by Greg Cox
“The tide’s out,” Torres said, only a few meters ahead. “The Ryol weren’t lying about that.” She marched on resolutely, following the lead of the spotlight. No sign of hesitation or doubt was displayed on her half-Klingon features.
Tides were a new concept to Kes, but she understood the basic idea: the section of beach they were crossing now was underwater during the day. Indeed, now that she thought about it, the sand felt moister and muddier the farther they walked. Her boots sunk into the watery sand, which burped squishily each time she pulled her boots free of the muck. Surely, she thought, the sea could not be much farther away.
“Er, what exactly are we looking for again, sweetie?” Neelix asked softly. He glanced down at the sticky mud clinging to the bottom of his trousers. The shiny chartreuse fabric had turned black around his ankles.
“Antimatter,” Torres answered for her, “though what it’s doing out here under all this dirt and water I can’t begin to imagine.” She scowled at the readings on her tricorder, evidently finding them difficult to believe.
Am I looking for antimatter, too? Kes wondered. It seemed reasonable to assume that there was a connection between B’Elanna’s mysterious sensor readings and her own strange feelings about the beach, but she still couldn’t see how any technological conundrum, no matter how surprising, could have anything to do with the anguish she heard in these bodiless screams. In truth, she didn’t really know what she was looking for, only that the answer waited somewhere in the darkness ahead of her.
Torres halted abruptly, so quickly that Kes and Neelix almost bumped into her before they stopped as well. “What is it?” Neelix asked.
“Look,” Torres said, pointing to the far end of the spotlight. Neelix raised the crystal to give them all a better look.
About ten meters ahead, at the outer limit of the incandescent beam, the muddy surface gave way to . . . nothing. The spotlight illuminated nothing but blackness beyond the edge of the beach. Kes listened for the sound of the ocean, but the water still seemed quite distant. There was nothing ahead of them but empty air.
“A drop-off,” Neelix realized aloud. “An underwater cliff.”
“Not so underwater now,” Torres said. “Good thing you brought along that light. We could have walked right over the edge.”
“Thanks,” Neelix said, looking a bit smug. “It always pays to be prepared. You never know when you might need something you almost left behind. Like my father used to tell me, right before we ran out of double-plaited meteorite renderers—”
“I said,” Torres said brusquely, cutting him off, “it was a good idea.” She looked at Kes. “What’s next?”
Kes took a deep breath. Carefully, cautiously, she lowered her psychic shields by a few degrees. Almost instantly the screams came streaming through the cracks in her defenses, deafening her. They were louder and more frenzied than ever before. Wherever the screamers were, it was like she was standing right on top of them, feeling the vibrations rise up through her body, shaking her bones from her feet to the top of her skull. It was more than she could bear. The screams filled her up, drowning her, until they came pouring out of her lungs, erupting from her throat and out between her lips.
Her psychic shields slammed into place in self-defense, evicting the alien screams from her mind. With a violent shudder, she found Neelix’s arm wrapped around her. He held the palm of one hand tightly over her mouth. “Sssh,” he hushed her, and Kes realized that she must have been screaming for real.
She nodded, signaling him that she was all right again. Caring yellow eyes searched hers, looking for confirmation and finding it. He lifted his hand away from her face. Kes sighed and slumped against him, resting her weight upon his reassuring solidity. “Kes,” he whispered, “what was it? You nearly scared me out of my wits.”
“Not that far to go,” Torres muttered. Kes ignored her.
She marshaled what remained of her strength and pulled away from Neelix. She walked to the very brink of the cliff and looked out over the darkness. “They’re down there,” she said.
“Who?” Torres asked.
“Them,” Kes said. “The victims.”
• • •
The captain’s commbadge chirped, interrupting the conference in her briefing room. She stood up at the head of the table and tapped her badge impatiently.
“Janeway here. What is it?”
“Transporter Room Two, Captain. The Elder’s daughter is here for her tour.”
Oh hell, Janeway thought. She had completely forgotten about Laazia’s planned tour of Voyager. This was the last thing she needed now. “Is she alone?” she asked, afraid that Varathael himself might have decided to accompany his heir.
“No,” came the voice from the transporter room. Janeway identified it as belonging to Lieutenant Zon Kellar, a veteran technician and enthusiastic amateur musician. “She’s brought along about a half-dozen companions.”
“Including the Elder?”
“No, Captain. They all seem to be about her age.”
Thank heaven for small favors, Janeway thought. She wanted to delay her next meeting with Varathael until she had a better idea of what the Ryol were really up to. In the meantime, however, what to do about this tour business? She glanced around the faces at the table; she could tell by their expressions that Chakotay, Tuvok, and Tom Paris had all heard Lieutenant Kellar’s unfortunate announcement. Paris looked particularly uncomfortable. Amused, it occurred to Janeway that she might have enjoyed the young officer’s embarrassment if the overall situation had been less dire. “Any suggestions?” she asked the assembled officers.
“I recommend caution,” Tuvok said. “Until we know more, we must consider the Ryol to be a potentially dangerous life-form.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Chakotay said, “although I’m not going on much more than a hunch. A strong hunch, granted.”
The kind of hunch you get from your spirit guide, Janeway thought. She knew better than to dismiss his more mystical insights out of hand. “Your points are well taken,” she said, sitting down in her chair. “On the other hand, we’ve already conducted a couple of earlier tours for various Ryol dignitaries without any negative results. More importantly, our relations with the Ryol are at a touchy-enough juncture without completely snubbing the Elder’s only heir. Let’s not start circling the wagons just yet, gentlemen. Aside from Naxor’s unauthorized attack on Tom and the others, we still have no firm evidence that the Ryol mean us any harm. To the contrary, they have decisively punished the only Ryol to assault one of us, punished him even more severely than we might like.”
We have enough enemies in this quadrant, she thought, without making any more. It bothered her sometimes that they had yet to make a lasting alliance with any of the advanced races and societies inhabiting the Delta Quadrant; Starfleet was about meeting new civilizations, not running away from them.
“Besides,” she said, “if we do have to sever our association with the Ryol, let’s get all our people to safety first.”
Are B’Elanna and the others in danger down at that beach? Maybe so, she decided, but she was reluctant to call them back before they had their chance to unravel the mysteries they’d discovered. In the end, all of Voyager might depend on the information that those three crew members managed to track down. Find out what you need to, she thought to the missing crew members, and get back here pronto.
“Your analysis is quite logical,” Tuvok conceded. “Still, I cannot recommend permitting any Ryol to have access to the ship while their true nature and intentions remain in doubt.”
“Agreed,” Janeway said, “but let’s be diplomatic about this.” She turned her attention toward Paris. “Lieutenant,” she addressed him, “the rest of us have bigger fish to fry. I’m afraid that sticks you with the task of greeting Laazia and her friends and inventing some plausible excuse for postponing their tour indefinitely. You have any problem with that?”
If Paris had any qualms about his assignment,
he did a good job of hiding them. He only hesitated for an instant. “No, ma’am.”
“Very good,” Janeway said. “I know I can count on your judgment—and discretion.” She rose from her seat. “I think that concludes this meeting for now. Chakotay, take command of the bridge. Tuvok, you’re with me. Let’s head for the sickbay and see if The Doctor has learned anything about that Ryol DNA. With Kes off the ship, he might be able to use a couple extra pairs of hands.”
“Captain,” Paris said as they headed for the door. “What about Kes and the others?”
A very good question, Janeway thought. She hated to put any of her crew at risk, but took comfort from the fact that none of them had called for help just yet. “For now,” she said, “we have to assume they can take care of themselves.”
Be careful down there, she thought privately. And come back soon.
• • •
“I’m not sure,” Neelix said, “but I think I see some sort of cave entrance.”
The cliff dropped roughly twenty meters to the muddy harbor floor. Neelix dangled headfirst over the edge while Torres and Kes, kneeling side by side in the moist sand, each held on to one of his legs. The cuffs of his trousers were wet and slippery, but Kes kept a tight grip upon her companion’s leg. There was no way she was going to let him fall, even if it took all the strength she had.
“I don’t know how I let you two talk me into this,” Neelix commented. “The way we Talaxians are designed, our heads are supposed to be above our feet.”
“Stop babbling,” Torres said. Kneeling in the cold damp sand had not improved her disposition. “Can you see anything else?”
“Not really,” Neelix answered, “just a lot of muck and rock. The cliff face looks pretty solid, though. There must be a firm foundation of rock underneath all that sand up there.”
I knew it, Kes thought. There was definitely more beneath them than just the bottom of the harbor. The screams came from down there . . . somewhere. She could still hear them, their faint voices drawing her onward.
Working together, she and Torres pulled Neelix back onto the safety of the sandy beach overlooking the cliff. His face was flushed and ruddy at first, but gravity quickly drained the excess blood from his features. Long black streaks, left behind by the muddy cliff face, stained the front of his clothes. Kes took a moment to catch her breath after the exertion of dragging Neelix up and over the brink. Her legs were soaked all the way up to her knees. Chilly black mud coated the bottom halves of her legs. Even wearing Neelix’s jacket, she still felt cold.
“So,” Torres said to Neelix, glancing again at the readings on her tricorder, “I guess the next step is to check out that cave you think you spotted.”
“Yes!” Kes insisted, surprised herself by the urgency in her voice. She crept to the edge of the cliff and looked at the exposed sea bed so far below. It was a long way down. “But how are we going to get down there?”
“I don’t know,” Neelix said. “I wish I’d thought to bring a rope.”
“I thought Talaxians were always prepared,” Torres said dryly. Kes found herself growing annoyed at B’Elanna’s sarcastic attitude, especially when it was directed at Neelix. She resisted the temptation to snap at B’Elanna. It’s this mission, she thought. We’re all on edge.
“Do you think all that mud is soft enough to cushion our fall?” she asked the others.
Neelix shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to risk it. There could be more rock only a few inches beneath the muck.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully, leaving muddy fingerprints upon his jaw. “Maybe if we formed a humanoid ladder—”
“Frankly,” Torres interrupted him, “I’ve always preferred more high-tech solutions.” She rose from her knees and tapped her commbadge. “Torres to Voyager, requesting an immediate site-to-site transport. Three to beam to the following coordinates.”
Kes heard Torres specify a site approximately five meters ahead (and twenty meters below) of their present location, then felt the familiar tingle of a transporter beam scanning her body. A golden radiance appeared before her eyes, a hum filled her ears, and Kes found herself kneeling at the base of the cliff, looking up at the sheer rocky expanse of mud-slick stone that loomed before her. Torres and Neelix stood and sat, respectively, beside her. “Look!” Neelix shouted, jumping to his feet. “There it is!”
Just as he’d informed them, the cliff held the entrance to what looked like a cavern of some kind. Beneath a jutting arch of rock, a shadow-filled opening penetrated the high stone wall before them. It looked large enough for two standard-sized humanoids to enter the tunnel simultaneously. Neelix shined the light of his borrowed crystal into the gap, but the bright white ray revealed only the first few meters past the entrance. What lay beyond that remained cloaked in darkness.
Torres pointed her tricorder at the cave, then checked the readout. “We’re on the right track,” she announced. “I’m detecting a concentration of subspace ripples far above the statistical average for ordinary matter.”
Shivering, Kes climbed to her feet and contemplated the ominous threshold in front of her. Wrapped in Neelix’s motley jacket, she hugged herself to stay warm. They were getting closer to the secret of the screams, she knew. We’re almost there.
Anticipation of whatever horror awaited her nearly unnerved Kes completely. She had to force herself to take the first step toward the opening of the cave. We’re coming, she told the voices in her head. Your long wait is over. I’m going to find you at last.
The mud was about two meters deep where the three of them now stood. They waded through cold black sludge until they reached the entrance to the cave. The scent of ginger in their nostrils was overpowering. Kes held her hand over her mouth and felt like gagging.
“I’ll go first,” Neelix volunteered, raising the crystal to eye level. He stepped beneath the rocky ledge, then looked back over his shoulder. “Say, it just occurred to me: do either of you know when the tide comes back?”
Kes had no idea. All she knew was that, by the time the beach opened at dawn, this entire area—the towering cliff and much of the muddy terrain before and beyond it—would be several meters beneath the water. It was a frightening thought, especially for someone who was just learning how to swim.
“I don’t know,” she confessed. Neither did Torres.
“I was afraid of that.” Neelix sighed. “C’mon. We’d better hurry then.”
The cave turned out to be a tunnel, leading downward at a steep incline to somewhere below the base of the cliff. A thin trickle of silty golden water ran down the path ahead of them. Kes wished it were fresh enough to drink from; her throat felt dry and sore from all that screaming earlier. At first the tunnel looked like a natural formation, but the deeper they descended the more the tunnel betrayed signs of deliberate technological artifice. The muddy uneven cavern floor gave way to a polished black surface complete with vents to drain away the remainder of the sea water. Smooth obsidian walls rose at perfect right angles to the floor, meeting in a graceful arch above their heads. Someone had obviously carved this corridor on purpose, Kes realized, while taking pains to make its exterior look like nothing more than a natural crevice. But why choose such an inaccessible location for the entrance, especially one that was submerged for large portions of the day? Where did this tunnel lead?
“This is more like it,” Torres commented as she walked beside Kes, scanning their surroundings with the tricorder. “This looks like a place where the Ryol might actually store antimatter.”
Maybe, Kes thought, but she knew there had to be much more hiding down here. Antimatter didn’t scream.
Eventually they discovered the door: a sheet of solid metal blocking their way. The silver sheen of the door contrasted vividly with the polished black walls of the corridor. Only a handle located halfway up the metal sheet suggested that in fact it was a door and not a barricade. Neelix tugged on the handle with his free hand. The door didn’t budge. He handed the light crystal over to Kes so
he could use both hands, but his strenuous efforts proved futile. The door remained firmly in place. “Locked,” he said, wiping the sweat from his speckled forehead with a muddy paw. “A dead end.”
“Duranium,” Torres clarified, consulting her tricorder. “Three centimeters thick.” She inspected a faint tracing of reddish rust around the edges of the door. “From the look of things, no one’s used this door in a long time.” She drew the phaser from her belt.
“Wait!” Kes exclaimed. “What are you doing?”
“You have a better idea?” Torres asked. She raised the setting on her phaser and aimed it at the door. A beam of glowing red energy sizzled through the air, striking the door just above the handle. The silver metal turned red where the beam hit it, then blue, then white-hot. Tears of melted metal ran down the length of the door, pooling upon the floor in front of their feet. Kes stepped backward instinctively. Torres switched off the beam with a flick of her finger. A hole about the size of a humanoid’s fist had formed above the door handle. “Give it a few minutes to cool,” Torres told Neelix, “then try it again.”
Kes swallowed hard. This felt suspiciously like breaking-and-entering to her. B’Elanna was right, though: there weren’t any other options, not if they wanted to find out what the Ryol were hiding down here.
It took several minutes, actually, before the door cooled sufficiently to touch it once more. Neelix blew upon the silver handle nervously, then placed his hands lightly on the metal bar. A grin broke out on his mud-covered face as his flesh declined to sear upon contact with the door. Tightening his grip, he yanked hard upon the handle.
With an ear-piercing shriek, the massive door swung open. Torres kept her phaser aimed straight ahead, just in case there was something hostile on the other side of the door. Kes held her breath, unsure of what to expect.
What they found was wreckage. Beyond the door was an awesome display of torn and twisted metal—and the silence of a tomb. The door opened onto a narrow ledge from which Kes and her companions looked down upon the sundered remains of a broken starship.
