Seekers

by Dayton Ward

  “One hit did all that?” Khatami asked. Leaning against the side of her chair, she wiped a lock of hair from where it had fallen across her eyes. “Where are we?”

  Having returned to his seat at the helm, Neelakanta reported, “I took us out of orbit. I’m just guessing about a safe distance, Captain. As for our precise location?” He pointed to the astrogator. “Plotting and navigation are down, too.”

  Grunting in obvious irritation, Khatami activated her chair’s intercom. “Bridge to engineering!”

  “Dang here, Captain.” There was noticeable static on the open channel. “We’re still assessing the extent of the damage down here.”

  “Give me a general overview. How bad?”

  “Scale of one to ten? Range of the problems feels like a nine. Intensity, maybe a three.”

  “Meaning?”

  “We can restore priority systems pretty quickly, but the problems are everywhere. Mostly overloads that’ll have to be reset or rerouted, but there will be some systems requiring more extensive repairs. I should have a better idea within ten minutes, Captain, but the short version is that we got flash-fried, stem to stern.”

  “That’s my fault, Captain,” Klisiewicz said, feeling a cold knot of guilt forming in his stomach. “I didn’t anticipate that our scans would be interpreted as hostile.”

  Khatami replied, “None of us did, Lieutenant. Let’s not waste time on blame or feeling sorry for ourselves. We’ve got people on the ground who don’t know they’re cut off from us. What are our options?”

  Neelakanta replied, “We’ve still got propulsion, Captain. I can maintain a geosynchronous position with the planet even from out here.”

  “That could help in the event our communications don’t get restored to full capacity right away,” Khatami said. “Anyone else?”

  “We could launch an unmanned survey probe and maybe use it as a communications relay between us and the surface?” Estrada suggested.

  Khatami nodded. “Now we’re talking. Get on that.”

  It took the communications officer a few minutes to coordinate his efforts with support personnel belowdecks, during which Klisiewicz and other bridge crew members assisted one another in determining the scope of damage to the different workstations. Klisiewicz had quit counting the number of circuit overloads he came across when Estrada announced that he was ready to proceed with his plan.

  “Launching probe,” reported Lieutenant McCormack from the navigator’s station.

  “Mister Estrada,” Khatami said, “hail the landing parties and Captain Terrell the moment this thing’s operational.”

  No one said anything else as, on the viewscreen, the bridge crew was treated to the image of a small cylindrical object arcing away from the Endeavour and toward the planet, all of which was now displayed thanks to the starship’s wider orbit.

  A moment later, the probe disappeared in a blinding white flash that obscured Arethusa from view for several seconds, by which time a new round of alarms was triggered. Khatami quickly ordered them silenced.

  “The probe’s destroyed, Captain. Another beam from the surface.”

  “Captain,” Neelakanta said, “if that weapon can bull’s-eye the probe from where it was positioned, we’re in range, too.”

  Khatami gestured toward the screen. “Back us off.” She turned to Klisiewicz. “Apparently, the Preservers are pretty protective of their artifacts.”

  “Looks that way,” Klisiewicz said, recalling his comparative analysis of the structure beneath Arethusa’s surface with the smaller one found by the Enterprise. “Based on what I found from scans of the obelisk, we may not be safe anywhere in the solar system.”

  “Find me a way back in there, Lieutenant,” Khatami said. “Until you do, our people are on their own. Mister Estrada, notify engineering that communications, shields, transporters, and weapons are top priority, in that order. Everything else can take a number. Tell Lieutenant Dang to pull people from wherever he can find them. Until further notice, we’re all engineers.”

  16

  Stepping down from the shuttlecraft Masao’s open crew hatch, Katherine Stano got her first real look at the U.S.S. Sagittarius. It had been several months since she had last seen the vessel in person, in the days following the intense battle that had resulted in the destruction of Starbase 47. After the conclusion of that conflict, the compact scout ship, along with the Endeavour and the U.S.S. Enterprise, had made its way to another Starfleet facility, Starbase 12, for initial damage assessments and critical repairs, before the Sagittarius had returned to the Sol system for a more extensive refit at Earth Spacedock.

  From the looks of things, the Sagittarius might well be making another such journey in the very near future.

  “Wow,” she said, moving away from the Masao and walking toward the larger vessel, which was abuzz with activity as members of its crew along with engineering and other support personnel from the Endeavour moved over and about it, all of them focused on some repair task. The Sagittarius’s normally smooth hull was marred by all manner of dents and scratches, each of which bore mute testimony to the ship’s rough landing. Numerous plates and access panels had been opened or set aside, exposing cavities and compartments beneath the outer hull and within which people were working.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Theriault said, coming up behind Stano. Pausing, the first officer placed her hands on her hips and regarded her ship. “Well, let me rethink that.”

  “Take your time,” Stano said. “Meanwhile, what can we do to help?” With the Endeavour forced to retreat from its orbit above Arethusa following the latest attack from the Preserver pyramid, she and the other members of the landing party who were not engineers suddenly found themselves on the verge of being in the way of the ongoing repair efforts. “If we can’t fix anything, maybe we can help with fortifying this place.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Captain Clark Terrell as he moved from where he was standing near the Sagittarius’s open main airlock hatch and extended his hand toward Stano in greeting. “Welcome to the party, Commander.”

  “Glad to be here, sir,” Stano said. Then she added, “Not really.”

  The comment was enough to make Terrell chuckle. “You’ll fit right in.” His smile fading, he said, “I’m sorry to hear about your people. I hope there’s something we can do to help them.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Stano sighed. “I wish we had Lieutenant Klisiewicz with us but I imagine he’s got his hands full up on the Endeavour.” The fragmented reports received from Captain Khatami in the wake of the attack from the Preserver weapon painted a discouraging picture as far as the starship’s current operational status was concerned. There was no estimate on when the Endeavour might be in a condition to return to the planet, and there remained the Preserver artifact and whatever threats—known and as yet unrevealed—it might harbor. “I understand your Lieutenant Hesh is no slouch in the science officer department, either.”

  Terrell said, “He’s on the ship, trying to retune the sensors so we can get a better handle at scanning beneath the planet’s surface. Since it looks like Nimur’s figured out that’s something of a blind spot for us, she’s taken to hiding underground on Suba.” He paused, looking around the crash site and the surrounding jungle. “As for this little island we’re calling home, we haven’t found any nearby caves or other entrances to subterranean passages, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one we missed. Even though they’ll have to swim or fly to get over here, I don’t like the idea of Nimur and her friends popping up from a hole somewhere.”

  “We lost track of her and at least one other Changed on Suba after the Preserver weapon showed up,” Stano said. “I figure she’s regrouping, using the caverns for cover and maybe trying to turn other Tomol and increase her numbers.” Kerlo had described that Nimur, his mate, somehow possessed the ability to initiate and even accel
erate the transformation of her people, though Stano suspected this power extended only to those Tomol who were nearing the point in their maturation cycle that the Change would soon happen, anyway.

  Let’s hope that’s the case, she mused, considering the hundreds of Tomol who at this moment were reeling from the massive disruption to their society. If she can change them all, then we are royally screwed.

  “I’ll check in with Commander Sorak,” Theriault said, referring to the Sagittarius’s second officer, “see how he’s doing with prepping our defenses.”

  Nodding, Terrell gestured toward the ship’s stern. “He and Dastin were deploying motion sensors a couple of hundred meters inside the tree line. At last report, they were almost done. If all goes to Sorak’s plan, we’ll have a complete perimeter within the hour.”

  “And exactly when does anything not go the way Sorak plans?” Theriault asked.

  Stano smiled. “I’ll send Lerax your way. He can add our people to yours.” She looked around the area where the Sagittarius had made its less than elegant landing. “The more eyes and warm bodies we have on the line, the better off we’ll be.”

  “Amen to that,” Terrell said. “Master Chief Ilucci’s trying to see if he can coax a little more magic out of our deflector shield generators and maybe buy us some extra protection if we’re still stuck here on the ground. Without the Endeavour to provide support, this could end up being one very nasty place to be, if and when Nimur and her people decide to pay us a visit.” It was not far from anyone’s mind that the Sagittarius, even in its compromised state, still represented a valuable prize to Nimur and the other Changed in their quest to find a way off Arethusa.

  As Theriault moved off in search of Sorak, Stano sighed. “I have to be honest, Captain. I’m wondering if anything we do to get ready is worth it. Based on what I saw, that thing the Preservers sent after the Changed, we’re pretty much just in the way down here.”

  Terrell shrugged. “From what you said, that drone or whatever the hell it was took its sweet time getting to the scene. If we get attacked, we may have to hold our own until it or another like it gets here, and that’s if one shows up at all. We’re talking about an ancient technology that’s been buried underground for thousands of years, with no one to look after it or take care of it. There’s no way in hell I’m relying on something like that to save my ass.”

  “Can’t argue with that, sir.”

  Heavy footfalls echoed from the corridor leading away from the Sagittarius’s airlock, and Stano looked up to see a tall, thin Arkenite male emerging through the open hatch, dressed like his crewmates in an olive drab Starfleet jumpsuit that looked to be in severe need of laundering. His bronze skin contrasted with his clothing, and his height was enough that he had to duck in order to avoid hitting his oversized, hairless head on the hatch’s frame. Stano recognized him as Lieutenant Sengar Hesh, Captain Terrell’s science officer. He was moving at a rapid pace, giving Stano the impression that he had something on his mind and was ready to talk about it to the first person he could find.

  I’m doubting that’s a good thing, considering our current situation.

  “Captain,” Hesh said as he drew closer, indicating Terrell with a nod before turning to Stano. “Commander. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His eyes, bright green orbs possessing no pupils, were wide as he regarded her with an air of inquisitiveness.

  Stano nodded. “Same here.”

  “Forgive me, Commander, but I have only just been informed as to the details of your encounter with the evolved Tomol. After a cursory review of the tricorder readings you and your landing party collected, I realize that you have shed new light on something that was recorded by our own ship’s scans during our initial reconnoiter of the planet.” To Terrell, he said, “Captain, I think this is something you both need to see.”

  * * *

  Trees, some towering into the air from the floor of the wide, shallow valley, provided a canopy that all but blocked out the rays and warmth of the Nereus star. To Stano, the scene above her almost resembled the curved ceiling of an underground cavern, with holes punched through the rock and allowing the merest pinpoints of sunlight to peek through the gaps. Looking skyward, Stano saw the trees’ thick branches and their lush foliage, none of it moving the slightest millimeter in response to the gentle breeze she felt on her exposed skin. The petrified crust encasing everything flowed down the trunks of the trees and to the ground, forming what looked to be one single piece of artfully carved stone. Conspicuous by its absence was any hint of animal or insect life. There was not the single sound of something moving among the trees or above their heads in the arcing branches. No insects sang or chirped. This place was completely inert.

  Standing at the center of it all, covered in the same stone cocoon as everything else for dozens of meters in every direction, were six humanoids—Tomol.

  “I don’t know that I can ever get used to looking at anything—or anyone—subjected to this,” Stano said, swallowing a nervous lump that had formed in her throat. Seeing the trapped Tomol reminded her of the three members of her landing party she had been forced to leave behind at the bird-of-prey crash site on Suba.

  You’re not leaving them, she rebuked herself. We’re going to find a way to free them.

  “When did you find these?” asked Captain Terrell, who had accompanied her and Lieutenant Hesh aboard the shuttlecraft Masao after leaving Commander Theriault to oversee the ongoing Sagittarius repair efforts and promising his first officer that they would not be gone long.

  Stepping closer to one of the petrified Tomol, Hesh said, “I only became aware of this area while reviewing the scan data we collected during our initial survey of the planet. Since the rock shields life signs unless our sensors are tuned to account for its natural scattering properties, this region was not flagged for further study before our landing party was dispatched to investigate the Tomol. When I gave the data further scrutiny and discovered the presence of these life-forms, the connection to what you encountered became obvious.”

  “Now I have to wonder if there aren’t more spots like this,” Terrell said. “On Suba or any of the other outlying islands.”

  “I have not yet had the opportunity to conduct scans to make such a determination, Captain,” replied the science officer. “Once we get past our current crisis, I hope to do just that. Of course, there is also the matter of determining whether this process can be reversed.”

  “Right,” Stano said, thinking once more of Ensign Sotol and the others standing immobile and insensate to the world around them. How long would they remain there?

  Until we figure out how to help them.

  Moving in a circle as he examined one of the statues, Terrell asked, “What do your scans show about these Tomol? Had they undergone the Change?”

  “It appears at least three of them had begun the transformation, sir.” Hesh held up his tricorder and studied its miniaturized display screen. “According to my readings, they are suspended in the same manner as the other Changed and Commander Stano’s people. Their life functions have been arrested such that they have not aged, and neither are they aware of the passage of time.”

  Stano asked, “It doesn’t look that much different from what we observed at the crash site.” She looked around the valley, noting that the surrounding vegetation had not encroached upon the stone covering the ground all around them. “How long have they been here?”

  “My scans indicate that these Tomol were imprisoned more than three thousand years ago.” Lowering his tricorder, the Arkenite shook his head. “It is, in a word, amazing.”

  “Three thousand years?” Terrell blew out his breath. “That’s not amazing. It’s damned incredible.” He reached out to touch the arm of the Tomol he was studying. “All this time, and they’re still alive. How does a technology like this work without someone to look after it? How much longer will
it keep working before somebody has to come and fix it?”

  Stano knelt and ran her hand over the rock plate covering the ground, marveling at the silhouettes of grass, leaves, and other vegetation and terrain features that had been trapped within the neutralizing effect. If Hesh was right, and the stone had been cast all those centuries ago, then the life trapped within its confines dated back to Earth’s late Iron Age, the time of Plato and Confucius. And what of the Tomol? What was their society like in the distant past? Indications were that this planet and the people living on it was a classic example of an arrested culture, trapped in limbo by design and for reasons known to none but the mysterious benefactors who had brought the Tomol to this world.

  “Makes you wonder if the Preservers are really dead, doesn’t it?” she asked.

  “No kidding.” Terrell smiled again. “It’s those sorts of questions that made me join Starfleet in the first place.”

  “I, too, was so motivated,” Hesh said.

  “Why not kill them?” asked Stano after a moment. Continuing to inspect the unmoving figures, she crossed her arms. “I mean, if we’re to believe what the Tomol have told us, the Preservers went to an awful lot of trouble to set up this society. They instituted the rituals that see to it that the Tomol sacrifice themselves before they undergo the Change, and they provided weapons and other tools for the Wardens to enforce the laws or beliefs or whatever you want to call them.” She gestured to the statue. “And then there’s this. If Hesh’s scans are right, these Tomol have been standing here, suspended, for three millennia. Why? Wouldn’t it be easier to just eliminate a perceived threat, particularly if it represents the kind of power we’ve seen demonstrated by Nimur and her followers?”