His voice sounded shaky, but he found himself saying, “I’ll be fine.”
The expression on Dr. Crusher’s face showed plainly that she didn’t believe him. Geordi didn’t care. Lying about it was the best he could do. He was the engineer. It was going to take both of them to fix this ship, if it could be fixed.
Bebit turned to them, his face still fixed in what passed for a smile. “The engines are eager to speak with you, Geordi.”
It was the first time any of the Milgians had used his first name. It sounded strange from someone he had just met, but they were here to work together, to make friends if possible. It was a start, and Bebit was certainly friendlier than Veleck.
“Thanks, Bebit,” Geordi said, getting to his feet with Crusher’s help. He didn’t feel dizzy, just hurt. “I’m all right, Doc, thanks.”
Crusher nodded, and stepped away from him. “I don’t think you can take another burn like that.”
Privately, Geordi agreed, but they were running out of time. “Bebit, will it hurt me to speak with the engines the way it did to be tasted?”
Bebit’s face flared in brilliant red—sad. “I am sorry that you are hurt. It does not hurt me to be tasted. The engines would not purposefully injure you, Geordi.”
“I believe you, Bebit, but will it hurt me to speak with the engines?”
“You do not have to touch the panels, only pass your hand above them. Will that harm you?”
“I hope not,” Geordi said. “What do I do?”
“Put your hand over this middle panel, here,” Bebit said. He splayed his thick fingers wide and the lights flickered, responding. “Do you see?”
Geordi didn’t really understand what the lights meant, but he could duplicate the physical movement and hoped that was enough. “Does it have to be the hand that was tasted?”
“That is not necessary.”
Good, thought Geordi, lifting his good hand toward the softly glowing panel.
“Do not touch it!” The low scream made Geordi drop his hand to his side and turn around. Veleck stood in the doorway walking forward as quickly as his bulk would allow. “Do not touch it!”
“Chief Engineer,” Bebit began.
“Silence! You have almost destroyed this ship.”
“But Chief Engineer . . .”
“Get out!”
Bebit didn’t argue further. He just turned and lumbered off. His body very cool, no hot spots to glow against Geordi’s VISOR. To Geordi, the smaller alien seemed dejected.
“What’s wrong, Veleck?” Geordi asked.
“Your cell structure is alien to this ship. If you mingle your cells with ours, it could force the implosion to happen immediately.”
Geordi glanced at Crusher, she shrugged. “The ship has already tasted me. It didn’t blow up.”
“That idiot, Bebit, how could he risk us all like that?” There was real anger and panic in Veleck’s voice.
“If the danger was my alien cell structure, that’s passed.”
“But you were about to speak with the engines.” As Veleck walked toward them Geordi saw that the heat patterns on his body were like a kaleidoscope. It was almost dizzying and Geordi had to turn away. He could only assume that this was a pattern of agitation for the Milgians.
“I have to speak with the engines to fix them,” Geordi said.
“You do not understand our engines. They are greatly stressed. Trying to speak with something as alien as you are could force them to explode early. Do you understand?” Veleck had moved his considerable bulk between the two humans and the control panels. They were forced to stand back whether or not they wished to.
“In a few hours the ship will destroy itself anyway.”
“But not yet,” Veleck said.
“All right, let’s evacuate everyone to the Enterprise, and I’ll try to talk to the engines.”
“You would risk your own life to save our ship?”
Geordi didn’t know quite what to say to that. It sounded terribly heroic and he didn’t feel terribly heroic. “I have to do everything I can to save your ship and people, so yes, I’m willing to take the risk.”
Veleck stared at Geordi for a moment. The heat patterns had cooled, but Geordi would have given a lot to be able to see the engineer’s facial expression. Though, as with most new alien races, the expression might not have meant very much.
“I cannot let you, an alien, risk yourself for my ship. I am chief engineer, I will die with my engines.”
“Then stay with me. I’ll need all the help I can get,” Geordi said.
“We’ll need to get the Enterprise to a safe distance before you try,” Crusher said.
“Yeah. Try to convince as many of the Milgians as you can to evacuate.”
Crusher nodded. “I’ll try, but this ridiculous determination to go down with their ship . . . I don’t know how to get around it.”
“It is not ridiculous,” Veleck said. “It is our way.”
“Any custom that wastes lives unnecessarily is repugnant to me, Chief Engineer Veleck. I’m a doctor; I save lives. And that is more important to me than any custom.”
“I will not leave my ship when it is in danger,” he said.
“I’ll go up and try to convince some of the other officers to leave,” Crusher said. “I’ll be back when I’ve gotten as many Milgians to safety as I can.”
“Wait a minute, Doc. You’re going over, too.”
“If the engines don’t explode and you can speak with them, you’ll still need me. These engines are alive, Geordi. You need an engineer and a doctor.”
Geordi opened his mouth to argue, but she had that stubborn set to her mouth, a hard glint in her green eyes. In her own way Crusher was just as stubborn as the Milgians.
“All right, Doctor. You handle the evacuation, and I’ll try to take a crash course in Milgian engine mechanics.”
Two hours later Geordi was back in front of the glowing panels. They had been unable to convince any more of the Milgian crew to abandon ship. Finally, the Enterprise, with the few refugees, had warped to a safe distance. Veleck and Dr. Crusher were standing at either side.
Veleck had tried to explain what it would be like to “speak” with the engines, but the idea hadn’t translated well. Geordi guessed it was one of those occasions that you just had to experience. Either Geordi would understand once he’d made contact with the engines, or he wouldn’t. Either they would blow up, or they wouldn’t. Nice to have such simple choices.
“Everybody ready?” Geordi asked.
“A Milgian is always ready to give his life for his ship,” Veleck said.
“Sorry I asked. Dr. Crusher?”
“I’m with you, Geordi.”
“Here goes everything.” He spread his hand over the panel and moved it slowly closer. When his hand was almost touching the panel, but not quite, a tingling shock raced up his arm. Then his whole arm went numb, as if he’d hit the nerve in his elbow, the funny bone.
The engine room receded, as if Geordi were being pulled down a narrow tunnel. Colors flashed and glowed behind his eyes. He tried to shut them, but the colors were inside his head. He couldn’t make sense of it and found himself drowning in a whirl of colors—red, blue, yellow, pink, orange. Then suddenly it all made sense. The colors were the engines talking to him.
They had no voice, nothing to hear, and the colors that were visible to the eye were only the outward manifestations, like his own skin. The “talking” went on underneath where you couldn’t really see it. But you could feel it.
The engine, for it was one being, was very curious about Geordi. It had never met a non-Milgian. It could read his mind; there was no need for words or even concrete thoughts. It just drank the information directly from his mind.
The engine flowed and pulsed, and Geordi could feel it. His mind ran through circuit boards and conduits. He was one with the engine. It was overwhelming and wonderful, and he knew it would run forever just working with his hands.
“Geordi, ca
n you hear me?” It was Dr. Crusher’s voice, floating through the colored language. It was a shock to hear real speech.
“I can hear you, Doctor.” His voice sounded very distant to him, almost unattached.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You’ve been standing motionless for over twenty minutes. You wouldn’t respond to my voice. Veleck wanted to break the connection, but I was afraid it would harm you. If my instruments are correct, the engine is bound to your involuntary nervous system.”
“Is that bad?”
“Not as long as it doesn’t hurt you.” Her voice’s concern was a deep violet color washing through the engine’s language.
“I’m all right, Doctor. The engine likes me. It’s eager to learn from me. I need time to sort out what it’s telling me, but I think we’re in business. Contact the Enterprise; tell them we’re okay and we’re going to operate on our patient as soon as it tells me what’s wrong.”
“It’s going to tell you what’s wrong?”
“Yeah, its name is two long yellow flashes followed by a quick blue dot. Yellow-Dot-Blue.” The colors swirled more intensely when Geordi thought of the engine’s name. The kaleidoscope of colors whirled around him and dragged him in, and Geordi didn’t fight it. He needed to learn how the engine worked, and now it could show him.
Chapter Nineteen
THE CLOAK WAS HOT. And even though the breathing masks were suppose to help you breathe, Troi found herself gasping. Her breathing was loud and labored. Sweat trickled down her forehead. She raised a hand to wipe it away and bumped the mask. Sighing, she forced herself to let her hands drop loosely to her sides. She was supposed to be passing as an Orianian, and they did not rub at their masks or tug at their cloaks.
Worf stood beside her even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. He didn’t look like an Orianian. Even cloaked and completely covered, he looked awkward. The hooded cloak was too short and barely hit his knees. They had not been able to find gloves to fit him at all. He hid his betraying hands inside the folds of the cloak. The mask that he had been given on their arrival fit him, but unless he kept the hood tight round his face, well . . . He looked like a Klingon done up for Halloween.
Talanne had led them through empty corridors. She was no more eager to be caught than they were, perhaps less. Breck had been allowed on this expedition only because Talanne now considered him a member of the Federation party. It was still unsettling how easily Talanne and Breck accepted his new alliance. A complete change of loyalties, and as far as Troi could sense, neither Orianian thought it odd.
The corridors became rougher, mere blasted tunnels of rock. Worf had been forced to bend almost double. The Klingon made no complaint, but little grunts of effort came now and then.
Troi was a little tall for an Orianian but not much. And though all the borrowed clothing fit, it was still stiflingly hot. The farther into the narrowing tunnels they went, the hotter it became. The air, she noticed, was flat and stale, a touchable blanket that they were forced to wade through.
Talanne’s light made huge circular patterns on the narrowing walls. The floor was bare rock, rubbed nearly smooth by the passage of many feet. “What were these tunnels originally for?” Troi asked. Her voice echoed, seeming to come from a different direction entirely. Troi swallowed and stared upward at the dark ceiling. If you became lost down here without a light, not even sound would help you. The echoes would trick you as surely as the darkness itself.
Talanne whispered, but the sound rushed and poured like water in the rock. “No one knows.”
Breck made a small sound, almost a laugh.
“You have something to add, Breck,” Worf asked.
“Only old warrior’s tales, Ambassador.” His voice was very close to Troi, as if in the pressing dark he, too, felt the need of comfort. “They say these were the tunnels of demons, destroyed before remembered history by our ancestors.”
“Tales to frighten children, Breck, not warriors,” Talanne said. Her voice held the scorn her face could not show.
Breck did not rise to the taunting. He seemed faintly amused by the whole thing. Amused, and underneath that, nervous. Was he truly afraid of demons? Troi didn’t believe that, but for the first time she could feel unease from the man.
“Breck,” Troi half-turned to him. “Are you afraid of the dark?” She meant to keep her voice soft, but the echoes betrayed her, sending the whisper rushing through the narrow tunnel.
“I am a Torlick warrior. I fear nothing that walks the ground or flies in the air.”
“But do you fear demons?” Talanne called back, her voice soft and taunting.
“I fear nothing.” His voice was very firm.
Troi was sorry she had spoken aloud. He was afraid—afraid of the dark and the narrow rock walls. Breck was claustophobic but only in the dark. Troi had come across selective phobias before. People not afraid of heights unless in high manmade structures. It wasn’t that uncommon, but somehow the phobia made Breck more understandable. He seemed, for lack of a better word, more human.
“One more short piece of tunnel,” Talanne said, then we go outside. Ambassador, Healer, follow me, do not tarry on the surface. The greatest danger is stray pockets of poison air. If we hit one, there is not much that will save us.”
“Then why is there no easier way to the Greens?” Worf asked. His voice held just a hint of strain.
“Few of our members would risk coming to a surface area that is not frequently traveled. We tend traveled areas and see they are clear of poison and other hazards. This stretch of deadly ground is the best guardian the Greens could have.”
The wall in front of Talanne seemed solid until she saw the light at a certain area. The shadows seemed to peel away and expose a small domed tunnel that was much smaller than the tunnel they were in.
“What do you think, Lieutenant Worf? Will you fit through there?”
Worf had dropped to one knee, so his back could straighten. He stared into the dark hole. “Does it narrow further?”
“No, this is as narrow as it gets.”
He moved forward on all fours, tracing the edges of the rough opening with his hands. “I will fit, but it will be . . . tight.”
“I will lead the way, then.” Talanne bent nearly double and stepped into the tunnel. The light flickered and bounced off the rock like something alive.
“You go next, Counselor,” Worf said.
“I think I’ll let you go next,” Troi said.
“If I become . . . stuck you will be trapped behind me.”
“If you become stuck, I can push from behind and Colonel Talanne can pull.”
“I hope that will not be necessary,” Worf said. His discomfort at the thought of such monumental embarrassment made Troi smile. She was glad he could not see her face. Worf didn’t like being laughed at.
Worf crawled into the tunnel on all fours. His shoulders scraped the walls with a rough sound that spoke of scraped skin under the cloth.
Once Worf was inside the tunnel, it was like a cork in a bottle. Talanne’s light was gone, swallowed except for a thin glow that haloed Worf’s head. Troi and Breck were left in the velvet dark.
Breck’s breathing was instantly louder, gaspy. “Why don’t you go next?” she said.
“No, I am the sentinel. I will guard your back.” His voice was uncertain, full of fear and the beating of his own heart. “Healer, please, let me do my job.”
Troi didn’t offer again. Breck was afraid, but he would face his fear like a stoic warrior.
Troi crawled into the tunnel, eyes on the thin line of light and Worf’s dark bulk. The motionless air was like a hand squeezing at her throat, making it hard to breathe. The rock crushed inward, and sweat broke out on her body. Under enough pressure, Breck, too, was a broadcasting empath. She was on a planet where nearly every person had some wild talent. It was no place for an empath. And the tunnel was no place for a claustophobic.
; Worf stopped. Troi tried to peer around him, but the light was just a rim, like an eclipsed moon.
“Why have we stopped?” Breck asked. His voice held an edge of panic that made Troi’s throat tighten.
“I don’t know.”
There was a sound of wind. Troi thought at first she was imagining it, but air was drifting down the tunnel, and a dim glow of gentle yellow light filtered around Worf’s body. He began to crawl forward, then disappeared into a blur of light. Troi blinked into the light. All she could see was a glowing nimbus, as if her eyes had gotten so accustomed to the dark they didn’t know what to do with light.
“Healer, go forward into the light, please.” Breck’s voice forced Troi to crawl forward into the near blinding glow.
Hands reached for her, pulling her to her feet. Worf stood beside her, while Talanne was a short distance away, a shrouded figure. Breck came out of the tunnel and leaned against the rock as if to catch his breath. His joy at being out in the open again could not be marred by the desolation around them.
Troi had seen scans of the planet. Raw data, numbers, percentages of this, amounts of that, but the bland information had not really meant anything to Troi. To be told that a planet is dying is awful, but it is an enormity that is hard to believe. You can’t hold it in your hand, or feel it. Troi stood staring, and believed.
The sky was a sulphurous yellow, with thick clouds that rolled and boiled as if some giant hand was stirring the sky. Wind streamed around them, tugging at the heavy capes. The heat was breath-stealing but utterly dry. There had been more moisture in the heat of the caves. Here under the poisonous skies there was nothing but air and dirt.
The wind whipped the powdery dirt into miniature whirlwinds. They danced in a ragged circle. Suddenly, Troi felt an unsettling sensation of being watched prickling down her spine.
Worf reached for his phaser, staring at the whirling dustdevils. “Are they real?” He had to yell above the howling of the wind.
“It is just dirt and wind,” Talanne yelled back.
“They are watching us,” he yelled.
So it wasn’t just Troi. Worf felt it, too. It was then that Troi realized the watching was all she could feel. An angry, despair-filled watching. Troi whirled, searching the dry rock walls behind her. There was no one there. She knew that, and yet she knew something was there.
Nightshade Page 18
