STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book Four - Genesis Force

by John Vornholt

  “You were born,” answered the seeress consort. “And your breeding is better than mine, and the equal of the overseer’s.”

  “What?” asked Farlo, unsure if he had heard correctly. By his station in life, he had always assumed that he was of low [33] breeding—now this popinjay was telling him that he was of equal breeding to Overseer Tejharet? “That’s a bad joke,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  “I wouldn’t joke about such a thing,” claimed Padrin as he bent down to unfasten the straps that held Farlo to the bed. “For ten cycles, I have searched for such a match, surreptitiously of course. Four hundred genetic engineers, an entire research facility, and an army of field agents failed to find you, because you were too busy stealing beadsacks and evading the law. My boy, you are the law.”

  His appendages freed, Farlo rubbed his wrists and slipped out of bed to stand uncertainly on the floor. “Are you saying I could become overseer?”

  “It’s not that simple,” answered Padrin. “But your offspring stand a good chance, if you marry correctly. Will you hold still while I get a retina scan? That will put you in the system.”

  “Sure,” said Farlo uncertainly.

  The man produced a handheld device with a small white eye-piece. “Just look in here with your right eye.” After the lad complied, Padrin asked him, “Do you know anything about your parents?”

  Farlo shook his head. “No, I mean ... how could someone like me be a high breed?”

  Padrin chuckled. “Maybe you’re a mutant, just a rare stroke of dumb luck from the right parents. Wild genetics often produce wild results. More than likely, you’re the illegitimate offspring of two high breeds who couldn’t legally marry, perhaps a brother and sister. In the circle you were born into, maybe you were too high-blooded, indicating a forbidden match, so they put you out in the street. You’re lucky you found me, because in my circle, you’re just right.”

  A beep sounded on one of his displays, and he tapped a button. “Padrin here.”

  “Sir, the seeress is here to see you,” came an awed voice, and Farlo blinked with alarm.

  [34] “Send her in, of course,” answered Padrin magnanimously. He winked at Farlo and said, “Just let me talk, unless Jenoset speaks to you.”

  “No problem,” answered the boy with a gulp.

  The doors to the secure examination room opened, and a stunning blond woman of uncertain age walked in. Padrin leaped forward to take her hand. “Darling, I’m glad you got my message and came so quickly.” He kissed, caressed, and licked her hand, quite passionately, thought Farlo.

  “There’s no time for that,” snapped the seeress, snatching her appendage back, “I didn’t get your message, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. We have an emergency.”

  “Can’t we have good news first?” asked Padrin, grabbing Farlo by his skinny shoulders and hauling him forward. “He’s a ninety-six-percent match! We’ve finally succeeded.”

  Her jaw dropped open, and her shoulders slumped, as if this was too much good news. Jenoset blinked and rubbed her head; then she awarded Farlo a glance. “Of course, it had to happen now. But perhaps the timing of this is beneficial, because we will need all the pull we’ve got to hold on to this kingdom, and turn it into a queendom. Do you follow Federation reports at all? Do you know about the Genesis Wave?”

  Padrin seemed to pale and shrink back from her. “Yes, a little. We’re not endangered, are we?”

  “We’re doomed,” she answered gravely. “The whole planet. Tejharet has gone and appointed Marla Karuw as regent, because she has some notion of saving the people in transporter pattern buffers. Well, I wish her luck, but we can’t let her continue to control the government after this crisis has passed. We must return to power in whatever form that takes.”

  Padrin slumped onto the bed, and Farlo felt like doing the same. But he was mesmerized by this stunning woman—the mother of future overseers—and her energy gave him hope in a [35] crisis he didn’t quite understand. “Will we even be alive?” asked the consort in a hoarse whisper.

  Jenoset crossed her arms, and her auburn eyebrows fairly danced across her delicate forehead. “Yes, that is another concern—how to control the evacuation. I can’t imagine that we won’t protect the high-blooded first, but who can say? That ... that blasphemer is in charge of this whole thing!”

  She glanced again at Farlo, and her expression softened. “Your discovery does cast a new light on matters. If I can produce an offspring of higher blood than Tejharet’s, one who is not of his loins, then we can unseat him and reclaim the throne.”

  “What throne?” muttered Padrin. “What will be left after this Genesis cataclysm?”

  “You let me worry about that,” answered Jenoset. She stepped toward the door, stopped, and pointed back at Farlo. “Prepare him for our wedding—at midday.”

  “Yes, my seeress,” answered Padrin with a polite bow. He still looked distracted, however, as he turned to study his medical instruments. Jenoset sauntered regally into the corridor, letting the doors hush shut behind her.

  His legs growing wobbly, Farlo slumped onto the bed where Candra had lain. All he could think about was his friend, now that they had become separated ... now that both of them had become adults much sooner than they ever imagined.

  From a cylindrical room on an orbital space station, Professor Marla Karuw gazed out the viewport at the dazzling blue-green planet below—the ill-fated Aluwna. Landmasses weaved in rough green bands about the vast orb, looking like fat rivers of vegetation flowing through the crystalline blue seas. Despite eighty million souls and a number of large cities, the planet was in pristine condition, owing to their determined policy of low pollution and low population. Marrying three or four men to each woman had effectively solved the population problem [36] eons ago, and new testing procedures had allowed the bloodlines to be categorized and standardized to a degree that was unheard of before the last millennium. On that sparkling blue-green orb, everyone knew exactly where they stood in the pecking order. Their genetic code marked their rank and caste as surely as skin color, height, or wealth did on other planets.

  Breedcasting was exactly the type of thing that Marla Karuw had rebelled against, and to her it wasn’t even the most serious injustice on Aluwna. The grip of old dogma had stifled science, the arts, commerce, and their place among neighboring worlds. Now Aluwnans were going to pay for their isolation. Would the Federation have made a greater effort to save us if we were under their umbrella? wondered the regent.

  Probably not, she decided. The regent had heard of their desperate attempts to save their own worlds from destruction—with spectacular failure. Given the shortage of time, no one could devise a better solution to save lives than the one she intended to use, because few other worlds had the transporter infrastructure of Aluwna. Yet moisture welled in her weary eyes, because Marla knew that even success was defeat. The best she could hope for was the death of her planet and ninety percent of the people who lived there. And what exactly was she saving? A corrupt culture and backwater pedantry were the very worst features of Aluwna, yet they would survive after all of the beauty and character were gone.

  All of their venerable traditions and tortured logic had produced a world that was helpless. Had the crisis been a giant meteor, an axis shift, solar eruptions, anything on a planetary scale—the results would have been the same. They were unprepared to deal with anything that was not in their precious view of the universe.

  Karuw rubbed her moist eyes, pushed back a strand of salt-and-pepper hair, and massaged her right middle eyebrow, where a dull pain had been building all morning. One thing about [37] solitary confinement, she thought, it was low stress. This was just the opposite, and she was beginning to feel the pressure after only a few units on the job. Despite the long odds and the horror that awaited her world, win or lose, she had to think positively about her task. Nobody else wanted the responsibility, as she had already found out, and most of the populace was in denial.r />
  With a slight shove, the regent propelled herself away from the viewport and floated across the engineering substation to another window. She caught a handle and pulled her floating body into position to gaze at the belt of satellites and orbital stations which stretched into the invisible horizon. With the naked eye, she could really see only three or four faint glimmers of machinery in the spectacular two-toned, black-blue sky, but it was comforting to know they were out there.

  The com channel sounded an alert, and Marla had to look around to find the wall panel. “Karuw here,” she finally responded.

  “It’s Komplum,” said her new assistant. “The energy lab is ready to try their first test of gel-plasm power cells to replace the solar receptors on the satellites. Would you like to be there?”

  “I would, but I don’t have time,” she answered frankly. “Tell them to be thorough and to get the results to me as soon as possible. Remind them that this is the backup power source after we get out of solar range—it must come on instantly.”

  “What’s the primary source?” asked Komplum with interest.

  “I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “Probably some kind of direct line we’ll run from the tow ships, with frequency boosters. If you get any bright ideas, let me know. Komplum, you must make it clear to everyone that we can’t lose power to these satellites. That’s the same as murder.”

  “Yes, Your Regency,” answered the assistant with a squeak in his voice. “I believe you have a visitor ... he just beamed up.”

  “Is it Curate Molafzon?”

  [38] “Yes,” whispered Komplum, “and he seems to be in the custody of two constables.”

  “It happens to the best of us,” said Marla with a smile. “He wouldn’t come any other way. Will you please have his escorts bring him in?”

  “They are doing so now. Is there anything else, Your Regency?”

  “No, end transmission.” She tapped the com panel just as the door slid open and two beefy constables pushed a struggling, wizened old man in scarlet robes into her engineering sanctum.

  “Marla Karuw!” he screeched in rage at the top of his lungs. “I should have known this was your doing—you foul beast! You blasphemer! You charlatan.”

  “That’s enough,” she answered with a scowl. “You’ll be quiet and listen, or I’ll have them push you out an airlock.”

  “You can’t do that!” he said with fresh horror and indignation.

  “Oh, yes, I can. I’m regent of Aluwna.” She motioned to the sparkling globe floating in space just outside the viewport. “I have life-and-death say over not just you—but every person, pet, or microbe on our planet.”

  “You’re mad!” he exclaimed, aghast. “You’re on a mad power rampage.”

  Karuw shook her head in disbelief, “I wish it was that simple and that harmless. You must know by now the Genesis Wave is headed our way.”

  He nodded somberly. “Yes, we are praying that it will be averted.”

  Marla turned away from him in disgust and motioned to the two guards. “Please leave us,” she said. “I think I have another important appointment in half a unit, who will also require your assistance.”

  “Yes, Your Regency,” said the lieutenant, bowing. The two of them pulled their weightless bodies out the opening, and the door slid shut behind them.

  “Curate Molafzon,” she said slowly, fixing him with a steady [39] gaze, “whether you like it or not, this planet is going to be altered beyond recognition in fifty-seven units. I intend to save several million Aluwnans in the buffers of our satellites ... but I don’t know how to be divine and choose who lives or dies. I was hoping you would help me.”

  For the first time, the clergyman’s expression softened a bit. “Do you really think there is no chance for deliverance from this dread?”

  “We’re in the path of the wave, and nobody knows where it began or how to stop it. Are you going to bet on a miracle, or are you going to help me?” She stared at him expectantly.

  Molafzon shrugged his bony shoulders, which no amount of padding could hide. “I suppose ... we will take the highborn first.”

  Karuw turned away from him and gazed out the viewport. “Is it that simple? After the danger is over, we’ll have to resettle this planet. Do we really want a world in which everyone is basically brother and sister? The Divine Hand didn’t create all of us with ninety percent breeding, and it might be dangerous genetically to have such a world.”

  He held up his hand, starting to protest her statement, and Marla quickly added, “We’re not going to debate philosophy now. Just think about what we need to survive after our civilization is gone. How many high breeds are carpenters, masons, farmers, and garbage collectors? Not very many, and we’ll need them far more than we need professors and administrators, such as you and me. We’ll need young people with strong backs—a lot more than old people in fine clothes.”

  The curate fingered his satin robe, then stared at her with a mixture of fear and hope. “You will take all the clergy, won’t you?”

  “Every clergy?” Her brow furrowed in thought. “After I see the numbers you send me, I’ll see what I can do. But should we really save an entire class of people, forsaking all others? You’re in touch with the Divine Hand—I’m hoping you’ll help me see [40] the right thing to do. It won’t be the easy thing, no matter what.”

  As he floated in front of her, the old clergyman rubbed his cracked lips. “I suppose you could ask for volunteers—older ones who have lived most of their lives and will make way for younger people.”

  “Yes,” agreed Marla Karuw with a grateful smile. It wasn’t much, she thought, but it was a start. “That’s the kind of insight I was hoping for. Could you head this up for me—this volunteer program? I’ll prepare the technology to save as many lives as possible, while you must prepare the people. It’s not a job I could ask anyone else to do, but they have so much respect for you, Curate.”

  He nodded uncertainly, looking as if he’d been coerced into doing the devil’s work. While she had the advantage, Karuw pressed on. “The overseer is due to address the populace in about a unit. Why don’t you beam directly to the Summer Palace, and you can be at his side. When he’s done, you make your appeal for volunteers—it will mean so much coming from you, Curate.” She tapped her panel and said, “Curate Molafzon is ready to leave.”

  The door whooshed open, and the two constables reached inside and took the clergyman by his elbows. “Better duck, Your Holiness,” one of them said as he led the elder’s floating body out. He glanced back at her with an awestruck and worried expression, as if the full impact of their fate had finally hit him.

  Marla’s com panel chirped again, because Komplum knew this was a suitable time to interrupt her. “Regent,” he began, “the Royal Biology Institute has responded to your request. They basically have a million questions about what species and genera you want to take on the transporters. At the crux is one main question—”

  “Yes?” asked the regent, already certain she knew what it was.

  “How many people do we leave behind in order to take plants and animals?”

  Karuw took a deep breath and a long pause before replying, [41] “This is another place I want redundancy, because we can’t devote much storage space to plants and animals. We’ll take the minimum needed for reproduction, favoring successful species over extremely rare ones.” She pushed herself away from her instruments and drifted lazily across the small cylindrical room, while her mind worked frantically.

  “For redundancy, what we need is a terraforming device that we can use to counter the effects of the Genesis Wave, whatever they may be. We know the planet will still be here, and there are reports that plants are growing on these Genesis planets. What about the chromasynthesis process? We know it can stimulate plant growth and alter genetic coding, but we’ve only scratched the surface. I mean, we may not be as advanced as the Federation in some respects, but nobody knows more about genetics and cultivation than w
e do. What an external agent can change on our beautiful planet, an external agent can put back to normal.”

  Komplum cleared his throat and said, “Your Regency, chromasynthesis is only in its infancy. Most of the things you’re talking about have never been tested.”

  “What a great test!” she answered. “This isn’t something we have to perfect before we go; we just have to plan for it by bringing all the pertinent data and hardware. For now, let’s restrict this idea to a small number of people.”

  “Yes, Your Regency,” answered Komplum. “There are several other urgent matters, like the commanders of the merchant fleet and the royal yachts. They’ve been awaiting word from you, and they’re none too happy.”

  “Let them stew until they’re all in orbit. When will that be?”

  “In another six units,” he answered, “all but one major vessel will be here.”

  Hand over hand, Marla towed her weightless body back toward her workstation. “I’ll send them a memo apologizing for the delay. But they don’t need me to report information on their [42] tractor beams, tether lines, and power output. If they would just fill out my questionnaire, we could get somewhere.”

  “Yes, Regent,” answered Komplum, his voice quavering at the idea of confronting these powerful commanders. “You’ll handle it?”

  “Yes,” she assured him with a wan smile. “You’re doing enough already, thank you. How many people in your family, Komplum?”

  “Ten, with my sisters and fathers,” he replied.

  “Put them all on the list,” she ordered. “Yourself too.”

  “The list?” he asked uncertainly. “What list is that?”

  “I think you know,” she answered gravely. “The ones who will be saved.”

  five

  Long-necked yellow birds floated across the shimmering surface of the inlet, while other birds serenaded them from the willowy trees that dipped their branches into the vast mirror of water. From a colonnade that dripped with orange and lavender flowers, Farlo viewed this magnificent scene, thinking he had never seen anything so heavenly. Oh, he had visited the inlets of the Calm Ocean once before, but he hadn’t been lounging in a recliner, enjoying a cool drink of nectar squeezed from the fruit that grew in profusion all around him. On that earlier occasion, he had been booth-hopping with spoilers on his tail, and he hadn’t spent any time appreciating the scenery.