Constellations

by Marco Palmieri

  Instantly, Sulu flashed back to what happened and realized it could have been him that was being autopsied. Finally, realizing McCoy wasn’t leaving his side, Sulu gingerly propped himself up on his elbows, despite the discomfort of doing so.

  “Worse? This was my first landing party, my first time in charge, and what happens? I lose a crewman! How much worse could it get?”

  “Son, I’ve lost patients on the table and in the field,” McCoy said quietly. “It’s part of the mission out here. Just when you think everything is safe and sound, something happens to pull the rug out from under you.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Sulu said uncertainly. “But what sort of commander will I make if I can’t even survey a dead planet,” he continued, trying to keep a whine from his voice. He felt the strain of the past day catching up to him and wanted to keep in control of his feelings. Idly, he wondered how Spock managed.

  “Commanders aren’t decided based on one experience, you know,” McCoy said, adjusting a readout on the display. Dissatisfied with the number, he reached out and pulled at Sulu’s lower left eyelid, peering in closely at the eye. “You know, there’s more to being a commander than leading landing parties or steering starships. You want to know when we’ll know if you’re a good commander?” More satisfied, he stepped back.

  “Yeah,” Sulu replied.

  “When someone adds a braid to your sleeve, gives you a handshake, and sends you into the unknown, backed by a few hundred of your fellow officers all stuck in the same tin can.”

  “Like that’ll happen,” Sulu muttered and turned his head away from the doctor. McCoy knew enough to walk away without prolonging the conversation. The young man lay on the bed, uncomfortable and alone with his thoughts. He reviewed his conversation with Kirk once more, heard the enthusiasm in his own voice as he described how he desired new challenges, the kind he’d never find in the lab. Still, no one ever died reading sensor scans, running equations, or looking through a telescope.

  Sulu lost track of time and had no idea how long McCoy had left him alone. Even Chapel and the rest of the staff gave him some distance. He craved another voice, maybe a friendly nonjudgmental one. A short while later, he heard the sickbay doors whoosh open, followed by the sound of boot heels.

  “You awake, Sulu?”

  His eyes snapped open, and involuntarily, he broke into a smile. Turning his head, he saw Janice Rand, the newly appointed captain’s yeoman. The handsome blond woman had her hair done in the complicated style she had recently adopted. When she had received her new posting, all Rand would do was fuss over how to make herself more presentable, worthy of being a captain’s personal assistant. Sulu recalled how merciless he was toward her as she fretted over hairstyles and even debated how much makeup was tolerable. She had worked herself up into knots trying to earn the captain’s confidence and nearly was late for her very first shift.

  And then, when he found himself upgraded right after her, it was Rand who was suddenly counseling Sulu on the habits of the alpha shift bridge staff. An already good friendship deepened as a result, and whenever possible, Rand and Sulu would commiserate on goings-on throughout the ship.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Like hell,” he admitted.

  “You going to live?”

  “So the doc tells me.”

  “Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”

  Sulu was silent, then finally said, “I suppose.”

  “I heard about what happened,” she said softly, her expression sad. “I’m so sorry, Hikaru.”

  He just stared ahead, not meeting her eyes.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  He continued to stare ahead and refused to reply. She patiently waited him out, and Sulu finally realized she wasn’t leaving. More than that, he needed to talk about it, relive it with someone so he could prepare for the inquest. He knew there’d be a hearing as soon as McCoy cleared him for duty. After asking for some water, he told her what happened.

  The landing party materialized on the planet’s surface and immediately began a more intensive local scan. The tricorders registered nothing unusual, and the atmospheric conditions matched their expectations. Sulu glanced at the grayish sky, filled with thick clouds, and was thankful the air was warm.

  He studied the exterior of the structure they had selected as the target site. The building had a single, very large entranceway. The color scheme was monochromatic browns and beiges, with not much in the way of signage or decoration but plenty of vines creeping up the sides. In fact, he concluded, it looked fairly utilitarian. Taking point, he started for the doorway but paused to watch as Manprasad approached the exterior and ran a slender hand across the surface. Opening a compartment of the tricorder, she took some scrapings and stored them in one of the sample discs. She actually sniffed the wall, and Sulu was afraid she was going to taste it next, but realized she was just doing her job, using all her tactile senses.

  “No energy signatures at all,” Sulu confirmed for the others. “What do you make of this?”

  “I estimate it is at least five centuries old,” Manprasad said. “It’s all metallic, with paint, or what’s left of the paint. Can’t say yet when it was abandoned.”

  “That’s fine, we have all day,” Sulu said cheerfully. “Set your tricorders for passive scans so we don’t miss a thing.” He actually liked being on the surface, with a different feel to the ground beneath his boots, and a mystery to explore. As first-time landing parties go, this one was very promising. “Lindstrom, ready to go inside?”

  Christopher Lindstrom, with his short blond hair and broad face, nodded once, also obviously pleased to be part of the team. Manprasad was already in motion without replying, her enthusiasm matching Sulu’s own.

  “I appreciate being a part of this,” Manprasad added as they walked toward the entrance. “When I heard we were orbiting, I was certain D’Amato would go as section chief.”

  “Yeah, lucky they decided to send the junior guy so no one more senior should go to intimidate me,” Sulu said happily. “Besides, he’s done this a dozen times. How often have you done this?”

  “This makes three,” she replied. “After all, I’m pretty junior, too.”

  “You two are making me feel old,” Lindstrom quipped. “I’ve done eight planetary surveys since Kirk took command.”

  “Enjoy the fieldwork?” Manprasad asked.

  “You bet,” he said. “Seeing a society up close is the only way to do it right. And the more I see for myself, the better my analysis gets.”

  “Any guesses?” Sulu asked.

  “You’re getting way ahead of yourself. Ask me that again in the morning. Let’s get inside.”

  Sulu nodded in agreement. As they reached the threshold, he paused for a moment, using his own senses to make certain there were no signs, no visible booby traps, things too low-tech for the tricorders or ship sensors to detect. They had noted that the entranceway had no doors, just an open aperture to admit them. Dirt trailed inside, and weeds of varying sizes and shades of green and gray were growing haphazardly within. Seeing nothing more threatening than a vine, he took a big step through the entrance and walked inside the structure.

  The others followed, pausing behind him and forming a triangular pattern as they made certain nothing had been triggered. All they heard was a breeze behind them, outside. With a gesture, Sulu indicated their equipment and personal belongings be left near the entrance. All three dropped their backpacks and stepped forward. Slowly and deliberately, he let his eyes pan the room.

  The setting seemed familiar enough to draw a few preliminary conclusions: It was a control room of some sort. A high ring of elaborate consoles and viewscreens dominated the chamber’s central space, the surfaces dull and thick with dust, loose dirt, dead leaves, and other detritus that had undoubtedly been blown in from outside over the course of centuries. It was clear that the place had been abandoned for some time. Tricorder scans revealed a series of smaller rooms
beyond this chamber, accessible by corridors at left and right.

  Lindstrom scanned the room. “I have one guess already,” he told Sulu.

  “What’s that?”

  “They were larger than us. Over two meters, easy. Look at the scale.” Lindstrom gestured at the large chair in front of the controls.

  “Good point.” Sulu took another step and heard Manprasad’s tricorder at work to his left. In front of him was a main panel. He’d have to climb up the oversized chair to get a better look at it.

  “Sulu!”

  “What is it, Manprasad?”

  “Some sort of energy buildup!”

  All three looked at their tricorders, which stopped passive scanning when given a different command, and sure enough, there was a gradual increase of energy, the exact nature of which the device was unable to determine. With a twist of the controls, Sulu tried to figure out where the energy was coming from, but it was elusive, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  “Everybody out!”

  As Lindstrom got to the door, though, he rebounded as a bright orange electric field crackled to life.

  “What the hell is that?” Sulu demanded.

  “Security barrier,” Lindstrom said, a touch of anger in his voice. “That’s fairly obvious. I wonder how we missed that.”

  “Wish we’d brought an engineer with us,” Sulu said, his eyes returning to his tricorder.

  “What, and spoil this unique opportunity for a bunch of junior officers?”

  “Shut it,” Sulu snapped. He reached behind his back and pulled his communicator off the utility belt he wore under his duty shirt. As it flipped open, all he heard was static. The energy buildup clearly was interfering with the communicator’s signal, and with each passing moment, the starship was that much farther away. They were on their own.

  Decisively, he stepped toward the main console, straining on tiptoe to get a look at the dust-covered controls. Nothing looked intuitive so he gambled, stabbing at one large, circular blue button. He felt it depress, but nothing occurred. Trying each button and control seemed like a waste of time since the panel’s lights were out, its small screens dark. Okay, he thought, time for something else.

  “Manprasad, check those smaller rooms off to the rear, see if there’s any working technology there. Lindstrom, go left, I’ll go right. Let’s see if we can find some way to turn this off.” He heard confirming ayes and was satisfied that they were respecting his position as leader. Now he had to make sure they still felt that way once they were safely away from the building.

  The first thing Sulu did was take more detailed readings of the force field. While the energy disrupted his communicator, it didn’t prevent the tricorder from performing as expected. That told him something, but he wasn’t sure what yet. According to his scans, the energy was charged plasma at a very high temperature. He didn’t dare touch it for fear of severe burns.

  From deep in the building, he heard Manprasad call out, “Hey, this room just woke up!”

  “Anything beyond lights?” Sulu called back.

  “Nothing. I’m looking around,” she replied.

  “Be careful,” he added.

  “No kidding, Sulu, I have it covered,” Manprasad said. Sulu turned his attention to Lindstrom, who was on the far side of the large central room. Looking up, Sulu saw what fascinated the sociologist: some alien writing on the upper portion of the wall.

  “Anything interesting?” the helmsman asked.

  “I really like the way the loops intertwine, but only in certain places. That may be a clue to how the language is constructed.”

  “Let me guess, you need more time before you can hazard a guess as to what it’s saying?”

  “Something set this far back and this high, even for being this size, it’s probably something standard, not a warning, if that’s what you want to hear,” Lindstrom said.

  “I’ll take anything to reassure us—” Sulu’s words were cut off as Manprasad’s shriek pierced the air. In one fluid motion, he swung his tricorder behind him. His left hand was already grasping his phaser as he hurried toward the smaller room.

  Sulu skidded to a stop when he saw the same energy fill the doorway, felt the rising heat that barred him from reaching the geologist. He could, however, see seven metallic arms snake out of secret places in the wall, ceiling, and floor. They reflected the orange light as they writhed, curling around her wrists and ankles. Manprasad stopped screaming, but he could hear her heavy breathing as she struggled against the tightening tendrils. At the end of each one were five pincer-like devices that she was trying to pry loose, but with each passing second, she was losing the struggle.

  “Lindstrom! Where are you?”

  Sulu heard a gurgle and the scratch of boot heels skidding in the dirt covering the slick floor. He took a few steps for a better view and saw that Lindstrom was doing his level best to avoid getting himself ensnared by another set of these obvious security devices. Without the energy field as a factor, Sulu took a calculated risk, leveled his phaser, checked the setting, and fired a quick burst. The crimson beam lashed across the room and struck the nearest tendril’s base, causing some sparks but mainly being deflected in another direction. He placed the pistol back on his belt and reached around for his tricorder, desperately needing to know what they were dealing with.

  “Manprasad! Are you okay?”

  “I wouldn’t call it okay,” she shouted back. “I can’t move! I’m totally immobilized.”

  “We’ll get you free,” he said to reassure her, even though he didn’t actually believe his words. Some commander he was, lying to his team. “Lindstrom, where are you?”

  “Back near the exit,” the sociologist called.

  “Reach into our gear and set the emergency beacon. We need help!” Sulu disliked the volume and tone of his voice, and vowed to modulate it lower next time in order to sound the part of the commander even if he didn’t feel it.

  Sulu quickly swiveled his head around from one side to the other, searching for more of the tendrils. The ones that had tried for Lindstrom had retracted back into their wall pockets, sealed behind what had looked like wall decorations.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of panels opening, and sure enough, a set of coordinated tendrils reached for him from the floor, tearing through what appeared to be a small bush. Sulu ran forward, cracking an elbow against a console. Still free, he leapt away from the security system, closer to the sociologist. As he got farther away, the tendrils stopped at their limit, paused, and then began to retract.

  Sulu watched briefly as Lindstrom reached their gear and started assembling the tripod to hold the beacon. Satisfied that he was in good shape, Sulu returned his attention to Manprasad. Carefully, he approached her room, now more like a prison cell. She was suspended several feet off the ground, spread-eagle. She gave a shake to once more test the strength of the metal confines. They didn’t even quiver.

  “They hurt?”

  “Damn uncomfortable,” she said, and gave him a small, reassuring smile. He should be the one reassuring her.

  “There were more out here, but we seemed to avoid them.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Any clue what these smaller rooms are?”

  She gave him a look indicating she thought he was mad, asking about something so mundane. “I only stepped into this one, but I’d say it’s a monitoring post for a specific set of systems. Other than lights, nothing else went live.”

  “Got it. Once we figure out more about this place, we’ll likely find a way to free you.”

  “Well, I’ll be right here.”

  He chuckled at that and then turned his attention to a sound over his head. A series of panels were retracting inside the ceiling, and several platforms, each stuffed with technological items, descended into the main chamber.

  “Lindstrom, watch out!” he shouted as several of the devices swiveled, clearly homing in on the life-signs. One stopped moving, a dull orange light a
ppearing at its tip. A moment later, it fired a beam of coherent light at the sociologist. He ducked and then twisted his body, avoiding a second blast.

  Sulu tried to ignore Lindstrom’s gymnastics, being otherwise occupied by the platform nearest his position. Sure enough, two cylindrical elements had locked on to him, cool blue light growing in intensity along the length of each one. He looked for safe cover and threw his body forward, tucking into a somersault and scrambling beneath the main console. As he moved, twin beams of light crisscrossed once, twice, and sizzled as they struck the floor where’d he’d just been standing, scoring it.

  The scientist in him wanted to understand the principles behind the light, but the man shoved those thoughts to the rear and concentrated on survival. With his phaser once more in hand, he took aim at the platform’s base and fired a more concentrated burst. His energy beam reached the ceiling and seemed to be having some effect on the base.

  “Lindstrom! You okay?”

  There was no reply, and Sulu worried that his crewmate was unconscious or worse. A moment later, he heard the scream and his breath caught in his throat.

  On the bridge, Spock removed his earpiece as the tricorder playback reached the point of Lindstrom’s cry. He cross-referenced the three tricorder downloads, but there were no visuals for what had occurred to Lindstrom. He mused that the lack of that particular datum may have been for the best.

  Kirk was completing a report regarding the landing party, reluctantly preparing notes for the inquest that needed to follow. The door buzzer sounded. Kirk looked up and invited his visitor inside.

  McCoy ambled into the captain’s cabin carrying a tray containing two glasses and a delicately curved dark green bottle. Kirk smirked despite himself. “Are those the sort of prescriptions I can expect from you?”

  “If you’re lucky,” McCoy answered. As he filled each thick, squat glass about one third of the way with an amber liquor, the doctor said, “They’re both going to be fine, Jim.”