this
time.
"You have come here from another star?"
"That is correct. Now please, identify
yourselves."
This time there was no verbal answer. Instead, as
Picard began to again demand identification, the
intruder's lasers fired. The Enterprise shields
flared softly near the points of contact.
"Phasers on stun, fire," Picard snapped.
"Lock on with tractor beam, full power."
"The humanoid is unconscious," Data
announced an instant later.
"Energy surge beginning to build, sir,"
Thompson said, almost simultaneously.
A flare of light once again blinded the
viewscreen.
When the screen cleared, the tiny ship was gone.
Picard frowned, though he wasn't surprised.
He had not really expected it to be that easy.
"Deadman switch, Mr. Data?"
"I can only assume that is the case,
Captain. The energy field began to build within
three seconds of the humanoid's loss of
consciousness."
"Koralus-the language?"
The Krantinese removed the earpiece. "It was
like Krantinese, but different. Some of the words I
recognized, others I did not."
"Counselor, could you pick up anything at
all?"
"Not at this distance, Captain, not without a video
link."
"Mr. Data, any other surges, anywhere?"
"None, Captain. However, if a second
surge had occurred at a distance, simultaneous
with the nearby one, the more distant one would have likely
been masked by the nearer."
"Mr. Worf, did the shuttlecraft sensors
pick up anything?"
"Only the surge in the vicinity of the
Enterprise, sir."
Picard suppressed a sigh. "Very well. Mr.
Data, take us through the incident again, image
by image."
He didn't expect them to find anything new,
and, to no one's surprise, they didn't.
The analysis of the latest incident completed,
Data hurried back to his quarters to review the
records the computer had been making of the area. He
was not surprised to find that Spot had
experienced another interlude of extreme agitation
starting within seconds of the moment the latest ship had
vanished.
Intrigued, he began a second-by-second
review of the computer records for both of the most
recent surges. When he was finished, he thought for a
moment of informing the captain of the results, but he
decided it would be premature. Instead, he
contacted Ensign Thompson, who listened
to Data's account and bemusedly agreed to allow
Data to have the computer maintain a similar record
of his own quarters and Fido's activity.
chapter Nine
RIKER FIDGETED, earning an amused glance from
Troi.
Waiting was not something he did well or
gracefully, particularly when he had nothing to do
while others did all the work. It had been more than
an hour since the party from the Enterprise-himself and
Deanna, Data, and Geordi-had delivered the
newly fabricated laser unit to Zalkan's
cramped laboratory in the city's lower level.
Technician Denbahr, with Zalkan and Geordi
watching over her shoulder, was still performing her tests, which
apparently included every one in the official
checklist as well as several she had improvised
based on what she had seen at the power station in
recent months. If there had been room in the little
lab, Riker would have been pacing, but there wasn't.
Finally, Denbahr looked up from the test console
with a broad grin. "As far as I can tell," she
announced, "this unit is identical to our
own-except that it works at least as well as ours
did fifty years ago." She looked questioningly
toward Geordi, who had been monitoring the tests
with his tricorder.
He shook his head. "It won't last as long-ten
years at the most, assuming the Plague gets no
worse than it is now. The vacuum started
to degrade the moment it was formed. Your instruments can't
detect it yet, and it's degrading less rapidly
here than it was in the Enterprise or in the
shuttlecraft on the way down, but it's still
degrading."
Denbahr's smile faded for a moment but then
returned, tinged with defiance. "So," she said,
glancing at Zalkan, "we have ten years to find a
permanent solution. Like beating the Plague."
"A worthy goal," the scientist said grimly,
"but not one we're likely to accomplish."
"Not alone, maybe, but with a little help . .
"She's right," Riker said as Zalkan
grimaced. It might be the contrast to Denbahr's
infectious optimism, but Zalkan's seeming
pessimism struck Riker as counterproductive
at best. "I have the feeling that if we can just find out
where those ships are coming from-and disappearing to-we'll have
a good start."
"You're both more optimistic than 1, Commander.
Nonetheless, I applaud your efforts. At the
moment, however, my greatest applause would be for
another hundred laser units like this one."
"Of course," Riker said, glancing toward
Geordi, who nodded assent. "As soon as this one
is successfully installed and we see that it does
indeed work as well as the tests indicate, we'll
get things started." He turned to Denbahr. "I
suggest we get under way. We can take you and
Commander La Forge and the unit to the power plant whenever
you're ready."
Before anyone could answer, the door opened and
President Khozak strode in. He had
contacted Zalkan earlier, saying he would be at the
lab shortly, but Riker had been hoping they would be
gone before he arrived, as had Zalkan, if
his scowl was any indication.
"Commander Riker," Khozak said without preamble,
ignoring Zalkan's obvious annoyance, "after you
informed me yesterday about the mines, I uncovered
information that will, I think, cause you to reconsider your
decision not to search at least the area of the mines for the
source of the energy surges."
"Something in the records computer, you mean?"
Riker asked, not volunteering that a search was already
planned. "Just what did you find?"
Khozak smiled. "Nothing, literally nothing."
"If you found nothing," Zalkan snapped, "why
are you wasting our time? The laser unit should be-was
"When I first discovered there was nothing about the mines
in the computer," Khozak continued, his voice rolling
over the frail scientist's words as if they didn't
exist, "I assumed that your Deserter friend had been
mistaken or was lying for reasons of his own.
However, I quickly realized that a lack of information
this complete was itself suspicious. And it was complete,
totally complete. It was as if that entire area,
several hundred square kilometers, hadn't
existed for the last three hundred years. The last
reference was at least that old, from about the time most
records were being transferred to the computer,
long before mining was begun. The area was referred to only
as "farmland."
"So I located someone in what remains of the
history department of the university, a Professor
Gammelkar, and he confirmed what you had told
me-that that area had indeed contained the richest mines on
Krantin. And yet, when Professor Gammelkar
himself checked the records computer, he was no more
successful than I in finding information about the area.
It was as if those mines had never existed."
"Which tells you what?" Riker prompted when
Khozak paused and looked around expectantly.
"Two things," Khozak said, and Riker didn't
need Deanna's empathic talent to recognize the
smugness in his tone. "First, that the surges your
instruments detected in that area in all likelihood
came from somewhere in those abandoned mines. And second,
that someone has tampered with the records computer to try
to keep the existence of those mines a secret."
"The people in the disappearing ships, you mean?"
Zalkan said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "The
people responsible for the Plague?"
Khozak nodded, seemingly oblivious to the
sarcastic tone. "It seems to me a perfectly
obvious conclusion. As it must to you as well;
otherwise it would not have occurred to you so quickly."
"A perfectly insane conclusion, you mean!"
Zalkan snapped.
Riker was about to suggest that the pointless wrangling was
only delaying the installation of the laser unit when he
recognized Deanna's restraining touch on his arm.
Glancing down at her, he saw from the brief
flicker of her eyes toward his that she had picked up
something worth pursuing. Nodding almost
imperceptibly, he said nothing, deferring to her.
"I wouldn't say the conclusion was obvious by any
means," Troi said, "but it does seem at least
possible, even plausible. Do you know of some reason
it is not possible, Zalkan?"
"Just common sensel" Zalkan shot back. "You
expect aliens from-from somewhere to not only get into a
sealed city unnoticed but to be able to find the
records computer and be allowed access to it?" The
scientist snorted derisively. "And then to be able
to operate the computer, to selectively remove
information from it? That isn't easy even for the people who
operate it every day. There are built-in safeguards
against both intentional and accidental destruction of
information." He shook his head. "It is
impossible."
"Unfortunately, gaining access to the computer would
present no problem," Khozak said. "Much as I
deplore the situation, my security forces are
stretched far too thin to cope with anything but open
physical vandalism and violence. They have been for
years. In any event, if these aliens can appear
wherever they want, the way their ships apparently can,
no amount of security forces could keep them out."
"And Lieutenant Commander Data," Troi added
quietly, "given a little time, could almost certainly
operate the computer well enough to remove whatever
pieces of information he desired."
Zalkan scowled at the android. "Perhaps. But
only because he is a computer himself!"
"So who's to say these aliens don't have similar
creations?" Troi countered. "Do you know
positively that they do not?"
Zalkan blinked. "Of course not! But from what you
said about their ships, they're not nearly as
technologically advanced as your Federation."
"But they are at least as advanced as Krantin,"
Troi persisted. "They must have computers at least as
complex as yours. Given time, certainly their
scientists could master your computer."
"Given time, perhaps. But they would have to have
free access to it for weeks or months, and
despite President Khozak's inadequate
security forces, even despite their magical
ability to pop out of nothing in a flash of light,
I'very much doubt that an alien working at the
records computer for the necessary length of time would not have
attracted someone's attention!"
"Perhaps," Troi said, neither agreeing nor
disagreeing. "However, considering that the Plague has
been with you for at least five hundred years, you
might assume the aliens have been here equally as
long.
They would have had more than adequate time
to infiltrate Krantin." She smiled
sympathetically. "For all you know, your computer may
have been designed by one.of them."
Khozak guffawed. "She has you there,
Zalkan! For all I know, you could be an alien."
Zalkan spun on the president, obviously
intending to reply angrily, but he seemed to catch
himself. He turned back to Troi and Riker.
"What did your doctor's machines say
yesterday?" he asked stiffly.
"Did they say I was an alien? Or a
Krantinese?"
Troi smiled. "He has you there, President
Khozak," she said, echoing the president's words
of a moment before. "According to all the readings Dr.
Crusher took, Zalkan is no more an alien than
Koralus."
"Have we wasted enough time now?" Zalkan asked
angrily. "I for one would like to see this new laser
unit installed before the existing ones begin to fail!"
"And I," Khozak echoed, all traces of
laughter gone from his voice. "And while
Technician Denbahr and Commander La Forge are
installing it, the rest of us can investigate the
mysterious mines. Can we not, Commander Riker?"
Riker nodded. "We were planning to do just that. I
take it you would like to accompany us rather than supervise
the installation of the laser unit?"
"Of course."
"And you, Zalkan? Would you like to accompany us as
well?"
Troi eyed the scientist as he remained
nervously silent for several seconds. Finally he
said, "Khozak can waste his time as he wishes. I
will assist with the installation."
With eight occupants and the laser unit as cargo,
the shuttlecraft was full. As it lifted
off, Worf at the controls, Troi pointed out the
viewscreens to the three Krantinese and explained
that they would give them a clear and constant view of the
ground over which they were passing, regardless of the dim
light and the haze.
Within a minute, a frowning Zalkan spoke up.
"This is not the way to the power plant."
"We're taking a slight detour," Riker said,
preparing to spin out the story he and Deanna and Data
had improvised during the few private moments they
had managed to have for themselves during the return to the
shuttlecraft. He only hoped it would sound more
convincing to Khozak and Zalkan than it had to him.
"It will delay us only a few minutes at
most. You see, the Enterprise computer detected a
possible pattern in the timing of the energy surges in
space. If the pattern is real and if a similar
pattern applies to those on Krantin, the most
likely time for another surge is in the next few
minutes. And, as President Khozak pointed out
yesterday, if such a surge occurs while we are
nearby, we might be able to pinpoint the source more
closely."
Khozak smiled while Zalkan's frown
deepened.
"You have been able to establish a pattern from only
two surges?" Zalkan asked suspiciously.
"Or have there been more that we were not told about?"
"There was another pair shortly after you left the
Enterprise yesterday," Riker said, "but none
since."
Zalkan looked like he wanted to ask more, but
finally, with an angry shake of his head, he
subsided into silence. His eyes, however, as well as
those of the other two Krantinese, remained fixed on
the viewscreen as the shrouded, barren landscape slid
by.
Patches of mosslike vegetation covered some of the
hilltops, growing mostly on the rotting remains of
long-dead trees and grasses. Occasional stands of
live but stunted trees poked into the poisonous
haze that was the air of Krantin.
At one point they passed low over a massive
pit, an excavation several kilometers wide.
To one side squatted the ruins of dozens of
massive buildings.
Within the pit were rusting hulks of almost equally
massive strip-mining machines.
. Khozak grimaced at the sight while
Zalkan almost shuddered. Riker held himself
expressionless, thinking that Earth of a few centuries
back had been headed in this same direction, and they
hadn't needed any help from alien intruders.
"This is what we had come to," Khozak said
softly, "by the time the decision to seal the cities was
finally made. There are thousands of these around the world.
In those last decades there was no effort to operate
cleanly," only quickly, to get and process
material to seal as many cities as possible. The
Plague had won, and all we could do was retreat."
He fell silent as the pit disappeared into the
haze, all of his earlier smugness seemingly gone.
Zalkan was similarly subdued.
Minutes later, Worf slowed the shuttlecraft
and began circling. "These are the coordinates,
Com mander," he announced.
On the viewscreens, the land below them was an
irregular series of gently sloping hills,
gigantic mounds hundreds of meters across except
that the crowns of nearly half of them were sunken in like
soft edged volcanic craters.
Data did something to the sensor controls, and
circular outlines formed around the tops of each of the
mounds, cratered and uncratered alike. "Those were the
main entrances, Commander, the shafts leading
down to all levels of the mines."
"'Were," Data?" Riker asked.
Khozak said, "According to Professor
Gaminelkar, they were all sealed when the mines were
played out.
All the surface buildings, the headframes,
everything, were torn down. The land was returned
to essentially the condition it was in before the mining began."
He grimaced. "We were still being careful then, for all
the good it did us."
"Many of them appear to have had a smaller entrance as
well," Data said. Smaller circles appeared
on the screen, located near the bottoms of several
of the hills.
Khozak peered at the screen, then nodded. "As
I said, we were being careful then. It wasn't always
possible to fill in the entire shaft. Some of them were
two kilometers deep. Instead, many were roofed over
and covered with soil, even landscaped. As you can see,
some of the roofs didn't hold up very well. The
smaller entrances are associated with access
tunnels that were dug after the mines were sealed. The
intent was to allow workers to enter periodically to check and
repair the roofs from the underside, to prevent just the
sort of collapses that have obviously
taken place in several instances." He gestured at
the craterlike concavities that topped so many of the
hills. "But that all ended more than a hundred years
ago-like everything else. I suppose they must have
sealed the access tunnels then, too. Or, more
likely, abandoned them and let them collapse on
their own."
Data nodded as he continued to study the sensor
readouts. "They all appear to have collapsed
naturally, Commander, except for one."
One of the smaller circles began pulsing more
brightly than the others.
"What happened to that one?" Riker asked when
Data didn't immediately continue. "Is it still open?"
"No, Commander, but it is the only one that was almost
certainly closed intentionally. There are traces of
explosives in the blocked portion."
Riker darted a look at the two Krantinese.
Khozak looked almost triumphant, while
Zalkan remained stiffly expressionless. "How
recent?" Riker asked, turning back to Data.
"Can you tell?"
"Not with any precision, Commander. I would say no
more than twenty years, no less than five. A
closer inspection with a tricorder will give
a more precise time."
Khozak nodded. "This is undoubtedly the work of the
aliens, Commander. No Krantinese has lived
outside the cities for more than fifty years."
Zalkan said nothing, only shook his head in
curt negation when Riker looked at him questioningly.
Riker turned back to Data. "Are there any
signs of life, Data, alien or otherwise?"
"I can detect none above the bacterial level,
Commander. However, the sensors are not able to penetrate
to the levels at which the surges probably
originated."
Data paused, seemingly consulting a readout.
"Commander, the time indicated by the pattern you
specified has passed. No surge has been
detected."
Riker managed what he hoped was a convincing sigh
of resignation as he turned to the Krantinese.
"I'm sorry. Apparently the computer was
wrong."
"Then can we move on to the power station?"
Zalkan asked impatiently.
"Of course. Mr. Worf?"
Abruptly the circles vanished from the screen as
the shuttlecraft shot to a higher level and
veered onto a new course.
At the power station, Riker and Troi accompanied
Geordi, Zalkan, and Denbahr inside while
Data and Worf remained in the shuttlecra with a
v1si ly impatient Khozak. Inside,
Geordi briefly surveyed the control cubicle
and stood back, monitoring his tricorder while
Denbahr immediately plunged into the work, starting by calling
up a series of readings to determine which of the units was
the nearest to failure. Zalkan, obviously as
familiar with the equipment as Denbahr, worked in concert
with her, hardly a word being spoken. As soon as she
selected a unit, he began temporarily disabling
the associated selfrepair circuitry so they would
be allowed to work on the unit manually.
Finally, as Denbahr led the way into one of the
cramped access corridors, Troi nodded
to Riker and the two turned and left. In the airlock
to the outside, Troi waited silently until the
inner door had closed.
"Now that Zalkan is here, he's the calmest
I've seen him," she said. "It's as if he were
totally immersing himself in the work with Denbahr.
Whatever his fears or motives, I'm certain he
is genuinely concerned about the Plague. And
he was overjoyed when the laser unit tested as well
as it did."
"He didn't sound overjoyed to me," Riker
said, remembering the scientist's earlier display of
pessimism. "Or even very hopeful."
"It was only for a moment, Will, when Denbahr
completed the final test on the unit and told us it
worked perfectly. For that moment, all his fears,
whatever their source, were forced into the background, but they
returned the instant Geordi indicated that the
vacuum in the unit was still degrading."
"What about the mines? It looked to me as if
Zalkan was trying hard not to react when Data found
the one that had been tampered with recently."
Troi nodded. "He was trying very hard. He also
reacted very strongly, even fearfully, to the suggestion
by Khozak that he was an alien infiltrator."
"You mean he could actually be one?"
"An infiltrator, yes, but obviously not an
alien, if we can believe the results of Dr.
Crusher's examination."
Riker shrugged. "From what the Enterprise
sensors told us, the pilots of the disappearing ships
weren't physically distinguishable from the Krantinese
either."
"So if the ships are from an alternate reality,
another Krantin, Zalkan could be from the same
place?" She returned his shrug. "It wouldn't
surprise me. It would probably surprise me
more if he weren't.
I'm positive he knows more about the ships than
he's telling. And we discussed his illness before, and the
possibility that it resulted from his having been on
one of the ships. In any event, his reaction to the mine
entrance was unmistakable. He was extremely tense
the whole time we were over the mines, but he was almost
terrified when Data located the one entrance that had
apparently been collapsed by explosives."
"Which is just one more reason for us to concentrate on that
one," Riker said with a smile. "Not that I wasn't
intending to anyway."
Chapter Ten
RYKER EYED THE COLLAPSED ENTRANCE to the
mine uneasily. Data's tricorder had
pinpointed the time of the collapse-the explosion-to
roughly ten years ago, but the debris was still plainly
visible. On any healthy world, the plant life would
have obscured it long ago, but here there were only
patches of the mosslike growth they had seen elsewhere
and the softening of the edges by ten years of weather.
What concerned him, though, was that the
shuttlecraft's sensors, even at this close
range, could not reach deep enough into the mines to tell him
if whoever or whatever was responsible for the enerp
surges-and the collapsed entrance-still lurked in the
depths, waiting.
He turned to Data. "Now that the Enterprise
is in low orbit, would it be safe to use the
transporter for a short point-to-point jump into the
mine, Data? If there is something down there, blasting
in with a phaser is more likely to warn them we're coming
than a quiet beam-in."
Data considered a moment. "You are correct,
Commander, and the odds are good that the transporters would be
safe to use. Even so I would not recommend it. It
is true that the 'background" energy would not present
an obstacle at this range, but there is no way
to guarantee that another energy surge would not occur.
It is even possible that our entry, if it were to be
detected, could trigger such a surge. And a surge
anywhere in the mines beneath us could disrupt or divert the
matter stream."
Riker nodded, not arguing. "Phasers, then. So be
it."
Twenty minutes later, Data leading
the way, they eased through the cooling, cauterized opening
into the darkness. At Riker's suggestion, a constant
lock on their comm units was being maintained from the
Enterprise. If they ran into an emergency, the
danger of which was more certain than that posed by an
unexpected energy surge during transport, they
could be instantly beamed back to either the shuttlecraft
or the Enterprise.
Riker stood to one side, waiting for Khozak,
who, though he had been fidgeting with impatience
until now, trailed the others hesitantly. From the
moment the shuttlecraft had left the power plant,
the president had let it be known with annoying
frequency that he was becoming more certain with each
passing moment that the aliens responsible for the
Plague were somewhere in the darkness below them. He had
also been increasingly anxious to begin the search, but
Riker noted that, once the final barrier had fallen
to the shuttlecraft's phasers, much of Khozak's
bravado had fallen with, it. He had even refused
Riker's offer of one of the field-effect units that
generated the virtu ally invisible, body-hugging
energy fields that except Data used. Instead,
he had insisted on the "familiar technology" of his
own battered breathing mask.
Once everyone was through the phasered opening, Riker
set a portable field generator directly in
front of it, switched it on, and waited while the
field came to life with a brief flicker. It would
keep the atmosphere out while they were inside, and when
they left, they would reseal the entrance with the same
phasers that had just now opened it.
Satisfied, Riker turned back to the tunnel.
In the glow of the hand-held lights, he could see that it
was less a tunnel than a two-meter-wide
corridor that sloped gently downward. Floor,
walls, and ceiling were all of a concrete-like substance,
rough surfaced but not jagged. Every few meters,
translucent hemispheres that must have once held
lights protruded from the walls.
"As the shuttlecraft sensors indicated,
Commander," Data said, looking up from his tricorder
readouts, "the contaminant level is markedly lower
here than on the surface. However, the air is still not
safe to breathe for extended periods."
"And life-forms?"
"None within the tricorder's current range,
Commander."
"Very well," Riker said, pulling in a breath and
starting down the corridor, "let's see
what we can find."
Three hundred meters in, the corridor opened
abruptly into the square central shaft of the mine.
There was no guardrail, only a rusty,
metal-runged ladder that split the opening vertically
in half and disappeared into the darkness above and below.
While Data and Worf peered into the abyss
unanchored and seemingly unconcerned, Troi and
President Khozak halted a good two meters
short of the precipice. Riker took what he
considered a prudent middle ground and stopped just
short of the edge; he tested the ladder and, when it
proved solid, gripped it firmly before leaning
cautiously forward.
The shaft itself, he saw, was roughly five meters
on a side below the level of the tunnel, a meter
wider above. Over his head, the ladder continued twenty
or thirty meters up the wall to the roof and the rusting
metal beams that reinforced it. Because the shaft below the
level of the tunnel was narrower than above, the
downward extension of the ladder was recessed in a
half-meter-deep groove in the wall.
Similar grooves in the other three walls also
contained ladders, but those only went down. Riker
assumed that they had all originally been
to provide an emergency escape route if the
elevator ever jammed or lost power.
Below, where the elevator had once lumbered up and
down, all that protruded into the shaft now were the
guides the elevator must have followed. Like all the
other exposed metal, they were rusting badly. The
elevator itself, along with the cables and motors that had
pulled it up and down the kilometer-deep shaft,
had presumably been dismantled and removed, along
with everything else movable, when the mine had been shut
down and the shaft covered over more than a hundred
years ago.
Steeling himself, Riker leaned farther out, looking
down to where the ladders descended into the darkness beyond the
glow from their hand-held lights.
Almost at the limit of the lights, roughly a
hundred meters below, a shadowy rectangular opening
in the far wall marked what must have been the highest
level of the actual mine.
"Can you pick up any more from in here than from
outside?" Riker asked as Data, standing with his
toes at the very lip of the shaft, straightened and
studied the tricorder.
"Only regarding the shaft and its immediate vicinity,
Commander. It is at least a kilometer
deep, and there are openings every fifty to seventy-five
meters after the first level. There are still no
life-forms within tricorder range."
"Will you be able to get down there?" Khozak asked.
"Probably only if we decide to take a
chance on the transporter," Riker said. "Even if
this ladder is solid enough right here, I certainly
wouldn't trust it enough to try to climb down it. What
we can do for a start is transport some
remote-control surveyors down a few levels,
possibly a tricorder as well."
"That may not be necessary, Commander," Data said.
"Readings indicate that the ladder leading down this side
of the shaft is sturdy enough to support at least twice
the weight of any of us." He paused, adjusting some
of the tricorder controls.
"You're positive about that?" Riker asked when
Data remained silent over the tricorder for
several seconds.
"Yes," Data said finally. "The ladder on this
side of the shaft has been reinforced no more than ten
years ago.." He looked up where the ladder continued
up toward the roof. "The mountings immediately above and below
this opening have also been strengthened at approximately
the same time."
"The same time this entrance was opened and resealed!"
Khozak, still hovering two or three meters back,
said triumphantly. "What more proof do you need,
Commander? Someone-alien or nffentered these mines and
carefully covered their tracks. Obviously,
they're still down there! Or at least their machines are!
The energy surges you detected must tell you that
much!"
"What about the other ladders, Data?" Riker
asked, ignoring Khozak's outburst.
Data once again leaned precariously into the
shaft, holding the tricorder before him. A moment
later, he straightened. "The others have not been
repaired or modified at any time, Commander. In
fact, the mountings; of the ladder directly across from us
have deteriorated to a point at which the ladder is on the
verge of coming loose under its own weight."
"How far down does the reinforcement on this side
go?"
"Only as far as the first opening," Data said.
"I will go down," Worf rumbled, reaching for the
ladder.
"Hold it a second, Lieutenant," Riker
snapped.
"Data, you're absolutely
positive about this? And there aren't any booby
traps?"
"None that I can detect, Commander." Rather than
consulting his tricorder again, he gripped the ladder and
silently pressed at it in several directions, in
a methodical, more strenuous version of what Riker
had done a few minutes earlier. "It is mounted quite
solidly, Commander," he said, stepping back. "I
will follow Lieutenant Worf."
Riker frowned but finally nodded. "Very well. But
neither one of you go beyond that first level until we know a
little more about this setup."
"Of course, Commander," Data said, echoed
grudgingly by Worf a moment later.
Data returned to his tricorder as Worf
gripped the ladder, swung onto it, and started down,
his broad shoulders barely fitting within the groove.
"I cannot yet be certain, Commander," Data said,
"but at least the first two levels appear to be
connected internally, not just through the shaft. Once there,
we may be able to descend to other levels without
resorting to the ladders again."
"Not without orders, Mr. Data," Riker said
firmly.
"Of course, Commander," Data said again.
Silently, they waited while Worf clambered
down, Riker gripping the ladder unnecessarily,
unable to completely ignore the impulse to steady it.
"I am in the first level, Commander." Worf's
voice came over Riker's comm unit, each word
faintly echoed a split second later as the words
carried the hundred meters up the shaft.
Tricorder case and light held firmly in
place by a shoulder strap, Data stepped onto the
ladder and moved effortlessly downward. Incapable of
vertigo, he felt no different than if he had
been climbing down a short access ladder in the
heart of the Enterprise, and in less than two
minutes, he reached the opening to the first level of the
mine. The ladder, instead of being in the center of the opening
as it had been above, was at the left edge. A pair
of rails in the floor, ending flush with the shaft,
explained the placement of the ladder to him: In the
center, it would have blocked the ore cars from being wheeled
on and off the elevator.
Swinging off the ladder, he saw that Worf was a good
thirty meters down the tunnel, a bobbing island of
light. Unlike the access tunnel above, this one,
except for the area immediately next to the shaft, looked
more like a primitive mining tunnel from
twentieth-century Earth or even earlier, not
high-tech in any obvious way. Only the floor
was even remotely smooth, and it was that way only in
the center to provide an even bed for the rails.
Dirt and rock had fallen from the roof and walls in
several places between the rotting braces, often
completely obscuring the rails.
Methodically, as he walked down the tunnel after
Worf, Data described the scene to Riker and the
others waiting above.
He caught up to Worf at a branch in the
tunnel two hundred meters in. The rails
curved into the left branch, which at that point began
to slope downward more steeply. The right branch ended
after a dozen meters, opening into the top level of a
huge, irregular excavation, a jagged, underground
amphitheater dozens of meters across. Its walls,
like those of the tunnels, were shored up here and there with
timbers that looked no sturdier than the rusting
ladders in the shaft. Leaning out into the cavern, Data
could see, a dozen meters down, an opening similar
to the one he was in. Below that was yet another and
another, the last nearly fifty meters down. The
bottom of the massive excavation was beyond the range of
his light.
Data stepped back, continuing to describe the
scene while keeping one eye always on the
tricorder. Back at comthe branch, he started down
the left tunnel, following the rails and Worf.
He paused after a few meters as certain of the
tricorder readings slowly grew clear. He
called to Worf, a dozen meters ahead of him,
to wait.
"Commander," he said, speaking both to Riker and
to Worf, "my tricorder now indicates that this
level of tunnels definitely connects to the next
level down, although it apparently did not originally,
except through the excavation I described and others like
it.
It also appears now that there may be a further
connection from the second level to the third."
"Not originally connected, Data? Explain."
"All the tunnels within tricorder range are
essentially horizontal or, at most, sloping a
few degrees. All were excavated well over a
hundred years ago. At the lowest point of this top
level, there is a steep, narrow opening to the next
level. I cannot yet be certain, but preliminary
indications are that this opening was made long after the
tunnels themselves were dug."
Riker was silent a moment. "As recently as ten
years ago, Data?" he asked finally.
"It is entirely possible, Commander."
Three hours later, Data was seven levels
down. In all but two instances, each level had
been connected to the next lower level by a short,
steep passageway, some only a few degrees from
vertical. Levels three and four were actually a
single, complex level with two separate openings to the
central shaft, and levels five and six were
connected only through the central shaft, probably
because, Data speculated, the two levels did not
at any point come within fifty meters of each other,
and whoever had created the connecting passageways
hadn't been prepared to bore through quite that much solid
rock. Instead, between five and six, the ladder in the
central shaft had been reinforced the same as the
ladder leading down to the first level.
Data's tricorder indicated that all
work-connecting passageways and reinforced ladders-had
been done not more than ten years ago. Worf had
reluctantly stopped at the sixth level when the
opening to the seventh had proven barely large enough for
Data.
"Time to start back, Data." Riker's
voice came over Data's comm unit as he took
another turn in the maze that was the seventh level.
"Geordi just reported that they'll be finished at the
power station in another half hour and they'll need a
ride."
"Very well, Commander," Data said, continuing down
the narrow side passage he found himself in.
"However, I believe the connection to the next
level is less than a hundred meters from my
present location."
"So check it out," Riker said with a grin in his
voice, "as long as you're that close."
"Thank you, Commander. I will hurry."
The tunnel he was in had obviously never been
worked: no rails for ore cars, few timbers
to brace the low-hanging, jagged rock ceiling. It
had probably been an exploratory tunnel that
had come up empty, but it was also the lowest in the
seventh level. Stooping more and more, even crouching at
times, Data hurried down the sloping tunnel,
keeping one eye on the map displayed on the
tricorder screen. In the center, around the dot that
represented his own location, the nearest
passageways were sharply defined, becoming blurred
and uncertain only as they approached the
edges of the screen. One level up and hundreds of
meters in toward the central shaft, a single sharply
defined symbol lay among the blurs-Worf and his
comm unit.
Data rounded a final twist in the tunnel and
descended a fifty-meter slope, and the opening to the
next level was before him. It was, as he had already
discerned from the tricorder images, almost vertical and
longer than any of the previous connecting passages.
He would be able to navigate it with only minor
difficulty, but others would, at the least, require
a safety line.
Dropping on his stomach with his face over the
opening, he held the light down and peered past it.
Perhaps ten meters below, he could see the shadows of the
next level.
Setting the light to one side, he lowered the
tricorder into the opening. He switched from the glowing
map display and began cycling through the analysis
modes. As expected, the passageway was recent
compared to the tunnels, roughly the same age as the
previous ones, possibly slightly more recent.
Like them, it held traces of the explosives that
had almost certainly been used in their construction. Like
them, it was at almost precisely the point
at which the two levels of tunnels were at their
closest. Which meant, though he had yet to discuss it
with Commander Riker, that whoever had made these openings
had had to have either a device like the tricorder or
access to detailed maps of the entire system of
tunnels-the same maps that had, according to Khozak,
been deleted from the city's records computer.
Otherwise, how could they have known what point in each
level was closest to the next lower level? Just
finding the lowest point wouldn't have been enough.
Here in level seven, for instance, the lowest point
was three hundred meters back, but there had been no
corresponding eighth-level tunnel underneath that
point, only a hundred meters of solid rock
all the way down to the ninth level.
For a moment he returned to the map display. The
levels below him, he saw, were defined more sharply
than those above. Zalkan's belief that the Plague
energies had less effect the deeper you went
underground appeared to be true, at least for the first
kilometer below the surface.
For several seconds, he worked with the controls,
juggling them for the highest sensitivity he could achieve
without losing all stability. Under normal
circumstances it was not difficult, but here in
semidarkness, with the varying background of the Plague
energy constantly upsetting the readings, it was a
tricky balancing act, even for Data. Next
he narrowed the focus, which would also extend the range
at the expense of a wider field. The focus, at
least, did not seem to be affected by the Plague.
Finally, satisfied, he began slowly sweeping
the tricorder in an expanding spiral, watching the
display.
After nearly a minute, he stopped abruptly,
brought the tricorder back a fraction of a degree.
And stopped again.
For several seconds more, he studied the display,
i alternating between analysis modes and the mapping
function.
Eventually, satisfied that the readings were not an
artifact of the background energy and that he had gained
all the information he could, he continued the outward
spiral.
And stopped again. As if unable to believe this new
reading, he made several minuscule adjustments to the
tricorder controls. No, he decided after nearly
a minute, this too was real, no matter how
unlikely it might seem.
Finally, he raised himself from the opening and
stowed the tricorder. Crouching beneath the low, rocky
ceiling, he brought his hand up to his comm unit but
hesitated a fraction of a second as he considered
the effect this double discovery would have on President
Khozak.
And on their own mission here.
"I am returning now, Commander," he said, and
nothing more.
Chapter Eleven
As UNLIKELY AS THE IDEA WAS,
Riker couldn't shake the feeling that Data was hiding
something. During his entire trek up from the bottom
of the mines, Data had remained silent except
to report his and Worf's arrival at each level.
Back on the shuttlecraft, the android had
delivered his report with uncharacteristic brevity.
Levels eight and nine, he said, were within
tricorder range from his seventh-level vantage
point and were connected by the same kind of recently
opened passageway that connected most of the higher
levels.
They were also equally devoid of life-forms and
machinery. When Khozak expressed angry
disappointment over this negative report, the android
said not a word, which raised Riker's
suspicions even more. If there was one thing Data
seemed to like to do, it was explain things, and Riker would
have expected him to, at the very least, volunteer
to clarify the limitations of his tricorder under
Plague conditions.
But Data said nothing, and he seemed to avoid
even looking at Khozak during the flight to the power
plant. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to one of the
viewscreens. Riker suppressed an urge to ask
him what was going on, knowing that Data would have no
choice but to answer. If Data was hiding something, it
meant he hadn't thought it through yet. He would speak
up when he was ready.
Besides, when Geordi and the others came aboard at
the power plant, Data's uncommunicative
behavior was largely forgotten in the infectiously
celebratory mood that Zalkan and Denbahr
brought with them.
According to all tests they had been able to devise, the
new laser unit worked flawlessly. Geordi had
already spoken with Engineering on the Enterprise and
asked them to start work on another dozen of the units.
Those twelve would, Denbahr assured him, take
care of all units in danger of imminent
failure.
Further distraction came when Khozak, in a
superior I-told-you-so manner, insisted on
telling Zalkan about the recently formed
passageways connecting the different levels. The
scientist's near-euphoria turned instantly to a
stiff uneasiness.
A moment later, Troi leaned close to Riker.
Despite Zalkan's brittle shell of calm,
she whispered into his ear, Khozak's words had
pushed him to the verge of panic.
And that was the way Zalkan remained until he and
Denbahr and Khozak were left at the city's
airlock.
Questions to him were either evaded or ignored, and an
offer to take him to the Enterprise so that he could be "more
closely involved" in the production of the laser
units was flatly refused.
As the shuttlecraft lifted off and swooped up
through the haze toward space, Riker turned
to Data, only to find the android about to speak to him.
"You have something to tell us, Data?"
"I do, Commander. I did not wish to speak of it in
front of President Khozak and the others until
I informed you and the captain."
"Go ahead, Data," he said.
"You will remember, Commander, that President
Khozak indicated the mine extended down just over
one kilometer, which would have been approximately
two hundred meters below the lowest point I reached.
While I inspected the passageway between the
seventh and eighth levels, I was able to adjust my
tricorder to penetrate not just the two hundred
meters to the eighth and ninth levels, as I perhaps
implied before, but more than a hundred meters beyond the
ninth level."
Riker smiled and Geordi chuckled. "Lying
by omission, Data," Geordi said. "Very good.
You're becoming more human all the time."
"And you found something you didn't want Khozak
or the others to hear," Riker prompted.
"A number of things, Commander. First, the fact that
the tricorder was able to penetrate to that depth
indicates that Zalkan was correct in his theory that
the background energy grows weaker as one descends
below the surface."
"I suspected as much," Troi put in. "When
he spoke of that belief, he seemed to be telling the
truth, even though it made him uneasy to do so."
"Interesting," Riker mused, "but hardly something you
would want to hide from our guests. Go on."
"You are correct, Commander. The tricorder
indicated three things. First, a single, recently
formed tunnel extends at least two hundred
meters below the thousand meters Khozak indicated was
the bottom of the mines. Second, there are
humanoid life-form readings, faint but detectable,
in that recent tunnel and in the lowest levels of the
original tunnels, three levels below the lowest
level I reached. And finally, several meters beyond the
end of the extended tunnel, there are indications of a
massive deposit of dilithium."
Even Worf turned from the shuttlecraft
controls to stare at Data.
Picard listened intently as Troi, Data, and
Riker gave their reports. Zalkan's behavior
and wildly varying emotional state only confirmed
what they had already known: He knew a lot more than
he was telling. Data's discoveries in the mines,
however, seemed to Picard to provide at least the
beginnings of an explanation, if not for Zalkan's
actions and fears specifically, at least for the
overall picture of what was going on in the
Krantin system. Whoever these interlopers were,
wherever they were from, they must be after the dilithium. And,
even though Krantin apparently knew of
neither the existence nor the value of the dilithium, those
searching for it very much wanted to keep their search a
secret.
It raised more questions than it answered, of course,
but it was at least a start.
But first, despite his misgivings, he would have
to inform Khozak and the Council-if the Council did
indeed exist-of their findings, particularly the
dilithium. He looked at Data, seated across the
conference table from Riker.
"How large a deposit, Mr. Data?"
"Unknown, Captain, but it would have to be sub
stantial to register on the tricorder under those
conditions. Certainly there is enough to make Krantin a
wealthy world."
Picard nodded. He had assumed as much. "But
unless they-or we-find a solution to the Plague,
all the wealth in the sector won't help them.
Mr. Data, you said these life-forms in the mines are
humanoid, but are they Krantinese?"
"Also unknown, Captain, but there was nothing
to indicate that they were not."
"Just as there was nothing to indicate that the pilots of the
disappearing ships were or were not Krantinese," Riker
said. "You may recall we've already
considered the possibility that they are from this same world
in an alternate reality, in which case they could be
biologically indistinguishable."
Picard nodded grimly. "I'm not about to forget,
Number One. The question is, how do we keep one of
them here long enough to ask? Phasers and tractor beams
obviously aren't sufficient."
"Engineering is working on it, Captain,"
Geordi said. "Logically, we should be able
to generate a field that interferes with the operation of their
equipment just as theirs interferes with ours.
Unfortunately, computer analysis suggests that
any such field would be difficult to project
accurately, for reasons similar to the reasons that
our own sensors and transporters are unreliable
beyond relatively short distances here. We would
probably have to get very close and simply blanket
the entire area, ourselves included."
Picard eyed Geordi questioningly when the chief
engineer fell silent. "Why do I get the
impression, Mr. La Forge, that that is not as
simple as you make it sound?"
"Because it's not," Geordi admitted. "There's a
good chance that any field we generate would have side
effects that are just as damaging to life-forms
as the field it's designed to counter."
Picard suppressed a grimace. "How soon
can you be positive, one way or the other?"
"Short of trying it out on living tissue,
Captain, I can't."
Picard was silent a moment. "Very well. Keep
me informed of your progress."
He turned to Dr. Crusher. "Is there anything
new in your search for a cure for these side effects,
if that's what they are?"
"Something better than CZ'-FOURTEEN,
Captain, but not a cure. Or so the computer model
indicates. At best, it would slowly halt the
deterioration over a period of weeks or months.
It might even reverse the process to some small
degree. However, it would require inducing what
virtually amounts to a coma for all that time."
"And the subject would be only slightly improved
when it was all over, Doctor? Is that what you're
saying?"
"Essentially, yes. The chances are good that he would
be stabilized at some level slightly better than
the one at which treatment started. Without the treatment, he
would continue to deteriorate, even without more exposure
to the energy field."
Picard nodded. Beverly was right. It did not sound
hopeful, at least not for Zalkan. He turned
to Troi. "It would help if we knew if
Zalkan's illness was indeed the result of such
exposure, Counselor, and if so, how often and how
long he had been exposed. Do you still feel that
Zalkan knows the cause of his illness?"
"I am almost certain of it, Captain. And I
am just as certain t.he knows a great deal more, not
only about the disappearing ships but about what is going
on in the mines. As I said, the idea of our
exploring those mines frightened him more than anything
else we have said or done before. But once again, it was
not a fear for himself."
"For the ones at the bottom of the mine, then? The
ones piloting the ships? He's afraid we'll
get our hands on them?"
Troi shrugged. "I don't know, Captain.
Perhaps it is for those in the mine, but I doubt that it is
for those on the ships. There was an anger, perhaps a
bitterness, associated with the ships that was not present
when he was forced to think about the mines. And there is still his
odd reaction to Koralus. When we arrived with the
laser unit, Zalkan asked about him, wondering why
he hadn't come along this time."
"Did he explain his interest?"
"He said it was merely his interest in the Desertion,
purely historical, but he was not being truthful. It
was something more personal, but I have no way of knowing
precisely what it might be."
"What of Koralus's reaction to Zalkan when
they were both on the Enterprise? Was there any hint of
recognition?"
Troi shook her head. "Not the slightest."
"Which is not surprising," Riker put in,
smiling, considering that Koralus left Krantin
fifty years before Zalkan was born."
"I know that, Will," Troi said with a slight frown.
"I didn't say any of this made sense. I
am simply reporting what I observed. I might
be able to learn more if I could observe the two of them
together some more."
"In that case," Riker said with a slight shrug,
"why don't we take Koralus with us the next time
we go down?"
"An idea to consider, Number One," Picard
inter vened. "Counselor, what of President
Khozak? What did his reactions tell you?"
"Little more than I already reported, Captain.
He knows no more about the Plague or the
mines than he has said. He still greatly mistrusts
us, perhaps even more than earlier. And having Koralus
accompany us will almost certainly raise that level of
distrust."
The discussion continued for several minutes. In the
end, Picard decided to include Koralus in the
group when they went down to brief Khozak and
Zalkan the next day. Troi might indeed gain
some useful information from Koralus's and Zalkan's
reactions to each other, and information was one thing they were
desperately in need of, as they often were.
Besides, Khozak's distrust of everyone from the
Enterprise was already so great that the presence of
Koralus could hardly make it worse. They would
also ask Khozak to call together the entire
Council, whose members might have a different
perspective than either Khozak or Zalkan. In
the meantime, Picard would contact Starfleet with the
news of the dilithium.
It should, he thought wryly, make their day.
Data was at the ops console two hours later
when another energy surge, the first in more than a day,
was detected, this one relatively weak, more like the
ones from the mine than the ones from space. The source
was neither in space nor anywhere near either of the
areas on Krantin where previous surges had been
detected. Instead, it was in the vicinity of, if not
actually within, the city. Data quickly noted the
precise time and the necessarily imprecise
location, then notified the captain in his ready
room.
Summoning an ensign to take the console, Data
A
strode from the bridge as Picard entered.
Minutes later, as he entered his quarters, he
noted that Spot, while not hiding, still appeared
uneasy, her eyes following him as he crossed the
room to the viewscreen on his desk.
"Computer, display on split screen the record
of activity in these quarters and the quarters of Ensign
Thompson for the period between twelve and ten minutes
prior to the time of this command."
The screen sprang instantly to life, divided
precisely down the middle. On the left, Spot
lay curled on the heavily cushioned back of the
couch, obviously one of her favorite spots, as
indicated by the deep indentation she was half submerged
in. On the right half of the screen, Fido, with
markings similar to Spot's but with hair twice as
long, was stalking one of the lifelike mouse
automatons that Data had designed and distributed
to all interested cat owners on the Enterprise.
On both screens, time displays silently counted
down the minutes and seconds.
At minus eleven minutes ten seconds,
Spot's eyes snapped open, followed a fraction
of a second later by her tail stiffening and bristling.
At eleven minutes nine seconds, Fido
lurched to a halt in his pursuit of the mouse.
At eleven minutes eight seconds, both let
out a brief teeth-baring hiss and darted looks in
all directions.
The tails remained bushed out for several seconds
before beginning to subside, first on Fido, then
Spot.
Both remained alert, even wary, for more than
three minutes. Spot, still watching Data from her
perch on the couch back, had laid her ears back as
her own image had hissed at her from the screen but
otherwise remained comparatively undisturbed.
"Replay at one-tenth speed the period from
eleven minutes twelve seconds to eleven
minutes," Data said.
When he was through, Data was satisfied that the
phenomenon he had suspected since the day
before had been confirmed. Not only that, the computer
records had pinned down some of the key parameters.
Spot's first reaction to the energy surge was
threepoint-one seconds before the Enterprise
sensors had first detected it. With Fido in
frantic motion, it was harder to pinpoint the precise
time of his reaction, but it was at least two-point-two
seconds before the sensors. Not surprisingly, their
reactions to the energy surge from the city were
substantially less severe than Spot's earlier
reaction to the much more powerful energy surge from space.
As with every piece of information he encountered, Data
filed these for future reference.
Later that night, while Data observed Spot
directly, she reacted minimally but
unmistakably to a halfdozen energy surges even
less powerful than the first.
All, he discovered when he checked the computer
log, were in or near the city. Space and the area around
the mines remained inactive.
Chapter Twelve
IT TOOK ONLY MINIMAL LOBBYING on
Picard's part to convince a nondescript
Starfleet admiral that the captain should be the one
to head the next day's away team despite
regulations that ordinarily gave that duty to the first
officer. It was not just that President Khozak, a
putative head of state, was entitled to a
"delegation" headed by the ranking officer, though that was the
low-key argument that Picard made. It was simply
that there were times-more of them than he liked to admit,
even to himself-when he felt like getting off the bridge
and out of the ready room. And away from the crew fitness
reports, he told himself uneasily, which still were
barely started.
"As always, Jean-Luc, the decision is yours,"
the admiral assured him in conclusion. "You're the
one on the scene. However, a suggestion: Whoever
goes down, leave the phasers on the Enterprise."
With that not-quite-order, the distant image vanished,
replaced momentarily by the Starfleet insignia.
When Picard turned away, he saw Riker
shaking his head disapprovingly.
"No disrespect to Starfleet, Captain,"
Riker said quietly, "but as the admiral said,
you're the one on the scene. And he wasn't greeted
at the airlock with drawn weapons the way we
were."
"I understand your concern, Number One," Picard
said dryly, "but carrying weapons is not
conducive to trust. And we will need all the help we
can get in that respect when we tell them that we have,
in effect, been holding out on them about what we
discovered at the bottom of the mines yesterday."
Which, he realized even as he spoke, was the real
reason he had decided to take Riker's place.
Another obligation" of rank. If as captain he
was responsible for withholding the information from Khozak,
then he should now be responsible for so informing the
president and taking whatever heat resulted.
"In any event," he went on, mentally filing
the uncomfortable insight that had just come to him, "keeping
the Enterprise in low orbit and maintaining a constant
lock on our comm units strikes me as a more
practical precaution than arming ourselves and hoping
to shoot our way out of the middle of a sealed city with
only one known exit."
Despite the field-effect suit he had
activated as the shuttlecraft door opened,
Picard felt like gasping for breath as he stepped out
into Krantin's hazy, poisonous atmosphere.
Koralus, a comm unit attached to his tunic for the
duration of their visit, stepped out after Picard,
followed by Data and Troi.
The Jalkor airlock was already open.
Two of the same security officers who had
escorted Riker's group the first day were waiting just
inside. This time their weapons were at least not drawn,
Picard noted, though there was little other evidence of
trust. As before, the group from the Enterprise was
hustled into a large van, apparently electrically
driven, with the triangular Security Force
insignia on both sides.
Picard had scanned the tricorder records and
listened to Data's descriptions of the two previous
trips, and he realized almost immediately they must be
taking a different route. The earlier parties had
been taken through what Data had described as a
large industrial district, in which the buildings
extended all the way up to and sometimes through the
surrounding city roof. This time the van rolled through an
obviously different area, this one filled with two- and
three-story buildings that had probably once been
individual homes. The city roof here was several
meters above the tops of the buildings, supported
by featureless metal or plastic columns, most of
them ringed by glowing tubes. Several of the tubes,
however, were dark, leaving the surrounding areas in a
shadowy twilight. For one stretch of three or four
kilometers, the individual buildings
vanished, replaced by blocky, flat-roofed
buildings hundreds of meters on a side. One
of the surface hydroponics facilities they had
detected from the shuttlecraft during the first trip
down, Picard assumed.
At one point, while passing through a stretch of
windowless blocks a hundred meters high, he
heard a series of faint, popping sounds which, he
realized after a moment, were very probably the
signature of projectile weapons similar to the
ones the security officers carried. The driver
darted a glance in the direction of the sounds, but the other
guard either didn't notice or ignored them.
Picard couldn't help but wonder uneasily if the
distant shots had anything to do with the fact that they were
taking a different route today.
Except for a smaller version of the van they were in,
also emblazoned with the Security Force
insigniaheading in the direction of the shots? he
wonderedPicard saw no direct evidence of the
five million people who were supposed to still inhabit
Jalkor, not even when they finally reached the canyons
of what had been the heart of the city. It was as
deserted as everything else.
But the empty streets were understandable, he
thought. Only the security forces and their quarry would
be out and around, in what passed for "the open." Most
of the people still working to keep the city going were wherever the
machinery was: out of sight.
And those who weren't working, those who had surrendered
to despair and the computer fantasies ...
Suppressing a sigh, Picard could think only that
Jalkor was fully as bleak and depressing as any
city he had ever encountered. He had seen cities
nearly destroyed by wars where the survivors had at
least had enough hope and determination to show themselves in the
streets. But perhaps this was worse than an ordinary
war. Here the enemy could not be seen or fought. As far
as these people knew, it simply existed-and had existed for
hundreds of years and dozens of generations. And it could
not be resisted, could not be struck out at. It was
everywhere, literally a part of the air they had to breathe,
unstoppable.
He grimaced mentally. It was little wonder that, in
the face of centuries of such seeming
inevitability, the urge to retreat
in!computer-generated revenge fantasies was so great.
Even the vandalism made a perverted kind of
sense-if they couldn't strike out at a real, visible
enemy, they would strike out in their blind
frustration and an er at whatever came to hand. Countless
riots on dozens of worlds, including Earth, had
been born out of less.
Closing his eyes for a second and pulling in a
breath, Picard forced such thoughts out of his mind and
focused on what, in another few minutes, he must
tell President Khozak.
The van swooped down from the street level and
deposited them in a mostly darkened parking area, where
the only lights were those triggered sporadically by the
group's presence. After a brief, shuddering ride in
an elevator, they were marching down a featureless
corridor toward the Council Chambers.
Raised voices were audible several meters before
they reached the door, which the security officer opened for
them before stepping to one side and gesturing them through.
Inside, Picard recognized Khozak,
Zalkan, and Denbahr standing with seven others around the
conference table. All of the seven looked tired and
harried and impatient to be somewhere else. The two
who were speaking angrily to Khozak were as smudged and
disheveled as Denbahr had been when Picard had
first seen her on the link from the shuttlecraft, fresh
from hours of maintenance work at the power plant. The
subject, apparently, was a desperate
need for more technicians to care for the decaying
food-processing equipment.
"Wake them up and shut off their terminals,
Khozak!" the one, his back to the door, was saying
loudly, his voice filling the sudden silence that fell
as the others saw Picard leading the group into the
room.
Scowling, the speaker turned. The scowl lightened
when he saw the group from the Enterprise, but it
didn't disappear entirely, and Khozak's angry
expression when he saw Koralus more than made
up for it.
Zalkan's eyes widened briefly at the sight
of Koralus, but beyond that there was no reaction.
"So," the man said after a second, "these are the
miracle workers from the stars."
"They've already worked a small miracle in the
power plant!" Denbahr snapped, apparently
angered by the man's tone. "They produced a
functional laser confinement unit in a matter of
hours and will have more for us in a few days. That's
obviously not the answer to all our problems, but at
least it will give us breathing room." She verbally
lurched to a halt, glancing toward Picard and the
others as she stepped back. "And they've
only been here a couple of days," she added
quietly.
"Technician Denbahr is correct,"
Khozak said into the silence that followed Denbahr's
brief outburst.
"They may also," he went on, looking sternly
around the group, "have discovered the source of the
Plague."
For a full second, there was total silence, and it
was all Picard could do to suppress an angry
scowl at the melodramatic announcement. But he
shouldn't have been surprised by a grandstanding announcement
like that from Khozak, he thought in exasperation.
Then all seven were talking at once, some
directing their questions at Khozak, others at the
group from the Enterprise. Khozak held up his
hands and shouted for quiet, then pounded solidly on the
table with a gavel-like object. Finally, silence
returned.
Solemnly, Khozak introduced the seven,
all members of the Council, all obviously
impatient to get through the formalities. Then he
announced the names of Picard, Data, Troi, and
"the Deserter Koralus."
Picard was relieved to see that there was
none of the reaction that Khozak had obviously
expected to IF
Koralus's name. Instead, the Council members
barely glanced at him while Delmak, the
original speaker, didn't even do that.
"Is it true?" Delmak demanded, turning his
frown from Khozak, at whom he had been directing
it throughout the introductions, to Picard. "Do you know
what caused the Plague?"
"We have discovered a clue to the nature of the
Plague," Picard said slowly and deliberately,
trying not to return the frown, "and we have encountered some
ships that may have some connection with the Plague. So
far-was
Another eruption of everyone speaking at once
cut off Picard's words. This time it was Delmak
who restored order.
"Ships?" The anger was obvious in his voice.
"Are you saying that the Plague is not a natural
phenomenon? That the revenge fantasies are true
and someone is causing it?"
"Not at all. What we are saying is-was
Picard broke off deliberately, his eyes moving
from Khozak to each Council member in turn. The
silence held.
"What I am saying is this," he resumed.
"Let us tell you precisely what we have found, and
you can draw your own conclusions."
Everyone nodded or muttered assent, and Picard
began. With questions and other interruptions, however, it
took nearly an hour to get to the point at which the
mines had been entered. Khozak himself took over
then with his account of the discovery of the mysterious recent
activity in the mines. "I have already alerted several
of my best security officers to be prepared
to descend as far as necessary to determine what the
intruders were-or are-doing there.
I trust you have no objections, Captain
Picard?" Khozak concluded.
Again Picard suppressed a frown. "I would not
advise a course of action like that at this point,
President Khozak," he said uncomfortably.
"Before you make any decisions, you should be aware of a
number of things. First, the most recent energy
surges detected by our sensors originated neither in
space nor in the vicinity of the mines but somewhere in or
near Jalkor."
"Where?" Khozak demanded, his frown returning.
"In what part of the city?"
Picard shook his head slightly. "It
is impossible to tell. As I said, we are not even
positive that they originated within the city. Neither do
we know whether the surges indicated the arrival of
something-or someone-or the departure."
"How many were there?" Zalkan, completely silent
until now, spoke up.
"Seven, I believe." Picard glanced at
Data, who nodded. "Seven. Does the number of
surges mean anything to you, Zalkan?"
The scientist shook his head vigorously. "I was
merely thinking that, if there were several, it is possible
that someone observed at least one of them.
Is it safe to assume that these surges, like the
ones related to the disappearance of the ships that you showed
us, would have been accompanied by flashes of light?"
"Probably," Picard said, "but these were very weak
compared to the ones in space." He turned
to Khozak. "It could be helpful, however, to issue
an alert, asking everyone to be on the lookout and
to report any unusual lights."
"Of course," Khozak said, grimacing as he
turned to Zalkan. "Zatkan, is that possible?
Can we still get word out to everyone in the city?"
"To everyone who still has a functioning terminal,
yes. Assuming they use it for anything but
continual fantasies."
"And assuming they can tell the difference between the
fantasies and a message from the real world,"
Denbahr added.
Khozak nodded, turning back to Picard. "I
believe you said there were a number of things we should know.
What are the others, in addition to the energy surges
within Jalkor?"
Picard pulled in another breath and held it a
moment. Data had acted correctly in
temporarily withholding the information from the
Krantinese, but that knowledge didn't make it any
easier for Picard now. "We have discovered something
else in the mines, or, more accurately, below them."
"What?" Khozak's most recent expression,
one of careful neutrality, vanished, replaced by the
belligerent wariness he had worn during most of his
stay on the Enterprise. It was obvious he was not
going to make Picard's task any easier. "No
one told me of any such discoveries when we were in the
mines."
"My apologies, President Khozak,"
Picard said.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Troi
wince, her eyes darting to Zalkan. The
scientist's face was frozen, his chest motionless, as
if even his breathing had stopped. Something must have
upset him, and badly, for Troi to allow her own
reaction to his emotions to show through that much.
"However," Picard resumed, focusing again on
Khozak, "it seemed advisable to inform the entire
Council at one time."
"So," Khozak said stiffly, "this is as much of the
Council as still exists. What are these discoveries?"
"First," Picard said, plunging ahead, "assuming
the maps you provided of the mines are complete, a
tunnel has been extended downward
approximately two hundred meters from the lowest
level."
Some of the stiffness went out of Khozak's bearing.
He almost smiled. "Extended by the same ones who
entered the mines ten years ago and tried to conceal their
existence."
"In all probability, yes, Mr.
President. And, as you suspected, they are
apparently still there. Mr. Data's tricorder
indicated several humanoid life-forms in or near
the extended tunnel, life-forms that may or may not
be Krantinese. That, however, is not the most
important thing we have found."
"Not to you, perhaps," Khozak said, glancing
triumphantly at the Council members, "but I
can imagine nothing more important to us than finding the
very people responsible for destroying our world!"
"President Khozak," Picard said, an edge
of exasperation creeping into his voice even though he
could understand, even sympathize with, Khozak's
reaction, "I repeat, there is nothing to indicate that
these people-or any people-are responsible for the Plague!"
"There is enough!" Khozak snapped. "You have
yourself told us of the evidence!"
"Suggestions of an association, nothing more!
Whoever they are, they could be victims, the same as
the Krantinese."
Khozak was silent a moment. Finally he
shrugged.
"Very well, I admit there is something in what you
say. However, I intend to speak with these people, whoever
they are, and on my terms!"
"I can ask for nothing more."
"Now, Captain Picard, you said there was something
even more important than the presence of these beings?"
Picard took another breath. "Not far from the
tunnel extending down from the mines is a deposit
of an extremely valuable mineral called
dilithium."
"Dilithium?" Khozak frowned. "I have never
heard of it. What is it? Why is it valuable?"
"To Krantin, with its present level of
technology, it isn't valuable. However, to the
Federation-to anyone with matter-antimatter
technology, particularly warp-drive starships-it
is one of the most valuable substances in the galaxy."
Picard looked around at the Council members.
He was at least slightly relieved to see that their
faces, unlike Khozak's, reflected more
curiosity than anger.
"And this dilithium is what these ... invaders are
after?" Khozak asked.
"It almost certainly is," Picard admitted,
"whoever or whatever they are."
"And you, a servant of this Federation, to whom this
substance has great value," Khozak said, his
voice suddenly filled with disbelief, "you only
discovered the presence of this dilithium-when?
Yesterday?"
"Yesterday, yes. When Mr. Data descended
to the lower levels of the mines, he was able to adjust his
tricorder to obtain readings hundreds of meters
farther down. Zalkan," Picard went
on, glancing toward the scientist, who twitched
nervously at the sudden attention, "your belief that the
effects of the Plague become weaker as you descend
underground appears to be valid."
Khozak waved off any reply by Zalkan,
though the scientist did not seem inclined to speak in
any event.
"And you had no suspicion," Khozak
persisted, "that this dilithium existed until your
Mr. Data discovered it?"
"Of course not," Picard said, forcing himself
to ignore the sarcastic tone of Khozak's words.
"How could we? We have explained how our sensors
are hampered by the Plague."
"And yet you offered to help us," Khozak
continued, his tone even more sarcastic. "You even
provided a superior laser unit for our power
plant and promised several more-all before you even
suspected the existence of this valuable substance."
"Khozak, don't be a complete paranoid
fool!"
Denbahr exploded, somewhat to Picard's
relief.
"You've seen their ship! Don't you realize, if
all they were interested in was this dilithium,
whatever it is, they could have taken it anytime they
wanted? Why would they even tell us about it?"
She shook her head in renewed exasperation.
"Why would they even tell us they were here? They could've
set one of their shuttlecraft down at the mines and
dug for years, like those others apparently have done-they
could've set off skyrockets to signal shift
changes, and we'd never have had a clue they were even
there! We didn't have a clue these others, whoever they
are, were out there, doing whatever they've been doing for the
last ten years! Except for the power plant, we
don't have a clue about anything that's happening
outside Jalkor, am I right? So tell me,
President Khozak, if they want to steal this
dilithium or anything else, why have they gone to all
the trouble they've gone to to let us know about it? And about
themselves and everything else they've told us, even about the
Plague?"
When Denbahr had first started to speak, Khozak
had glared at her furiously, but by the time she
finished, he had gotten control of himself and forced his
features into a smile.
"You misunderstand," he said. "I merely wish
to understand the situation. This could, after all, be the most
important event in a hundred years.
It must be dealt with thoroughly, not with a casual word
or two.
He turned to Picard. "You understand my
motives, I trust, and are not offended by my questions."
"Of course not, Mr. President," Picard
said, noting Troi's continuing presence out of the corner
of his eye.
"In matters of this import, full and mutual
understanding is imperative. I'm sure, for
example, that the Federation will want a similar depth
of understanding when it comes time to make formal arrangements
regarding the dilithium."
"Of course, of course. But first we must dispose
of the invaders."
"Dispose of9" A frown flickered across
Picard's brow at Khozak's choice of words.
Khozak nodded. "Clear them out somehow. Now that
we know they are there, we can take them by surprise
and-was
"In the first place, Mr. President,"
Picard interrupted, "the layout of the mines being what
it is, your men would have to descend one at a time,
slowly and probably noisily. Second, if
whoever is in the mines has the same ability
to appear and disappear that the ships have-and the
fact that we have detected energy surges in the
vicinity of the mines indicates they dothen whoever you
send down there will probably be helpless against them.
As helpless as the Enterpri . se was to keep the
ships from vanishing from under our very noses. And finally and
most importantly for Krantin, even if these people
are responsible for the Plague, there is no reason
to believe that simply killing them or driving them out
would end the Plague. If we are to have a chance
to understand and end the Plague, we need to talk to them,
not drive them away."
"But if they are responsible for the Plague-was
"All the more reason to be cautious, I would
think," Picard interrupted again. "There's nothing
to say that they are responsible, but if they are, they
are likely to be capable of much more. Nor are they
likely to be reluctant to make use of those
capabilities, whatever they may be."
Khozak paled at the thought, slumping in his
chair.
He nodded weakly. "You are right, of course. I
obviously hadn't thought the matter through thoroughly
enough. I could only think-these could be the creatures
who destroyed our world."
"The feeling is understandable, Mr.
President," Picard said blandly.
"But what can we do?" one of the seven asked
abruptly. "Whether they are responsible for the
Plague or not, we could be at their mercy." He
shivered, looking around. "You said they were already in the
city!"
"I said we had detected energy surges in the
vicinity of the city," Picard corrected him. "We
have no idea what those surges meant. They could have
meant things-or people-were. arriving; they could have meant
things were leaving. Or both. All we know is that the
surges were smaller than those we detected in the
area of the mines. But since we don't know what
happened in the mines either, that doesn't help much."
"This dilithium-was Khozak seemed to have
recovered from his momentary despair. "You say it is
valuable but not to us directly. Your Federation would-
What would you give us for it? What kind of help?
What kind of help is possible for a world like
Krantin?"
Picard was silent a moment, relieved that
Khozak finally appeared to be ready to deal rationally
with the situation. "At this point," he admitted, "I
don't know. At the very least, if your present
population is as low as you say-five
million, I believe you said- a mass evacuation
is conceivable, provided a suitable world, or worlds,
can be found. And provided your people wish it. What the
Federation can try to do is find the cause of the
Plague and stop it. If that is successful, then it
might be possible to eventually restore Krantin
to something approaching its original state. But in even
the most optimistic case, any meaningful restoration
would be decades away."
"And your Federation would do this-would attempt these
things? In return for the dilithium?"
Picard suppressed a sigh, wondering what
Troi was picking up from the president. He
supposed the man's cynicism and distrust was
justified, considering Krantin's history, but that
didn't make it any easier to deal with. Denbahr
looked as if she was on the verge of reading him the
riot act again.
"I cannot yet speak officially for the Federation,"
Picard said carefully, "but I assure you they will do
whatever is feasible to help your world, regardless of
what you decide to do regarding the dilithium."
"Need I again point out, President
Khozak," Denbahr said, intensely but quietly,
"that they have already given us essential help
for the power plant?
And that it was given before they even knew of the existence
of this dilithium?"
Khozak ignored her, turning to Zalkan. "You
said it would be possible to contact everyone in
Jalkor."
"We can send messages to every functioning
terminal," Zalkan said. "As you well know,
however, ninety percent of the populace is largely
beyond reach."
"As I well know, yes," Khozak sighed.
"But now we can give that ninety percent a reason
to rejoin us. It may take some time, but-was
"A reason, Khozak?"
"Yes, a reason! If we announce the
discovery of this dilithium, and if we can explain
what it means, what the help of the Federation means-was
"No!" Zalkan snapped, and Picard was
surprised both at the scientist's reaction and at
its vehemence.
"You must not make any such announcement!"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Denbahr shot back
angrily.
"If Jalkor is going to survive long enough for
any of this to come true, we need at least
some of these people to keep the machines running, to keep our
air breathable. You of all people know how much needs to be
done and how few there are to do it."
"I know, but-but it is dangerous! You just heard how
these-these "invaders" may be in Jalkor itself.
Seven energy surges, Commander Data said, within
the city! And you would make this announcement, letting the
invaders know that we know about them!
What might they do then?"
"Zalkan is right," another of the Council
members said. "You don't know who these invaders are
or what they are capable of. If, as you yourself
believe, they are indeed responsible for the
Plague-was She shook her head. "And we all know
how vulnerable we are. A break in the roof is all
it would take. Or in a wall. We have quite enough trouble
keeping our own people from destroying what's left of the
city. No, until we know who these invaders are,
we can't let them know that we know they're here."
"If they don't already know," Delmak said.
"If they were able to tamper with the records computer, who
knows what else they may have done? They could be
monitoring us this very minute!"
For a long moment there was total silence. Finally
Khozak turned to Picard. "We must do
something!
You are the ones who told us of these invaders, of the
material they are doubtless trying to steal. You have
told us it would be suicidal to send our security
forces down to confront them. What do you suggest we
do?
Simply wait for them to take the dilithium?"
"Of course not," Picard said, glancing toward
Data.
"We suggest that we return to the mines and that
Mr. Data descend as he did yesterday and
continue down to the levels where the life-forms were
indicated. Once at that level, his tricorder should
be able to pinpoint the individual life-forms and may
enable him to observe them without being seen. We will try
to keep a transporter lock on him so that he can be
pulled out if he feels the danger has become
too great."
Khozak frowned. "But I was given to understand that
your "transporters" could not be safely used within
the Plague."
"They aren't as safe as we'd like, but with the
Enterprise in low orbit, it should be safe enough,
provided one of the energy surges doesn't occur
during the few seconds required for a
transport. In any event, depending on what
Mr. Data finds, he will either try to establish
contact or return undetected to a higher level
of the mines, at which time his observations could be
evaluated and further plans made."
Khozak didn't like it. At the very least, he
said, he wanted a number of his security officers
to accompany Data. At one point he even
proposed flooding the lower levels of the mines with a
deadly, fast-acting gas, until it was pointed out that
even the fastestacting gas couldn't possibly reach
all points of the tunnels rapidly enough.
"You might kill one or two," Picard pointed
out patiently, "or even a dozen, but all you'd do
to the rest is make them angry-assuming they're not
angry already."
Finally, reluctantly, Khozak abandoned his
opposition to Picard's cautious, nonlethal
plan. Data would descend into the mine the next day.
In the meantime, one shuttlecraft would be stationed near
the mines, another near the city, watching for energy
surges, hoping a pattern of some kind would emerge
in either location or that the location of the surges within the
city could be pinpointed.
As they were preparing to leave, with Picard
and Data still answering the Council members' questions
about the uses and value of dilithium, Troi took
Zalkan aside and motioned for Koralus to follow.
Except for a few moments immediately after the captain
had first disclosed what they had found at the bottom
of the mines, the scientist had somehow maintained a
stiff, emotionless exterior. His inner agitation,
however, had been a shrill and painful assault on
Troi's empathic sense ever since. The only
times it had lessened even slightly had been the rare
moments when his eyes had settled briefly on
Koralus.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice as
neutral as his appearance as he stood facing her,
carefully avoiding looking at Koralus, who
stood a meter to her right.
"Zalkan," she said softly, her voice not
carrying the few meters to the nearest of the Council
members, perhaps we can help you."
"Your doctor?" He shook his head. "She has
already-was
"Perhaps medically also, but that is not what I meant
."
"Then what? Help Krantin, you mean?"
"That, too, but I meant you, personally,
in dealing with whatever it is that has you so frightened."
He shook his head, frowning, and she felt his
terror ratchet even higher. "You do not make
sense. I am no more frightened than Khozak or
any of the others.
This news of the ships and the Plague has unnerved
us I know that, Zalkan. But I also know that there are
things that frighten you and you alone."
"Nonsense! Are you saying I am a coward?
Well, perhaps I am. I am a scientist, not a
warrior."
"That is not what I meant." She paused,
realizing that by trying to ease up to what she had to say,
she was making him more terrified, not less. She put
a hand lightly on his arm. "I aman empath," she
said.
"I can sense emotions, and those emotions very often
allow me to tell whether a person is being truthful
or not."
With her words, she winced, feeling his terror
abruptly escalate to new heights. Shaking his
head, he tried to jerk free of her grip. "I
don't know what you're talking abl" he hissed.
"Now let me 901"
Grimacing at the flood of fear that
poured out of him, stabbing into her mind like a hundred
daggers, she found that it was all she could do to retain
her " grip on his arm despite his physical
weakness. Abruptly, he began to fear he would
collapse on the spot.
I know you are sincere in your concern for Krantin,"
she said quickly, forcing her voice to remain soft and
reassuring despite her pain, "but I also know that you
are in far more trouble than you have let anyone know. That
is what I meant when I said we might be able
to help you."
For another second, the fear continued to batter at
Troi's mind and Zalkan continued to struggle
feebly against her grip.
But then his eyes flickered toward Koralus and,
like a punctured balloon, he went limp, no
longer struggling. The bulk of the fear that had filled his
mind to the bursting shriveled as well, replaced by a
painful mixture of resignation and relief. All
this with barely a sound, certainly none that reached the
ears of the Council members, though Picard had been
carefully watching the two of them out of the corner of his
eye.
"You wanted to tell us the truth," Troi said
even more softly, "but you were afraid to trust
us."
Weakly, he nodded, saying nothing. Troi
looked toward Picard, and for a moment their eyes met.
Chapter Thirteen
"AT LEAST YOU MUST PR-OMISEvery to hear
me out," Zalkan said weakly, "before you make any
judgments."
"Of course," Picard agreed, his eyes again
going worriedly to Troi, who nodded her
reassurance. The emotional battering that Zalkan's
terror had subjected her to had left her shaken, but
she had insisted on staying close and monitoring the
scientist while he told his story. Data and
Koralus stood to one side, listening.
The five of them were in Zalkan's private
lab, a small, locked room several floors
away from the one in which the tests on the laser unit had
been run. It was cluttered with jury-rigged
circuits and machines of all kinds. The only
"standard" items, on a bench at the rear of the room,
were a massive vacuum pump, one of the laser
units for the power plant, and several vacuum
chambers, each studded with a mass of sensors capable
of detecting and analyzing virtually any form of
matter inside the Jars.
Picard had offered to take the scientist to the
Enterprise to talk, but Zalkan had insisted on
returning to this lab. He had given no reasons, but
Troi had indicated that it was not a trap of any
kind and that Zalkan still seemed intent on telling them
the truth.
He wanted them to promise not to tell Khozak
or any of the others, but in the end he had had
to settle for Picard's promise to listen to the
entire story before making any judgments.
As if still delaying what he must say, the
scientist gestured at the jumble of equipment. "Can
you tell me," he asked, "if any of this-if
anything has a chance of blocking the Plague?
I've been trying for ten years to develop an
energy field that would at least keep it from infecting the
vacuums in the laser units."
Picard turned to Data, who seemed to consider
for a moment. "If they were in operation," Data said,
"it is possible I could compare the field characteristics
with those of a device Commander La Forge is building
for a similar purpose on the Enterprise, but I
would not suggest activating it while anyone other than
myself is in close proximity to it. If the field
characteristics are similar, it could be just as
harmful to living organisms as the fields it is
intended to block."
Zalkan was silent a moment, then nodded. "You
know about those effects, then?"
"We have only speculated," Picard said
quietly, "based on similar fields we have
encountered in the past. And on your own failing health."
Zalkan smiled faintly. "Your doctor's
examination of me, yes."
"That and more. Counselor Troi saw that you knew
more about your illness than you admitted," Picard said.
"She also saw that you recognized the ships when we
showed you the holograms. Based on those insights and
previous experiences of our own, we suspected that
your illness could be the result of having been aboard
similar ships when they made their jumps-to wherever
they go."
"And you thought I was one of them..
"We didn't know what to think. You recognized
them and you were afraid of-of something, she could not tell
what."
Zalkan nodded and then shivered. "There is little I
am not afraid of." He was silent a moment, then
smiled, almost chuckled. "Except death. I'm
sure your doctor knows how close I am
to that."
"She has an idea," Picard admitted. "But
she also has been searching for something that could help you.
"And has she found anything?" A resigned
smile.
"No miracle cures, but she tells me there
is a treatment that could stabilize your condition, perhaps
even reverse it to a modest degree."
"But that would require, I would guess, that I no
longer expose myself to the energy fields that seem to have
caused my problem in the first place."
Picard nodded. "And it would, essentially, put you
in a coma for several weeks, if not months."
This time Zalkan did laugh. "At this point, a
coma sounds very attractive, if only I could afford
the time.
Has she found nothing else?"
"Nothing that offers any long-term hope."
"But short-term?"
"Only very short-term-a powerful metabolic
enhancer called CZ'-FOURTEEN. In all
likelihood it would briefly restore your strength,
but it would also very probably kill you in a matter of
hours."
When the scientist did not respond for
several seconds, Picard prompted, "The quicker you
tell us what the situation is here, the more time we will have
to address it."
"Obviously. But it is difficult to admit this
kind of truth, even when I have no choice." Again
he fell silent for a long moment, shaking his head.
When he looked up again, his eyes fell on
Koralus, who had been standing silently in the
background throughout the exchange.
"Koralus," Zalkan said, "I must ask.
Before you left on the Hope, did you know a woman
named Endros?"
Koralus's eyes widened, as did Picard's.
"How did you know?" Koralus asked softly.
Zalkan let out a sigh, not of relief but of
something else, something even Troi could not completely
identify. "She was my grandmother," he said softly.
"Impossible!" Koralus snapped, scowling at
the scientist. "Endros left with me on the Hope.
Nearly half a century ago, she died while I
slept."
Zalkan closed his eyes a moment. "In this
world, yes," he said, his words barely audible. "In
my world, you and she-was
He broke off, shaking his head again.
When he spoke again, his voice was firmer. "It is
so complex, it is difficult to even know where to start in
order for it to make any sense."
Picard nodded sympathetically, gesturing to an
agitated Koralus for patience. "The world that you come
from?" Picard asked. "Is that the world the ships and the people
in the mines are from?"
Zalkan nodded. "Krantin. My Krantin.
But where it is in relation to this Krantin, I have no
idea. No one knows. Wherever it is, the two worlds
were once virtually twins." He glanced again at
Koralus. "Even now, despite the massive
differences caused to both worlds by the Plague, people who
exist here also exist there."
"An alternate reality," Picard said,
remembering.
"We don't fully understand it ourselves, but we have
encountered enough examples to accept the existence of such
things."
"'Alternate reality," yes, as good a way
to describe it as any. Some of our
scientists-including our Koralus-have advanced the
concept."
Picard glanced at Troi before speaking again.
"Zalkan, are you or these others somehow
responsible for what the Krantinese call the
Plague?"
Zalkan was silent for several seconds, then
shuddered. "God help us, yes, we are all
responsible."
Abruptly his voice was trembling with emotion, as
if he were finally letting go not only of the secrets
he had been hiding but of the iron control he had had
to exert for so long. "For five hundred years- But
we had no idea what we were doing! I swear, all
we knew-was
He broke off, almost sobbing, his sudden surrender
to anguish reflected momentarily in Troi's face
as she reached out to touch his arm again.
After a minute, he straightened, his breathing
returning to normal. "Thank you, Counselor
Troi."
He turned to face Picard and Koralus, his
face once again an emotionless mask. "The ones in
the ships, they-or their leaders, the Directorate,
what passes for a government on our Krantin-know
now what they are doing. The Directorate has
known for decades, but they have kept it a secret from
all but those directly involved. And they simply do
not care what they have done-are still doing
to Krantin. I am part of a small underground network
of scientists, but we are powerless to help in any
meaningful way-unless we are able to obtain at least a
small portion of the dilithium we are searching for in
the mines. Then we will at least have a chance to save
ourselves and perhaps even Krantin. If the
Directorate obtains it, both our worlds are
doomed. That is why the dilithium must be kept as
secret as possible here. Those energy surges you
detected in the city, they are almost certainly the work
of the Directorate."
"This Directorate has people here?" Picard was not
surprised. "In Jalkor?"
"None live here, as I have done for more than a
decade. They come and they go, we believe." The
scientist seemed to have regained complete control, now
speaking calmly, almost formally, the only indication of
any distraction an occasional sideways glance
toward Koralus. "We also believe they have
monitors attached to the computer system. Normally
they rarely check them. The Directorate sends
someone through once a year at most, primarily
to confirm that Krantin still presents no real threat
to them. But now that they have seen your ship and you have told
them you intend to help Krantin-they will at the
very least check their monitors, perhaps even activate
new ones. The surges you detected in the city almost
certainly were theirs. Anything that is in the city
computers, they will soon know, if they don't already."
Zalkan shivered and fell silent.
Picard looked questioningly at Troi, though he was
already convinced that what he was hearing was true.
It would explain much, particularly Zalkan's
terror when Khozak had wanted to make the
dilithium general knowledge throughout Jalkor.
"He is telling the truth as he knows it,"
Troi confirmed.
Picard turned back to the scientist, still silent,
looking frailer than ever, his thin shoulders hunched
forward.
"What is the Plague?" Picard asked when
Zalkan did not resume speaking.
The scientist pulled in another breath. "It is
the waste material of our world," he said softly,
"reduced to its component atoms and molecules by the
process that sends it here. Five hundred years
ago, our scientists were experimenting with matter
transmission, what you call transporter
technology. They were never successful, but purely
by accident they discovered something else-an
energy field that made material objects
disappear. Forever."
To his own surprise, Picard found himself having
to suppress an impulse to laugh. The Plague was
the result of a planetwide high-tech
garbage-disposal system! But then he wondered:
What would Earth have done if its scientists had
stumbled onto such a device when the water and air were
thick with pollution and the landfills were overflowing? Would
they have been able to resist the temptation?
"Did they know where the waste was going?
Picard asked, sobering. "Did they try to find
out9"
Zalkan shook his head. "Many probably did
tr", at y first. But not knowing where the material
went didn't stop them from sending it. It was just too
easy, too convenient. Anything subjected to the
energy field simply disappeared and was never seen
again. As far as anyone knew, it was being snuffed out of
existence.
Within a few years, the process was being used
everywhere by virtually everyone, and the ones who controlled
it controlled our world, and they were no longer interested in
where the waste was going. They eventually became the
Directorate, and no one objected.
After all, because of them, our industries became
pollution-free virtually overnight. Within fifty
years, our world-our Krantin-was cleaner than it
had ever been. Not that it wasn't disfigured. The
Directorate used the process for mining as well,
stripping great chunks of soil and rock away in
order to get at the material they-we-wanted. The
same happened in space-that cloud of interplanetary
dust that is smothering this Krantin is simply the
ninety percent and more of tens of thousands of asteroids
that the Directorate "mined" over the last four
hundred years."
"What of the ships out there among the asteroids in this
reality?" Picard asked. "What are they doing there?
Are they the Directorate's as well?"
"They are. They are looking for the dilithium."
Zalkan grimaced. "It is a complicated
story. Our world once had the same dilithium
deposit as this Krantin, but before anyone knew of
its value, it had gone the way of all the rest of
our "waste products" and could not be reclaimed."
Picard nodded when Zalkan paused. "Our
sensors detected a molecular form of dilithium
in the Plague cloud," he said.
Zalkan almost laughed. "A thoroughly
useless form, at least to us."
"And to us," Picard agreed.
"But then a small group of scientists and comone of
them my father, the son of our engineers Koralus and
Endros-discovered how to use the crystalline form. The
Directorate of course confiscated the tiny amount
that still existed. They apparentry assumed they could find
more, or that it could be duplicated, but they soon found
it could not. So for the first time, the Directorate began
a serious effort to learn where over four hundred
years' worth of our world's trash had gone. It
took nearly twenty years to learn to "look"
through to this world and another ten to develop a way
to physically come through-and to learn that the dilithium, like
everything else we sent through, was unrecoverable. But
they had also discovered that the two worlds-the two
realities-were virtually identical physically.
So they assumedhoped-that this world would still have its
dilithium."
"But if the dilithiurn is here on Krantin,"
Picard asked puzzledly, "why are they searching for
it out among the asteroids?"
"Because we were incredibly lucky," Zalkan said.
"The only ones who knew precisely where the
dilithium originated in our world were not of the
Directorate, and they were able to tamper with the computer
records and fool Directorate scientists
into thinking it had come from the asteroids. That gave us the
chance to-was
Without warning, the single door to the lab burst
open, slamming back as if it had been hit by a
battering ram, and a flood of Khozak's security
officers, their projectile weapons drawn,
stormed in.
Before anyone could react, the comm units were torn
from the tunics of the three Enterprise officers and, more
violently, from Koralus's. Only Zalkan
reacted, his right hand, released by Troi, darting into a
pocket of the coveralls he wore. Then, like the
others, his every muscle seemed to freeze.
is Behind the officers came Khozak, a weapon
in h hand as well. His face was flushed as he
pushed Trol roughly to one side and stood facing
Zalkan.
"Who are you?" he grated, bringing the weapon up
until it was leveled at the scientist's sunken
chest.
"What are you, that you would destroy our world?"
Zalkan flinched at the rage in the president's
face and voice.
An instant later, a brilliant flash of
light blinded everyone in the room.
And the roar of Khozak's weapon slammed at their
ears.
When vision returned, Zalkan was gone.
And, Picard noted with hope, if not quite relief,
the door of one of the vacuum chambers that had been on
the bench directly behind Zalkan had been shattered
by the projectile.
Chapter Fourteen
"CAPTAIN!" RIKER'S VOICE ERUPTED
from one of the comm units, still clutched by one of the guards.
"There has been another energy surge,
apparently very near to your present location."
Picard couldn't help but smile slightly
despite the situation. I noticed, Number One.
"President Khozak," he said quietly, "I
would suggest you allow me to reply."
Khozak, still scowling furiously at the spot where
Zalkan had stood moments before, spun toward
Picard.
"And let you be snatched from under our noses, like your
murderous friend Zalkan? Remember, I heard your
Commander Riker in the mine yesterday-and you, just minutes
ago-speaking about keeping a "lock" on
those devices with your transporters. That is why they
were taken from you!"
"Precisely," Picard said mildly. "And the
lock is still functioning. Additionally, if there is no
reply, the transporter will be activated, and
anyone holding a unit will find himself on the
Enterprise. Unless there is another energy surge
during transport, in which case he could find himself
anywhere-or nowhere."
The three guards holding the Comm units darted
quick looks at Khozak, who seemed to be thinking
furiously but reaching no conclusions.
"Just tap one lightly on the front,
gentlemen," Picard advised. "That will activate
it. It will pick up anything said in the room."
"On the bench," Khozak ordered, emerging from his
momentary paralysis. "Put them on the bench and tap
one and stand back." Before he had finished speaking, the
four Comm units had clicked onto the bench near the
door and all six guards were edging hastily
backward. Their weapons were still pointed in the general
direction of Koralus and the three from the
Enterprise, however.
Picard smiled faintly, thinking that they might
survive the situation after all. "That will be
acceptable, under the circumstances."
When none of the guards returned to touch the abandoned
Comm units, Khozak stepped up. Darting angry
looks between Picard and the Comm units, he extended
his hand slowly.
"Captain, this is Commander Riker. Respond."
Khozak's hand jerked back from the offending Comm
unit as if he'd been burned.
"Tap it, Mr. President," Picard
repeated. "Lightly with one finger will suffice. And
I should warn you that Commander Riker's instructions, in
the event he cannot obtain a response, are to set the
transporter to scan a wide area and then
activate it. I don't know the exact
parameters, but I suspect everything in this room would
be taken."
"Data! Deanna! Koralus! Respond!"
Riker's words erupted from all four units, sending
another twitch through Khozak.
"Mr. President?" Picard prompted.
Like a man attempting to pet a scorpion,
Khozak sent one hand darting downward, pulled it
back too quickly, hesitated a moment, and brought it
down again.
Cautiously, Picard moved a step
closer to the Comm units. "Number One," he said,
raising his voice only slightly, "we have a
situation here. Stand by.
He turned to " Deanna. "Counselor,
what is your reading of our circumstances?"
Now that Zalkan has left," she said after a
moment, "there is no specific hostility except
toward Koralus, only fear and uncertainty. It
is similar to what President Khozak has
felt all along, only it is now much more intense."
Picard nodded, relieved that he had not
miscalculated. "None of them wants to kill us,"
he said quietly, "but it could happen anyway, either
accidentally or intentionally. Is that fair to say?"
"Something like that, Captain."
"Kill you, Captain?" Riker's quadrupled
voice rattled off the walls. "What is the
situation down there?"
Picard looked inquiringly toward Khozak.
"May I explain?"
Khozak once again gave the impression of
furious but fruitless thought. Finally he nodded.
Picard turned back to face the Comm units,
marshaling his thoughts. "Number One, it's a long
story.
The essentials are these. Both the ships and the
humanoids in the mine are, as we suspected, from
an alternate reality, containing a world once much like
Krantin. Zalkan is from that world as well. He
told us that the Plague is, essentially, the waste
from that world, unknowingly transmitted here by the people of that
world using a method they accidentally discovered five
hundred years ago."
Picard paused, observing Khozak, then
resumed. "I assume that this constant transmission
results in the low-level energy field that
blankets the system. Sometime in the last few
decades, they havefound a way to come through themselves.
The most recent energy surge you detected was
Zalkan vanishing from this very room in a flash equally
as blinding as those in which the ships vanished. If we can
believe him-and Counselor Troi has said that we
can-he is part of an underground network of scientists
working against what he calls the Directorate, the people
in control of that world. The Directorate, he
says, has no interest in stopping the Plague.
Zalkan's is the group in the mines, and he hopes
that, if they can get a small portion of the
dilithium, they would be able to . . . set things right
and perhaps stop the Plague, although he did not
have time to elaborate before President Khozak and his
men burst in, precipitating his abrupt
departure.
"He has been experimenting here," Picard added,
looking again toward Khozak, "in this lab, trying
to develop a means of blocking the transmitted
material from small areas, possibly an energy
field similar to what Commander La Forge is working
on. I suspect Zalkan's exposure to the
energy fields generated by his own experiments is more
responsible for his current state of health than his
travels between realities."
"You left out a couple of small details,
Captain,"
Riker said when Picard fell silent. "For
example since there was some mention of your possibly
being killed, can I assume the four of you are being
held against your will? If so, by whom? And why?"
"I can answer only the first two of those questions,
Number One. President Khozak will have to answer
the last."
"He's the one who's holding you?"
"He and a group similar to the one that first met you
at the airlock."
"I see. Can I speak to President
Khozak?"
"You have been speaking to him, Number One. The question
is, will he speak to you? Mr. President?"
Khozak blinked, his grip on his weapon
faltering for a moment but recovering. "What do you wish
to speak about, Commander Riker?" I should think that was
obvious, Mr. President," Riker snapped.
"Why are you holding three Starfleet officers and
one of your own people against their will?"
"I'm curious about that myself, Mr.
President," Picard added when Khozak didn't
respond for several seconds. I heard Zalkan
and you," Khozak said finally, with the angry sound of a
man who was beginning to have second thoughts-or, worse,
perhaps his first real thoughts-about an overly hasty action.
"I heard the two of you calmly discussing the fact
that he had destroyed Krantin!"
"Zalkan's world, perhaps," Picard said, "as
represented by the Directorate, not Zalkan
personally. He personally, along with his friends,
appears to be risking his life opposing the
Directorate." Picard gestured at the benches
of jury-rigged equipment.
"He has even been trying to develop a means
of blocking the Plague."
"And am I supposed to take his word for that? He,
whose people have destroyed our entire world?"
"You can take our word for it that he was telling the
truth, Mr. President. Counselor Troi is
an empath.
She knows if a person is lying, and she is
convinced Zalkan was telling the truth."
Khozak swallowed audibly. "But I can not
tell if a person is telling the truth. I do not
know if you and your-your so-called empath are telling the
truth or lying." He shook his head angrily.
"You come here with your ships and your Federation and you tell
us things that no sane person would believe, that you can
travel between the stars not in centuries but in hours, that
you can 'transport" yourselves magically from place
to place, that you have brought Koralus back from the
dead, and now you tell us to take the word of someone who
just admitted-was
Khozak broke off. His voice had been rising
with each phrase. With an obvious effort, he lowered
his voice. "How am I to know your so-called
Federation is not just another "Directorate"?"
"Your reaction is quite understandable under the
circumstances," Picard said calmly. "However,
if you will consider the situation rationally, you can
surely see that we have no reason to-was
He was cut off by a half-gasp, half-scream
from the doorway. All eyes darted in that direction,
most of the weapons, including Khozak's, following
suit. Ahl Denbahr stood there, mouth agape.
"Technician Denbahr-was Khozak began.
"What are you doing?" she almost shouted.
"It's all right," Picard said hastily, but
Denbahr wasn't listening. She seemed oblivious
to the weapons, as well, as she stalked forward and
stood confronting Khozak.
"I went to the lab, and Zalkan wasn't there.
I'd seen him talking to Counselor Troi, and he
looked really bad, and I wanted to know-was She
broke off, looking around. "Where is he?" Her
scowl refocused on Khozak. "What have you done
with him? I know you've never trusted him, but-was
She broke off again, shaking her head violently,
as if trying to jar her thoughts into coherence. Her eyes
went again to the weapons. "Are you completely insane?
These people are the only chance Krantin has
to survive! Without them, the power plant will shut down
or destroy itself in five years at the most! Can't
you understand that?"
"I understand more than you imagine!"
Khozak snapped. "Zalkan's people are
responsible for the Plague! I heard him admit
it! And these people-I just can't take a chance on-was
"The rest of you!" she said, her voice still almost a
shout as she abandoned Khozak and jerked around to glare
at the guards. "This is crazy! I swear, these people
are our only chance! You're going to ruin everything if
you keep listening to Khozak! Put down those-was
As her eyes cast about from guard to guard, she
suddenly spotted the comm units. She darted a quick
look at Picard's unadorned tunic, and without
hesitation lunged forward, grasping the comm units and
turning to throw them to him.
Khozak, taken unaware by Denbahr's sudden
action, recovered and lunged after her and caught her
arm, his weapon forgotten as it clattered to the floor.
An instant later, the comm units were jarred from her
hand and hit the floor and bounced noisily. Picard
winced, knowing that it must have sounded like a series of
explosions to the listeners on the Enterprise.
"Captain!" Riker's voice erupted from the comm
units again. "What happened? Are you all right?"
"Affirmative, Number One," Picard said
quickly.
"Continue to stand by."
"Data? Deanna? Someone respond!
Koralus!"
His comm unit's transmit function must have been
deactivated by the fall, Picard realized
abruptly. "Activate one of them, now!"
Picard snapped. "The fall-was
"If no one responds in five seconds,
I'm engaging the transporter, wide scan!"
Riker's voice announced from all four comm
units. "If any of you can hear me, I still have a
lock on your comm units. Stand by to beam up!"
Immediately he began a countdown.
Suddenly, Khozak released Denbahr's arm and
both lurched toward the comm units, but Khozak
roughly shoved her aside as she leaned down to pick
them up.
Khozak didn't lean down. Instead, he
raised his foot and, as Riker's voice reached
"Two" in the countdown, brought the heel of his boot
down solidly on two of the comm units and, at
"One," on the other two.
The silence was total. Picard's stomach
knotted as he wondered if perhaps Riker had been
right after all when he had recommended carrying
phasers.
Khozak looked around, shivering. His eyes met
Picard's, and what Picard saw there began
to loosen the knot in his stomach.
"I'm sorry," Khozak said, his voice
shaking, "but I couldn't take the chance."
Picard grimaced. Not that they were out of the woods
yet.
Chapter Fifteen
"ENERGIZE!" RIKER COMMANDED.
"Something's happened," the transporter chief's
voice came seconds later. "We've lost the
lock."
"Get it back!"
"Trying, Commander, but there's nothing there.
The comm units have shut down."
"All four?"
"All four."
What the hell is going on down there? "Can you
scan the last known location?"
"Negative, Commander, not under these conditions.
Without the fluctuating energy field, we might be
able-was
"Understood, Chief. Keep trying for the comm
units. Mr. Worf, anything more on that energy
surge?
Could it have been so close it knocked out the comm
units? And can the sensors locate our people?"
"It's unlikely that the energy surge had anything
to do with the comm units' failure, Commander," the
Klingon said. "The captain's was operating normally
for minutes after the surge. And even from low orbit,
the sensors can neither distinguish individual lifeforms
nor distinguish between Krantinese and human."
"Chief," Riker said, returning his attention to the
transporters, "can we transport down
to approximately the last known location of the comm
units?"
"Not safely, Commander. You could be placed within a
few hundred meters of the location, but that's a few
hundred meters in any direction, including up and
down."
"You're saying we could end up, say, a hundred
meters above the city's roof?"
"Entirely possible, Commander."
"Would point to point from a shuttlecraft on the
ground be more accurate?"
"Yes, but not accurate enough to be safe, not if
you're trying for the captain's location."
"But accurate enough to get someone inside the city,
close to ground level, as opposed to in
midair a hundred meters up?"
"Affirmative, Commander. It would get you well
within the range of the surface proximity
detectors, even under these conditions."
Riker was silent a moment, grimacing, then stood
abruptly. "Stores, bring five comm units to the
shuttlebay. I'll be taking them down. Mr.
Worf, assemble a security detail and meet me
in the shuttlebay. Chief-was
"Commander," Worf interrupted, "there have been ...
several more energy surges, all from the vicinity of the
mines."
Riker's stomach lurched. If he had been able
to reestablish the lock and had been in the process of
beaming them up "Shuttlebay, Mr. Worf," he
said, striding toward the turbolift, tapping his comm
unit as he went.
Behind him, Worf surrendered the tactical station
to Ensign Thompson. "Commander La Forge, to the
bridge. You have the conn."
"On my way, Commander," Geordi's voice
came back an instant later.
Riker was emerging into the shuttlebay when Ensign
Thompson's voice came through his comm unit.
"Commander Riker! An EM signal from
the planet."
"Patch it through, Ensign." Frowning, Riker
waited. What did these people think they were doing? Was this
going to be a ransom demand of some kind? And it should
be him down there, not the captain, he thought angrily.
That was his job as first officer, and it was also his job
to tell the captain when A crackling of static
snapped him instantly out of his litany of
self-recriminations. A moment later, an
out-of-breath female voice was shouting over the static
and the distortion: "Starship Enterprise, please
respond! Starship Enterprise, it is urgent that
you respond immediately! Starship Enterprise- "This
is the Enterprise, Commander William Riker. Go
ahead."
"Commander! Thank God! This is Ahl
Denbahr-was
"What happened to our people, to their comm units?"
"They're all right, Commander!" Her voice came
down from the level of a shout to being just loud enough to be
heard over the continuing static. "Captain Picard
and the others, I mean, and Koralus, not the comm
units. The comm units are smashed."
"Smashed? What happened?"
"Khozak smashed them, don't ask me
why! He'll be here in a minute, they all will be,
if they ever quit arguing, and you can ask them. Him.
He'll say it was my fault, but-You heard me
yelling at Khozak, right? Your gadgets were still
working then?"
"We heard you, yes."
"Khozak wouldn't listen, so I grabbed the comm
units and tried to toss them back to your people, but
Khozak grabbed me and they fell on the floor, and
then you started acting like you couldn't hear us but you could still
grab everyone in the room as long as the comm. units
were working, so Khozak panicked and smashed them, or
at least stepped on them as hard as he could, and then
your captain started warning him he'd better get in
touch with you some way, there was no telling what you might
do, but Khozak was still arguing, so I ran back here
to the radio we use when I go out to the power plant and
I remembered you were able to pick it up on your
shuttlecraft and I just hoped- Anyway, here we
are.
Or here I am, anyway."
Riker almost laughed, partly at the breakneck
speed of her account, partly in relief at the news
that Deanna and the others were all right. "You're saying
our people are definitely in no immediate danger,
is that right?" he asked, turning as he heard the
turbolift doors hiss open. Worf and four
phaser-armed ensigns emerged.
"Definitely. I don't think even Khozak
is that insane. Although some of the stuff he was ranting
about- I mean, he was trying to tell me that Zalkan
was responsible for the Plague!"
"Not Zalkan himself," Riker said, gesturing for
Worf and the others to wait, "but the world that he's from
apparently is responsible."
For a long moment there was silence except for the
continuing static.
"The world that he's from?"
"An alternate world, much like Krantin," Riker
said. "I gather it's a complicated story, but
true. They can explain it better down there than I
can. As I understand it, however, they got the information
directly from Zalkan himself before he . . .
left."
"Left? Where is he? That's why I came
barging in there in the first place. I couldn't find him,
and he'd been looking even worse than usual after
that meeting with your captain and the Council. But
Zalkan isn't from any other world! He's the one
who pulled me back out of the computer
fantasies ten years ago, and he's been trying
to find a way to block the Plague, not make it
worse!"
"That's quite probably true, but as I said-was
Riker broke off as he caught the sound of faint
voices from Denbahr's end of the hookup.
"Captain? Are you there?"
The thin sound of footsteps, and then: "We're right
here, Number One. I assume Technician
Denbahr explained about the comm units."
"She said President Khozak smashed them.
Correct?"
"Correct."
"I was about to come down with Lieutenant Worf and a
security detail. Is that advisable?"
"Not at the moment, Number One. The situation
is calm but not yet resolved, and I suspect a
security detail would be counterproductive at
best."
"You're still being detained, then?"
"Affirmative, Number One, but Counselor
Troi assures me we are not in any immediate
danger."
"So has Technician Denbahr. But I heard
what you said earlier, Captain, about
intentional harm versus accidental. Does that still
apply?"
"I do not believe so, Number One. Their
weapons have been put away. Our problem now is
to convince President Khozak of our good intentions,
not an easy task under the circumstances."
"Zalkan and the Plague and the rest?"
"Precisely, Number One. Mistrust and
suspicion are understandable reactions," Picard said,
his diplomatic tone obvious even over the static
that still plagued the connection. "Were I in
President Khozak's position, without the aid of
Counselor Troi, I don't know that I wouldn't
have the same suspicions as he."
"Understood, Captain. But about the comm units-was
"He has apologized, Number One, but he
would prefer they not be replaced, at least not immediately.
President Khozak has agreed to keep this
link open, however. He assures me it will be
monitored at all times."
"As you wish, Captain. You should know, however, there
was another series of energy surges just minutes
ago, all from the vicinity of the mines. I assume
they were related somehow to Zalkan's disappearance.
"I would assume the same, Number
One. My own speculation would be that the mines were being
evacuated."
Or extra people and machines were being brought in to get
at the dilithium quickly, now that Zalkan's people know
they've been discovered, Riker thought, but if the
captain isn't saying it out loud, neither will L
"Mine, too, Captain," he said. "Would
President Khozak object if we sent another
shuttlecraft down to verify it?"
"I would!" Khozak's voice came over the
link.
"Until we-was
"And how would you even know if they went down in the
mine?" Denbahr asked angrily. "President
Khozak, if you-was
"I'm well aware of your views," Khozak
snapped, sounding rattled. "And of your friendship with the
traitor Zalkan!"
"Zalkan is no traitor! He's done more for
this city than-was
"I believe," Picard's voice overrode
Denbahr's, "that a few minutes of rational
discussion are in order."
"I am being rational!" Denbahr shot back.
"It's this-this president who's being totally
irrational."
"Calm discussion, then," Picard said.
"President Khozak?"
"It would be a great relief, Captain,"
Khozak said, "but with Technician Denbahr
present-was
Picard cut off another outburst by Denbahr.
"We can start the discussion," he said, "by bringing her
up to date on the matter of Zalkan."
With questions and loud expressions of disbelief, the
updating took nearly half an hour, by which time
Riker and Worf were back on the bridge. In the
meantime, some inventive work on the EM link had
reduced the static to a more tolerable level.
Picard, with occasional assists from Troi, had
kept the discusnot, if not calm, at least not
explosive.
The only exception was when, reluctantly,
Khozak admitted there were secret "listening
devices" in offices, labs, and apartments all
over the city, and that it was through one of those that he had
overheard Zalkan's revelations.
"I didn't put the devices in," Khozak
protested when Denbahr finally calmed down.
"Most, I was IF
told, were installed at least fifty years ago.
Some were in use before the cities were sealed. This was almost
the first time I've ever used them, any of them. Most
don't even work anymore. But when I saw
Zalkan talking to these people in the Council Chambers
and looking as if he were about to go into shock, and then when
I saw they were going into that "private" lab of
his, the purpose of which he has never
satisfactorily explained to me . .
He shook his head. "I tried the system, and it
worked. All I can say is, it was extremely
fortunate that I did, considering what I learned."
Obviously not everyone agreed, but in the end an
interim "agreement" on most other matters was
reached. The next day, a second shuttlecraft
would bring someone down to check the mines, to try
to determine what the dozen or more energy surges had
signified. The same shuttlecraft would then pick
up Khozak and return him to the Enterprise while
Picard, Data, Troi, and Koralus remained
in the city.
Meanwhile, Riker would contact Starfleet and
arrange for one or more someones "in authority"
to speak directly with Khozak. Riker had
expected Denbahr at some point to wonder
angrily-and rightly-why Khozak would believe someone
"in authority" hundreds of parsecs away when he
wouldn't believe Captain Picard or anyone
else when they were standing directly in front of him,
but to Riker's surprise she remained silent, as
she had for much of the later discussion. Perhaps, he thought,
she was simply trying to digest the news she had
finally been forced to accept about Zalkan.
Finally, after a last-minute request by Data that
Ensign Thompson check on Spot occasionally,
particularly in the event that more energy surges were
detected, the static-laced EM link was broken.
Riker passed the request on, even tried to feign
interest as Thompson explained the discussions he and
Data had been having about their increasingly nervous
cats.
Finally, he settled back in the captain's
chair, grimaced inwardly, and began to prepare a
series of subspace messages to Starfleet.
Somehow, Zalkan managed to hang on
to consciousness as the blinding light faded from around him and
he collapsed to the cold, concrete floor. Then the
once-familiar face of one of his fellow
conspirators was looming over him in the near darkness.
"Zalkan? Is it you?" The muted
voice was filled with easily as much disbelief and
shock as Zalkan had expected. No one left
behind on this Krantin had seen him since he had
jumped to that other Krantin nearly fifteen years
ago, so they would be prepared for his having aged. What
they would not be prepared for, he knew, was his weakness,
his deterioration. He had jumped only twice,
once to Krantin and now back, and yet he knew
that, because of his attempts to develop a blocking
field, he looked far worse than even those
Directorate pilots who had jumped fifty and
sixty times and were due to be "lost" in another
flight or two, before their deterioration became too
obvious.
"Everyone must be pulled back from the mines , he
managed to whisper before utter exhaustion pulled his
eyelids down like lead weights and the rasping sound of
his own breathing faded from his ears.
When Zalkan awakened, it was to the painful
pricking of a needle being withdrawn from his left arm.
Forcing his eyes to open, he saw an empty,
redstained bottle being disconnected from the other end of the
tube that ended in the needle.
Blood.
They had given him new blood, he
wondered how much. However much, it would revive him
only temporarily. It would give him the strength
to tell them what needed to be told. After that, he
might last an hour or a day, certainly little more.
But that was enough. He would almost welcome the end.
There was nothing left for him but the anguish and guilt
that racked him for having failed. He would have to tell
them that his gamble-a gamble he had been trapped into but
one which, hindsight told him, he could still have
avoided-he would have to tell them that his gamble with the
strangers from the stars had not only failed but
backfired.
And, in all probability, his people's
decades-long struggle would then be ended. Barring a
miracle, the Directorate spies would learn of the
true location of the dilithium and would take it. With
their massive machines and virtually unlimited
power, with no need for the secrecy and caution his own
tiny group had been shackled by, they could jump the
dilithium and the surrounding rock from that Krantin to this
with little more effort than it took to jump their massive
ore carriers in the asteroid belt. The
likelihood that the entire tunnel system would
collapse when tens of thousands of cubic meters of
rock and soil and dilithium vanished in
what amounted to a massive underground implosion was of
no concern to them, any more than what the
Directorate had done to the rest of that Krantin
over the centuries.
Struggling to sit up, Zalkan began to talk.
When he finished speaking and the others began, he
learned that the situation was even worse than he had
known, worse even than he could have imagined.
chapter sixteen
AS ALWAYS when he was snatched from a sound
sleep, Commander William Riker lurched toward
consciousness with shreds of dreams still clinging to him.
This time, not surprisingly, they involved Deanna.
And Lwaxana, who was seated imperiously in her
luxurious home on Betazed in a transplanted
captain's chair while all around her swirled the
polluted, acrid-scented atmosphere of
Krantin. Riker himself, transmuted into the
clean-shaven ensign he had once been, stood
defiantly before her while Deanna's body
appeared and disappeared in the noxious mists that
billowed around his feet and he struggled to formulate a
satisfactory response to the question Lwaxana
seemed to have been asking since the beginning of time: "Will
Riker, what have you let happen to my
daughter?"
"Commander Riker!" Not Lwaxana's imperious
tones, but the anxious voice of Ensign Thompson
exploding out of nowhere, sending the distorted images of
Betazed swirling into chaos.
"Commander Riker!" the voice repeated, yanking
dishm the rest of the way into full wakefulness.
Blinking away the last remnants of the images,
Riker responded even as he threw his legs over
the side of the bed and sat up. "Riker here. What
is it, Ensign?"
"A massive energy surge, Commander,
probably nearby in space. Sensors indicate
a ship proceeding toward us on impulse power from the
direction of the surge."
"On my way. Notify Lieutenant
Worf."
"In the process."
"Is the EM link to Krantin still opens"
"Yes, sir. Shall I-was
"Not yet. Just be sure it stays open."
Signing off, Riker quickly finished dressing and
raced for the bridge. When he arrived, a small
ship not unlike the one that had approached and fired
on the Enterprise earlier was visible at the
center of the screen. A faint halo of light only
partially obscured it.
"This is what came through?"
"Apparently, Commander." Ensign Thompson was
still at the tactical station. "It is approaching at
the equivalent of minimum impulse from the direction
of the surge."
"Response to our hails9"
"None yet, sir."
"Weapons?"
"Laser devices similar to the earlier ship,
sir, but none appear to be activated."
"A pleasant change. Pilot?"
"Presumably, and three passengers.
Worf, making a last-minute adjustment to the
ceremonial sash that always adorned his uniform,
emerged from the turbolift and strode to the tactical
station, where Ensign Thompson quickly filled him
in."
Keep hailing it, Lieutenant," Riker said.
"Ensign, take Science One and see what more you can
get from that ship."
"Another surge, sir," Worf announced as the
ensign hurried to the back of the bridge, "from the
same general direction as the first. It was
roughly twice as powerful as the first."
"Another ship?" Riker wondered.
"Apparently, Commander," Thompson said from the
science station. "There is something there, at least."
"EM response from first ship, Commander," Worf
said.
was Let's hear it."
A male voice, speaking rapidly and loudly,
filled the bridge. "You must protect us, take us
aboard. The Directorate will send someone after us the
second it realizes we have jumped."
"There is a ship behind you already," Riker said.
"It appeared in approximately the same area
that you did. Now-identify yourself."
There was a gasp through the EM link. "They have found
us already! I was certain we had at least a few
minutes! Please, You must protect us!"
"I repeat, identify yourselves."
"They will kill us! Is that not reason enough?"
"Not until you identify yourself. And your
pursuers."
"They are the Directorate! They are
responsible for virtually destroying this world below you!"
Riker's mind flashed back to what Picard had
told him only hours ago. "This
"Directorate" is responsible for the
Plague?" he asked.
MF
"If "Plague" is what you call what has
fouled the world's atmosphere-and the space around it-for
hundreds of years, yes!"
"You still have not identified yourselves. Who are you and why
is the-Directorate, you sd"...pursuing you?"
"Commander," Worf said, "the second ship is
overtaking the first. If its weapons are comparable to those
on earlier ships, they will be in firing range within
three minutes."
"We are part of a group working against the
Directorate," the voice from the approaching ship
said, speaking rapidly, "but we have been helpless
until now. The Directorate controls everything!"
Zalkan's group? Riker wondered but said
nothing.
"When we learned of your presence here," the voice
continued, "we thought-was
"How did you learn of us?" Riker interrupted.
On the screen, the second ship had become visible
as a ball of light many times brighter than the faint
halo around the first. It must be traveling at least at
quarter impulse, Riker thought.
"The ships you encountered when you arrived were the
Directorate's," the voice said. "Word of your
existence is everywhere in the Directorate now."
"And how did your opposing group learn-was
"We do not openly oppose them!" the voice almost
screamed. "No one can! We are-was
"An underground group?" Riker interrupted. He
held back from mentioning Zalkan's name. If this was
a trick "Yes! We were part of the Directorate,
and we heard-was
"If you were part of the Directorate, if your
organization was secret, what happened? How did
they find out you were working against them?"
"I don't know! When we heard about your ship and
what it was capable of, we began to make plans
to contact you, but we must have been careless-or the
Directorate has spies in our midst or
maybe they've known about us all along but it never
mattered until now, when we decided to contact you!"
"The second ship will be within laser range of the first
in less than a minute, Commander," Worf said.
But the pursuing ship wasn't waiting. On the
screen, a series of laser bursts emerged from the
ball of light that was the pursuer. One struck the
nearer ship squarely but seemed to have little
effect except to increase the halo that still surrounded
it. The others swept past harmlessly, though one
produced a faint glow as it grazed the Enterprise
shields.
"You see?" the voice from the nearer ship shouted.
"They will kill us all!" The nearer ship was in
direct visual range now, its impulse engines
reversing, bringing it to a halt only kilometers
distant. The halo faded and vanished.
"Damage, Lieutenant?" Riker snapped.
"Minimal. They are still out of effective laser
range, but-was
A second series of laser bursts flared across
the screen, two of them buffeting the nearer ship, two
others flaring more brightly against the Enterprise
screens.
"Minor damage to their impulse drive,
Commander," Worf said. "The range is decreasing
rapidly.
Another direct hit would almost certainly disable the
drive."
"Very well," Riker said, grimacing, knowing the
decision had to be made, and made now.
"Lieutenant, extend our shields to enclose the
nearer ship. And keep close watch on
its lasers. Any indication they're preparing
to fire, bring the shields in, fast!"
"Shields extended, Commander. Lasers remain
inactive on the first ship. The pursuing vessel still
does not respond to our hail."
"Warn them about the shield, whether they respond
or not."
As expected, there was no response. Riker
briefly debated contacting Krantin and the captain
but decided against it. Unless Zalkan had
returned-and there had been no surges to indicate that
he had-no one there would know any more about this other
Krantin or the Directorate than Riker himself.
On the screen, the nearer ship now hovered almost in
the shadow of the Enterprise. The second ship emerged
from the ball of energy as its impulse engines
reversed and brought it to a halt barely a kilometer
short of the Enterprise shields.
"Its lasers are primed to fire again, Commander,"
Worf said.
"Only one life-form on board," Thompson
added from Science One. "Humanoid, possibly
Krantinese."
"Transmit on all EM frequencies,
Lieutenant," Riker said, pausing while
Worf tapped at the comm, panel.
"Ready, Commander."
"Identify yourself," Riker said. "And in case you
don't already know it, your lasers are ineffective
against our shields."
For a full minute, there was only a tense
silence.
Then: "Lasers returning to standby," Worf said.
Moments later, a new voice, even deeper
than Worf's, rumbled through the bridge. "Alien
starship," it said stiffly, "we demand that you allow us
access to the ship you are shielding."
So, you do know how to speak. "Identify yourself and
state the reasons for your demands," Riker said.
"And I might remind you that threats against a
Federation starship are not taken lightly." Not that
similar reminders regarding the kidnapping of
Federation officers did much good with Khozak, he
thought irritably.
"I don't know what or where this "Federation" of
yours is," the voice shot back, "but this star system
is surely outside its jurisdiction."
At least it's in the same universe. "We are
assisting the people of Krantin," Riker said. "I
repeat: Identify yourself."
Another silence, and then: "I represent the
Directorate. The people aboard the ship you are
misguidedly protecting are wanted criminals."
"They say that you are the criminals, not they. They
say that you are responsible for the near-destruction of
Krantin."
"They are lying! They are traitors, no more, no
less.
I demand you surrender them to me."
"Not until I know more. If you would care to come
aboard and discuss the matter face-to-face, together
with those from the other ship, I can send a shuttlecraft
for you."
For several seconds there was only silence. Then:
"We do not "discuss" those or any other matters
with wanted criminals and traitors, nor with their
so-called protectors."
"Energy surge-was Worf began, but before the words
were out, the viewscreen and the sensors were blinded. When
vision returned to the screen and the sensors recovered
from their brief overload, the Directorate ship was
gone.
"So," Riker said, eying the remaining ship, "I
suppose we had best invite this lot aboard for a
chat.
And see if you can raise the captain."
Each breath of the toxic air burned Ahl
Denbahr's unprotected lungs. Desperately,
she scrabbled on the floor of the lab, searching for the
breathing mask she knew must be there. But there was something
more important than the breathing mask, she realized
abruptly, and she looked up and found herself no
longer in the lab but on a barren hilltop that was
rising higher with each aching breath. Overhead another
world appeared through the poisonous haze, rushing at her
from the depths of space, but as it grew larger and
larger she saw that it wasn't another planet,
wasn't another Krantin as she had thought, but a
gigantic face with mountains and valleys for
features, a face that she knew she should
recognize but could not, a face which, if she could
only recall the name that went with it, she could call
to and it would stop its crushing descent before it smashed
her and her world into Gasping, she came awake, her
muscles achingly tense, her body bathed in an
icy sweat. For a disoriented moment, the terror-laden
thought shot through her mind that she had once again
surrendered to the fantasies of the computer, but it was
gone as quickly as it had come. No one would willingly
submit to such surreal horrors as these,
let alone seek them out.
Then it all came rushing back: Zalkan. The
Plague.
The people from the stars. Her impotent rage at
Khozak and his unconscionable wasting of
valuable-vital, irreplaceable!-time, his stubborn
refusal to look beyond his own blind paranoia.
But there was nothing she could do about it, she thought,
grimacing at the memory of her last confrontation with
him, when she had tried to return the comm units to the
one called Picard. It had only made the
situation even worse. Khozak had destroyed the
comm units, leaving them dependent on the radio in the
tab, which, like everything else, could die at any
moment.
What they should be doing was begging this Federation for all
the help it could give. What Zalkan was or was not
responsible for didn't matter. Whose side he was
really on was of no importance. All that mattered
was, something called the Federation existed, and it had
ships like the Enterprise, ships and people capable of-of
she didn't know what. This Federation was Krantin's
only hope.
And even if Khozak's worst paranoid fears
were true, if the Enterprise was out to
"steal" the dilithium or do other terrible things, what
difference did it make? How could matters be worse
than they already were? When your entire world will be dead
in little more than a decade, there's not a lot to lose
by taking a chance and trusting in the goodwill and kindness of
strangers.
Grimacing, she threw back the covers and sat
up.
No more sleep tonight, not the way her mind and stomach
were churning, and even if she were able to sleep, she would
be faced with dreams even more terrifying and bizarre
than reality.
Not turning any lights on, she crossed to her
terminal and voiced it on as she sat down. Only
a microphone and speaker and screen. After Zalkan
had pulled her loose from two years of
fantasies, she had ripped out the helmet and all
the tactile connectors.
"Plague revenge fantasies," she said, and
titles began scrolling up the screen.
"Description. Forty-eight," she said, spotting
a likely title.
The screen froze, number forty-eight
highlighted.
"An expedition to the fifth planet
discovers an abandoned alien base, suspected of
triggering the Plague,"
the computer's neutral voice began.
"Artifacts found on the base are returned
to Krantin, where they are analyzed and improved upon,
thereby enabling a second expedition to track the
aliens to what is thought to be their homeworld and to turn
the Plague back on them when evidence is found
proving they were indeed responsible for the Plague. The
surviving aliens, however, are able to send a distress
signal to their true homeworld, and-"Terminate
description. Terminate session."
She sank back in the chair as the screen faded
to black. She remembered the fantasy she herself had
been submerged in when Zalkan had pulled her
free that morning ten years ago. In that one, as in
countless others, aliens had come to Krantin to check
on the results of an experiment they had casually
started a thousand years before, but they were found out. In the
end, as always, their homeworld-or had it been an
Empire that time?-had been destroyed by an avenging
fleet from Krantin.
Could she blame Khozak for his paranoia? Like
everyone, he had been raised on the revenge
fantasies, a thousand variations on a
single theme: Aliens found to be responsible for the
Plague are destroyed. They were second in
popularity only to pastoral fantasies about the world
Krantin had been a thousand years ago, its air
clean and breathable, its lands fertile, its
pretechnological cities open to blue-green
skies.
And her own sharp reaction to Khozak's paranoia
had only reinforced it. She should have held her
tongue. She realized now that the one called Picard
had been following the sensible course-diplomatic
discussion, not angry confrontation.
But Khozak was so infuriating, and these people from the
stars were so obviously a A rasping buzz shattered
the silent darkness, send a ing her bolt upright in the
chair, her skin tingling, heart pounding. It had been
ten years since she had last heard that sound.
Zalkan had been at her door, and she had been
lying on the cot, working up the energy to detach herself from
the computer long enough for her daily meal.
She stood at the door, her room still dark.
"Who is it?" she asked loudly, pressing her ear
against the door. Even ten years ago, the buzzer had
been all that worked. The voice system had died
sometime in the two years she had been
prisoner of the fantasies.
"Zalkan has sent me," a muffled voice
said. "He desperately needs your help."
Her heart leaped. Ten years ago, he had
saved her from the fantasies, and now Without
hesitation, without thinking or wondering about the accusations
she had heard leveled at him, without wondering how
she could possibly help him, without even wondering
if the person on the other side of the door had really
been sent by Zalkan, she snatched open the door.
-- More at
Chapter Seventeen
AHL DENBAHR SWALLOWED AWAY her
jittery nerves and seated herself before her computer
screen. Zalkan's messenger, Ormgren, stood
to the side, well out of reach of the video pickup,
frowning skeptically. He was not happy with her
"plan," but he had been unable to suggest anything
better after nearly half an hour of discussion.
"Here goes," she said, and spoke Khozak's
access code into the audio pickup. To her
surprise, the president's face appeared on her
computer screen within seconds. From his image, she
couldn't tell if he had simply not even gone to bed
and tried to sleep or if, like her, he had
been awakened and been unable to go back to sleep.
Whatever the situation, he didn't look happy, and
he looked even less happy when he saw it was
Denbahr who was calling him.
"What do you want now?" he snapped. His
voice sounded as frayed and exhausted as he looked.
"Haven't you caused enough trouble?"
A sharp retort formed instantly in her mind, but
she forced herself to pause and swallow the words.
Without his cooperation, she couldn't get near the people from
the stars, and if she failed in this, Krantin's last
chance for survival would be gone.
"I'm sorry," she said, forcing herself to sound
penitent rather than defiant.
"I'm sure you are, for a great many things. Or you
should be. But what's so important it can't wait
till morning?"
"I have an idea how to find out if the people from the stars
are telling the truth or lying."
His eyes widened skeptically. "How?"
"I have to talk to them."
"Why?"
"I told you, to find out if they're telling the
truth or not."
"You're talking in circles,
Technician! Now tell me precisely how you can
determine if they're telling the truth."
"It's not something I can explain easily."
"Try, Technician. If you don't, this
conversation is over."
Stifling an almost irresistible surge of anger,
she managed to limit herself to a frown while she thought
furiously. Wherever they were, Khozak had
doubtless posted guards, so even if she managed
to find out where they were, she didn't have a chance of
getting to them without Khozak's cooperation.
"You see these?" she said abruptly, holding up
a half-dozen tiny gray disks less than a
centimeter across. From the other side of her dimly
lit room, out of reach of the video pickup, a
startled gasp was abruptly cut short. She kept
her eyes straight ahead, focused on Khozak's
image on the screen, and hoped he hadn't heard
Ormgren.
"I see them," he said, still frowning but giving no
indication he'd heard anything other than her words.
"What are they?"
"I don't know. They were given to Zalkan the first
day by the one called Riker-rather secretively, now that
I think back to it," she improvised.
"But so much was happening, I didn't think any more
about it, and I'd completely forgotten about them until
tonight."
"And?" Khozak prompted irritably when she
paused, trying to think what to say next.
"And," she went on, "whatever they are, they must be
important to Zalkan. I think he sent someone
back for them."
Khozak's frown turned to an angry scowl.
"What happened?"
"I couldn't sleep, so I went back to the lab.
I don't know what I was hoping to find, maybe just
look through my records and see if they'd help me
remember more about the last ten years with Zalkan,
see if I could remember anything he'd said or
done that would mean something, now that we know what he is,
where he's from." That much was almost true; she'd thought
about doing just that and probably would have eventually-if
Ormgren hadn't shown up.
"But when I was in the hall outside the lab," she
went on, "I saw a flash of light inside, just like
the one when he disappeared. I thought maybe he'd come
back, so I rushed in as soon as I could get the
door unlocked, only it wasn't Zalkan. It
was a young man I'd never seen before, dark like
most of the ones from the stars. And he was digging through
Zalkan's desk."
Denbahr shrugged. "I yelled at him, and he
ran.
Practically knocked me over getting by me. So
I is started looking through the desk, too, and that's
when I found these things. And then I remembered what
they were-or where Zalkan had gotten them,
anyway."
"And how will these objects, whatever they are,
prove whether the people from the stars are lying or not?"
"I'll show these things to them," she said, suddenly
proud of herself for coming up with such a story on the spur
of the moment, under this kind of Pressure.
"I'll make up some story about how I found them
and how I think maybe they might be from Zalkan's
world, and I'll ask them if they can analyze them and
tell us what they are. If they say they don't know
what they are, then we'll know they're lying, that
they're involved with Zalkan and probably whoever's
responsible for the Plague."
"And suppose they see through your simple little
trick?" Khozak asked, scowling. "Suppose
they admit they gave them to Zalkan and make up
an explanation? If you don't know what the
objects are, how will you know if their explanation is
true or not?"
Denbahr sighed, though she wanted to explode.
"I admit, I probably wouldn't. But at least
there's a chance we'll prove they're lying, which is more
than you've been able to do so far. And if we do,
you'll be in a much better position when you speak to those
higher-ups tomorrow. You'll know they're probably
lying, too."
Khozak was silent for several seconds, his
scowl deepening at first, then distorting into a look of
anguish.
"But I don't want them to be lying!" he burst
out. "I really don't!" His image shuddered.
"Then just assume they're telling the truth," she
said, forcing herself to speak calmly, "as I have. And
let me do this test, which they will almost certainly
pass."
Still he hesitated.
"What do you have to lose?" she asked, unable
anymore to totally bottle up the anger and
frustration at his resistance. "Are you afraid
I'll try to pull something? Is that it? Look, you
and your guards can stay with me the whole time. You can have
me hauled out and arrested whenever you want
to." She paused, shaking her head in angry
disbelief. "What is it you're afraid of,
Khozak? That I'm going to help them escape?
If I were able to do that, I'd've done it already, before
you locked them up and hid them away!"
For a long moment he was silent. Finally he sighed
resignedly, very much like a man who's decided he
does indeed have nothing left to lose. "Very well,
Technician. But don't blame me if waking them
up at this time of night irritates them."
Twenty minutes later, Denbahr and Khozak
and half a dozen of his security officers were at the
door to the suite Picard and the others had been confined
to.
Denbahr was carrying Data's tricorder. The
disksthe markers-were in her pocket.
Data, who must have heard them approaching, was
waiting for them just inside the main room of the suite
when Khozak opened the door. Picard and Troi,
still in their uniforms, were emerging from two of the bedrooms.
Koralus came through a third door a moment
later. All eyes but those of Koralus fell on
the tricorder, but none of the three spoke.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Khozak began, but
was cut off by Picard.
"If you truly do not wish to disturb us," he said
dryly, "you might consider returning us to our
shuttlecraft."
Khozak swallowed nervously. "Technician
Denbahr has found something that could be important,"
he said.
"I found some things in Zalkan's lab," she
said, stepping past Khozak. "I've never seen
anything like them before. They certainly aren't anything either
he or I had ever worked on, and I wasn't able
to analyze them. I was hoping you might be able to tell
us what they are."
"Is that why you brought Lieutenant Data's
tricorder?" Picard asked when Denbahr paused
and reached into her pocket.
She nodded and pulled four of the gray disks from
her pocket and quickly handed one to each of the three from the
Enterprise.
"They could be computer chips of some kind," Troi
said, turning hers over in her hand.
"You don't recognize them, then?" K-hozak
said a moment later.
"Recognize?" Picard looked at Khozak,
who in turn looked toward Denbahr.
Denbahr turned to Koralus and handed
him the fourth rectangle. "What about you?" she
asked as he took it in his hand and frowned
puzzledly. "Is this something you might've seen a
hundred years ago?"
"What nonsense is this?" Khozak asked. "You
said you had a plan-was
Denbahr's hand had returned to her pocket as
Khozak started to speak. She took one of the
remaining disks and, as Zalkan's messenger had
instructed her, squeezed it as hard as she could between
thumb and forefinger.
She felt a tingle over every square centimeter of
her body, then a numbness, a dizziness. If she
had been able to move, she would have fallen.
In the distance, she heard Khozak-or someone;
she couldn't be sure, the sound was so muffledshouting
at her. She caught none of the words.
Koralus and the three from the stars were turning toward
her.
Suddenly, she was enveloped in a blinding glare.
A moment later, her ears popped painfully, as if
she'd just undergone an atmospheric pressure
change.
When her sight finally returned, the room and
Khozak and the guards were gone.
Riker scowled as he turned from the tactical
station, once again under Ensign Thompson's
ministrations. Despite Khozak's promise, a
dozen attempts had failed to get a response
on the EM link to Jalkor.
There had also been an unexplained energy surge
from somewhere in the city.
At least the team he had sent down to check on
Picard's shuttlecraft had found it apparently
untouched. It sat deserted outside Jalkor's
only functioning airlock, its security system
armed and operational, set to send a subspace
message to the Enterprise at the first sign of
attempted tampering and to lift off if the tampering
persisted and grew forceful enough to threaten damage. As
instructed, the team left an activated comm unit
attached to the shuttlecraft entrance, another in
plain sight on the ground immediately outside the city's
outer airlock door, and two more hidden in the rubble
at the side of the decaying road.
But there were more immediate concerns than Khozak's
broken promise and the unchanged condition of the
captain's shuttlecraft.
Riker returned his full attention to the double
image on the main viewscreen. On the
left, the ship of the alien "defectors" floated in
space, still inside the extended shields. On the
right, the shuttlecraft returning from the alien ship was
settling to the deck of the main shuttlebay.
Lieutenant Worf emerged within seconds and
turned to wait for the other occupants. The four
aliens appeared then, moving hesitantly, wearing
gray-green tunics, trousers, and boots, all of
which had the look of uniforms, particularly the
rectangular and triangular insignia that were
distributed in varying numbers and arrangements on
all the tunics. Unlike the Krantinese with their
Data-white faces and hands, these were darker, almost
coppery, although the eyes of two of them appeared
haggard and lifeless even as they looked around, gawking
at the comparative immensity of the shuttlebay. One
flinched and stumbled, half falling, when he saw the
massive doors still open to space, the atmosphere
contained only by the invisible annular force field.
One of the three security officers immediately behind the
aliens caught his arm and helped him back to his
feet.
Worf glanced in the direction of the monitor that was
transmitting the image to the bridge, then stepped
back out of earshot of the four. "Commander,"
he said quietly into his comm unit, 16 none of
them are carrying anything my tricorder can identify
as a weapon. However, it does show that each has a
microchip-sized device implanted near the base
of the skull."
Riker grimaced. Yet another problem. "Could
it be a communication device?" he asked.
"Perhaps, but if so, it is currently inactive."
"Very well, take them directly to sickbay.
Dr. Crusher's instruments can probably tell us
more, maybe even how to remove the devices, if
that's possible."
"On our way, Commander," Worf said, turning and
signaling to the security detail.
"Dr. Crusher," Riker said, "you heard?"
Crusher, as a senior officer, had been roused
shortly after Riker and had been observing events on
a small monitor in her office in sickbay.
"I heard and saw, W. Implants aside,
none of them look to be in particularly good health.
However, if nothing else, examining them may give
me more of a database to work with, and the medical computer
and I need all the help we can get."
On the screen, the alien ship continued to hang
silently in space while Worf and the
aliens and the rest of the security detail crowded into the
nearest turbolift.
Khozak stood frozen in Zalkan's lab, his
stomach seeming to drop through the floor as he waited
for his vision to return. Finally, after several
tortured seconds, individual figures and
objects emerged from the curtain of constantly shifting
shadows, and he almost cried out as his fears were
confirmed.
They were gone! All four prisoners-and
Denbahr, of course.
He should have known it was a trick! The warning
signs had all been there for him to see. The
woman's naive belief in the miracles these people from
the stars-supposedly from the stars-had promised.
Her blind loyalty to Zalkan. Even after learning
who the scientist really was, what his world was
responsible for, she had continued to defend him. She
might even have known all along, might have been a part
of what had been destroying Krantin for more than
five centuries. And in his desperation, he had
fallen for her outlandish story of a "test"-which had been
nothing more than a ruse to gain her access to the
prisoners, to allow her to-to do whatever she had
done that had enabled them to go wherever Zalkan
had gone.
He shook his head violently, as if to shake the
thoughts free, and turned to the six guards, who
seemed even more stunned than he. Fighting to keep his
voice steady, he issued his orders-send guards
immediately to the airlock and don't let anyone through
without his personal approval. And take as many men
as could be found and do what should have been done hours
ago-take charge of the ship, the socalled
shuttlecraft, if, as he hoped, it still sat
waiting for the escaped prisoners.
If it was already gone He shuddered. Whether it was
gone or not, whether Denbahr was simply a dupe
or an active agent of the Plague, no matter
what the nature and motives of these people from the stars,
he had bungled the situation badly. If this
Federation was indeed a potential benefactor, he
had alienated it by taking its representatives
prisoner and now had let them be kidnapped from under his
nose. And if the Federation was an agent of the
Plague, in collusion with Zalkan's world, he had
let his hostages escape and had lost what little
influence they might have given him.
And, one way or another, sooner or later, he
was going to have to respond to their ship hovering in
orbit above Jalkor and try to find out which kind of
disaster he had precipitated.
Chapter Eighteen
COMMANDER WILLIAM RIKER turned abruptly
from the main viewscreen as he heard the turbolift
hiss open. It was, he was glad to see, Dr.
Crusher.
"Conclusions, Doctor?" he asked as she
strode down the ramp toward him The four
defectors, after she had thoroughly examined them,
had been deposited temporarily behind a detention
screen in the security area, and Riker had been
waiting impatiently for her report "For one thing,"
she said, dropping into Counselor Troi's seat
next to Riker in the captain's, "they said they already
knew all about the implants-which did have a number of
microchips in them, by the way, along with some other
items I wasn't able to identify.
I gave Geordi the results of the scans;
maybe he'll be able to make sense out of them."
"They knew about them?" Riker echoed after a
moment.
"They're disciplinary devices, apparently-and
one of the chief reasons the four of them defected.
Or escaped. Everyone who works for the
Directorate, even if it's just sweeping the
floors, has to have an implant like that. They
didn't know precisely what the implants could do
to them, or so they said. But they didn't know of anyone
who'd ever been able to successfully defy or
escape the Directorate, either."
"Did they want you to try to remove them?"
She shook her head. "They're not in a hurry for
it.
For one thing, the Directorate lets it be known
that any attempt to remove an implant results
in a slow and painful death. And from what the exams
told me, that might just be true. The implants could
be boobytrapped. Those items I couldn't
identify might do anything. Some of them looked as
if they were wired directly into the nervous system."
Riker grimaced. "Nice bunch, this
Directorate. Did you tell them all this?"
"I did, but they didn't seem worried. The
only way the implants can be activated, they
say, is by the Directorate's main computer
network, and there's no way it can reach through and get at
them here."
"How did they react to the idea that jumping from one
world to the other had already been slowly killing
them?"
She shook her head. "They didn't believe it,
at least not at first. But when I "guessed right"
about which ones of them had made the most jumps, and
explained the results of a few of their metabolic
tests, they looked a little less confident."
"And when you compared their metabolic functions with
those of Zalkan?"
"None were as low as Zalkan's. However, all
four of them had a problem that Zalkan didn't: a
decided deficiency in what I assume are
vital trace elements."
"Did you-was
"Commander," Worf rumbled from the tactical station,
"an energy surge, roughly the same heading as the
previous ones."
"Stand by to raise shields. Any indication of a
ship?"
"None yet, Commander."
"Open all EM channels. If there's something
there and it transmits anything at all-was
"Low-level EM pulse on the same heading as
the energy surge, Commander. It was apparently
directional, centered on the Enterprise."
Riker frowned. What now? "Any
information content?"
"Unknown, Commander. The computer has found none
other than frequency and duration. Unless-was
Worf broke off, his eyes darting across the
displays.
"A second energy surge has just been
detected, on the same heading as the previous one."
"Lieutenant Worf!" The voice of one of the
ensigns from the security detail came over Worf
s comm unit.
"The prisoners-something's happening to them!"
The distant sound of screams could be heard in the
background.
Dr. Crusher was on her feet, racing for the
turbolift, a split second after the ensign's
words.
"Looks as if they were wrong, Commander," she said
over her shoulder. "Apparently the Directorate
can reach them here."
Riker hesitated only a moment, then raced after
her.
All four prisoners were dead by the time Dr.
Crusher and he arrived at the detention area.
Picard was gripped by a feeling of paralysis,
and for just an instant, he thought that Riker had
somehow Ml located them and was beaming them up
despite the loss of the comm units. But then the
similarity to being transported ended in a wave of
knee-bending weakness and a brilliant,
all-enveloping flash, and he realized that whatever had
happened to Zalkan a few hours before must now be
happening to him.
When his vision returned, he was standing on a bare,
concrete floor, his legs wobbling from the feeling of
weakness that still gripped him. Data, Troi,
Koralus, and Zalkan's assistant were almost on
top of him, not nearly as far away as they had been
a second before. Data was steadying Troi, his
android body obviously not as affected by the
process as the fleshand-blood bodies of Troi and
himself and, from the look of them, the Krantinese.
Khozak and the guards were nowhere to be seen.
Not surprising, Picard thought abruptly as he
realized what must have happened. It had been the
mysterious devices Denbahr had "found" in
Zalkan's lab. Like Starfleet comm units, they
must enable people and things to be located by whatever machine it
was that snatched them between worlds. And Khozak and the
guards had not been given any.
All around him in the dim light was what
looked like a random collection of dilapidated
consoles of all sizes and shapes, with all manner
of controls and screens. A bearded man with none of the
sunless pallor of the Krantinese stood at one of the
consoles, the only one in sight that had a lighted
screen and controls. From somewhere, not from the console but
seemingly from beneath the floor he stood on, came a
deep-throated humming. The man stood with his left
hand raised beside his face, as if still shielding his eyes
from the bright flash that had undoubtedly marked the
group's arrival. He wore what struck Picard
immediately as a uniform-gray-green tunic, trou
sers, and boots with geometric insignia on the
front of the tunic. The room itself had the look of
an abandoned warehouse-concrete block walls
barely visible beyond the stacks of crates and cartons
that took up most of the space not occupied by the
paintchipped consoles. No doors or windows were
visible anywhere.
The man at the controls frowned as he lowered the
shielding hand and looked around from the screen and saw
Picard and the other three standing there.
The fingers of his right hand remained poised over the
controls, as if he were about to enter another set of
commands.
"Who are you?" he asked warily. "Where is
Ormgren?"
"I am Ahl Denbahr," the technician said
quickly, setting Data's tricorder on the floor.
"These are the people from the stars that Ormgren was sent
to warn.
He came to me for help in finding them, but they were
being held captive by Khozak. Bringing them here was
the only way we could think of to set them free so they
could get word to their ship."
"But Orm ren-was
"He had to stay behind to place a marker near the
city's airlock. As soon as we know it's in
place, we can return there and I can take them through
the airlock to the smaller ship they came down in."
"Then no one on their main ship yet knows what
we suspect?"
Denbahr shook her head, bringing a grimace to the
man's face.
"Perhaps it is just as well," he said. "Our
informant has had more to say since Ormgren was sent.
And Zalkan now has an idea that the situation could
be turned to our advantage, might even bring an
end to the Directorate."
He stepped away from the console. "I will
have to take a chance and let this run unattended. You
must talk to Zalkan, all of you. Then he was
striding toward them. "Come," he said, "follow me,
quickly. It may already be too late."
"Too late for what?" Picard asked, balking
as his strength returned. "Where are we? And why have
you-@., "Too late to save your ship," the man
snapped, starting toward a narrow corridor between a
ragged line of consoles and stacks of cartons. "And
Krantin.
Your entire crew may be about to be killed, your
ship stolen by the Directorate. Then, with that out of the
way, what's left of Krantin will probably be
next."
Picard's stomach tightened at the words, but he
merely looked questioningly toward Troi, who, except
for still breathing heavily, seemed to have recovered her
strength and composure.
She looked at the man, her dark brown eyes
meeting his as he paused and turned back to frown at
them impatiently. After a moment, she nodded. "He
is telling the truth, Captain."
Ensign Thompson, his round, bearded face
bordering on haggard as he emerged from Data's
room and headed for the nearest turbolift,
wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep.
Volunteering for the latenight shift on the tactical
station had seemed like a good idea at the time-he could
get the experience working the station and its myriad
readouts and controls without the added pressure of
Captain Picard being on the bridge to look over
his shoulder.
And even at the Academy, he had always been a
night person, though in space the distinction was more
academic than real. Despite the
twenty-four-hour "days" that were generally observed on
the Enterprise, he had no way of knowing if they
bore any relationship to the days and nights he had
grown up with. His biological clock had been
reset so many times, he often wondered if it hadn't
long ago cracked a mainspring-or a
microchip-in confusion.
His inner clock, however, wasn't the main
problem.
The main problem these days was that he was a light
sleeper, and ever since they had entered the Krantin
system with its so-called Plague cloud and its
energy surges, Fido had not been his usual
placid self.
Normally the cat would curl up on one
corner of the bed and rouse himself only when the covers were
tossed back on top of him and he caught the odor
of a feline breakfast coming from the replicator
terminal.
Now, however, if Thompson so much as turned
over in his sleep, the motion would wake Fido, who
would complain just loudly enough to make sure he wasn't
the only being in the room that was awake. If one of the
energy surges occurred-and Data's computer
records of both Fido and Spot seemed to confirm
the connection-the complaint seemed loud and violent enough
to wake people in adjoining quarters. Several minutes of
patient reassurance was the least that was required before
further sleep could even be considered.
And now that Data was being detained-temporarily,
he assumed-on Krantin and Spot needed similar
ministrations, as well as someone to get her food down
from the replicator terminal, his moments of sleep were
even sparser. This time, Spot had been fairly
easy to calm, as if she were becoming accustomed to the
energy surges, or perhaps it was just her feline
ability to ignore unpleasant aspects of her
existence once she determined they were merely
unpleasant rather than dangerous.
Yawning, he entered the turbolift, which
waited It patiently for the yawn to be completed and a
deck number to be requested, then closed its
doors and silently flowed away The doors were just
opening on Thompson's deck and he was stifling yet
another yawn when a brilliant light erupted behind
him in the lift. His immediate thought that, despite the
Enterprise's almost foolproof systems, something had
exploded shocked him into full alertness and sent him
leaping into the corridor even as the light vanished.
Spinning around, he was confronted with a figure all
in black, including gloves and tight-fitting hood
with openings only for the eyes. The figure had a
weapon of some kind in one hand, the other hand clenched
tightly into a fist. For a moment, the figure staggered
and seemed about to fall, as if it had dropped from a
great distance and was having trouble regaining its balance.
"Intruder, Deck Seven," Thompson
snapped, slapping his comm unit on in the same
moment he leaped back into the turbolift and made a
grab for the weapon. For an instant he thought he had
it, almost ripping it from the black-gloved hand, but then,
as if triggered by the attempt, the grip tightened and a
deafening explosion smashed at his ears. A moment
later he realized he was falling, his left leg
giving way under him, and the weapon was being
jerked away. A sudden pain erupted in his
collapsing leg, and he thudded to the floor of the
turbolift, convinced that in another moment the weapon,
now gripped tightly in the other's hand, would be
turned on him again.
Pushing against the side wall with his good leg, he
grabbed for the figure's feet, hoping against hope he
could upend him and get a second chance at the weapon
or even jar it from his grip in the fall.
But his fingers closed on air. The figure,
instead of standing and turning the weapon toward him, had
leaped out of the turbolift. Without even a glance at
Thompson, the figure spun around and raced away
down the corridor of Deck 7.
"Intruder on Deck Seven," he reported,
avoiding looking at his leg, "armed with hand-held
projectile weapon. He's already used it on
me." He slumped back as the doors hissed
shut. "Sickbay," he said to the waiting
elevator, "and when we get there, don't close the
door until someone comes and gets me."
By the time Dr. Crusher was working on his leg in
sickbay, a red alert had been issued.
Chapter Nineteen
DENBAHR AND KORAL-US and the three
star people silently followed the bearded man-whose name,
he had finally told them, was Albrect-through the maze
of consoles and cartons. Finally they came to a large
metal sliding door, which he quickly unlocked and
relocked behind them. Then they were in a corridor with
similar doors on both sides, labeled only with
letters and numbers. After a good fifty meters, they
passed a freight elevator and continued on to a
small passenger elevator around a corner in an
alcove.
Albrect's right thumbprint opened it, and the six
crowded inside.
Denbahr's ears popped twice as the cramped
elevator shot upward. When it came to a
relatively smooth if sudden stop, Albrect
placed a thumb-his left one this time-over a
scanner and waited as the hidden circuits did their
work and released the door.
Denbahr squinted as the door opened into brightness,
then gasped as she realized what she was seeing.
Sunlight as brilliant as any computer
fantasy flooded into a large room through a
floor-to-ceiling window that filled most of the facing
wall. Centered in front of the window between two large
but wilting indoor plants was a massive
desk with what looked to be a computer screen angling
up out of its surface, but she barely noticed the
furnishings as, almost reflexively, she ran to the
window. Only dimly was she aware that Koralus
had come to stand beside her, as wide-eyed in wonder as
she.
She hadn't seen anything so beautiful since she
had been extricated from the computer fantasies.
She had never seen anything so beautiful-no one now
living on Krantin, even Koralus, had ever seen
anything even remotely so beautiful in the real world.
A brilliant sun just shedding the redness of dawn was
a few degrees above the horizon, shining through a
sky as pure and clear as Krantin's was dark and
polluted.
Looking down, she gasped again. Two hundred
meters below the window was a wooded area with half a
dozen trails meandering through acres and acres of
trees. A score or more of people, seemingly unaware
of the miracle they were walking through, were visible on the
trails. The only blemishes were a dozen or so
trees that were dead or dying, their branches bare, but
they were as nothing to the hundreds and hundreds of others
still vibrant in their blue-green splendor.
Beyond the other three sides of the forested
area were what looked like dozens of massive power
plants, some with the cooling towers that proclaimed them
prefusion nuclear, others with the smokestacks that
once on early Krantin had indicated the burning
of fossil fuels. But here the stacks were short,
protruding only a dozen meters or so above the
broad roofs, each one ending in a rectangular
cap of some kind. The air above all but one was as
gloriously clear as the air everywhere else, but above
the one, clouds of black smoke billowed.
Albrect cursed as he saw the smoke and rushed
across the room, brushing past Denbahr and Koralus
as he rounded the desk. A voice responded within a
second of his tapping a code into the computer screen.
"Number seventeen has shut down again," he
snapped to whoever was on the screen. "Get the burner
shut down now before someone less forgiving than myself
discovers it! And have it back on-line before the day is
out, is that understood?"
There was a pause as the screen made an
unintelligible reply.
"If you're short of parts, requisition whatever
you need! I'll authorize it in advance. Just get
it done!"
Picard and Data had crossed to the
window while Albrect had been talking. Picard
gazed out through the glass next to Denbahr while
Data, after a brief but comprehensive glance,
turned to one of the wilting plants and pulled his
tricorder from its case. After a quick check of a
series of readouts, he glanced out through the window a
moment, then detached a halfdozen of the drooping
leaves from the plant and stowed them in a compartment of the
tricorder case.
Picard's attention, meanwhile, had remained on
the outer world. "Those are some of the devices Zalkan
told Us about?" he asked, pointing at the
rectangular caps on the tops of the stacks as
Albrect stepped away from the desk. "The
devices that keep your air clean and Krantin's
unbreathable?"
The man nodded as he headed toward a door in the
wall on the right. "Those are the grids," he said,
"the visible parts the public sees. The drivers-the
controls and generators-are somewhere in this building, behind
so many locked doors and Directorate guards that
even I have trouble getting in."
"You're Directorate, then?" Picard asked.
Albrect glanced down at the insignia on his
tunic as he pressed his right thumb against a
sensor and waited for the door to be released. "The
ones who count think I am, at least for now," he
said glancing back toward Denbahr and Koralus,
who still seemed to be in the grip of what they saw beyond
the window.
"Or until they catch me at something like this," he
added as the door finally opened.
"Come," he snapped. "We have no time for
gawking."
Denbahr straightened with a start. With an obvious
effort, she tore her eyes from that outer world and turned
her back on it. For a fleeting moment, her eyes
met Picard's. and he saw the longing in them, the
plea for the help he only hoped he could give. A
moment later Koralus turned from the window, his
face revealing nothing. Then they were all following
Albrect as he hurried down the lushly carpeted
hallway beyond the door he had opened.
"Not that anything will matter much longer if you can't
keep your ship out of their hands," Albrect said
grimly, glancing at Picard. "What few
hopes we still have would all be finished then, along with
what's left of both Krantins."
At a door at the far end of hall, he
repeated the identification process, this time
with his right index finger. This door slid open more
ponderously than the other, revealing what appeared
to be a meeting room with table and chairs that had been
pushed to one side to make room for a bed.
And on the bedPicard's eyes widened as he
realized that the emaci ated figure on the bed was
Zalkan. The scientist looked as if he had aged
a decade or more in the hours since he had been
snatched from his lab. He was still fully dressed, his
eyes closed. A man, as dark as Albrect and with
Directorate insignia on the front of his
tunic, sat stiffly in a chair at the table, the
upper half of his face covered by a heavy blindfold.
A woman, slightly darker than the blindfolded
man, sat across the table from him, holding a
projectile weapon loosely on the tabletop as
she faced him.
"You are all familiar with Zalkan, I
gather," Albrect said quickly. "As for the others, the
blindfolded one is called Strankor. He claims
to have defected from the Directorate for reasons of
conscience. The one guarding him is one of our agents
within the Directorate.
She brought him to us when she heard what he had
to say." Albrect grimaced. "I
sincerely hope he is a spy and has not told us
a word of truth. That would be immeasurably better
than believing his story."
On the bed, Zalkan roused enough to open his eyes.
He smiled weakly as he saw Denbahr, but his
face fell when he recognized the others standing just
behind her.
"Why are they here?" he asked, his voice barely
audible.
Quickly, Albrect recounted Denbahr's brief
explanation of how Orrngren's mission to warn the
Enterprise had gotten twisted out of shape
by Khozak's paranoia.
On the bed, Zalkan struggled to raise himself, and
Denbahr hurried to help him and then support him
once he was sitting up. "Picard," he said, his
voice seeming to gain strength now that he had forced
himself to sit up, "I must return with you to your ship.
It is the only way to save Krantin."
Then it is surely lost, Picard thought
bleakly. The scientist could probably not survive
being taken from the room, let alone the jump back
to that other Krantin.
"Before we make any rash decisions," he said,
nodding at Troi, "I would like to hear just
what it is we're up against." He turned to the
blindfolded man.
"Whatever you told them, tell us now-quickly!"
The man stiffened, his head coming up as if to look
at Picard despite the blindfold. "You are the
captain of the ship from the stars?"
"I am. Now tell me your story."
And he did, quickly and succinctly, painting a
picture of a Directorate leadership as
self-centered and callous as any group Picard had
ever encountered. The moment the leaders had learned of the
existence of the Enterprise and that it was proposing
to help Krantin, they panicked and withdrew all the
ships the Directorate had operating in the asteroid
belt. They also immediately ordered that all the secret
recording devices linked to Jalkor's computers be
monitored continuously in hopes of finding out what the
Krantinese knew about the "star people" and what sort of
"help" the Enterprise and its "Federation" were offering.
The only worthwhile piece of information they found,
however, came when they stumbled across Khozak's
search of the records computer and learned that the
records involving the onetime mining area had been
virtually wiped out.
This led them to have their own Directorate
computers checked more closely, where they found similar
smaller alterations in the hundred-year-old
records of a massive strip-mining project in the
corresponding area-now a pit nearly two
kilometers deep-on their own world. And in what
appeared to be overlooked remnants of even older
records, they found B
that it was this mine, not the asteroids, that was the actual
source of the scraps of dilithium that still existed in
their world.
Their immediate reaction was to want to call in one of their
biggest machines, even more powerful than those used
to jump the massive ore carriers in the asteroid
belt. They would use it to scoop out the ground above the
dilithium in great chunks, then retrieve the
dilithium itself But they were too afraid of the
Enterprise to actually put that plan into action.
Instead, they decided they would first have to either destroy
or take over the Enterprise, which, with their jump
machines, they felt confident they could do. With the
Enterprise out of the way, they would take the
dilithium and then breach the walls of Jalkor,
killing its five million inhabitants-not because they
posed a direct threat but because the Directorate
feared that, if they were allowed to live and if
another Federation ship ever came to that other Krantin,
the story of what happened would come out and the Federation
might someday be able to pursue the Directorate
to their own Krantin.
When Strankor was finished, all questions answered,
the guard, at a word from Albrect, prodded the man
to his feet and took him into the hall, closing the
massive door behind them.
Troi looked up at Picard and nodded
grimly. "He is frightened and far from certain that he
has done the right thing," she said, "and there is more to his
reason for defecting than his professed horror at
the Directorate's planned destruction of
Jalkor. There is a fear that he might be in
danger himself. But I am virtually certain that he
is otherwise telling the truth."
"Engineering, Deck Thirty-six," the computer
announced, following up with a set of precise
coordinates.
On Deck 36, the security ensign nearest the
coordinates, phaser set on heavy stun, had
already seen the flash around the nearest curve in the
corridor and was racing toward it, eyes peeled for
yet another of the black-clad invaders. All other
lookouts, on 36 and all other decks,
maintained their positions, backs against the corridor
walls, eyes scanning both directions, phasers
ready. On Decks 35 and 37, at least one
pair of eyes darted to each door that opened on the
emergency stairs that gave access to every deck on the
Enterprise in the event of a catastrophic power
failure that put even the turbolift system out of
commission.
This time it had actually been two almost
simultaneous flashes. One of the black-clad
figures was lurching in one direction, firing a
projectile weapon seemingly at nothing, when the
security ensign came in view. The other,
momentarily unnoticed as the ensign's eyes
focused on the first, seemed to have overcome the
initial unsteadiness that had plagued all the others and
raced full speed toward Main Engineering.
The first was brought down within seconds and vanished like
all the others in a second flash as his
unconscious body skidded along the corridor
floor.
The second, both hands seemingly empty, came
within a few meters of Main Engineering before he went
the way of the first, brought down by one of Geordi's people,
on loan to security for the duration of the
alert.
On the bridge, Lieutenant Worf continued
to monitor the tactical station readouts, wondering
if the current lull-the twin surges in Engineering
had been the only ones for more than a minute-was just
that, a lull, or if whoever was sending them was finally
running out of volunteers. With the phasers set at
their current level, just short of lethal-Worf had
recommended an even higher setting-the intruders would
not be available for a second run for some time yet.
Worf had long ago lost count of the number of
energy surges. The first intruder, the one who had
wounded Ensign Thompson, had gone uncaught for
nearly five minutes, racing around the decks of the
crew quarters like someone lost and frantically looking
for a way out, finally somehow finding the emergency stairs
and darting up to Deck 5.
Three others had appeared within seconds of the first,
two in the shuttlebay and one in the corridor
outside sickbay, and a minute later another four.
For nearly an hour it had continued-so far. Setting
up security fields had helped, but not enough, and
they often were a hindrance to getting a wounded security
officer to sickbay. Several times intruders had
slammed into fields full-tilt, but the
effect was the same as that of a phaser. Within
seconds, they vanished, and sooner or later
another would show up on the other side of the field.
At one time, there were at least thirty scattered
about the Enterprise like a cloud of biting gnats,
firing their projectile weapons at any crew
members they saw, then racing off in seemingly random
directions, sometimes firing blindly down an empty
corridor.
One had even emerged from the turbolift onto the
bridge but had been phasered by Riker before he could
fire his own weapon. Like all the others, he had
vanished in a burst of light almost the moment he hit
the floor.
Geordi had experimented briefly with the blocking
field but found it essentially useless under these
at m conditions. As he had feared from the start,
its effects had proven at least as damaging to living
tissue as the fields it blocked, so it could not
simply be turned on and left running. To be
effective at all, it would have to be timed to come on
only for the second or two during which an intruder was
attempting to come through, and there was no way that that could ever
be predicted. Even if he were able to hook
directly into the sensors and set them
to trigger the blocking field at the first indication of a
surge the sensors picked up, it would not be soon
enough. The time to build up the blocking field
seemed to match within a few milliseconds the time it
took the field they were trying to block to build up.
And even if he could have cut the buildup time of the
blocking field, even if he could have blocked every
intruder, he wouldn't have dared do it. By the hundredth
one, if his computer models were correct, the
cumulative effects of even those brief bursts
of the blocking field would have been verging on lethal for
everyone within range, which was essentially every living being
on the Enterprise.
What finally seemed to have stemmed the tide was nothing
technological, unless you counted turning the task of
announcing surge locations over to the computer, just an
application of common sense. Riker had blanketed
the ship with security people and regular crew members,
every one with a ready phaser set on heavy stun. In the
last twenty minutes, no crew member had been
wounded and no intruder had remained active more than
twenty or thirty seconds.
Most were dispatched almost before the flash announcing their
arrival had faded.
If this was an attempt to take over the
Enterprise, Riker thought as he waited for the next
energy surge and the virtually simultaneous
announcement of its location by the computer, it was an
extremely clumsy one. If they had sent the
intruders all through simultaneously, it might have
worked. At the very least, the casualties would have been
much worse, the damage to the ship from their
projectile weapons much greater. Whatever it had
been "Commander!" Worf announced abruptly.
"Someone is attempting unauthorized entry into the
shuttlecraft on the surface. It is lifting off
on automatic, no occupants."
The captain's shuttlecraft? "You're certain
no one is inside? Not even one of our
shoot-"em-up friends from up here?"
"No life-forms are indicated, Commander. The
shuttle sensors, however, indicate a half-dozen
lifeforms on the ground directly beneath the
shuttlecraft."
"The ones who tried to break in," Riker said with a
grimace. "Did those communicators we left
outside the airlock pick up anything?"
Quickly, Worf called up the records, but there
was little in them. The grating sound of the airlock opening,
which at least indicated that the would-be
shuttlecraft hijackers had come from the city.
Footsteps, several sets, as they approached the
shuttlecraft. Noises, subdued at first, then
louder, as they poked and prodded at the
shuttlecraft. And finally, unintelligible shouts
and the sound of the shuttlecraft lifting off.
"Khozak again," Riker said with a scowl. "First
he takes the captain prisoner and now he tries
this!" He turned to Ensign Curtis at the Ops
station. With the tactical station fully occupied with the
seemingly omnipresent intruders, the comm
function-and the continuing attempt to establish an EM
link with someone on the surface-had been transferred
to Ops. "Any response at all, Ensign?
Any indication anyone is even listening to us?"
"I believe someone is, Commander," Curtis
reported. "An unmodulated EM carrier is
present, indicating at least that the equipment down
there hasn't been turned off. Whether anyone is
listening, however, is another matter."
"Very well, Ensign. Keep at it." He
shook his head.
"Tell them that until they respond and give us
proof that our people are still safe, President Khozak
can forget about talking to anyone higher up in
the Federation."
"Yes, sir."
"You might also mention that we do not appreciate
attempts to tamper with the captain's shuttlecraft
and-was
"Energy surge, Commander," Worf broke in,
"on the planet." He darted looks at other
readouts. "The shuttlecraft sensors picked it
up as well. The surge was inside the city, within a
few hundred meters of the shuttlecraft's
original position outside the city's airlock."
Riker thought for a second. "Lieutenant,
access the shuttlecraft's computer log for the last
hour. See if it picked up any surges down
there while we were being swamped up here."
"Only one, sir," Worf announced a moment
later, somewhere near the center of the city. Its
magnitude was similar to the more recent one-and to those
on the Enterprise."
Riker turned back to Ensign Curtis at
Ops. "Is their equipment still turned on down
there?"
She glanced at a readout. "It appears to be,
Commander."
"All right. Patch me through and set it
up to repeat until we get a response. I'll
take a shot at them.
Figuratively speaking-at least for now."
Her fingers darted across the face of the console.
"Ready, Commander."
Riker pulled in a breath. "President
Khozak or whoever is listening down there: This is
Commander William Riker of the Federation Starship
Enterprise.
First, unless you respond and provide proof that
Captain Picard and the others are still safe, the
discussions you requested with Federation authorities will
not take place. Nor will any such discussions ever
occur unless and until you satisfactorily
explain the attempted assault on the captain's
shuttlecraft. Second, there have been two energy
surges in your city in the last hour, one near the
center, the second only moments ago in the vicinity
of your airlock. Finally, the Enterprise has been
under attack for more than an hour. Black-clad
intruders with projectile weapons not unlike the
ones with which your guards greeted my away team have
been appearing on all decks, and I would very much
appreciate any information you might have. If you do not
respond, we will have no choice but
to assume you are in some way responsible and act
accordingly."
Signaling he was finished, Riker grimaced as
he turned back to the tactical station and wondered just
what "accordingly" meant. With any luck-not that they'd had
much so far-Khozak would come to his senses and he
wouldn't have to figure it out.
Chapter Twenty
KHOZAK LISTENED to Riker's message for the
third time, his stomach knotting more tightly each time.
Virtually everything he had done had turned out
wrong, and now-now they suspected him of having something
to do with an attack on their ship! And the energy surge
near the airlock-Denbahr and the star people returning,
hoping to reach their shuttlecraft?
He hoped it was as benign as that, and not someone from the
Directorate coming through.
Blinking, he came out of his self-induced
paralysis and stabbed at the button that put him in
communication with his people at the airlock. Tersely, he
ordered them to recall the ones who had attempted
to enter the shuttlecraft and then to leave, to disregard his
earlier orders to allow no one through. The last thing he
wanted now was for them or anyone to try to recapture
the onetime prisoners.
He turned to the radio, the same one Denbahr
had used to contact the ship a seeming lifetime ago.
There was nothing for it but to throw himself on these people's mercy
and hope against hope that Denbahr's naive belief
in their goodwill and patience was closer to the truth than
his own far darker suspicions. And that whatever
Denbahr had done to or for the four, it had not
resulted in death or capture by the
Directorate, even though he could not keep from his
mind the thought that the Deserter Koralus and the
Directorate deserved each other.
He touched the switch that would send his voice on
its way. Pulling in a shuddering breath, he said,
"This is President Khozak, Commander Riker."
Picard was grim-faced as they descended in
Albrect's private elevator, made even more
crowded by the presence of Zalkan, his frail body
cradled in Data's arms. He knew the scientist
was right, that his plan was the only chance to save both the
Enterprise and what remained of Krantin, but that knowledge
didn't make it any easier to watch a man
purposely hasten his own death. He would
unhesitatingly offer himself up for lesser gains, had
in fact done it more than once and had found it far
easier than this. His creed, one of the
reasons he had joined Starfleet, was to protect
others, not to stand by when others sacrificed themselves, no
matter how high the stakes or how narrow the options.
"Picard," the scientist had said when Troi had
vouched again for the reality of the threat and the truthfulness of his
own analysis, "you spoke earlier of a short-term
treatment your doctor could administer to me, a
metabolic enhancer. Would it give me the time I
need?"
"I don't know," Picard said. "There are too
many variables. The only certainty is that you would be
dead within hours."
The scientist had smiled faintly. "That is already
a certainty, Captain, no matter what I do,
if not within hours then within days. Only a
substantial infusion of new blood has given me
what little strength I have, and even that would not help after
the transfer back to Krantin. And I do not
propose to lie here, clinging to a few more useless
days, while there is even the slightest chance that the
Directorate can be defeated and Krantin saved."
And Picard had nodded grimly, conceding the truth
in Zalkan's words.
The elevator door slid open at
Albrect's command and the group hurried down
the still-deserted subbasement corridor. As
Albrect approached the massive sliding door
they had emerged from earlier, the faint humming coming from
beyond the door suddenly increased in volume.
Albrect stiffened and lunged the remaining meters to the
door and jammed his key into the lock. Through the tiny
crack at the bottom of the door, a sliver of
light flashed. Then the door was open and Albrect
was racing back through the twisted corridors of
consoles and packing cartons.
The others followed, Picard pausing to slide the
door shut.
A young man in dark coveralls sat on the
floor near the active consoles, apparently
recovering from the transfer. He lurched to his feet
when he saw Denbahr.
"It won't work," he said, still short of breath.
"I left the markers in an abandoned house near the
airlock, but the area is crawling with guards.
Several of them were sent outside, either to guard the ship
or to try to take it over."
"They won't get in," Picard said, frowning,
"but if they try too vigorously, it would lift
off, out of their reach. And out of ours, too,
unfortunately. Either way, I don't
see how we could reach it if Khozak is determined
to stop us from getting through the airlock." He turned
to Albrect. "Is there any way you can transfer
one of us to the area outside the airlock and bring him
back? If the shuttlecraft is still there-was
Albrect shook his head. "With one of the new
Directorate machines, perhaps, but not with this one.
All it can do is home in on a marker. Or
make a random transfer to the general vicinity of this
same area on that Krantin, and that would be more than a
hundred kilometers from the city."
"Are there other markers in the city?" Picard
asked.
"If one of us could get to a radio, we at least
could warn the Enterprise even if we couldn't get
back on board ourselves."
Albrect shook his head. "Very few."
"And the only radios I know of that I could guide
you to," Denbahr said, "are the ones I used before,
in the lab, and the ones in the machines we use to drive
to the power plant. But those are all in the storage and
repair area that the airlock opens into, so they'd
be almost as hard to get to as your shuttlecraft."
"If I were to transfer alone," Data, still
cradling a weakening Zalkan in his arms,
said, "I believe the odds are good that I could either
evade or overpower the guards long enough to reach one of the
machines you speak of and make use of the radio."
"If the radio in the first one you try works,"
Denbahr said. "Or in the first half-dozen. We
might have a better chance going after the one in the lab."
She glanced at Ormgren. "You did say there was
a marker somewhere in the building?"
The young man nodded. "In the subbasement. It
might not be functional, however. It is one that
Zalkan placed there several years ago."
"At least I'd be in familiar territory,"
Denbahr said. She shook her head. "It's too
bad there isn't a way to come out around the power
plant. That's where I left my machine when you people
picked me up that first day, and its radio is working,
or at least it was when I left it there a couple of
days ago."
"The power plant?" Albrect brightened. "There
may be a way," he said. "For a time, we used an
area only a kilometer or so from it for a dump
site." When Denbahr looked at him questioningly, he
went on.
"The material from the mine. The only way to get
it out is to transfer it here, and we
obviously can't leave it lying around. It's tricky
enough to keep a functioning jump machine down here without
someone from the Directorate stumbling onto it.
Storing the dirt and rock from the mines here would be
impossible, so we have to jump it back to Krantin,
somewhere far away from the mines. One of those somewheres was
not far from the power plant. We stopped using it when
we realized what it was and that you technicians were
visiting it every few months. Now, if the marker there
is still functional . . ."
As he had been speaking, Albrect had turned
back to the console and tapped in a series of commands.
After several seconds studying the screen, he
nodded.
"I can lock on to it," he said. "That's a good
sign."
Picard nodded, beginning to have hope. "If it
works, this could be better for us than reaching a radio
inside the city. Mr. Data, you can go through and
proceed to the power plant and the radio and contact the
Enterprise. Have them send a shuttlecraft down
immediately. Return for us the moment it arrives. If
you do not return-was He turned to Albrect.
"He can return, can he not?"
Albrect nodded. "As long as the
Directorate doesn't find us here. And the more often
we use the jumper, the more likely it is that someone will
stumble onto us. That's one reason progress in the
mines has been so slow. But yes, he can
return."
"Very well. Data, if you do not return within
half an hour, we will utilize the marker that
Ormgren left near the airlock in Jalkor."
"Yes, Captain," Data said.
As the android lowered Zalkan gently toward the
floor, the scientist stirred in his arms. "Tell
them also to bring their magical potion," he whispered.
"I begin to suspect I overestimated my ability
to survive another transfer."
Riker scowled as he broke the connection with
President Khozak. The man was a raving
paranoid lunatic. Despite Khozak's
mea-culpa confession and professed conversion, it
didn't take a Deanna Troi to realize that he
still didn't "trust" Riker or anyone connected with the
Federation. If anything, he mistrusted them now more
than ever, It was just that, finally, he must have decided
he had dug himself into a hole so deep that no other
choice remained.
But at least now Riker had some idea
what had happened, and it wasn't good. Denbahr,
presumably with help from Zalkan, had "rescued"
Deanna, the captain, Data, and Koralus from under
Khozak's nose, though he had trouble imagining
why. Despite Khozak's rampant paranoia,
the president hadn't been about to harm them. Unless,
Riker thought uneasily, Denbahr had learned
something about Khozak that might contradict that
assumption. Or unless there was some connection between the
rescue and the seemingly short-lived "invasion" of the
Enterprise, which appeared to have drifted to an end with the
twin surges in Engineering.
And the timing was suspicious, Riker had
to acknowledge. The rescue had come at almost the peak
of the Directorate assault-assumed
Directorate assault-on the Enterprise. As
a result, the energy surge associated with it
hadn't been noticed for another half hour, when the
review of the shuttlecraft records was conducted.
And the second surge, the one near the airlock,
had coincided roughly with the end of the assault.
Possibly sheer coincidence in both cases, but
Riker mistrusted coincidence almost as much as
President Khozak mistrusted the Enterprise
and the Federation.
The only questions of any real import, however,
were: Where had the four been taken, and why? And,
most important, where were they now? From the evidence
of the energy surge and Khozak's description of the
"rescue," Riker assumed they had been taken to that
other Krantin, the Krantin of the Directorate.
But why? Denbahr knew the ill effects of the
transfers; she had seen Zalkan and now knew the
reason for his condition. Admittedly, it would take
several transfers to cause irreversible damage,
but still, for her to subject not only them but herself to even
one transfer, she must have thought it important.
But it wouldn't be just one transfer, not if it was
indeed a rescue. They would have to be returned to this
Krantin, or they would be prisoners forever in the
Directorate Krantin, never able to return to the
Enterprise or the Federation.
Or had they already returned? Was that what the
second surge had been, the one near the airlock?
Had they returned there, hoping to get through the
airlock to the shuttlecraft? If so, what had
happened to them?
Khozak swore that none of the dozen or more guards
at the airlock had seen anyone other than each
other since the time of the surge.
Was it even remotely possible that one of
Khozak's paranoid fantasies was actually
true, that Denbahr and/or Zalkan were in league
with the Directorate and they had not rescued the
Enterprise officers but kidnapped them? From his own
impressions of the woman, not to mention Deanna's more
informed opinion, he found that extremely hard
to credit.
But the "rescue" made no sense either. Unless
he was missing a major piece of information, which
unfortunately was entirely possible, even
likely.
For what seemed like hours but was in reality less
than a minute, Riker remained in the captain's
seat, his mind continuing to circle in frustration. If
there was one thing he couldn't abide, had never been able
to abide, it was sitting on the sidelines, simply
waiting for developments when something inside him kept
shouting at him to do something, if only to stir the pot and
see what, if anything, floated to the top. That was
one reason he preferred an away team to bridge
duty.
And when Deanna was the one who might be in danger
Abruptly, he stood and turned to the tactical
station. Speaking quickly, formulating his thoughts
as he spoke, he issued a series of orders, then
strode to the turbolift. "You have the conn, Mr.
Worf," he concluded as the doors hissed shut behind
him.
Chapter Twenty-one
LUCKILY DATA WAS NOT SUBJECT to the
weakness and disorientation that humans experienced immediately
after a transfer. It was even luckier that he had
made the jump alone, carrying only a tricorder
and a halfdozen markers, rather than with Denbahr, who
had given him complete instructions for locating and
operating the radio. As it was, he was able
to recover his balance and catch himself before he had slid
and lurched more than two or three meters down the
steep slope of rocks and dirt he found himself on.
His uniform was torn in several places, but his
body suffered only the android equivalent of minor
scratches.
And the tricorder, in its field case suspended
from his shoulder, was unharmed despite several
impacts.
Carefully, dislodging as little of the rubble as
possible, he made his way to the bottom and level
ground.
Visibility was even worse than it had
been the other times he had been exposed to this
Krantin's atmosphere. Low clouds hid even the
reddish glow that was all that reached the planet from its
sun. Even the power plant, little more than a
kilometer distant according to Denbahr, was lost in fog
and Plague.
But it was there, he saw a moment later as the
tricorder zeroed in on the powerful and easily
identifiable fusion processes. Depositing one
of the markers on a flat area a few meters from the
mound of rubble, he broke into a run, unhindered by the
unbreathable atmosphere.
Once the plant came in sight, Data altered
his course to head directly for the spot on the road
where he remembered Denbahr parking her vehicle,
and he was at its door only minutes after he had
emerged on the rubble slope.
As Denbahr had said, the outer and inner doors were
unlocked and the magnetic card that turned on the
electrical system was protruding from its slot beneath
the button that started the engine.
Quickly, he pushed it all the way into the slot and
waited as the screen came to life, a series of
icons indicating what was operating and what was not.
Almost immediately, he saw that the radio was
not among the indicated functions. Just as quickly, he
located the radio itself and checked the associated
switches. All were set as Denbahr had indicated
they should be.
He pulled the card out and replaced it. Like
everything else on Krantin, Denbahr had said, the
radio often showed its age and needed coaxing.
This time, it came on, but when Data set it
to transmit, it crackled briefly and fell
silent, and a moment later its "active" icon
vanished from the screen.
Data considered the situation for all of half a
second. Time was of the essence, if Zalkan was to be
believed, and Counselor Troi had said he was.
Given time, he might be able to repair the radio.
It might even come back to life on its own. But it
might not.
And there were other radios, Denbahr had said, in the
area near the city's airlock. The chances of his
eluding or quickly overpowering the guards there, if they
opposed him, were better, he decided, than continuing
to try this radio.
Placing one of the markers on the other seat so he
or Denbahr could return and try again if the
captain desired, he took the marker that
would return him to Albreet's basement station in his
hand.
Restlessly, Riker circled low over the mounds and
sinkholes that marked the mines. There was no
progress anywhere. Examination of the captain's
shuttlecraft, returned by remote control to the
Enterprise, had yielded nothing. The security
detail he had sent in another shuttlecraft to the
airlock had reported no activity and, except
for one ensign remaining on boa at d, was in the
process of being let inside the city. Khozak
himself had come on the radio and assured both Riker
and the leader of the security detail that neither Denbahr
nor any of the Enterprise personnel had been seen
in the vicinity of the airlock or anywhere else in
Jalkor. However, he had no objection to the
detail's coming in with tricorders and conducting their own
search.
Riker grimaced as he took the shuttlecraft
to a higher altitude and continued to watch the sensor
displays. What had he been expecting? For
Deanna or the captain or Data to conveniently
materialize at the entrance to the mines? The only
even semilogical reason for his patrolling the area
was that it was the primary area on Krantin in
which energy surges had been detected and the only
place outside of Jalkor where humanoid
life-forms had been detected. The real reason,
though, was that he couldn't bring himself to stay on the
Enterprise bridge, simply waiting.
In that respect, he was no Captain Picard.
The captain seemed to have infinite patience, a
characteristic Riker had sometimes envied but never shared with
him. His impatience had served him well sometimes,
ill others, but if he didn't give in to it now and
then he would Suddenly, a change in the readouts
leaped out at him.
An energy surge! But not here! In the city?
No, the indicated heading was at least ninety
degrees from Jalkor. What The power plant! That
was at least approximately on this heading, but more
than a hundred kilometers distant. And the first time
they had encountered Denbahr, she had been just leaving the
power plant!
His heart was pounding as he took the shuttlecraft
up sharply, locked the sensors on to the prominent
signature of the fusion units, and accelerated along
the new heading.
Within minutes, the power plant, blocky and
sprawling, emerged from the rusty haze.
And there was a life-form somewhere down there!
But only one, not four. Who Abruptly, the
readings solidified: an artificial lifeform,
humanoid and Data! But where was Deanna? The
captain?
Locking the sensors on to this new tar-get, he
brought the shuttlecraft swooping down to ground
level-and found himself only meters in front of the
vehicle he had first seen Denbahr in.
Zalkan, his head still cradled in Denbahr's
lap, opened his eyes again. This time Koralus stood
over him, and the scientist smiled. It had been right,
that first instinctive reaction to Koralus's name and
face, the face he had seen a thousand times in his
mind, though never before in reality. His Koralus, one
of the first of the so-called underground, had been killed by the
Directorate long before Zalkan had been born.
But Zalkan had known him, if not in the flesh, in
the words of his grandmother, and seeing and listening to this
Koralus was like having her words come to life.
The lives of the two men had been as different as the
two Krantins they had inhabited, but their characters had
been the same, just as the characters of the other "twins" had
proved essentially the same in both worlds despite
lives different in every detail. In one,
rebelling against the Directorate had cost that
Koralus his life. In the other, championing the
Migration had cost this one even more dearly.
But now, if this desperate plan worked ...
Albrect, once Zalkan had explained who
Koralus was, had agreed immediately that
Koralus's presence greatly strengthened the chances for
stability if the Directorate was-when the
Directorate was brought down.
But for that to happen, for the Directorate to be
destroyed, he himself had to survive for another few
minutes, until the one called Data returned
with the magic potion.
But until then ...
His eyes closed and again he drifted into exhausted
sleep, his almost-grandfather's face still floating before
him.
Data froze, his thumb millimeters from
pressing down on the marker that would return him to that
other Krantin. He very nearly decided to run a
diagnostic on his own perceptual circuits, so
unlikely did he consider what had suddenly
appeared only meters in front of the vehicle: an
Enterprise shuttlecraft. But the urgency of the
situation and the tremendous amount of time the
shuttlecraft, if real, would save him overcame
the positronic logic circuits that, otherwise,
would have demanded a diagnostic.
Opening the vehicle's outer door, he climbed
out and dropped to the ground. An instant later, the
door to the shuttlecraft opened and Commander Riker's
voice boomed from the little ship's PA system.
"Data!
Get in here! What happened?"
Data was inside almost before Riker's words were out.
"I will explain in a moment, Commander. Has a
group claiming to be Directorate defectors
been allowed on board the Enterprise?"
"Four of them came on board two or three
hours ago," Riker said, frowning. "But how the
devil did you know?"
"After the four were killed, has the Enterprise
been invaded by several individuals, each-was
Scowling, Riker cut Data off. "How did you
know- Never mind. Yes, we were almost overrun.
There were hundreds of them, popping up everywhere,
firing their weapons at anyone they saw, racing around
with no rhyme or reason. But that's over now.
No one was killed, at least not permanently, and the
damage to the Enterprise was minor. And if
they try it again, we're ready for them."
Data held out a marker for Riker to see:
neutral gray, less than a centimeter in
diameter. "Their purpose was not to invade or
attack, Commander.
Their sole purpose was to distribute objects
similar to this as widely as possible."
"This? What is it? We found something similar
implanted in the skulls of the defectors. They said
they were for disciplinary purposes."
"Those may have been, but they were also assassination
devices. They were almost certainly the cause of death
of the so-called defectors, whom the Directorate
killed in order to confirm their story and divert
attention from their real purpose. Those devices,
however, were not the same as these. The only similarity,
I suspect, is that both types contain, for want
of a better term, markers. They are similar to our
comm units in that they allow the. Directorate
to lock on to them and transfer objects or
personnel from their world to this and vice versa, to wherever the
markers are located. The purported defectors
planted the first ones, and the 'invaders" then used those
first ones to come and plant more."
"So that's-was Riker grimaced. "There
could be thousands of them. Those "invaders" were everywhere.
But what are they planning? Another even bigger
"invasion"? Bombs?"
"No," Data said, "an invasion could be easily
countered, and'explosives would damage the
Enterprise, which they would prefer not to do. The
Directorate plans to transfer great
quantities of a deadly, fast-acting gas into all
parts of the Enterprise gimultaneously, killing
everyone on board but leaving the ship intact."
"Field-effect suits-was Riker began, but
Data cut him off.
"Neither field-effect suits nor breathing
masks would be effective. Like the Plague on
Krantin, the gas will materialize everywhere at
once, including inside any protective
devices, even within the lungs."
Abruptly, Riker turned to the shuttle's comm
sys term and opened a channel to the Enterprise.
Worf responded immediately.
"Lieutenant," Riker said, launching into a quick
reprise of the essentials of what Data had told
him, ending with instructions to institute an all-out
search for the markers. "The objects in question are roughly
circular, approximately-was
"There is no need to describe them, Commander,"
Worf broke in. "I have one here. The invader who
reached the bridge apparently dropped several before you
brought him down. I will assign all personnel to the
search."
"Get to it," Riker said. "We'll be there as
soon as we can." As he had been speaking, the
shuttlecraft had reoriented itself, and now it zoomed
upward.
"Now," he said, turning again to Data, "where are
Deanna and the captain? And Koralus?"
"They are safe in the other Krantin for the moment,
waiting to be brought through. But first I must speak with
Dr. Crusher."
Suppressing the impulse to ask if they were ill
or injured, Riker instead got the shuttlecraft
patched through to sickbay and nodded to Data.
"Dr. Crusher, this is Lieutenant Commander
Data.
Do you have a supply of CZ'-FOURTEEN
available?"
"A small amount," she said, a puzzled frown
evident in her voice, "but why do you-was
"Please, Doctor," Data broke in
uncharacteristically, "I will explain in a
moment. I need a hypospray with at least enough
CZ'-FOURTEEN to administer to Zalkan, who will
almost certainly not survive the transfer from his world
to this without it."
"I don't understand either, Doctor," Riker said
when Crusher hesitated, "but you know Data well enough
to know that he wouldn't ask for something unless it was
essential. Just have it ready by the time we arrive, which
will be in approximately three minutes."
In those three minutes, Data raced through his
explanation of the plan Picard and Zalkan had
arrived at, concluding, as he exited the turbolift
on Deck 12, "The captain feels the risk is
justified in light of the almost certain consequences
to both worlds if we attempt to flee instead of
accepting that risk."
"Particularly since this Plague soup we're
embedded in might not let us get out of range in time
anyway," Riker said as the doors closed, cutting
off any further words.
When Data reached sickbay, Beverly Crusher
was on her hands and knees searching the floor of her
office for markers. All nurses and medical
technicians were doing the same in other areas,
particularly the area around the biobeds the
defectors had occupied during their examinations.
When Data entered, she looked up with an
uncharacteristic scowl, took a hypospray from her
pocket, and handed it to him.
"You understand that this could kill even a healthy person
in a matter of hours, Data," she said severely.
"And even if Zalkan survives, the long-term
treatment will be useless."
"I understand, Doctor. Zalkan understands as
well.
He feels it is the only rational course open
to him, and the captain has come to agree with him."
"I see," she said in a tone indicating that she
didn't see at all. "Very well. It's out of my
hands."
"Thank you, Doctor. Now please, stand back.
I must return."
"To that other world?"
He nodded, taking one of the markers and placing it
on the floor of her office. "Do not allow that one
to be disturbed, Doctor. I will need it to return
with Zalkan and the others. And stand well clear of it
until then."
With that, he took the return marker in his hand and,
as soon as Dr. Crusher had turned
away and started for the door to resume her search,
squeezed it solidly between thumb and forefinger.
Chapter Twenty-two
PICARD WINCED in spite of himself as Data,
even before the flash of his return had faded from the
retinas of the watchers, knelt on the cold concrete
floor and pressed the hypospray to Zalkan's
arm. The scientist opened his eyes at the touch,
managed a weak smile to Data, then an even
weaker nod.
Data triggered the hypospray.
For a moment, there was no reaction, and Picard found
himself leaning forward, searching the man's face for he
knew not what. A hint that, now that it was too late,
the scientist regretted his decision? Picard
grimaced, wondering if he would allow himself any
regrets if his own decision turned out to be wrong
and in the last moment of his life he realized that the
Enterprise would not saved but lost with all hands.
Zalkan stiffened, a slight moan escaping his
lips.
Then he shivered, not quite writhing, and Denbahr, her
hand trembling, softly stroked his forehead. Troi
knelt down opposite Data and laid her own hand
lightly on Denbahr's.
Abruptly, the scientist went rigid, his teeth
gritting, his head pressing harshly backward against
Denbahr's legs, and Koralus, standing tensely
next to Picard, seemed to wince in sympathy with his
almgrandson.
Just as abruptly, Zalkan went limp, and
Denbahr gasped his name, as if afraid that he had
died.
But his eyes opened then, and he smiled, a
fleeting but normal smile despite the emaciated
face.
And he sat up, stayed that way for a moment, as if
to let his head clear, or perhaps just to savor the
simple fact of the movement, then got to his feet
with only a slight lurch.
"Come," he said, his face now grim as he moved
toward the clear area in front of the active console,
"we may already be too late."
Data caught Zalkan's arms and steadied him as
the flash of the transfer faded and the scientist lurched
and almost fell to the floor of Dr. Crusher's
office.
Fending off Crusher's efforts to subject
Zalkan to a quick scan with her medical tricorder,
Data guided him into the corridor.
"Knowing I have two minutes more or two minutes
less is unimportant," Zalkan said over his
shoulder as he seemed to regain his strength, "and taking
the time to gain that knowledge would only deprive me of yet
another minute of useful life."
In the corridor, two of Dr. Crusher's
medical assistants were on their knees, looking for the
tiny markers. A dozen meters down the corridor
past the turbolift, near where an engineering ensign
was doing the same, a transporter field shimmered
into existence. Data's enhanced vision could distinguish a
pile of a half-dozen markers surrounding a comm
unit for an instant before the entire pile vanished.
A second later, he knew, the pile would
materialize with dozens of others on one of the cargo
transporter pads where, as rapidly as the comm
units could be pulled from the pile, they would be
dispatched into space.
In the turbolift with Zalkan, Data
silently and repeatedly reviewed the plans that had
been developed literally a world away.
Repeatedly, he came to the same conclusion: Under the
circumstances, there was no way he could think
to improve them. All reasonable eventualities were
covered, and the probable result in all
cases was the capture or destruction of the
Directorate leadership and the survival of
Jalkor.
Unfortunately, the Enterprise and her crew
fared less well in some scenarios.
But everything was being done that could be done.
Every available crew member was involved in the
search for the markers. The Enterprise had already moved
into a higher orbit, high enough to put the planet below out
of danger. Six crew members were in a
shuttlecraft, standing off a thousand kilometers,
maintaining a constant link with Starfleet.
In the most optimistic scenario, in which Zalkan
had the time to give the computer a complete picture of
all the possible ships the Directotate leadership
might arrive in, the Enterprise crew would begin
evacuating to the surface of Krantin the instant his
work was completed. Every available shuttlecraft,
including those normally used only for cargo, would be
used, taking them to a spot safely away from
Jalkor, where there would have been a small but
unacceptable risk that their arrival would be noted and
somehow passed on to the Directorate, thereby
accelerating its schedule. Those still on board awaiting
evacuation would continue the search-and
transport operation until transportation became
available. With a great deal of luck, either all the
markers would be found and disposed of or everyone but
Data would be evacuated before the gas came.
In either case, Data, unaffected by the gas, would
remain on the bridge. He would be there, waiting,
when the Directorate leaders came through an hour
later, by which time the reverse binary gas would have
developed into its harmless component parts, allowing them
to board safely. Then he would see if Strankor
had been right. The man had assured him that the entire
Directorate leadership would come through, and Troi
had indicated that he was telling the truth. They would
all come through because not a single one of them would trust
any of the others to board such a valuable prize as the
Enterprise without him. Their fear of treachery-a
thoroughly justified fear, apparently-was too
great for them to do anything but board it together. Then, when
the number of ships matched the number of
Directorate leaders that Strankor had
indicated, Data would direct the computer to target
the precise locations that Zalkan had specified in
each ship. Finally, when they were within range, dozens
of pinpoint, millisecond bursts of
highest-intensity phaser fire would,
theoretically, disable the jump circuits of every
Directorate ship.
Unlike the much longer bursts that would be required
to destroy the ships, the millisecond disabling
pulses could all be fired before any of the ships had a
chance to react. And keeping them all from returning to that
other Krantin was essential. If even one
escaped, the Directorate would continue, and nothing
the Enterprise could do could stop them from snatching the
dilithium and destroying Jalkor.
The second scenario was less optimistic. If
Zalkan was able to finish his work but evacuation was not
completed in time, Data would still be waiting for the
Directorate ships when they came through, but an
indeterminate number of his fellow crew members
would have been killed by the gas.
in the third scenario, the gas came before Zalkan
was finished, and everyone but the six in the shuttlecraft
would die. Without Zalkan's information, Data would not
be able to simply disable the Directorate ships.
He would have to destroy them. And the only sure way
to do that was to wait until they drew close and the
leaders began to board the Enterprise.
Data would then override all the safety
devices and programs and breach the
containment field of an antimatter storage pod.
The Enterprise and any ship within twenty
kilometers would be vaporized. The six in the
shuttlecraft standing off a thousand kilometers would
report the demise of the Enterprise to Starfleet and
wait for the arrival of another ship.
The turbolift door hissed open on the
bridge, bringing Data's mind instantly back to the
immediate present. At the science stations stood a pair
of specialists in the design, construction, and
history of impulse-drive ships; the station
screens were blank and waiting for Zalkan's input.
Seemingly fully recovered despite a flush that
had begun to suffuse his features, the scientist
strode rapidly to the stations at the rear of the
bridge. Speaking rapidly even before he reached
them, he began, essentially, to re-create on the
screens and in the computer memory the halfdozen
ships that he had helped design more than twenty
years before, the ships which, according to Strankor, the
Directorate leadership still used.
Barely a minute into his task, the turbolift
doors opened again and Picard emerged alone.
"Counselor Troi, Technician Denbahr,
and Kora lus," Picard answered
Riker's unspoken question, "have joined the search for the
markers."
Riker nodded as he surrendered the captain's
chair and quickly brought Picard up to date. "I'll
join the search as well," he concluded, hurrying
toward the turbolift. By the time he reached it, an
area assignment by the computer was issuing from his comm
unit. As the turbolift door opened, he almost
tripped over an ensign on the floor on his hands
and knees searching for the chip's faint signature.
For another few seconds Data continued to watch
the first ship growing in detail and complexity on the
science station screen. Abruptly he turned
away.
There was no need for him to watch the ships take
shape. The computer was absorbing it all, and when the
time came-ifthe time came-that he needed the information, it
would be there for him. He could be more useful now in the
search.
He was halfway to the turbolift when he heard
Geordi's voice: "Commander, I'm getting nowhere
on this. I can probably accomplish more if I join
the search."
"Commander Riker has joined the search himself,
Geordi," Picard said. "You're
referring to the blocking field? Will said you had proven
it to be at least as dangerous as you originally
feared."
"Captain? Yes, the blocking field. And
unless my computer models are way off, ten
minutes' continuous use would almost certainly be
fatal even to someone in perfect health. Even one
or two minutes would produce noticeable and
permanent effects. The only way this thing would be of
any use is if you had a damned good idea of when
the gas was coming. Then I could switch it on at the
last second, but as it is, we can't use it without
killing everyone on board, but if we don't use
it-was
"Geordi," Data broke in. Listening
to Geordi had somehow prompted an unexpected
idea to emerge from the positronic storehouse that was
the android's mind. To a human, it would have seemed like
a sudden inspiration. To Data, it was only logic,
a matter of making an association between two
separate bits of information. "How much advance warning
do you need?" he asked.
"Data? Approximately a second more than
the sensors will give us."
"An additional three seconds, then,
would be sufficient?"
"You mean five seconds total? That would do it
easily, Data. But when we were being invaded, I
tried everything I could think of to boost the sensors or
speed them up, but nothing helped. The first inkling the
sensors have of an upcoming jump is just under two
seconds. I've even consolidated all the
functions into the master systems-display panels down
here in Engineering in order to cut out the lag time between the
controls and the generator and between both of those and the
deflector array. But no matter what I do, the
generator takes almost half a second too long
to reach full strength and get the energy into the
deflector array. By the time the deflector array
projects the field in and around the Enterprise,
it's too late.
Whatever was being sent is already here."
"Thank you, Geordi," Data said as he
turned to Picard. "Captain, I suggest we
locate Counselor Troi and tell her to meet
me in my quarters immediately.
And send someone to Ensign Thompson's quarters
as well."
Picard, despite having no idea what Data
was up to, agreed to the plan before the
turbolift doors closed behind the android.
Chapter Twenty-three
"DATA, I CAN'T BELIEVE we're
actually going to do this." Commander Geordi La Forge
stood on one side of the reconfigured master
systems display in the middle of Engineering, his
VISOR focused on the sensor readouts that would
indicate the beginnings of an energy surge. With some
internal rerouting of signals, he had tweaked
another millisecond or two off the blocking
field buildup time, but it was still essentially half
a second too slow. "Talk about your lowtech
solutions . . ."
"It will work, Geordi," Data said, his eyes
on the dual image on the display screen that angled
up out of the tabletop station. In the left image,
Ensign Curtis was shaking her head despairingly.
"It's not happening, Data," she said.
"Do not concern yourself, Ensign. Yours is a
backup function, in the event that Counselor
Troi falls, which is not likely."
On the other half of the screen, TroPs eyes
were closed as she concentrated. Uncharacteristic beads of
sweat had appeared on her brow in the last minute.
Finally, she looked up. "Ready,
Data," she said, though her subdued voice lacked
some of its usual conviction.
"Geordi, make the transfer," Data said,
positioning his fingers barely a millimeter above the
control surface of the panel before him.
Geordi, shaking his head, tapped in the commands that
disconnected the sensor-activated trigger and
substituted the control a millimeter below Data's
fingers.
For nearly a minute there was only silence. Then
Geordi, his VISOR still focused on the display
screens, said, "If this doesn't work, Data,
don't blame yourself. It at least has a chance, which
is more than I can say for anything I've managed
to come up with."
"The only reason it has a chance, Geordi,"
Data said, his yellow eyes remaining unblinkingly
on the image of his own room on the screen before him,
"is that you first developed the blocking field."
"You know what I mean, Data. No matter
what happens, it's not your fault. Hell, it's not
my fault either. I just-was He paused, swallowing
audibly. "I just wanted you to know that I wouldn't
blame you, no matter how this turns out. And it's
been good working with you." He risked a
split-second glance at the image on the screen.
"You, too, Counselor."
"It has been good for me, too, Geordi,"
Data said.
"I have always considered you-was
His fingers dropped onto the control. Sensor
readings streaked across both panels. Geordi's
heart lunged for his throat. Seconds later,
seeing no indication of an energy surge other than that
created by the blocking field, he slumped in a
queasy mixture of disappointment and relief.
Quickly, he deactivated the field.
"False alarm, Data," he said.
"I see that now, Geordi," he said, observing
the activity on the screen. His fingers had already
returned to hovering above the control.
"At least we proved your reaction time,"
Geordi said. "And I guess we can stand a few
false alarms.
Better that than missing one and- Again Data's
fingers dropped suddenly onto the control and the sensor
readings once again filled the displays, but this time This
time they indicated the buildup of an energy surge
of unprecedented proportions.
But a surge that plateaued and stalled as
the blocking field built to full strength at least
a second before the surge would have reached its peak.
Then it faded and was gone.
Geordi let out a wordless shout and barely
resisted the impulse to race around to Data's side
of the display station and pound him on the back or hug
him.
"That was it!" he said when he had control of his
voice again. "That wasfor real, Data! You did
it!"
Somehow, Geordi continued to watch the readouts.
When the last traces of the energy surges faded,
he waited another five seconds. Then, his body
almost limp from relief, he deactivated the
blocking field.
In Data's quarters, Troi also breathed a
sigh of relief. Then, on the off chance that a
second attempt would be made, she lowered herself to the
floor and began to try to reset the detector, which
had already stopped growling but still had a tail fazzed out
to twice its normal size.
There was no second attempt, although the
detector was set off three more times as groups of
Directorate ships flashed into existence a
hundred kilometers out.
The total exposure to the blocking field as a
result of those false alarms, however, was less
than thirty seconds, and Dr. Crusher was able
to detect only the slightest effect in the few
crew members she checked before she returned to the
bridge, Zalkan, his face seeming to grow more
flushed with each minute, finished his computer
reconstructions only moments after the last of the ships
themselves appeared on the viewscreen. Leaning on
Denbahr, he watched as Worf targeted the
phasers, locking them on to a series of specific
points inside each Directorate ship so that those
points would be hit regardless of the positions of the
ships.
Despite Crusher's insistence that he be taken
to sickbay, Zalkan remained on the bridge,
Picard helping him into the captain's chair, where he
slumped, seemingly staying conscious by sheer effort of
will.
Troi was in her own chair on one side of the
scientist, Denbahr in Riker's on the other.
Each rested a hand gently on his. Tears streaked
Denbahr's cheeks.
Finally, the Directorate ships began their
approach.
The sensors were still crippled by the Plague
field, but what they did reveal confirmed at least
the broad strokes of what Zalkan had given them.
And listening to the EM exchanges between the ships
confirmed what Strankor had said: Neither the leader
nor any of his lieutenants would trust any of the
others out of their sight for a second when booty of
any kind was involved, let alone something like the
Enterprise, control of which was potentially even more
valuable than the control the Directorate had for
centuries exercised over the dimensional-transfer
technology.
An hour and ten minutes after the gas had been
sent-and blocked-the ships came within what Worf at
the tactical station considered a safe range, the
lead ship almost in the shadow of the Enterprise.
Glancing at Zalkan, he initiated the firing
program he and the scientist had so carefully
constructed. In less than a second, the
precisely targeted and timed phaser bursts struck
every programmed target. A second later,
tractor beams flashed out, freezing the ships in
place.
"Energy buildup!" Worf said sharply, and for a
moment everyone's stomach lurched as their
eyes fastened on the screen, waiting helplessly for the
flashes that would mean they had failed after all.
But there were no flashes. And Zalkan roused himself
and smiled, a final moment of strength coming from somewhere
deep within him. "They can try to pull the ships
back," he said in a whisper, "but they cannot succeed,
not without power provided by the ships themselves, which they no
longer have."
He grimaced, much as he had when Data had first
administered the CZ-14, and his eyes met
Picard's.
"We have won the battle, Captain," he said,
the whisper even fainter. "Now you must not lose the
peace."
His eyes closed and, a moment later, his breathing
stopped.
When Picard turned away, he saw that
Koralus had been standing quietly behind him, a tear
trickling down one cheek.
Chapter Twenty-four
KHOZAK'S EYES BLAZED as he faced
Picard and the other Enterprise officers across the table
in the ship's main conference room. "You have these
monsters in your hands? And still they live? And now you
want me to meet them?" He turned
to glare at Albrect, who sat at the far end of the
table beyond Koralus and Denbahr and the rest of the
Jalkor Council. "Is it not enough that you have tricked
us into the same room with the new leader of the
Directorate?"
"There is one in particular I would like you to meet,
President Khozak," Picard said, ignoring the
president's jab at Albrect. "We felt it
might be instructive, particularly in light of your
desire at one point to inject poison gas into the
mines, not to mention your recent treatment of myself and my
fellow officers."
"I have explained my reasons for those actions,"
Khozak said, his anger seeming to fade beneath a
momentary facade of apologetic defiance. "In
my situation, you might well have done the same."
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Picard said, "but it is good that
you feel that way. It is good that you can acknowledge that
the situation a person finds himself in can cause that
person to take actions he would not take under other
circumstances. In any event, Mr. President,
because you have requested that the Federation aid you in the
destruction of an entire world in retaliation for the
Plague that that world has unknowingly inflicted on
Krantin, we thought it only fair that you
meet the one who was leader of that world until a few
hours ago."
"Unknowingly? These creatures have known
precisely what they were doing to Krantin for
decades, particularly this so-called leader you want
to force me to meet! Zalkan himself said it-they knew
and they did not care!"
"The leader, yes, and all members of the
Directorate," Picard acknowledged, "as well
as a very select number of their underlings. They were,
however, the only ones who even knew of the existence of
your Krantin, let alone what was being done to it. And
it was one of those few, by the way, who came
to Zalkan's group and told them of the plan
to capture the Enterprise and breach the walls of
Jalkor. Without his action, we would almost certainly
all be dead today." Picard did not add that
self-preservation had also played a role. When the
informer had learned that the Directorate planned
to kill the four "defectors," simply as a
precaution, he had realized that, like them, he was
expendable and would never be safe as long as the
Directorate remained in power.
"Even those involved with the search for the dilithium in
the asteroid belt were not aware that an
inhabited planet existed here," Riker added.
"Only the leaders and the very few they needed to install and
monitor the recording devices in your computers were
fully aware of the existence of your Krantin and what
had been done to it."
"And they, like the pilots, were as much victims of the
Directorate as you," Dr. Crusher said. "They
weren't told, for example, that they were killing
themselves. They knew nothing of the ill effects of
repeated transfers. Only the leaders knew that."
Khozak snorted skeptically. "Surely the
pilots themselves noticed they were becoming ill and dying
after certain numbers of trips."
Crusher shook her head. "Before they reached that
stage, the Directorate made sure they simply
"disappeared." The Directorate never denied that
being a transfer pilot was dangerous; they just
substituted a more acceptable form of danger. One in
every hundred transfers went wrong, they said, and ship
and pilot were lost, possibly in yet another
alternate reality. This was a lot different than
saying, ',ch trip makes you sicker until finally
you die.""
"But Zalkan and his group obviously knew the
truth!" Khozak protested. "Why
didn't they simply expose the Directorate's
lies?"
"They tried at least once," Picard said, "but
the Directorate's control was so complete, no one
paid them any attention. And the ones who made the effort
"disappeared" more quickly than the pilots."
Khozak shook his head angrily. "Why are you
telling me this? What is the point in trying to prove
that virtually everyone in that Krantin is innocent and
that only the members of the Directorate deserve
our hatred?" he asked with a sideward glance at
Albrect. "You have already made it abundantly
clear that my desire to protect Krantin from their
continuing depredations will not even be considered."
Picard suppressed a sigh. "Protecting your
Krantin is not synonymous with destroying theirs."
"Is it not? How many years will it take before they
are willing to shut down their world in order to stop
exporting the Plague to ours? And from what you have said,
those infernal devices are so universally used that
shutting them all down would amount to just that-shutting down
their world!" He turned to glare at Albrect.
"Is my understanding not correct?"
"A slight exaggeration," Albrect said, "but
essentially correct. However, we have little
choice in the matter. I thought you understood that."
"Understood what?"
Albrect looked questioningly toward the Enterprise
officers but particularly toward Data. "Have you not
verified our fears?"
Data nodded. "The samples I took, and the
ones you brought with you, do bear them out," Data said.
"How long would we have if we did not shut down
our "infernal devices"?" Albrect turned
to look at Khozak with a grim smile. "And they
are that, in more ways than you could imagine."
"My computer models," Data said, "indicate
that, at the current rate, you have no more than five
years."
Albrect grimaced. "Even worse than our
own figures showed." He turned back
to Khozak. "That is why we will shut the machines
down. If we continue to use them, if we continue
to spew out the Plague onto your Krantin, our
Krantin will be dead before yours. I believe you were
given perhaps ten years before it was irreversible."
"Dead? Your world?" Khozak shifted his glare from
Albrect to Data. "What nonsense is this?"
"The collapse of their entire ecosystem,"
Data said, and even Khozak greeted the
statement with a stunned silence.
"For five hundred years," Picard picked up
the explanation, "they have been transferring matter from
their world to yours, but it has not all been I waste,"
not nearly all. The dilithium is but one
example. While transferring the smoke from their
industries, for example, they also transferred great
quantities of their atmosphere. Their
atmospheric pressure is at least five percent
lower than yours. In transferring organic waste in
a thousand ways, they have transferred elements
essential to plant and animal life. Dr.
Crusher noted a deficiency of certain trace
elements in the bodies of the so-called defectors
who brought the first markers aboard the Enterprise.
Zalkan, on the other hand, who has lived on this
Krantin for more than a decade, did not suffer from
such deficiencies. Similar deficiencies were
found in the plant samples Mr. Data brought
back, and in Albrect himself. Those deficiencies
are only the tip of the organic iceberg, so
to speak, the first signs of what is rapidly
approaching. The dead trees that we saw in the park
area beneath Albrect's window are another.
At this point, the process can be
reversed, but sometime between three and five years from now,
it will reach a point at which it cannot. If Data's
models are correct, all life, even
microorganisms, will be gone within two years of that
point unless certain key elements begin to be
replaced. Or returned."
A gleam of satisfaction radiated from
Khozak's eyes, but only for a moment. Then the
scowl returned as he turned back to Picard.
"No!" he almost shouted.
"For you to even suggest that we help them, that we
give them even an.ounce of Krantin's
lifeblood- No!
It is too monstrous even to-was
"Captain Picard did not suggest it,"
Denbahr broke in angrily. "Nor did
Albrect or anyone from that Krantin. I suggested
it."
"And I agreed," Koralus said. "The Ten
Thousand on the Hope will return-Captain Picard
has agreed to transport us all-and we will help in
whatever ways we can."
Khozak snorted. "Ten thousand Deserters will
help a billion murderers to survive! Why am
I not surprised!"
"Only seventy-five Deserters at the most,"
Koralus said mildly, "myself and those of the One
Hundred I did not awaken to die. None of the
others have ever seen Krantin except in images.
And there may well be another sixty thousand, if the
other ships can be located."
Khozak shook his head violently. "It makes
no difference. I will not be a party to an obscenity like
this! I will not allow that world to save itself by stealing back
the very stuff with which it destroyed Krantin!"
"Even if the "stealing" is a part of the process
by which Krantin is itself restored?" Picard asked.
"The Federation will assist in whatever way it
canterraforming technology and equipment, if that is
what is required."
Khozak shook his head again, even more violently.
"Never!"
Picard let his breath out in a controlled sigh and
stood up. "Come, Mr. President. It is time
for you to meet the former leader of the Directorate."
He motioned to Albrect, who stood as well. "You
can return them all to your Krantin when the
president is finished."
"You can return them now, then!" Khozak
snapped.
"Not until you have met their leader," Picard said.
He turned to Worf. "Lieutenant, if you would
assist President Khozak?"
Khozak continued to scowl, but he was on his feet
before Worf had taken a second step. "Why am
I singled out for this unique honor?" he asked
sourly as they descended in the turbolift. "Why not
the entire Council?"
Picard suppressed a smile. "If, after the
meeting, you wish the Council to meet him as well,"
he said, "you can bring them down yourself. Albrect will
delay their return."
The turbolift door hissed open. Picard led
the way to the same detention area the four defectors
had died in. The Security lieutenant on guard
silently acknowledged Picard as they walked by his
station.
"There," Picard said, indicating the compartment with a
single prisoner standing with his back to the force field.
They came to a stop less than a meter from the
force field, but the prisoner did not acknowledge their
presence.
"Khozak," Picard said, "there is someone I'd
like you to meet."
"You've already established that!" Khozak
snapped, but a second later he gasped.
The prisoner had turned at Picard's words.
"So," the prisoner said as he eyed the
president, "this is my twin from this misbegotten
world."
When President Khozak returned to the conference
room an hour later, he offered no reason for
changing his mind, nor did he suggest that the rest of the
Council be taken to speak with the prisoner. He
merely nodded to Denbahr and Koralus and said, "I
will not stand in your way. Do as you wish, you and your ten
thousand."
Picard breathed a sigh of relief. Zalkan's
peace, if not won, had at least not been lost.
"Of course, Data," Geordi said, laughing as
he reached down to scratch a purring Spot behind the
ears, "I'll be glad to come to your thank-you party for
Spot and Fido. However, maybe you should include
the counselor in there, too. After all, if she
hadn't been able to calm Spot down after all those
invaders were popping in and out, it never would've worked."
Data considered a moment. "You are right,
Geordi.
I will of course include Counselor Troi.
Or should hers be a separate affair? I
would not wish to offend her."
"Don't worry, Data, it'll be fine. For that
matter, if you want to include me, too-didn't
you tell me that Spot's reflexes wouldn't have done
us much good without the blocking field? And yourself, come
to think of it. You're the one who realized what was
setting both of them off and put a stopwatch on the
phenomenon."
"But then perhaps we should include Commander Riker as
well," Data said thoughtfully, "since it was he who
returned me to the Enterprise so expedi tiously."
Geordi laughed again. "Maybe you better just
stick t and Fido after all, before we find a
reason to to Spo include everyone on the
Enterprise. You don't want to spread the
Spotlight too thin. There is just one thing, though."
"What is that, Geordi?"
"I hope you don't want me to "watch"
either one of them. After all, it is a party."
"I had not thought of that, but you are correct again.
However, if you could spare some time later, it could be of
help in my ongoing study."
"Come on, Data, don't you think they've earned
the right not to be stared at for a while, particularly
Spot?"
"Of course, Geordi, but I do not think it
disturbs them. Besides, now that we have proven that Spot
and Fido are both sensitive to at least one
phenomenon that is beyond the capabilities of the
sensors, do you not think it would be worthwhile
to attempt to discover what other phenomena they may
respond to?"
"You mean their
"I-gotta-be-someplace-else-fast" act?"
Geordi sighed. "As a famous psychoanalyst is
reported to have once said, Data, there are times when
a cigar is just a cigar.
"And there are times," he added, grinning and pulling
back abruptly as Spot suddenly decided she
needed to play with his comm unit, "when a cat is just
being a cat."