STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book Three

by John Vornholt

  Conversation paused as they watched Beverly Crusher prepare a hypospray. Nurse Ogawa checked Troi’s vital signs on the overhead display, and Picard shifted uneasily on his feet. He had an overwhelming sensation that something was about to happen. Bad or good, he couldn’t tell, but this untenable wait had to come to an end soon.

  It didn’t help that Troi appeared less than confident about her ability to contact the entity. The physical danger to her seemed minimal, since this was a mental excursion conducted under close supervision. The real danger lay in accomplishing nothing, as they had for days on end, just waiting for the next shoe to fall.

  “You seem nervous,” said Crusher, breaking him out of his reverie. Picard expected the doctor to be looking at him—instead she was gazing at the counselor’s readouts.

  “Not surprising,” said Troi. “I can’t help remembering what this thing did to me last time. It was like a bottomless pool, trying to suck me in.”

  “We’ll be here to revive you,” said the doctor. “You only want to communicate and gather information—learn whether it’s related to the Gemworld rift.”

  Picard’s combadge chirped, and he backed away from the examination table to answer. “Picard here. I thought I left word not to be disturbed.”

  “Sorry, Sir,” answered Riker apologetically. “I thought you would want to know—the Romulan ship has returned. The Javlek is just off our bow, and Commander Kaylena is hailing us.”

  “Kaylena,” echoed Picard. He glanced up and saw Beverly Crusher looking thoughtfully at him. “I’ll be right there. Picard out.”

  He held his palms out helplessly. “I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to postpone this experiment. The Romulan ship has just returned—the one we thought was lost. Maybe they have news or [174] have discovered something about the anomaly. At any rate, I have to confer with them.”

  “Of course, Jean-Luc,” said Crusher magnanimously. “This was a long shot, anyway.”

  “Ask them about the Brahms prototype suits,” insisted La Forge. “We need them back.”

  “I will,” promised the captain as he rushed out the door.

  Once in the corridor, he virtually ran for the turbolift. The feeling of loss and uncertainty had been overwhelming since the rift expanded a few days ago, forcing them to flee. Plagued by inaccurate sensor readings, they couldn’t even tell if the Romulan ships had been destroyed or had merely escaped into warp. Now that the Romulans had returned, the relief was staggering, and the captain had to ask himself if he was feeling all right. He felt emotionally drained, and he couldn’t attribute it solely to frustration and worry. Commander Kaylena, the blackness, the monsters—it was all related, all holding them in bondage to this place.

  When he stepped off the turbolift, he paused in the corridor for a moment, realizing that he wasn’t headed to the bridge. He pressed his combadge. “Picard to bridge. I’m beaming over to the Javlek. Patch me into Commander Kaylena.”

  “Making connection,” replied Data. “Proceed, Captain.”

  “Commander Kaylena,” he said with a pang of joy. “Welcome back.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” she replied urgently. “We must ... we have to talk.”

  “I’m on my way to our transporter room,” answered Picard, on the run again.

  “We will send coordinates,” she promised.

  Minutes later, the captain stepped off the platform in the Romulan transporter room and saw Commander Kaylena waiting for him, her back ramrod-stiff but her face revealing her pleasure at seeing him. “Leave us,” she told the transporter operator.

  [175] A figure bowed and scurried through the shadows, slipping out the door with barely a footstep. She stared wild-eyed at him. “Why should I care so much what happens to you?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered, stepping hesitantly closer. “I was distraught ... thinking you had been killed. Now I find you still in command.”

  “I’m only in command of this ship ... nothing else,” she answered hoarsely. Kaylena twisted her hands, and the words came out in a jumble. “I escaped censure ... over the loss of the Petrask, because disaster is everywhere. The third ship in our task force was reassigned, but I knew I had to come back here. Our fleet is in danger ... whole worlds—”

  “That’s not what brought you back,” he said.

  “No,” she admitted, “you’ve gotten inside me. I don’t know how.” The commander stepped forward and seized Picard by the shoulders, planting her lips upon his. Passion unexpectedly overwhelming him, Picard wrapped his arms around her body, grasping the rich fabric of her uniform. Swallowed by the moment, they clung to each other tightly.

  fourteen

  In the deepest reaches of the moss creatures’ stronghold on Lomar, the dripping of green ooze from the vines overhead was constant. So was the stench of decomposing bodies and the sight of rotting corpses, hanging from the moss-covered rafters. These bodies were so disfigured that it was impossible to tell what species or what sex they were. No matter how many of these dank caverns she inspected it was impossible for Teska to shake the sense that she had entered some hellish underworld dredged from a human psyche.

  “We need refrigeration in here,” said the Vulcan to her assistant. They were wearing lightweight environmental suits for their own protection, and her voice was amplified in her headset.

  “It’s been ordered,” answered Franklin Oswald, making a note on his padd. “The work crews are behind schedule, as usual.”

  “How could we not reach these bodies sooner?”

  Oswald pointed to the scorch marks on the floor, as well as the scattered bits of moss all over. “According to reports, the Romulans finished them off down here. This is the last room in this wing of the complex—it’s the end of the line.”

  [177] “It certainly was for them,” said Teska, gazing at the oozing masses hanging from the rafters.

  “The first crew down here was convinced this place was haunted,” said Oswald. “Since there was no possibility of anyone being left alive, it was shoved to low priority. Unfortunately, at the rate we’re going, it will take a long time for the autopsy crews to get down here.”

  “Approximately twenty-five months,” replied Teska. “Can you imagine yourself being stationed here that long?”

  Oswald laughed nervously. “That’s a joke, right?”

  “Somebody will have to be stationed here that long,” said the Vulcan, “if we wish to identify these remains.”

  “I’m beginning to think that a decent burial would serve them better,” answered Oswald quietly. “So often, I’ve just wanted to take a torch to a room like this.”

  Teska nodded thoughtfully. “An understandable response, if overly emotional.” Something caught her eye, and she peered upward into the gloomy shadows.

  “I’ll resign before I stay on Lomar twenty-five months,” grumbled Franklin Oswald. “I didn’t do anything to deserve duty like this.”

  “That is an illogical correlation,” said Teska, drawing a phaser from her belt. “Stand back, please.”

  “What are you shooting at?” he asked nervously.

  “Something that is active.” The Vulcan fired two pinpoint beams into the rafters, and a large chunk of vine fell to the floor. At least it looked like a chunk of vine, until it began to spark and blink, while giving off a wisp of smoke.

  Franklin Oswald stepped closer. “What ... what is it?”

  “At a guess, I would say a Romulan listening device,” answered Teska, crouching to inspect the camouflaged device. “I don’t know how they masked it from our sensors, but they are experts at cloaking. It must have malfunctioned due to the damp conditions in this chamber. A spark caught my attention.”

  [178] “Do you think ... that’s the only one?”

  The Vulcan shook her head. “If there is one, there are many.”

  Admiral Nechayev scowled angrily at the stripped, cleaned, and labeled apparatus resting on her desk. It was about the size and shape of a laboratory beake
r, but full of intricate circuits. Standing at attention in her ready room were Specialist Teska and the Sequoia’s first officer, Commander Marbinz. The Benzite’s anger matched her own, but the Vulcan gazed impassively at the Romulan device she had uncovered.

  “It’s inert, so you can speak freely,” muttered Nechayev. “Not only did the Romulans take everything that wasn’t nailed down, they left these souvenirs. We have to assume they know everything we’ve talked about, everything we’ve done since we arrived on Lomar. They know we’ve found out about them having portable Genesis emitters.”

  “There must be a subspace relay somewhere on the planet,” observed Teska. “Until we find it, any removal process will be incomplete.”

  “Don’t remove them,” suggested Marbinz. “With this network, we can feed them false information.”

  “I thought of that,” said Nechayev, “but we’re not at war with them. We haven’t got fleet movements or massive deployments to hide. The bottom line is, they have Genesis, and we don’t. We know it, and so do they. I let Genesis slip through my fingers once before, and now again.”

  “It is pointless to dwell on the past,” said Teska, picking up the Romulan apparatus. “I believe we should reverse-engineer this and leave the current network in place until we decide the correct action. All personnel can be instructed to discuss trivial matters while on duty on the planet—nothing related to the mission.”

  “They hardly ever discuss their work,” said the Benzite. “It’s too depressing.”

  “What more could they learn?” asked the admiral. “Except that we curse them everyday for the way they left this place.”

  [179] “Bridge to captain,” interrupted a voice.

  “Nechayev here,” she responded.

  “Sir, a decommissioned civilian runabout has just entered orbit,” reported the duty officer, “and they’re hailing us. They’re asking for you specifically, Captain.”

  “Did they give a name?”

  “Sehlat,” answered the officer cryptically.

  “Patch him through,” responded the admiral with a sly smile. She motioned to Teska and Marbinz to stay and listen.

  After a moment, another voice sounded over the comm system. “Is this really the admiral?”

  “Yes, it is. You found me, Sehlat.”

  “It was easy, since you’re staying put these days,” answered the stranger. “I’ve got four witnesses to events which interest you. Two are Romulans from Torga IV, and one is Ferengi. He’s a friend of mine.”

  “Who’s the fourth witness?”

  “Myself. I’ve seen it ... a live demonstration.”

  That brought a silence which seemed to last for an hour. “But you don’t have it?”

  “No. Beam us over, and we’ll talk,” he answered. “I’ll need security for the two Romulans, plus a nice warm brig. They’re not here by choice.”

  “Good work,” said Nechayev. “Send us your coordinates, and we’ll beam them directly to the brig. We’ll meet you in the transporter room. Nechayev out.”

  She turned to her first officer. “Make sure we get these two prisoners on board without a hitch. Teska and I will meet the other two witnesses in the transporter room.”

  “Yes, Sir,” answered the Benzite, frowning with concern. “When he says he’s seen ‘it,’ what does he mean?”

  “Genesis in a suitcase,” answered the admiral.

  * * *

  [180] “Bakus,” said the Romulan warmly as he stepped off the transporter platform to shake the admiral’s hand.

  “No, you can’t call me that anymore,” said Nechayev with amusement. “I’ve retired. You have to be Bakus.”

  “But I’m not convincing as an ex-Maquis leader,” protested the charming Romulan. “You have to be a tough, embittered human to play that role.”

  He gave Teska a wry smile. “You don’t qualify either, my dear.”

  Nechayev began introductions. “Regimol, this is Teska, my mission specialist. Teska, this is Regimol, a dissident scientist formerly of the Romulan Star Empire.”

  “Now a common thief,” he said with a shrug. “But I’ve been the admiral’s ‘mission specialist’ on more than one occasion.”

  Regimol turned toward the transporter platform just as another figure materialized. This was a short, barrel-chested Ferengi wearing a flight suit and a bewildered expression.

  “Don’t tell me that Bakus is a starship captain,” said the Ferengi, stepping off the platform and gazing around the transporter room.

  “Bakus is still indisposed,” said the Romulan, “but Admiral Nechayev here is the best one to deal with our two prisoners.”

  After Regimol completed the introductions, Chellac rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Let’s get a bite to eat, Admiral, and then I’ll tell you all about the Orb of Life. Although you know it by another religious name.”

  In a quiet corner of the lounge, Teska and Nechayev sat in stunned silence, listening to the Ferengi tell his story between chomping mouthfuls of food. After the second demonstration of the portable Genesis Device, Regimol took up the tale, detailing the capture of the Romulans and bringing them to the present.

  Nechayev narrowed her eyes and lifted her finger. “Go back to [181] that second demonstration. Are you saying that a replicate made on the fly worked just as well as the original?”

  Chellac nodded. “Yes, the good monk could make as many Orbs of Life as he wanted.”

  In dismay, Nechayev pushed herself away from the table. “I’ve got a lot to do. It may be pointless, Chellac, but you will go to the rendezvous to try to meet Prylar Yorka. Get some rest first, and avail yourself of our facilities. Come with me, and I’ll turn you over to passenger relations.”

  “That sounds delightful, Admiral,” replied the Ferengi. He wiped his mouth daintily with his napkin, then rose to his feet. “Listen, if you want to find them, follow the money. It was starting to roll in.”

  “We will.”

  The Ferengi turned to Teska. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Priestess.”

  “Likewise,” she answered with a nod.

  “Teska,” said Nechayev, “I think you and Regimol have something private to discuss. I’d like both of you to meet me in the brig in an hour. Regimol, you’re welcome to stay here on the Sequoia.”

  “Thank you, Admiral, but I think I’ll return to my ship. I haven’t had one in a while, and I’m enjoying it. There are nice sleeping quarters for a vessel that size.”

  “Suit yourself.” With a nod to the Ferengi, Nechayev led the way out of the lounge.

  With a raised eyebrow, the Vulcan looked expectantly at the Romulan. “By the admiral’s remarks, am I to believe that you know my husband? His name is Hasmek, and he was—”

  Regimol held up his hand. “Yes, I knew him.”

  She noted his use of past tense. “Is he dead?”

  “I didn’t see him die,” answered Regimol. “His offenses weren’t as serious as mine, but he was also listed among the ranks of dissidents for wanting to normalize ties with Vulcans.” He gazed at her. “I can see why.”

  “What happened to him?”

  [182] “I know they arrested him the same day they came for me, but I escaped.” Regimol folded his hands and looked down. “His name was on the arrest record—I saw it. I know there was a secret trial and several executions after that, but I didn’t see him killed. However, I included his name in a list I gave Nechayev of dissidents presumed dead, because it fit the facts. I’m sorry.”

  “So being married to me got him killed,” observed Teska. “I detest Romulans.”

  “You’re not supposed to detest anyone,” said Regimol.

  “I make an exception in their case. Exceptions occur in nature and physics and are logical. As humans say, they prove the rule.” Teska rose from the table, looking a bit shaky but still impassive.

  “I could try to find out for sure if he’s dead,” said Regimol. “It might take a while.”

  “It has already be
en a while,” she answered, turning and striding away.

  “Admiral, I really must protest!” declared Commander Marbinz, staring at the paddful of orders Nechayev had just handed him. “You want to abort our mission on Lomar, disregard orders, and head toward the Enterprise? Plus you want to send some of our crew off to Bajor ... with a Romulan spy? What about our work here? Per your orders, I’ve got ninety percent of the crew down on the planet!”

  “I understand that,” said the captain, glad they were having this discussion in her ready room instead of on the bridge. She found that she was retreating to this office a bit too often, but it felt more comfortable than the bridge. “We have time to recall our crew and suspend operations. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

  “But ... but!” he sputtered, “you’ve got to see that I have to report this. You’re going to get in all kinds of trouble over this action.”

  Nechayev slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder. “Go ahead, do what you want. After this, I’ll either be back in the [183] admiralty, or I’ll be retired. I really don’t care, because being ship’s captain is not my forte. No matter what happens, the Sequoia will be your ship. But while I’m captain, God help me, I’m going to be the insane kind who is going to ignore orders, throw out the book, and run off to save the universe. So get accustomed to that, okay?”

  “Okay.” The Benzite nodded crisply, a smile creeping across his blue face.

  “And Regimol would resent being called a spy,” said the admiral. “He’d prefer to be called a thief, but just say he’s one of my operatives. First, could you get me a crack team to go to Bajor with Regimol and Chellac—we need two pilots who can handle the runabout, and four of our best security officers. I want to meet with them before they go.”

  “Yes, Sir,” answered Marbinz.

  “By the way,” said Nechayev, “I haven’t been comfortable with my people working in a place that’s bugged. It’s depressing enough down there already, and now we have to watch what we say? But we do need to use Romulan Radio to feed them some misinformation. We could tell them that we have the missing device, or ... maybe I’ll know after I talk to the prisoners.”