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

by John Vornholt

  “Yeah, right!” responded Farlo with a big laugh. “Sure, I’m the seeress consort! Who are you—Overseer Padrin?”

  Others in the circle laughed uncertainly at his joke, but he saw their eyes glaze over as if the absurdity of the old man’s claim discredited everything he had said. Sure, they were sitting around with the seeress consort, who was probably stone-cold dead with the rest of them ... and almost everybody else who had ever lived on this forsaken planet.

  “Sit down, Barbo!” cried one of the men. “You’re seeing ghosts. Those children are refugees, like all of us. Survivors, although I wouldn’t call us living. Whatever they were before, that’s what they are now.”

  The veteran constable sputtered some old curses but finally sat down and shut up. The brief debate, which had lapsed into absurdity, had made them all weary and sad. It was best not to talk. Someone threw more charred wood onto the fire, and it flared up, forcing everyone to scoot back a seat-length, which made room for others to sit down. They went back to staring mournfully into the flames, thinking of all those who had gone to be with the Divine. They almost seemed like the lucky ones.

  The Starfleet shuttlecraft cruised within twenty meters of the impressive wingspan of the satellite, which looked much the worse for wear, with a broken solar panel and many scratches and scorch marks on its casing. In the cockpit, Regimol piloted the craft, while Leah Brahms glanced over the shoulders of Geordi, Data, Marla Karuw, and Komplum, who were huddled around a bank of sensor readouts. Data had interfaced Karuw’s isolinear chip with the shuttle’s sensors and transporter and was [290] running the emulation program. Leah told her that this was one of the Federation’s more advanced shuttlecraft, Navigator-class, and if it couldn’t tell them the condition of these satellites, nothing in their fleet could.

  “With this program, can we trick the satellite into letting us initiate standard diagnostic routines?” asked Data. “Otherwise, we have no healthy data to compare with our current sensor readings.”

  “I know the general levels,” said Marla Karuw, “and the lowest thresholds. But you might as well run the diagnostics, because that’s the first step in making a satellite recognize the shuttlecraft as one of our enclosures. If we can do that, maybe we can patch into the main system. We’ve got to pop the satellites in series and keep them regulated—and all those subroutines were on the Darzor.”

  “I’m running the emulation now,” said Data, punching commands onto his board at blazing speed. He read the binary data just as quickly. “Satellite acknowledges us—is still operational, in standby mode.”

  Marla Karuw frowned. “That’s actually bad, because they’re supposed to be in ‘ready’ mode. Standby is a low-energy setting, which is typical when a satellite is in darkness and not recharging, but this one is in the sun.”

  “Then why would it be in standby?” asked Geordi.

  “Emergency conservation of power,” she answered. “Only the volatile memory is kept alive—that’s where our people are trapped. Everything else must be shut down.”

  “Be careful before you bring it out of standby,” warned Komplum. “If there’s not enough power, you could have a fatal emergency shutdown.”

  “A level-two diagnostic should give us more data,” said Karuw. “Can I enter that command?”

  “Be my guest,” said Data, stepping aside and letting her have the console. After a moment, the android looked pleased with [291] the increased stream of information. “Yes, that is useful to know.”

  “Freeze it!” said Karuw, and Data instantly tapped the controls and froze a graph on the screen. As she read, the Aluwnan’s face registered disbelief. “No, those temperature and pH factors can’t be correct. The electromagnetic pulse is below threshold, too. The plasma gel packs must be damaged, or the readings couldn’t sink that low.”

  The professor grabbed Data’s shoulder and said urgently, “We’ve got to get them out! When everything fails, they’ll die.”

  “There is reason to believe the volatile memory is still intact,” the android reminded her. “It will take some time to interpret this data. We could activate the satellite and beam off the first life-form in the pattern buffer, but that would put the satellite in active mode. According to your assistant, that could be fatal.”

  “Of course,” said Marla, rubbing her head wearily. “I don’t know what got into me ... just worry. To bring everyone off as quickly as possible, we’ve got to get the satellites up to full power, and I don’t think we can wait for the sun to do it.”

  “Thanks to you,” said Leah Brahms, “the transporter booths are depleted, too. Everything’s recharging ... or slowly losing power. What’s the step below standby? Good-bye?”

  “I know it’s my fault,” grumbled Karuw. “You don’t need to remind me. And standby is the lowest power setting ... before shutdown. It can’t last more than ten units before a recharging source is needed, or the satellite will lose power. That’s about twelve of your hours. If we found out when they entered this mode, that would tell us how much time they have left.”

  While everyone kept their thoughts to themselves, Data continued to scroll through screens of sensor readouts. “This satellite entered standby five units ago, which would coincide with your chromasynthesis discharge. We will check more satellites, and I assume we will find this effect repeated. Using your theory, we have five units left, or about six hours.”

  [292] “How can we recharge everything in time?” muttered Karuw, brushing back her graying hair. “We’re beaten. Anything we do will be a disaster.”

  Leah Brahms looked at Geordi, and he shook his head glumly, fresh out of ideas. “The Enterprise has no reserve power,” he said. “They can’t help us, and they’re the only ship in orbit.”

  “Our people are doomed,” breathed Karuw.

  twenty-five

  Alexander Rozhenko waded through the rubble, burnt twigs, and scorched bushes of the once-luxuriant forest, a handful of Klingons and Aluwnans behind him. They were following a trail, after having heard of an encampment of Aluwnans inside the forest. Clambering over fallen trees was the hardest part of the search, but they could smell the smoke from a fire as it wafted through the misty gorge. Then again, there were fires everywhere, and everything smelled of smoke and strange industrial solvents, as if the planet had been scoured clean of some particularly bad stain.

  His tricorder picked up an electrical pulse several meters off to the right of the trail, and Alexander waved to his comrades to follow him. There were a few uncertain birdcalls in the forest, and he wasn’t sure he had heard those before Karuw’s scouring of the planet. Also there were numerous insects as big as his fist, and they bedeviled the party as they slogged along through the thorny underbrush. The signals on his tricorder were getting stronger, and he soon understood why when he spotted two unlikely beacons of technology in this devastated wood.

  In a clearing lay a blue transporter booth tipped on its side, and resting next to it was an escape pod from the Enterprise. A [294] canopy of trees still stretched over this part of Aluwna, and this grove looked like strong hardwood trees, such as the maples and oaks of Earth, not the droopy, spooky, moss-ridden plants left by the Genesis Wave. Alexander holstered his phaser beside the disruptor on his belt and made for the escape pod with increased speed. The whole band could see what he had found, and they were following close behind, the Klingons keeping a wary eye on the forest.

  Alexander carefully approached the escape pod, which appeared to be closed at both ends, and he tapped on it. From within came frantic pounding—a tool on metal—followed by muffled voices, which he couldn’t understand. “Can I open the hatch?” he bellowed.

  “Look out!” he heard a cry from inside the pod. “Look out! Above—”

  The young Klingon leaned down to hear more at the same moment that someone in his band cried out in alarm. A huge shadow swept over their position, and Alexander stared upward to see what looked like a massive blanket falling on top of them. It fl
apped as if it had wings, dropping directly on top of the booth, the pod, and seven members of the rescue party, including Alexander. The air instantly turned foul, unbreathable, and Alexander was lucky that he had the pod for protection. Where the massive flat creature was able to encompass the Klingons completely, they began to smother, dropping to the ground unconscious.

  Alexander drew his disruptor and shot straight upward into the slimy membrane of the beast, blasting a big hole wide enough to put his arm through. That caused the monster to contract involuntarily, drawing the booth, the pod, and unconscious men with it. In pure survival mode, Alexander just wanted to get out, and he used the disruptor like a laser cutter to slice a gruesome escape flap in the filmy flesh. Burning bits of viscera rained down on him as he blasted away in the dark, and [295] Alexander could hear muffled shouts and another sizzling whine—a second beamed weapon. Someone else was also trying to cut his way out, but it didn’t help as the creature writhed powerfully, dragging everything and everyone trapped underneath it to the center.

  Climbing on top of the escape pod, Alexander took the fight straight to the beast, relentlessly trying to blast his way through the unctuous guts and thick membrane, finally succeeding enough to free part of a fin on the escape pod. As if blasting his way upward through a tent, the Klingon finally managed to make a gooey hole and stick his neck and shoulders through it. The monster was now trying to escape, with Alexander stuck partway inside of it, and he could understand why.

  Outside, a large group of Aluwnans had gathered around the smother beast and were bombarding it with tent poles, sticks, rocks, and whatever bladed weapons they could find. Leading them was a fresh-faced youth and his young friend, and Alexander sighed gratefully, because his search was over.

  “Come on!” yelled Farlo, hacking at the slithering blanket with a scythe. “Keep attacking—it’s trying to run off!”

  Alexander ducked back into the wretched darkness under its belly, because the reinforcements had put the enemy on the run. He had come to rescue Farlo, and instead the boy had rescued his party. The Klingon tried to find his men in the darkness, and he dragged a few of them to the relative shelter of the escape pod. From his pack he took a flare and lit it, and that turned the underbelly of the creature a bright bloodred. It allowed him to find another Klingon and an Aluwnan and get them to safety.

  This strange melee seemed to go on for hours, but it was probably only minutes before the creature dragged its bloody, burnt carcass off of them. It slithered maybe thirty meters into the forest, where it succumbed to continued attacks by the Aluwnans. In their ferocity, they seemed to work off some of their grief and lethargy, and they were laughing and [296] congratulating each other when they returned to help Alexander’s party. With all of them working together, it wasn’t long before his men and the Enterprise crew members in the escape pod were freed. There were introductions and hearty slaps on the back all around.

  Seeing that the Aluwnans all seemed to know Farlo, Alexander decided to impress them a bit. When the lad approached him with a grin on his face, Alexander dropped down to one knee and bowed his head. “Overseer Farlo,” he intoned as his father would, “we thank you for rescuing us. We came to tell you that your world needs you to rule.”

  Farlo looked around with some embarrassment, and Candra grinned at him, while the other Aluwnans looked astonished. Alexander had thought they knew who he was, but maybe not. “All of you come back to camp!” said Alexander, rising to his feet. “Welcome your new leader and all those being freed from the transporters!” The young Klingon had no idea if that was a factual statement, but it got the band of refugees all moving in the same direction.

  “He really is the overseer!” cried an old constable, pointing triumphantly at Farlo. “See, I told you! I told you!”

  “Barbo, I’ll never doubt you again,” muttered a second constable.

  As they walked back to the path, Farlo sidled up to Alexander and whispered, “I can’t be the overseer! I’m not even really a high breed. I have this tube—”

  “I don’t care,” snapped Alexander, quickening his step and making the lad keep up. “People need authority in time of crisis, and they need to feel a continuity in their society. For whatever reason, you’re the last one left, and Marla Karuw has taken herself out of consideration. Don’t worry, we’ll be here to help you. For now, there won’t be a lot of governing—more like survival, rescues, and searching for hope. So just smile and look confident, as you did back there when you came to [297] our aid. We Klingons have a saying: ‘Wear the sash.’ It means act the part, and people will think you were born to be the overseer.”

  He winked at the boy. “Come on, you’re a con artist. You can do it.”

  “I guess so,” answered Farlo with a game smile. He pouted thoughtfully, then added, “Can I make your father regent?”

  “Regent Worf,” Alexander repeated with amusement. Then he shook his head. “I’m afraid Worf is trying to get out of the diplomacy business. I believe him when he says he wants his old job back.”

  “Then I’ll make you regent!” said Farlo cheerfully.

  “You keep the power for now,” advised the Klingon. “Don’t confuse your people. But I will tell you what you should do as your first official act—join the Federation. I’m sure they’re guilty enough to take you without question, and you’ll get lots of aid and technology. Trust me, they’ll be more useful for rebuilding Aluwna than we Klingons.”

  “That’s after we save our people in the transporters,” said Farlo with determination. “We’re going to do that, right?”

  “We’re trying.”

  “Um, Alexander,” said the lad meekly, “are you still investigating Overseer Tejharet’s murder?”

  The Klingon gave him a sidelong glance. “Yes, I am.”

  Farlo jumped in front of him and looked at him with pleading green eyes. “Can you believe me when I tell you that the real murderer died on the Darzor?”

  “I know that all our evidence is gone,” said the Klingon with a scowl. He eyed the young ruler appraisingly. “Perhaps I will conclude my report by saying that our primary suspects perished on the Darzor. I will consider it.”

  “Thank you,” answered Farlo with a sigh of relief. “Then I’ll take the overseer job and do the best I can.”

  * * *

  [298] Deanna Troi, crawled over the fallen logs, making sure the children and Valerie were right behind her. They had to brave a return to the escape pod, even though the giant amoeba creature was nearby and seemingly attracted to it, along with every crawly worm and slug for a hundred kilometers. There wasn’t really time to analyze the wildlife, as interesting as it was. They needed to make sure the com array on the pod was sending out its homing signal and distress calls, because they were definitely in distress.

  When Troi stepped into the area plowed clear by the crash of the escape pod, she looked up to see what she thought was the parachute, mired in the trees. Instead she gasped and froze like a statue, because that was no parachute but the monstrous membrane creature, hanging from the boughs and looking like an ominous spider’s web. She heard one of the children whimper behind her, and she turned to see the Deltan staring toward the pod itself. There stood a vision from some prehistoric nightmare.

  It was a large sea serpent—that was all to which she could liken it. It had a long rangy neck, toothy head, and a sleek black body with paddles for legs. Long tentacles writhed like a wreath of snakes around the creature’s massive haunches, making its appearance more frightening yet. The beast nudged the escape pod curiously, then turned to look directly at Deanna and her frightened brood.

  “Back up,” she whispered to Valerie and the students. “Don’t get under that thing in the trees.”

  “It’s ... it’s coming closer!” warned Cody, and the ground suddenly trembled as the behemoth moved a few footsteps toward her. Deanna had recently communicated with tortured beings in another dimension, and her psi skills were at their apex, bet
ter than they had ever been before. Perhaps she wasn’t a full-blooded Betazoid, but she was highly experienced with species not her own. So she stood her ground and let the basilisk come as close as it wanted. Besides, if it intended to kill them, it [299] wouldn’t take much effort to chase them down first. They were at this creature’s mercy, and she doubted that her phaser would be able to stop it should it charge in earnest.

  Deanna tried to send out soothing thoughts, because she sensed a strong intelligence that belied its fearsome appearance. The beast felt more than attraction for her and the escape pod; it seemed to recognize both of them at a primal level—the technology and the humanoids. Then she realized that the giant amoeba was probably up in the trees because of the sea serpent—it was their protector.

  Her eyes were half-shut from the waves of emotion, and when she opened them, the creature was a meter away, staring at her with three curious orbs. Instinctively Troi reached out to touch its scaly skin; the telepathic impulses came much stronger as soon as her fingertips brushed its hide.

  I know you, said the creature.

  We are friends from long ago, she answered, unsure of the details but certain of the sentiment.

  On the shuttlecraft, Leah Brahms plugged diligently away at a rear auxiliary console, assuming they would make a desperate attempt to free the survivors before the satellites went dead. In her opinion, nothing would work unless they could jump-start the whole satellite-booth connection in one fell swoop, and keep it running as long as the power would allow. All they knew for sure they could do was to beam someone into the system from the shuttle’s single transporter pad, and she kept looking at that potential. Geordi had returned to the Enterprise , where he was needed on more than one front; Komplum had gone to the surface to brief Worf, leaving Regimol, Data, Marla Karuw, and Leah in orbit. She felt at home on the little craft, after having spent the first part of this odyssey on one not much different.