by Peter David
Riker turned to his readouts. “Could you show me on a map of Padulla?”
The hulking citizen rose to his feet and moved slowly toward the hatch. “I don’t need to—you will see the giant green complex in the center of the city. It’s the tallest and biggest. But I’ve got to warn you—”
“What?”
The Helenite stopped, looking undecided about spreading unpleasant news. “I heard they closed their doors—not letting anyone in or out. Check for yourself.”
“We will, thanks.” Riker made a note in his log and muttered to himself, “Institute for Genetic Improvement.”
He heard a thud, and he turned to see another patient stagger off the transporter pad. Shelzane caught her—a sleek woman with tawny skin and downy white fur on her forehead and neck. While the ensign attended to her, Riker turned reluctantly to his preflight checklist.
As soon as Shelzane escorted her last patient off the shuttlecraft, Riker told her to clear the area. He felt guilty about leaving the medical staff alone, but they knew this was no paid vacation. They could request help from either the shuttle or the Spartacus, he told himself.
Ensign Shelzane jumped in the hatch and closed it after her; the Benzite looked energized by the day’s work. “Thanks for waiting, Lieutenant. I told them we’d be back soon—there are so many who need help.”
“We can help more of them by finding the origins of the infection,” he reminded her. “Did you hear anything about how it started?”
“No,” she admitted. “I talked to a few people, but they don’t know what happened to them. They’re still in shock.”
“Okay. Prepare for takeoff.”
As soon as the area was clear of pedestrians, Riker fired thrusters, and the shuttlecraft rose swiftly from the bluff. It swerved over the ocean and the crashing waves far below and quickly reached an altitude of three thousand meters, where Riker left it. From the outskirts to the center of the city was a short jump in a shuttlecraft, and he wanted to get a good look at everything along the way.
The rolling countryside was startling in its lush growth and natural beauty. The Helenites obviously enjoyed an unhurried but civilized life, with time to walk rather than ride. The only thing out of place was a thin line of sick people wending their way along a footpath to the new clinic. How had they found out about the medical team so quickly? wondered Riker. Maybe hope is also contagious.
The shuttlecraft flew over a sparkling bay, filled with what looked like seaplanes and small sailing ships, bobbing peacefully in the surf. All that was missing were people. Riker tried to imagine this city a month ago, before tragedy crept up on it. Padulla must have been a bustling paradise, with a populace so confident in their future that they could exchange the Federation for Cardassian rulers. Now their ambitions and dreams were grounded, just like the seaplanes bobbing below him.
The shuttle flew over a rust-colored beach and a picturesque board-walk lined with quaint two-story buildings. There were actually a few people milling about on the boardwalk, haunting deserted cafés, watching the afternoon sun glitter on the bay. A few pedestrians waved at the shuttlecraft as it passed over, apparently happy to make contact with the visitors. Despite the fact that the handful of people on the boardwalk could plainly see each other, they didn’t interact. They obviously preferred their solitude.
The city was large but not oversized, with broad, tree-lined boulevards, ample green belts, and tasteful buildings that didn’t dwarf the civic planning. But without any people, it looked like a model of a city, like something on an architect’s desk. Riker glanced at Shelzane and could see the Benzite was saddened by the sight of empty streets below them.
“What do they do with the bodies?” she asked softly.
“They may vaporize them with phasers,” suggested Riker. “Burn them…I don’t know.” He was about to suggest she help him look for a big green building, when the landmark appeared on the horizon, shaped like a symmetrical tree.
When he flew closer, Riker could see that the jade-green building was actually a massive pyramid built in the Mayan style. It was the central keep of an oval fortress with high, curving walls and billowing battlements. The entrances were minimal—one north, one south, at the tips of the oval. Inside the walls were eight smaller square buildings with the pyramid holding down the center. The sharp angles of the pyramid, and the oval, rounded walls made an odd juxtaposition.
While he circled the complex, looking for somewhere to land, Riker watched for movement within the walls. He spotted none—it seemed to be as deserted as everyplace else. The few romantics on the boardwalk were keeping a lonely vigil for the rest of the city.
There was no landing pad or strip inside the walls, and the spacings between the buildings were just small enough to keep him from landing on the grounds. Outside the northern wall was a landing pad with the wreckage of some kind of vehicle on it. A path led to an archway in the wall and one of the two obvious gates.
As Riker circled, he pressed the comm panel and broadcast on all local frequencies, “Shuttle to Institute of Genetic Improvement. We’re a private medical team, here to help you fight this disease. Please respond.”
They listened, but there was no response, as Riker circled lower. The shuttlecraft neared the tip of the pyramid when Shelzane suddenly shouted, “Raise shields!”
Riker did so a moment before a beamed weapon shot from the tip of the pyramid and wracked the shuttlecraft. He slammed on the thrusters and zoomed away before the pyramid got off another shot.
“Whew!” He whistled. “Thanks.”
“No damage,” said Shelzane, still watching her instruments. “We were scanned, then I caught an energy surge. I thought it might be prudent to activate shields—”
“And save our lives. Quick thinking. So there must be someone in there who wants to keep us out.”
The Benzite shook her head. “It could be automated. Our drop in altitude may have tripped the scanners, and the scanners tripped the weapon. I’m not reading any lifesigns, but there is a lot of shielding.”
“Then let’s land outside.” Riker banked toward the landing pad outside the northern gate. As he zoomed over, he noticed that the wreckage on the pad appeared to be fairly recent but already scavenged, some of it placed in neat piles. The debris was scattered badly enough to make landing difficult, so Riker looked elsewhere.
He picked a nearby park and landed in a gently rolling meadow of wild-flowers and playground equipment. He gazed out the window at the empty swings and slides; although no one was present, he swore he could hear the cries, shrieks, and laughter of the absent children.
“Suit up,” he told Shelzane.
“We’ve already been exposed,” she pointed out.
“Yes, I know, but I want anyone who sees us to know we’re outsiders.” Riker worked his controls. “I’ll put on security and enable remote transporter control.”
Assisting each other, they put on their environmental suits and armed themselves with phasers. Before the attack, Riker might not have considered a phaser necessary; now he adjusted his weapon from low to medium stun. Despite the apparent desertion of the central city, something had given them an unfriendly welcome. He wasn’t convinced there was nobody home inside the enigmatic IGI fortress.
As soon as he stepped out of the hatch into the field of wildflowers, Riker was sorry that he couldn’t enjoy the late afternoon breeze. He could feel the sun warming the silken fabric of the suit that covered every centimeter of his body, and he wished he could take it off. With a sigh, Riker motioned to Shelzane, and she followed him toward the wreckage on the landing pad.
He didn’t step directly on the platform. He prefered to walk around the debris. Maybe he was being overly cautious, but Riker knew that a wrecked spaceship could leave numerous toxins and dangerous substances. He could see exposed fuel tanks and no indication whether they were full or empty. Despite his protective suit, he felt oddly vulnerable in this ghost town, and he agreed with Chakotay�
�take no risks that don’t have to be taken.
As Riker passed the wreckage, he mused whether the ship had gotten shot down by the pyramid, or whether they had simply made a poor landing. The debris had been picked through too much to tell him anything.
He saw Shelzane checking the wreckage with her tricorder, and she shook her head. “No lifesigns,” her voice boomed in his hood.
“Let’s try knocking.” Riker motioned to the gate in the circular wall, then took the lead. They moved cautiously down a well-manicured footpath and approached a rectangular archway at the elongated tip of the oval-shaped fortress. The door itself was metal, windowless, and solid, although the wall appeared to be made of a jadelike stone. Riker could see no mechanism that would open the door, except for a small slit for card entry at the side of the door.
In frustration, he knocked, although he doubted whether his gloved knuckles would make any noise whatsoever on the smooth metal. There were no signs or markings, no indication that this complex had once been a vibrant center of commerce and health care. Judging by the variety of hybrids on Helena, the Institute for Genetic Improvement must have been busy night and day.
Shelzane’s eyes stayed riveted upon her tricorder, so she didn’t see Riker remove his hood. “Hello!” he shouted as loudly as he could. “Is anyone there?”
The breeze whistled ominously through the turrets of the fortress, making it sound like banshees wailing for the dead. But no living voice answered them.
Shelzane shook her head. “Sir, it’s highly unlikely that—” She stopped suddenly and stared at her tricorder. “Ten lifesigns approaching rapidly on foot.”
“From the complex?” asked Riker, looking at the door.
“No, sir. From the southeast…outside the wall.”
Reacting quickly, Riker put his headgear back on and stepped away from the gate. He wanted to get a better view of the wall to the southwest, but he didn’t like the fact that they were exposed, out in the open. “Start dropping back to the shuttlecraft,” he ordered Shelzane.
“Yes, sir.”
They scurried down the path, keeping in a crouch, but they didn’t move quickly enough. As they reached the landing pad, a squad of infantry jogged around the corner of the wall and dropped into firing position on knees and bellies. A few of them arranged mortars and other equipment.
“Down!” shouted Riker. He and Shelzane dove into the dirt just as the squad opened fire. Their deadly beams raked the brush and twisted metal on the landing pad, causing leaves, twigs, and molten metal to pelt Riker and Shelzane. As he cowered in the dirt, Riker realized that phasers set to stun were not going to do the job.
He squeezed the combadge in his glove. “Riker to shuttlecraft. Two to beam back. Energize now.”
When nothing happened, he stared at Shelzane, and she shook her head. She mouthed something, but he couldn’t hear her. Since wireless communications had broken down, and Riker didn’t like the poor visibility, he ripped his hood off. Then he set his phaser to full.
“Surrender yourselves!” shouted a voice.
Riker looked at Shelzane, who pulled her hood off and pointed to the attackers. “A dampening field.”
He motioned to her to keep moving, all the way back to the shuttlecraft. Scurrying on her hands and knees like a lizard, the Benzite darted from one clump of brush and debris to another.
“Surrender? By whose authority?” he shouted back.
“By authority of the Cardassian Union!”
Cardassians! Riker lifted his head from the dirt to peer at the gray-clad soldiers. They were a well-trained unit. They broke from kneeling positions and scattered to cover, moving ever closer to him. Riker glanced around but could see no support ships, then he remembered that the Cardassians had a garrison on Helena.
“We’re just a medical relief team!” he called out.
Riker heard a loud whooshing sound, followed by a tremendous concussion that shook the ground like an earthquake. He covered his head as dirt and flaming debris rained down on him, scorching his environmental suit.
“Surrender!” shouted the hidden Cardassian. “Or prepare to die!”
Chapter Seven
SURROUNDED BY A PATROL of well-armed Cardassians, cut off from the shuttlecraft, unsure what had happened to his co-pilot, Riker needed a big diversion. He aimed his phaser at one of the exposed fuel tanks and fired a searing blast. The tank ruptured in a fireball that ballooned high into the dusky sky. Riker was driven to the ground, as more flaming debris rained down.
A dampening field. He recalled the equipment the Cardassians had set up the moment they charged into view, just before they opened fire. While the wreckage on the landing pad continued to burn like a bonfire, Riker scurried forward and found a vantage point atop a decorative mound. Searching for the place where the Cardassians had rounded the wall, he quickly spotted two metal boxes on tripods.
Without time to think, Riker aimed his phaser and opened fire. Despite the beams whistling past his head, he didn’t finish firing until he had completely destroyed the two portable dampening boxes. Then he rolled down the hill and cowered in the dirt from a barrage of phasers and concussion mortars, which turned the ground into quivering jelly. He began to sink into quicksand.
Desperately he tapped his combadge. “Riker to shuttle, beam me up now!”
As a phaser beam melted a chunk of his environmental boot, Riker tried to float atop the liquified soil, but he only succeeded in burying himself deeper. The withering fire never stopped, and he was sure death was near…until he felt a tingle along his spine. The lieutenant curled into a fetal position until he was certain that he had transported from the fire zone.
Dripping mud, Riker rolled off the transporter pad into the cabin of the shuttlecraft, then he dashed to the transporter controls. Ripping off a glove, he set to work retrieving Shelzane. An explosion sundered the ground just outside the craft, and Riker staggered. His fingers pounded the console as they worked.
With a surprised but grateful look in her eyes, the Benzite tumbled off the transporter pad three seconds later. Riker didn’t wait to greet her—he hurried to the cockpit. Even before he got into his seat, he had punched up the shields and ignited the thrusters. He sunk deep into his chair at the same moment that the shuttle left the ground.
Their shields took a direct hit, and the shuttle rocked—but Riker maintained control as he zoomed into the darkening sky. The jade pyramid was lit up like an amusement park by the explosions and light beams hurled at them. With Riker on the conn, the shuttlecraft weaved back and forth through the barrage, unscathed.
Shelzane staggered into the seat next to him. Her environmental suit was scorched and ripped like his, but unlike him she had a dribble of blood on her hip. He recognized that purple color from her previous head wound.
“You were hit?” he asked with concern.
She shrugged, but her blue tendrils quivered for a second. “It’s just a scratch—from a rock, not a phaser.”
“Let’s go back to camp and have the docs look at it.” Riker gave her a sympathetic smile.
“We haven’t really found out much,” said Shelzane with a grimace.
“And we won’t until we figure out a way to get into that IGI complex.” After making sure they had swung well wide of the pyramid, Riker set course for the clinic. He mused aloud, “Do the Cardassians have control of that place? Or were they just in the neighborhood?”
The Benzite shook her head. “We don’t know. With their dampening equipment, they could stay hidden from our sensors. Or they could transport in.”
“Maybe later tonight we’ll pay them another visit,” said Riker with determination.
A huge green pyramid with boxy angles and long staircases commanded the center of the city below them. It glistened in the midday sun like a jewel. B’Elanna Torres had difficulty taking her eyes off the breathtaking landmark. But she had to watch her instruments as Chakotay brought the Spartacus down for a rare landing. Following Echo’
s advice, they had decided to make an impressive landing rather than just transporting down.
Chakotay had agreed to this only because the Singha had returned with more medical supplies, scrounged from a dozen Maquis hideouts. The Singha was taking their place in orbit, ready to respond to an emergency or fend off a Cardassian attack.
Torres cycled through her checklists as they prepared to land in a fallow field about two kilometers outside of town. She looked out the window to see the quaint streets of Astar swarming with people during the midday break. At least all of them would get a good look at the novelty known as the Maquis.
“The Cardassians destroyed all of our starships,” said Echo softly. “So your arrival will be unexpected.” The Helenite was seated at the auxilary console in the rear of the cramped bridge.
“B’Elanna, let them know who we are,” ordered Chakotay. “But let’s keep our shields up.”
The Maquis engineer nodded and opened the local frequencies. “To the people of Dalgren,” she announced, “this is the Maquis vessel Spartacus. We are here to offer medical assistance. Repeat, we are here to help you during your medical emergency. We will land in a field two kilometers northwest of—”
“Don’t land!” a voice broke in. “Traffic between Padulla and Dalgren is not permitted.”
“We haven’t been on Padulla,” she snapped back. “We can inoculate your citizens and help you beat this plague.”
“We have no plague on Dalgren!” insisted the voice from the ground. “And we don’t wish to anger the Cardassians. Maquis vessel, we urge you to turn back!”
Chakotay slid a finger under his throat in the universal sign to cut them off. Torres did so gladly. “Nice, friendly people,” she muttered.
Echo looked pained. “They are nice people, normally. But they’re afraid. They must have seen reports from Padulla.”
“They can’t hide forever,” said Torres. “The disease is airborne, so they’ll be exposed to it, anyway.”
