STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book Two

by John Vornholt

  “You’re doing my job for me,” said the ship’s counselor, “because I can’t go anywhere near that thing without becoming physically ill. It’s like a beacon that is always left on—putting out signals, trying to pick up signals. From what you’ve told us of your visions, you have invented a kind of symbolic language to speak to this creature. The tree isn’t really your symbol—it’s the moss creature’s symbol of yearning. It’s outgrowing its enclosure, and it wants a tree in which to roost. This is all it knows ... for now.”

  “I know where you’re going with this,” said La Forge somberly. “You want me to give false information to this creature, instead of the other way around.”

  “That’s right,” said Picard. “For two days, we’ve scanned this asteroid field with sensors, and we could spend a lifetime doing that without success. We need to draw the enemy out ... make them think it’s safe to emerge from hiding. They’re here somewhere—all our models show that the Genesis Wave originated in the Boneyard. But where?”

  “The tree,” said Geordi with realization. “You want me to tell this creature that the tree it searches for is here. And you think it will mentally contact other creatures nearby?”

  “We’re ready to try it,” said Picard. “The evidence from Myrmidon is that they communicate with each other telepathically. They’ve lied to us with impunity, and now it’s time to even the odds. But this is a controlled situation where we’ve minimized the danger to you as much as possible.”

  La Forge nodded solemnly, not relishing the idea of having to perform counterintelligence, but this ruthless enemy didn’t leave them much choice. He was the logical one—if he could just remember that he was blind.

  “Are you ready?” asked Deanna Troi. “Do you want some rest first?”

  “No,” said Geordi, rising slowly to his feet. “Let’s go.”

  “Good luck,” said Deanna, squeezing his arm. “I can’t get any closer than this, but Dr. Crusher will be monitoring you by tricorder.”

  “Should I go into the room ... with this thing?” asked Geordi.

  “That’s up to you,” answered the captain. “The force fields will remain on, so it can’t have physical contact with you. We’ll be watching all the time. Remember, we want it to think it’s safe here—that help is at hand.”

  In the captain’s firm grip, Geordi allowed himself to be led from the room and down a long corridor. Before they even reached the laboratory, he felt the yearning and longing swell upward from unseen depths, striking him like a wave. Truly, it was the longing he felt so often—an emptiness that could be met by only one thing. For him, it was Leah Brahms; for the creature, it was an idealized tree. Not just any tree, Geordi knew, but a home where every need would be met.

  He hardly felt the captain’s hands on his arm or the voices talking to him, because his perfect sight had returned. In the golden meadow stood the majestic tree, and he knew instantly that he had to seize control of the exchange at this instant, before his opposite could dictate terms.

  Instead of passively seeing, Geordi began to imagine. He imagined a tree even more wonderful than the creature’s idealized tree, adding his own special impressions of a healthy infrared aura, coolly pulsing veins, and a vibrant electromagnetic glow. He had no trouble visualizing his favorite fruits—ripe and dripping with juice—along with plump leaves and vegetables. He also envisioned the hordes of moss creatures he had seen on Myrmidon, shuffling forward, claiming the entire planet as their own.

  La Forge imagined an entire propaganda log for the benefit of their prisoner, extolling the wonderful day when hordes of moss creatures would cover the heavenly tree ... all living in bliss.

  With tears streaming down his eyes, Geordi pressed his face against the door, feeling the abject longing swell within him, then slowly dissipate. He knew instinctively that his message was getting through, and he joined the unseen creature in its unbridled joy at the idyllic outcome. The human had no trouble imagining a wonderful ending to their long, long search—he just had trouble making it happen for himself.

  La Forge shook off this lapse of negativity, while he imagined the Enterprise giving up and departing. He played that scene over and over again—that they were safe, and all the enemies and bad times were gone. He imagined seeing the Enterprise zip into warp drive with such clarity that he knew it was his opposite regurgitating the visions he had fed it. They weren’t so different, he and the creature, which didn’t see in conventional fashion either. The parasite only saw through the eyes of others, which Geordi found tragic in a way. When it controlled others, it saw itself through a warped mirror.

  Growing weak, the human slumped against the door and fell to the deck. Once again, he tried to concentrate on the beautiful tree, combining his unique vision with the brilliant clarity of the plant’s view, creating the mightiest tree that had ever grown in rich soil and perfect climate.

  Then his correspondent doubled the intensity, and the massive tree glowed with unearthly light. It put out wave after wave of warmth and nourishment, which washed over him like a cleansing rain. Geordi groaned with a mixture of ecstasy and fear. He could see himself turning into one of the moss creatures, with sprigs and vines spouting from his empty eye sockets.

  Abruptly all vision and sensation ended, and Geordi felt himself being carried off on a gurney. Darkness reclaimed his world, and he struggled to return to the light. A hypospray softly kissed his neck, and his anxieties melted away.

  “You’re fine,” said Dr. Crusher, whispering in his ear. “But you were getting agitated, so we ended it. I’m not sure what happened to you, but your brain waves were very active.”

  “I lied to it,” he said hoarsely. “But I think it told me the truth.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Captain Picard, his voice coming from the other side of the gurney.

  “I think,” said Geordi hesitantly, “that they’re going to release the Genesis Wave again.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because they showed it to me,” La Forge said with wonder and dread. “It’s the only thing that can save them.”

  “Are you sure about this?” asked Picard.

  La Forge shook his head helplessly. “You’re asking me to describe an illusion inside a dream,” he answered. “I believe I did as you ordered, sir.”

  In the silence that followed, Dr. Crusher remarked, “I think we can fit you with a new pair of implants, after you’ve rested.”

  “That’s a relief,” said the engineer, although he knew he would miss those vivid images of Leah Brahms waving to him from the golden meadow.

  He heard the beep of a combadge, followed by the efficient voice of Data. “Bridge to Captain Picard.”

  “Picard here,” came the response.

  The android went on, “An asteroid on the inner part of the Boneyard has just changed positions and is emitting unusual energy readings.”

  “I’m on my way. Picard out.” Geordi felt a squeeze on his shoulder. “Well done, Commander.”

  “I hope we’re in time,” answered La Forge worriedly.

  Glancing at his instrument panel, Maltz suddenly bolted upright and lifted his unruly gray eyebrows, deepening his rugged head ridges. The asteroid he had been tracking had suddenly moved ... when none of the asteroids around it were moving. It also gave off readings like a starship powering up weapons. The old Klingon watched with growing alarm as the huge oblong rock rose above the other asteroids in the Boneyard, giving it a clear line of sight in almost every direction.

  “Come on, you Starfleet scow ... move!” He pounded the board, taking the Defiant-class Unity from warp five to maximum warp, overriding the safeties. Even so, he knew it would take about a minute to reach the suspicious asteroid, and he began targeting photon torpedoes.

  Without warning, the Unity was slammed by powerful beamed weapons, and the craft shuddered but stayed at warp speed. “What pathetic shields!” bellowed Maltz upon seeing that his defenses were already down thi
rty percent. Checking sensors, he verified that the barrage had come from the mysterious asteroid, which was humming with power.

  The Unity couldn’t take much of that kind of pounding, thought the Klingon, unless he took evasive maneuvers. “Blast evasive manuevers!” he roared. “Full speed ahead!”

  Maltz diverted all power to shields and set course for the center of the asteroid. He knew that enemy fire would cripple the shields and bring the ship out of warp before he got there—he just hoped he would get close enough. The Klingon gathered up his weapons and gear, sticking as many disruptors, phasers, and tricorders as he could carry in his sash and belt. Then he dashed to the transporter room just off the bridge. As the Unity hurtled toward its doom, Maltz punched coordinates into the transporter console—coordinates deep inside the fake asteroid.

  As the ship was again rocked by enemy fire, the Klingon yelled, “Hold together, you sand bucket!”

  Quickly he entered a five-second delay into the transporter settings, knowing he was either going to be beamed off or blown to smithereens in that length of time. Another barrage slammed into the Unity—the lights dimmed, and sparks burst from burning consoles all over the ship. The computer issued a verbal warning, but Maltz knew without being told that the shields and warp drive were gone. He could only hope there was enough left of the impulse engines to get him in range.

  As smoke and flames engulfed the dying ship, the old Klingon leaped onto the transporter platform and vanished in a brilliant flash.

  A second later, the Unity disintegrated in a hail of silvery shards, which rained harmlessly against the craters and pits of the massive brown asteroid.

  twenty-four

  Maltz’s eyes were scrunched tightly shut in anticipation of materializing inside a bulkhead or a vacuum. When he took a gasp of air and pried his eyes open, he found himself standing in the middle of a curved corridor—and he was still alive! The old warrior let out a groan of relief and slumped against the wall, but he allowed himself only a moment of self-congratulation.

  Clomping footsteps alerted him, and the Klingon whirled around with a disruptor in each hand. Sirens sounded, and a strobing red light bathed the corridor, forcing him to concentrate on his aim. He couldn’t see the foes clearly when they came tearing around the corner, so he relied on overwhelming firepower. His disruptor beams cut down the first row before they even spotted him. Although they looked humanoid, if they were in the service of these monsters, they were the enemy.

  Roaring with rage, Maltz charged into the enemy lines. His foes were numerous but badly organized and slow, and he ripped them to shreds before they could even take aim. One of their lucky shots singed his mane of white hair, and he pounded that one to the deck with his disruptor. As he hit the being’s face, sap exploded onto his hand and wrist, burning like the fires of Gre’thor. This only increased Maltz’s rage, and he drew his knives and tore into the dumbstruck horde.

  When he was done, Maltz stood panting over ten bodies lying in the scorched smoldering corridor. Bathed in ominous red light, the bloodied Klingon threw his head back and howled with victory, but he kept his celebration short. As long as this fake asteroid existed, the enemy had a base for their murderous ambition. He had to find its heart and destroy it.

  With a grunt, the old Klingon jogged off down the corridor.

  “Sorry, Number One, to disturb your rest period,” Captain Picard said as he and Will Riker stepped into the turbolift.

  “It’s okay, I got almost two hours of sleep,” the first officer answered, suppressing a yawn. “What’s the emergency?”

  “One of the asteroids in the Boneyard suddenly moved and started putting out unusual energy readings. We think it may be their hidden base. Through La Forge, we fed them misinformation to bring them out of hiding.”

  “Really?” Riker asked, impressed.

  “Destination?” queried the computer.

  “Bridge,” answered Picard.

  “Acknowledged.”

  The captain felt the slight sensation of movement, although he gave no thought to how fast they might be going. That is, until an explosion shook the conveyance, nearly throwing Picard and Riker off their feet. The turbolift stopped with a jerk and the lights dimmed, then turned blinking red. The computer intoned, “Red alert! Red alert!”

  The captain slapped his combadge. “Picard to bridge! What is going on?”

  “Data here,” said a calm voice. “Captain, I regret to inform you that the bridge has been badly damaged by an explosion. Possibly a bomb, given the circumstances. No senior officers were present, but there are many casualties among the relief crew. In fact, I am the only one who is unharmed.”

  Picard breathed a sigh of relief at the news that Data was fine, but it was small consolation for the other casualties. “A bomb? Who had the opportunity to plant a bomb on our bridge?”

  “The log shows that Romulan officers from the D’Arvuk were on the bridge to exchange information after the Genesis Wave hit Myrmidon,” answered the android.

  “Damn!” Picard cursed, slamming a fist into his palm. “Has the D’Arvuk returned?”

  “Unknown,” answered Data. “We are unable to use sensors at present, and they may be cloaked. Excuse me, Captain, but I must tend to the wounded until medical teams arrive.”

  “Of course,” answered Picard. “Riker and I will go to the auxiliary bridge.”

  “I would not hurry, sir,” said Data matter-of-factly. “The ship is badly damaged, and the hull may be compromised. We will not have mobility for several hours.”

  Picard’s shoulders slumped. They were dead in space. “We’ll still go to the auxiliary bridge. Picard out.”

  He turned to see Riker scowling as he inspected the access panel near the door. “I’m not so sure we’ll be going anywhere. We were almost at the bridge when that explosion hit. We’re at a lateral position maybe sixty meters to port. There’s been damage this far out, and the safeties have kicked in.”

  “We’re stuck,” Picard agreed.

  The first officer looked doubtfully at the strobing red light. “The ship is on red alert with major damage to the bridge. I figure everyone within five decks is stuck where they are ... for now. What do the Romulans hope to gain from this?”

  “Project Genesis,” Picard said with realization.

  The captain frowned as he looked around at the seamless interior of the turbolift. “Any chance we can get out?”

  “I wouldn’t try it, sir. If the turbolift came on suddenly, we could be beheaded, or cut in two.”

  The captain nodded grimly. “You talked me out of that notion. What about transporting out?”

  “If we’ve lost hull integrity ...” muttered Riker, not finishing his dire thought. The big human rose slowly to his feet. “I think we’ll be here until a repair crew reaches us, and they make sure this area is safe. As for the Enterprise, we could open the shuttlebay doors manually if we had to. We could muster a dozen shuttlecraft to investigate.”

  “To go up against a Romulan warbird?” the captain asked skeptically. “A warbird that is undoubtedly cloaked. No, I won’t risk any more lives. If Jagron wants to play this hand alone, then let him.”

  Picard’s eyes narrowed. “I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

  “I never gave you orders to detonate that bomb!” shouted Commander Jagron, shaking with rage as he stood before his subordinate and lover, intelligence officer Petroliv. He could speak his mind, because they were meeting in his private retreat near the bridge.

  The lithe Romulan smiled seductively and touched Jagron’s cleft chin. “I was just taking the initiative, darling. Isn’t that what you were supposed to do? The enemy has shown themselves—opportunity is upon us.” She pointed toward a small trapezoidal viewscreen, where an immense asteroid floated by itself in space. “We don’t need the Enterprise getting in the way.”

  “They’ll know it was us,” he said, sensing that he was beginning to whine, a weakness that always delighted Pe
troliv. “This isn’t a game—this is my career, perhaps the future of the empire.”

  “You know, you’re quite attractive when you fret,” the intelligence officer said, amusement dancing in her dark eyes. “Everything is a game of strategy. How are we going to get away from here with the Genesis Device unless we cripple the Enterprise! Now we can easily destroy her, if we have to.”

  Jagron shook his head, feeling his authority slip away, layer by layer. He loved this woman—or at least was obsessed with her—but he realized for the first time how dangerous it was to have this overloaded warp coil so close to him.

  “Now we will have to destroy the Enterprise,” said Jagron testily. “I was hoping we could get the Genesis data without the Federation knowing about it. The human scientist, Dr. Carol Marcus, is the key.”

  “Is she in there?” asked Petroliv, pointing to the asteroid on Jagron’s viewscreen. “From our energy readings, we know something is happening.”

  “We could destroy them in a matter of seconds,” said the commander. “Too bad that’s not an option. Whatever we do, we have to take action before any more Starfleet ships arrive. Do they have shields?”

  “Not that we’ve seen,” she answered. “But they have weapons. They destroyed that Defiant-class ship without any problem. Many areas of the asteroid are hidden from our sensors, but they act as though they have nothing to fear.”

  “Since we’re cloaked, they don’t know we’re here.” The commander paced a few strides, then stopped abruptly, having made a decision. “We’ll get so close to them that they can’t fire weapons. I want you to lead an assault team. Board that fake asteroid and take it over.”

  “Me?” she asked with amusement. “Why me?”

  “Because you’re the only one I can trust to steal the Genesis secrets,” Jagron answered with an encouraging smile. To himself, he added, With any luck, you’ll be killed in the process.

  Carol Marcus gaped in awe at the last thing she had expected to find on this ship, or whatever it was. Using a portable forcefield generator taken from the storage room, she had broken through a locked door, hoping to find a central computer or some other crucial system. Instead she had entered a small greenhouse dominated by a single living tree.