by Peter David
“We’re getting close to the IGI pyramid,” said Echo. “How close do you want to go?”
“Close enough to get a good look. Make several passes if you have to.” Chakotay could see the green pyramid in the distance, looking alien among the traditional town houses and baroque buildings.
He wished he had told Riker to stay away from the place, but so many operations were going on at once that it was hard to anticipate the risks. Riker had been certain there was information to be gathered here, so Chakotay had let him come back, even after they had barely escaped the first time. Now it was probably too late to do anything to help them. No matter how many ways he justified it, he had lost the one member of his crew who could make a big difference in their struggle with the Federation.
“Captain, is this close enough?” asked Echo.
His troubled reverie broken, Chakotay leaned to the left to view the pyramid as they swooped past. “Yes, this is fine.” The jadelike pyramid was impressive, but it couldn’t overcome the gloomy pall of the deserted city. It was like the biggest tombstone in a dark cemetery.
He checked his compass. “This is the east side. Let’s make a pass on all four sides, gradually moving outward.”
“Okay, here we go.”
In a slow bank, the glider came around to catch an air current that took them by the north side of the oval complex. Chakotay spotted the landing pad outside the north gate, as well as the wreckage mentioned by Riker. A moment later, they overshot the pyramid and had to dip lower to catch a current that took them by the west wall.
On this pass, Chakotay spotted movement on the street adjacent to the complex. Looking closer, he spotted two gray-garbed figures moving equipment into a dilapidated building. Glancing the other way, he thought he saw a hole in the west wall of the complex, but they soared past before he could tell for certain.
“Make another pass,” he ordered. “I saw people down there.”
“So did I,” answered Echo, sounding worried. “They were definitely Cardassians. And I recognized those launchers they’ve got—they could shoot us out of the sky in a microsecond.”
Chakotay scowled. He knew that Echo was right—they shouldn’t push their luck with the Cardassians. Riker had pushed his luck, and now Riker was gone. “Is there any chance we could negotiate with them?”
Echo shrugged. “Well, the Federation negotiates with them. We’ve seen how well that turns out.”
“Yeah,” muttered Chakotay. “Head back for the open sea, and we’ll hitch a ride home.”
“Yes, sir!” answered the Helenite with considerable relief. She shoved the antigrav lever upward, and the glider soared high above the pyramid. Chakotay couldn’t tell which she was more eager to put behind them: the Cardassians or Padulla itself.
That’s what I have to do with Riker, he finally told himself, put him behind me. As they sped away, Chakotay stole a glance at the dead city and wondered whether any of them would get off this planet alive.
Only a hundred kilometers beyond the southern coast of the continent of Tipoli, Thomas Riker swayed uneasily on the deck of the raft he had strung together from doors and the sturdiest planks he cound find on the small pier. Dusk was blanketing the glistening sea, and he feared launching and sailing into the darkness, but he was anxious to test his new craft, with its single mast and sail.
He glanced back toward the house and could see Shelzane seated by the front door, wrapped in a blanket. It was hard to tell if she was even awake. The Benzite had been watching his progress out of support for his plan, although she hadn’t been able to help much. Riker still entertained the thought of taking her with him, but it seemed more unlikely with every passing minute. How long would it take them to sail this raft to land? Days? Weeks? That is, if they were wildly lucky and made it at all.
Riker knew, unless they did something quickly, it would be too late to save Shelzane. Even if they were rescued or escaped, she would be too sick for the transporter to help her.
“I’m taking her out!” he yelled. In the gloomy dusk, he thought he saw Shelzane wave back.
Riker checked his rigging, made from curtain cords, then he cast off from the dock and unfurled his sail, made from the curtain. To his astonishment, the wind grabbed the sturdy curtain and dragged him across a stretch of choppy surf. The planks and doors shuddered under his feet, but the raft held together for the first few meters of its maiden voyage.
Two minutes later, he was about sixty meters offshore, where the water was considerably calmer and deeper. Out here, Riker figured he could make decent speed, and he was filled with a giddy sense of accomplishment. Maybe there really was hope for them to escape. They would be slaves of the wind, forced to go where it led them, but that was better than sitting ashore waiting to die.
His joy was cut short by a sudden jolt that nearly pitched him overboard. Riker gazed over the side, thinking he had struck a sandbar. When he realized there were dark shapes—huge shapes—moving just under the surface of the water, he got down on his hands and knees for better balance.
Not a moment too soon, as his fragile raft was jarred again, and two planks of wood shattered. This time, he got a glimpse of an elephantine trunk and a spiny fin attached to a huge black form that slid across the water like an oil slick. Maybe these marine creatures were just being playful, he hoped, although this kind of play could have him swimming back to shore.
Suddenly one of the creatures rose out of the water and tried to board his raft, smashing it in half and nearly swamping Riker. He clung to the mast to keep from plunging into the cool, salty brine, and this time he got a close look at the monster before it eased back into the water. It was shaped like a lumbering manatee, but it had a mouth like a lamprey, with rows of jewel-like teeth glittering in its round, sucker-shaped mouth. The giant leech slid back into the water with a final grin, as if to say that dinner looked delicious.
Water sloshed over the sides of the raft, and the creatures began to swim in a frenzy.
Chapter Twelve
WITHOUT THINKING, Riker began calling for help.
He quickly realized how pointless that was, because his shouts only agitated the hellish fish squirming under his raft. They were as large as walruses, but sleek, with sucker mouths ringed by rows of teeth. In their agitation they no longer had the will for concerted attack, but they smashed and jarred the raft until it was little more than a bundle of driftwood tied together.
Riker snapped off his mast and used it as a spear to ward off the beasts, although that had little effect. As the raft broke apart, he curled up on a last door, hoping he would drown before the giant lampreys mauled him to death.
From the shore, Riker heard a cacophony of sounds: high-pitched screams, shrill tongue trills, and the frenzied slapping of water. He turned to see Shelzane, about fifty meters away, standing in the lagoon hip deep in water, making a terrific racket. She ducked her head under the waves, while she continued to slap the surface, and Riker figured she was shrieking underwater.
Whatever she was doing, it was working, as the huge lampreys peeled off one by one to slither in her direction. Riker wanted to shout to her to watch out, but she had to know what she was doing. He quickly grabbed a good-sized plank and used it as an oar to row the door like a boat. He was very careful to ease his oar gently in the water, realizing that movement and sound attracted the creatures. Fortunately, he couldn’t compete with the unearthly racket that Shelzane was making.
He watched nervously as she flailed in the water, attracting certain death. “Get out! Get out!” he yelled at her. She managed to crawl out onto what was left of the pier just as black waves roiled under the waters of the quiet lagoon.
Riker lifted his oar out of the water, realizing that he had to be still. But Shelzane dragged herself to a spot on the east side of the island and began to create her diversion all over again. With darkness fast approaching, he could no longer see the awful creatures, so he just kept rowing—slowly, calmly—toward the beach. Inco
ming waves picked up the door and propelled him the last twenty meters, until he fell off in the surf and staggered onto shore.
“Shelzane! Shelzane!” he called, stomping through the wet sand.
He found her, lying unconscious in the damp marshes near the lagoon. She was soaking wet, her frail body wracked with shivers and burning with fever. Riker picked her up and carried her into the house. He carefully undressed her, dried her, and laid her in her bed. After cleaning up the room, he stood by the French doors, alternately watching Shelzane and the double moons float on the dark sea.
“Lieutenant!” came a hoarse voice.
He rushed to her side. “Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”
“Some broth, in a while,” she whispered. “But first, I have a request.”
“Anything.”
“When I die, please feed my body to those creatures.”
“What?” asked Riker, in shock.
“Like most Benzites, I believe in renewal. So give my body to the sea creatures…they can benefit from my death. Don’t worry, I heard the doctors say that the animal life is unaffected by the plague.”
“You’re not going to die,” said Riker without much conviction.
“You’re a bad liar, Lieutenant,” she rasped, her voice degenerating into a ragged cough. When she recovered slightly, she added, “My altered lungs will probably fail first. I may die of suffocation.”
“You won’t—” He stopped. “What do you want me to do?”
Her rheumy eyes looked sick but oddly peaceful. “If my lungs fail in this atmosphere, it should be quick.”
Riker looked down, unable to say anything for the lump in his throat. Finally he croaked, “You saved my life…I want—” He tried, but he couldn’t get more words out of his mouth.
“I know.” She nodded her head weakly. “There is one thing…you never did tell me why Starfleet security thinks you’re a commander.”
Riker laughed in spite of himself. “Now that’s a story. If you think this is a mess, wait till you hear about what happened to me ten years ago—”
• • •
B’Elanna Torres and Tuvok stood outside the gleaming metal door in the northern gate of the IGI complex on Astar. She was literally stamping her foot, because they had been waiting here for fifteen minutes—with no response to their presence. It didn’t seem as if the powers within would ever recognize them and let them enter. Tuvok stood calmly at attention, aggravating her impatience even more.
“Let me go get Klain,” she muttered. “Maybe he can get them to let us in.”
“The fact that they are avoiding us is very revealing,” said Tuvok.
Torres scowled, “Well, you may want to stand here all day and find that revealing, but I’d like to get some work done.”
He looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. “Were you getting work done when I hailed you?”
“No,” she admitted. “I was eating my way though the Dawn Cluster. These people have real food.”
“We must verify the information I received.”
Torres scowled. “Do you really think that the Helenites are killing each other with the plague?”
“You are half-human,” said Tuvok. “Humans used to inflict biological warfare upon one another with appalling regularity.”
“But these aren’t humans! Helenites are much more refined.” B’Elanna shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it sounds like this Ferengi was just trying to get something out of us—like a ride.”
“That is possible,” conceded Tuvok. He looked directly at the area just above the door and spoke loudly. “If we cannot verify this information with Dr. Gammet, we will have to contact the smaller genetic companies. Perhaps they will be more open with us. Let us go.”
Abruptly the Vulcan turned and walked away. Before B’Elanna could even take one step to follow him, the metal door whooshed open.
“Well, it’s about time,” she complained as she charged into the complex. Tuvok strode briskly behind her.
They walked down the sloping green corridor, now more familiar than strange, and entered the sleek turbolift. Tuvok surprised Torres by immediately opening up his tricorder. She watched him study the device as she went through the usual disorientation.
“As I thought,” said Tuvok. “We have been transported.”
“What?” asked B’Elanna. “Are you sure?”
“The shielding makes it difficult to obtain an exact reading, but we are deep under the surface of the planet—not a hundred meters, as we were told. If my suspicions are correct, the IGI complexes spread throughout Helena are nothing but empty monuments, with defense systems. There is only one IGI facility, and all the imitation turbolifts feed into it through transporters.”
The door whooshed open, and a morose Dr. Gammet stood before them, looking more stooped than he had before. “You are correct, Mr. Tuvok—yes, you are. Except for a few scattered recovery homes, this is IGI. We have fooled and bamboozled our fellow Helenites for over two hundred years, and now we’re paying for it. We call ourselves ‘miracle workers,’ but when our people come to us looking for a miracle, we’re fresh out. We’re phonies…with big buildings and a lot of parlor tricks.”
“Somebody on this planet has created and unleashed a very sophisticated chimera,” insisted Tuvok.
“Well, it wasn’t us!” snapped the diminutive doctor. “IGI has been ruined by this thing. We’ve lost the confidence of the people, and our operations have been exposed to strangers. The pyramid on Padulla is under seige by Cardassians, and we’ve lost control in half-a-dozen other cities. In fact, our most secure wing—this one—is no longer safe.”
“How many rooms are there like this?” asked Tuvok.
“Eighteen. Five of them have been cut off—even I can’t get in. We’ve had serious sabotage.”
“Why didn’t you tell us any of this before?” demanded Torres.
The little man gulped. “Pride. Disbelief. We’ve controlled this planet for centuries, and we maintained control even when the Cardassians came in. We bribed them and shared our research with them—they weren’t a problem. Yes, we had a few competitors, but nothing we couldn’t handle…until the plague came. Now, overnight, it’s all crumbled down around us.”
“So who’s doing this to you?” asked Torres.
Gammet shook his head, his spotted forehead crinkling in thought. “I would have said it was our competitors, but I don’t think so. The scope of this is beyond them…somehow.”
“Who are your competitors?” asked Tuvok. “Do you have a list of them?”
The little man nodded and crossed to his stylish desk. From a drawer, he removed a small computer padd, which he handed to Tuvok. “Here they are, plus the information I have about them. I thought about confronting them, but I kept thinking it wouldn’t get worse. Well, it has.”
As he read the data, Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “One of them is Prefect Klain.”
“Yes, yes,” said Gammet with a wry smile. “We only tolerate each other. And starting an operation like this, even on a small scale, requires considerable capital. You’ll find Helena’s finest families on that list.”
“This is ridiculous,” grumbled Torres. “Prefect Klain is not going to devastate his own planet for a business advantage.”
“That’s the conclusion I reached,” said Dr. Gammet, scratching his unruly mane of white hair. “So who’s doing this to us?”
Suddenly, the floor under their feet trembled, and the lights in the waiting room flickered. Dust and paint chips floated down from a crack in the ceiling. Torres and Gammet looked around nervously, while Tuvok closed the padd and put it safely in his belt pouch.
“What is happening?” asked the Vulcan calmly.
“Cardassians!” Dr. Gammet moved toward the turbolift. “We’ve already evacuated the patients, and there are just a few of the staff left. As you pointed out, our facility is linked by transporters, so once they’ve breached one of our pyramids, they can attack anywher
e. They must be smashing their way from one wing into another.”
The little man stopped in front of the turbolift door, looking expectantly at it. When the door didn’t open, he pounded on it. “Something’s wrong!”
The room shuddered even more violently, and the lights went off and stayed off, plunging them into absolute darkness. A lantern beam finally pierced the blackness, and Torres trained her light upon the turbolift door. It was frozen like a glacier.
“Is there another way out of here?” She strode across the room to the revolving bookcase. “Where does this go?”
Gammet hurried after her. “Yes, yes! Come on!”
Leading the way, the little man in the lab coat ducked into a passage behind the bookshelf. Torres and Tuvok followed, and they found themselves in a featureless corridor that ended in a junction with five similar corridors. At the end of one of the hallways, sparks glittered on the wall. When Torres pointed the light in that direction, it became clear that someone was cutting through the panel with a beamed weapon.
Dr. Gammet whirled around, looking stricken with fear. “They’re here!”
“Which way?” she demanded.
“It doesn’t matter…we’re doomed!”
Torres grabbed him by the collar and pushed him down a third corridor, heading in the opposite direction of the sparks. Her light caught colored stripes on the corridor walls, which probably would have told her where to go if she only knew the code. She just moved forward, pushing the diminutive doctor ahead of her. Tuvok drew his phaser and brought up the rear, protecting their escape.
They reached a door, which probably should have opened automatically but didn’t. Tuvok applied his tremendous strength and pushed it open, while Torres and Gammet slipped inside. She expected to end up in another waiting room, but a quick flash of her light showed they were in some kind of operating room, with huge metal bins on the walls.
