STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book Three

by John Vornholt

  “Tell me again where Daddy is?” asked the six-year-old.

  “I don’t know exactly,” said Alyssa, strolling to the food replicator. “Are you hungry?”

  “You know where he went, right?”

  “I know he went to help some people survive the Genesis Wave. It’s only been a few days, and there are a lot of places for Starfleet to check.”

  “He is okay, isn’t he?”

  Ogawa froze in front of the replicator, her hunger for food dissipating. “As we discussed with Counselor Troi, your father is considered missing. That means we don’t know where he is ... or how he is.”

  [51] “But you know, don’t you, Mommy?” asked Suzi, coming close and taking her hand. “You would know if Daddy’s all right.”

  She mustered a smile and knelt down to face her young daughter. “Yes, and I think he’s still helping people. He’s probably just as worried about us as we are about him.”

  “Yes, probably!” said Suzi with a giggle. “He’s such a worrywart.”

  “I have an idea. After Daddy gets back, let’s go visit Grandma and Grandpa.”

  “Yay!” exclaimed Suzi, clapping her hands together. “What a great idea—when can we go? When? When?”

  “Soon,” she answered, thinking that would be true either way. “I know you miss Grandma and Grandpa, but you don’t mind that you’re not living with them, do you?”

  “No, not really.” Suzi frowned in thought. “But it gets a little lonely here—this place needs more kids. More grandparents.”

  “I agree,” answered Alyssa with a smile. “There used to be a time when the old Enterprise was full of families. But then we had wars and too many emergencies for all those families to stay. But they’ll be coming back soon ... more and more of them. You’re just one of the first children to come home.”

  “I know,” agreed the child. “I just want all of us to be together.”

  Sniffing back a tear, Ogawa turned to the replicator. “I think I’ll have some miso soup. What about you?”

  Suzi shook her head and rubbed her eyes wearily. “Can I sleep with you tonight? I won’t be a bed hog, I promise.”

  Alyssa nodded. “Sure, Kiddo. Just get in bed and wait for me. I’ll be right there.”

  “I’m glad you’re home, Mommy.” After another quick hug, Suzi padded off to bed.

  “Me too, Sweetie, me too.” Still she wondered how long it would be before she could admit that Andrew would not be coming home.

  * * *

  [52] When Captain Picard strode onto the bridge of the Enterprise, he nodded to Commander Riker and looked at the viewscreen. The Barcelona continued to float in the glittering starscape, looking deceptively peaceful.

  “Report,” said the captain.

  “Situation unchanged,” answered Riker, folding his hands behind his back, “except for sensor readings, which change constantly. The last time we looked, there were five lifesign readings on the Barcelona, and combined radiation was up six percent.”

  The captain’s lips thinned into a frown, and he paced behind Data at the ops console. “You’ve had some time to think about it, so does anyone have a recommendation on how to proceed? What about an excursion by yourself, Mr. Data?”

  “I have considered the matter,” answered the android, “and I have discussed it with Commander La Forge. He feels that my best chance of survival would be to use the Brahms radiation suit. It would somewhat hinder my movements, but I should have enough dexterity to operate the computer.

  “My concern is that our sensors and tricorders do not recognize all the entities which inhabit that ship. Either our sensors are faulty, or the number of entities is in flux. Either way, I could be taken by surprise with no time to escape and no means of defense.”

  “If your suit fails,” said Picard, “then we’ve lost you on a gamble.”

  Riker leaned into the conversation. “I don’t think it’s worth the risk to send anyone else over there. We could transport major components of the computer off the Barcelona and study them over here.”

  “Yes, and what else might we transport off?” asked the captain. “Plus we still have to send people over to set up the signal amplifiers. We were lucky to get that one survivor. I’m not comfortable with dismantling the Barcelona and bringing pieces on board until we have a better idea what caused this.”

  Data cocked his head. “If we reject both of these options and [53] similar plans, the only alternative is’ to make the entities depart. Then the Barcelona would be a safe place to conduct an investigation.”

  Both Riker and Picard looked expectantly at the android, as if he would tell them the magical solution in the next breath. But Data shook his head. “I do not have enough information on the entities to devise a plan to drive them away.”

  “Then let’s prepare a probe,” said Picard. “In fact, several probes. We can beam them over and let them collect information on the entities. Perhaps there are patterns to their movements, which we can use to our advantage. I’d rather lose probes than crew members.”

  “Yes, Sir,” answered Data. He rose to his feet, and Riker signaled for a replacement at the ops console. “Four probes should be sufficient until we obtain initial data. I could transport the probes from a shuttlecraft, allowing the Enterprise to maintain—”

  “Captain!” announced an urgent voice behind him. The bridge crew turned to see the Andorian peering wide-eyed at his tactical console. “Three starships are coming out of warp sixty degrees off the port bow.”

  “Are they Starfleet?” asked Riker.

  The dour Andorian held up his hand for a moment, then he grimaced. “No, Sir. They’re Romulan.”

  “On screen,” ordered the captain.

  Three mammoth D’deridex-class warbirds slowed to a stop in front of them, looking like emerald-green vultures with their beak-like bows and hunched wings. Picard already had shields up to protect against radiation, but he wasn’t going to progress to an alert. He had to keep this contact on a friendly basis. After all, the Romulans had aided them in evacuating planets and ending the Genesis threat.

  “Hail them,” ordered Picard.

  “A recorded message is already coming through,” said the Andorian, working his board.

  At once, the viewscreen switched to the image of a striking female Romulan, standing erect on her bridge. She wore the inflated [54] shoulders and self-inflated air of most Romulan officers. “Enterprise, I am Commander Kaylena of the Javlek, also commander of this task force. We have reason to believe that you possess phase-shifting technology which belongs to the Romulan Star Empire. You have one hour to turn over this technology, plus documents related to it. Comply, or you will be boarded. Depending on our scanner results, we may require permission to board your ship and search for said technology. End transmission.”

  The overhead image went back to a view of the three massive warbirds, which filled the screen impressively.

  “They must mean the Brahms suit,” said Riker. “I can’t think of any other technology of theirs that we have. We have no cloaking devices.”

  The captain turned to Data. “Ready the probes for the Barcelona.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The android nodded and hurried toward the turbolift.

  “Tactical, forward the message from the Romulans to Starfleet and report our situation. Request assistance.”

  “Yes, Sir,” answered the Andorian as he plied his console.

  “Captain, there are no Starfleet ships within a day’s travel,” noted Riker.

  The captain tugged thoughtfully on his black tunic. “We chose this place because it’s isolated. We can’t outfight them, and we can’t outrun them. I think you had better gather up the Brahms suits, plus the records.”

  As Riker headed for the turbolift door, he grumbled. “Do you suppose if they had any Genesis technology, they would turn it over to us?”

  “It never hurts to ask,” answered the captain thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should find out more about the Javl
ek.”

  five

  “Listen, what do I have to do to make you realize that I’m completely sincere?” asked the Ferengi, eyeing the three Bajorans who sat across from him in the mess hall of the freighter. The Bateret was on its second day of slogging through space, but they were nearing their first port of call.

  “I really only want to look after your interests and repay the kindness you have shown me,” said Chellac, holding out his hands.

  “How can we trust him?” asked the younger acolyte. “He just sold his wife!”

  The elder Yorka shook his head forcefully. “That is indeed hard to understand much less forgive. But we all do terrible things in time of need. Look at how we abandoned our brethren in the shrine. I even turned off those lights, knowing there would be injuries. These are times of great change, and we have to maintain open minds.”

  “I don’t believe him,” muttered the other acolyte, a sour-faced zealot. “He doesn’t follow the will of the Prophets. What if he tries to steal it from us?”

  [56] Chellac opened his elegant vest. “Look, I’m unarmed, and I don’t have any way to overpower you. I don’t have a ship or any confederates. You know my circumstances—they are the same as your own. We may be able to travel expensively, bucking the restrictions for a few more days, but eventually we’re going to run out of money.”

  That remark hit home, he could tell from their downcast faces. So the salesman pointed to the gleaming box and pressed his advantage. “You’re going to need a way to promote this and raise some money with it. And you’re going to have to do it fast but secretly, because you know people are trying to kill you for it.”

  “That’s precisely why we don’t want some loud-mouthed Ferengi—” began the young acolyte.

  “Quiet!” snapped Yorka. Fortunately, there was nobody else in the mess hall with them. The religious leader gazed intently at Chellac, as if measuring him against a congress of saints. “I need more than your word. Can you give me one good reason why I should take you into our confidence?”

  The Ferengi met the gaze of the big monk. “I know you don’t have any idea what’s in that precious box of yours, and neither do I. We’re all operating on faith—faith in you, Prylar. I feel compelled to help you, and I don’t really know why.”

  That must have struck the right note, because the Bajoran’s face softened. “We need to open the gift,” he whispered. “But someplace quiet ... isolated ... with no one knowing.”

  “Well, Meldrar I is a sleepy place,” said Chellac. “The biggest employer is the penal colony, and you wouldn’t confuse that with Deep Space Nine. I have an idea what we can do.”

  When the Ferengi hunched forward conspiratorially, even the acolytes who had opposed him leaned closer to hear his plan. “Our crew says there are commercial tours of the colony by shuttlecraft. While this ship is off-loading their cargo, maybe we can get one of these shuttlecraft and head around to the other side of the moon. It’s [57] deserted. I’m sure there must be somebody we can bribe to do this. Let me handle it.”

  He gave Yorka a snaggle-toothed smile. “Partner.”

  “Commander Kaylena of the Javlek wishes to speak with you, Captain,” reported the tactical officer on the bridge of the Enterprise.

  Captain Picard awarded himself a brief smile, then turned serious as he strode to his command chair in the center of the bridge. Seated beside him was Counselor Troi, quietly concentrating on the viewscreen. “Put her on,” ordered the captain.

  The beautiful Romulan appeared overhead, and her dark eyes smoldered with anger under her impassive expression. She was surrounded by glowering officers in their brocaded finery, but Picard found himself watching only Commander Kaylena.

  “What is the meaning of your message?” she demanded. “Are you mocking me? You wish us to turn over Genesis records and emitters before you’ll return the technology you stole from us? What makes you think we have any such devices?”

  Picard tried to muster some charm. “I assure you, it’s a legitimate request, and I would never mock you. According to our records, the Javlek was one of the first ships to arrive on the planet Lomar, where you wiped out the moss creatures and searched their underground facility. It’s a good guess that you retrieved Genesis hardware and data. I believe this is an equitable exchange.”

  “You’re wrong. We do not have any of this Genesis technology.” Kaylena lifted her chin defiantly, and Picard could see a wisp of dark hair on her neck that was out of place. Otherwise, her elegant coif and demeanor were perfect. “I suggest you prepare to be boarded.”

  “I was going to suggest that we meet face-to-face,” answered the captain, remaining cordial. “Wouldn’t that be simpler than bringing your whole crew? I fully expect to hand over the radiation suits, but I’ve got to say that you’ve set yourself an impossible task. We [58] distributed millions of these suits. They’re all over the quadrant by now, and everybody has seen how well they work. You can’t bully every ship you meet—or start a war—just to collect a few suits. Why exactly do you want to search our ship?”

  “You have thirty more minutes to comply. End transmission.” The viewscreen went dark for a moment, then switched to a split-screen view of the Romulans in one half and the derelict Barcelona in the other.

  “I think she’s lying,” said Deanna Troi, folding her arms. “And I don’t like her either.”

  “I have a feeling she’s just following orders,” said Picard with sympathy. He turned to tactical. “Go to yellow alert and contact Starfleet.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Dr. Beverly Crusher dozed in the chair beside her Antosian patient, Raynr Sleven, until her elbow abruptly slid off the armrest. She blinked awake and looked around; seeing the sleeping figure in the bed, Beverly remembered the radical procedure he had undergone. The cellular metamorphosis was presumably successful, thanks to Ogawa’s experience. At any rate, he was still breathing ambient air without any difficulty.

  Crusher craned her neck to check the vital signs on the display over his bed. They were normal, and apparently stable, which was amazing considering that he was in stasis only a few hours ago, much closer to death than life. Now if he would just regain consciousness and give them a glimpse into his mental state, the doctor could sleep easily. They had various means to revive him, especially in his improved condition, but she didn’t want to risk any of them. The dire warnings of side effects had her worried, and she didn’t want to mask these effects or aggravate them with other treatments. Cellular metamorphosis was risky enough without adding anything else to the mix.

  Sleven was now assigned to a private room in sickbay, away from [59] the other casualties, who were gradually recovering. Kosavar would be released in the morning. Crusher had isolated the Antosian in case he took a turn for the worse, or exhibited the behaviors they had been warned about. She had little idea how long recovery ought to take, or why she was still sitting here, except that she was overly curious.

  “If only you’d wake up,” she muttered, “I could go home and sleep in a real bed. Although it’s not like there’s anyone to go home to.” Beverly rose to her feet and began to pace wearily in the small room.

  The doctor stopped and considered the dark-haired male, who looked like an honest, forthright character with a strong jaw and good muscle tone. Of course, he might wake up stark raving mad with a tendency to shape-shift spontaneously. Even without the side effects, he might be suffering trauma from his ordeal on the Barcelona. The doctor had expected Deanna Troi to stop by, but she knew the counselor had been called to the bridge. So they would have to cope without the counselor. Sedatives in various strengths were close at hand, but Beverly hoped they wouldn’t have to use any of the hyposprays.

  “I was in your situation just eight days ago,” she said to the sleeping Antosian. “I was lying in sickbay, unconscious, just like you. Something alien—unexpected—had taken over my ship. But the worst part was yet to come. Waking up healthy and happy was the worst, because I
learned that my son, Wes, had not returned. I was still alone. His presence had been like a dream ... a good dream from my perspective, even if it was fake.

  “You haven’t had a good dream, I know that. And waking up is going to be a pleasant surprise. Then you’ll be alone—all your crewmates and friends gone—and you’ll have to deal with it. Just remember, I can relate to you. Be thankful that when you awaken, you’ll find things are better than in your nightmare.”

  “Water ...” he rasped weakly, licking his lips. Crusher stopped and blinked at her patient in surprise, then went to the nearby replicator and ordered some ice chips. Rayiir Sleven had received [60] intravenous fluids, so he wasn’t truly dehydrated, but she could understand why he felt thirsty.

  When she returned to his bedside, she placed a few chips in his mouth with a spoon and studied his vital signs overhead. The Antosian looked strong and healthy, without any outward indication of the ordeal he had gone through.

  “I’m Dr. Beverly Crusher,” she said gently, “and you’re in sickbay on the Enterprise. You’ve been rescued, and treated.”

  “The others ... the others!” he rasped, trying to sit up.

  She firmly pushed him back down, feeling brawny shoulder muscles under his shift. “We didn’t find any others, just you and one dead. Don’t try to tell me now what happened. We have a pretty good idea ... having been over there. You’ll get a chance to talk, but wait until you’re stronger. You’ll meet our command staff.”

  He nodded wearily. “The ice tasted good ... thank you.”

  “You can drink more and eat solid food when you wake up. Right now, you should try to sleep.” Beverly patted his hand and rose from the side of the bed.

  “I ... I don’t remember much of it,” he said with surprise. “Maybe that’s good.”

  “Maybe it is,” she agreed, moving toward the door. “Good-bye, Lieutenant Sleven.”

  “Raynr,” he said softly. “Please call me Raynr. And thank you, Dr. Crusher. I don’t know how you did it—I must have been nearly dead.”