“We’ll take care of them,” promised Picard. “Load the shuttlecraft.”
“Yes, sir,” snapped Troi. She pulled on Barclay’s sleeve. “We’re here to help them, so let’s get going.”
“Yes . . . sir.” Although he realized he had to go, the worried lieutenant could barely pull himself away from the scene of carnage outside the window. He couldn’t pick Melora out in the swarm of Elaysians, but he had a feeling that she was all right. She had become accustomed to hardship during her ten years of service in Starfleet. All of that had to be for some reason. Maybe her experiences could help her help her planet, now when they needed it most.
“I’m coming,” he said, hurrying after Troi.
He reached the turbolift just as the doors were closing, and she looked at him impatiently. She wasn’t in her usual, kindly counselor mode—she was Commander Troi now, the woman who helped Data save the Enterprise only an hour ago. Now she was going to help save this ancient world of billions of sentient beings, even though their own ship was a wreck. The inhabitants of Gemworld didn’t know how lucky they were to get this particular crew, thought Reg.
“Shuttlebay one,” she told the turbolift computer. “You know, Reg, I understand that you care about Melora, but you’re going to have to put your feelings aside if you want to help these people.”
“I know . . . I’m trying.”
“Does she feel the same way about you?”“What way?” he asked with a nervous laugh.
The turbolift doors opened at their destination, and she gave him a knowing look. “I’ve been there, Reg, and I know. Keep your mind on business—you’ll do a better job. And you won’t get hurt.”
She brushed past him on her way out of the turbolift, and he sighed. Is it written all over my face?
Barclay followed Troi into the cavernous shuttlebay where it was almost as chaotic as the scene outside the ship. When the artificial gravity was cut, most of the shuttlecraft had been secured in time, but a few hadn’t been. Repair crews were working on two craft that appeared to be slightly damaged, and they were inspecting several others.
Troi picked out a bullet-shaped Type-7 shuttlecraft, which looked to be in pristine condition. It would be big enough to carry supplies and an away team of up to six, but not so big as to crash into those spindly crystals at every turn. She ordered a harried work crew to get it ready for launch, and they dropped what they were doing to comply. Meanwhile, the two of them gathered up tricorders, portable forcefield generators, jetpacks, environmental suits, jackets, survival gear, and a miniature science probe that could be launched from the shuttle.
They nearly had the small craft loaded by the time Captain Picard strode into the shuttlebay, accompanied by Data. The captain looked with dismay at the damaged shuttles, but he marched straight toward them, concentrating on the job at hand.
When he drew closer, Reg could see a new bandage on the captain’s neck, and he gingerly touched the bandage on his own forehead. “Been to sickbay, sir?”
“Yes, and they’re filled to capacity. We’ve opened the hatches and are bringing in some of the wounded Elaysians. Unfortunately, we can’t make them very comfortable in our gravity. Lieutenant Pazlar is all right—she’s meeting us outside and will guide us down.”
Barclay let out a relieved sigh and tried not look too happy. “I’m glad to hear that, sir.”
“I also got a hypo for space sickness,” said the captain, “and I suggest you and Counselor Troi do the same.”
“Even though we’re not in space?” asked Reg warily.
“I’ll get a medkit,” said Deanna.
Data stepped into the shuttlecraft, looked around for a moment, then he poked his head out. “You have done a good job of packing. We can leave anytime, Captain.”
“Take the controls, Data. Begin launch sequence as soon as we’re aboard.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re the only ones going?” asked Deanna.
“This is all I could spare from the repair effort.” Captain Picard managed a tight smile. “Even before your dream, I knew things were going too smoothly.”
He climbed aboard the shuttlecraft, taking the co-pilot’s seat. Troi and Barclay quickly followed suit, sitting in the stern among the supplies.
Reg felt a bit claustrophobic inside the cramped cabin, but it was better than using the transporter. Anything was better than using the transporter. Data ran through the pre-ignition checklist with his usual efficiency, while the shuttlebay crew cleared the area for departure. Troi gave Reg a hypo for space sickness, then gave herself one.
Finally they contacted the bridge and were given permission to launch. The immense shuttlebay doors opened, revealing the unusual sight of bright blue sky beyond. Data piloted the shuttlecraft very slowly through the doors and into the atmosphere, and his three passengers craned their necks to get a better look at their surroundings.
Above them, Reg could just make out the silhouette of the metallic shell, glimmering dully like a band of clouds. Elaysians no longer surrounded the ship, but Reg could see a few of them scattered in the distance, hovering warily. Below them, the view was staggering—interconnected prisms, monoliths, and archways of multi-colored crystals reached toward them like icicles, and descended deep into the planet like roots.
The intricate structures looked as if they could collapse of their own impossible size, and Barclay feared there would be more avalanches. But then he remembered that there was negligible gravity here, and these colorful monoliths had stood for millions of years. They wouldn’t break unless something disturbed them . . . like the thing that disturbed the other bunch of crystals.
“The pieces that hit the ship didn’t look like those,” said Deanna. “They were darker, dead looking.”
“Then perhaps it’s not widespread,” said the captain hopefully.
“Lieutenant Pazlar is straight ahead,” reported Data. They were already traveling slowly, and the android put them into a crawl through the skies of Gemworld. Barclay leaned forward to try to get a look, and he spotted an Elaysian gripping one of the hover-platforms. She waved and zoomed off. To his eyes, she could have been any one of a thousand similar-looking Elaysians, and he felt a pang of jealousy. Pazlar was no longer dependent upon him to the degree she had been on the ship—now she could just fly away.
In the negligible gravity, it was easy to maintain a slow speed, and Data kept the shuttlecraft in a glide most of the way. As they descended, the levels of crystal began to look more and more like branches, growing in fractal patterns from a magical bejeweled bush. Among the growth were vinelike strands, which Data said were for nourishment. Reg couldn’t help but feel small and insignificant in this immense wonderland, like a fly lost in a blossoming rosebush.
They passed swarms of Elaysians, who had encampments among the crystals, expecially in the crux of the larger clusters. Netting and ropes kept their meager belongings and their children from drifting away, and the smooth columns and prism walls afforded them shade and shelter.
Less frequently, the shuttlecraft passed enclaves of Alpusta, which made Reg shiver involuntarily because they looked like nests of spiders. The spiny, multilegged creatures bobbed and bounced on their retractable webs as if they were agitated at the mere presence of the shuttlecraft. The two humans and the Betazoid tried not to stare, but they couldn’t help it.
Clutching her hover-platform, Pazlar zoomed ahead of them like a humanoid missile, and Data had difficulty keeping up with her. As she swooped among the glittering archways and prisms, Reg looked worriedly for telltale signs of the black crystals that had broken off, but he didn’t see any.
At one point, they passed a vast agricultural level, where greenery grew in moss-like clumps atop the crystals. Data explained, “The Elaysians grow food hydroponically in the gelatinous form of the crystal. They use the inedible parts of the plant to make their ropes, nets, and clothing.”
“I’d like to see that,” said Barclay. What he really wanted to
see most was firm ground to walk on, but there didn’t seem to be any of that. Even if there were, walking was impossible on Gemworld. If they had no gravity on the ship, they could at least use magnetized boots, but those were no good here.
After a while, it felt as if they were entering the heart of a planet. Sun continued to filter down, dancing with the prisms in subdued rainbows instead of brilliant ones; but the weathered, pastel crystals attested to eons and eons of wear. Reg had no problem imagining thick seas washing over these monuments when they were new, a billion years ago. Among them, he felt no bigger than an amoeba.
Watching Melora zig and zag through the forest of monstrous prisms was also a surreal sight. Reg was reminded of romantic paintings of mermaids frolicking in the ruins of Atlantis. The deeper they went, the more the light took on an unreal quiver from all the refractions, like a mirage. Everyone in the shuttlecraft was perfectly silent, as if they had just entered a cathedral.
The chirp of the captain’s combadge came like a shout intruding in a dream. “Pazlar to Captain Picard.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“We’re almost there, sir. The attendants will secure the shuttlecraft. Since you’ll be weightless, may I suggest you just hold hands when you step out.”
“Understood,” answered Picard.
They glided slowly toward an encampment of Elaysians which looked little different from the dozens they had passed enroute, except that the nets covered a slit in the immense crystal. Reg was reminded of the mighty redwoods he had seen in California. This great monolith might once have been red, too. Now it was a pale pink color, like rose quartz.
As they slowed to a stop, Elaysians surrounded them, roping the shuttlecraft so tightly that it couldn’t drift a centimeter in any direction. Data popped the hatch, and there was a mild rush of air as the pressure equalized. There was also a dry, chalky scent in the air which reminded Barclay of talcum powder and childhood. It was very disconcerting to peer out and see nothing below the open hatch but air.
Melora stuck her head in and smiled as she floated in the doorway. “The Exalted Ones are waiting. Normally there are a great many protocols we would observe, but these aren’t normal times. If you’d care to exit, Captain.” She backed away and held out her hand.
Picard stood and moved toward the open hatch, looking more confident than Reg hoped to look. He took Melora’s hand and stepped through the hatch into nothingness. Other Elaysians hovered nearby in case he needed help, but the captain looked graceful as he floated in midair, holding his hand out to Troi.
The Betazoid bravely stepped out, giving a little gasp as her feet left the security of gravity. The captain steadied her, and she turned to Reg, held out her hand, and waved expectantly.
Involuntarily, he shrunk back in his seat, folding his arms tightly against his chest. Data noticed his reaction. “You cannot possibly fall.”
“I know . . . I know.” Barclay gave an anxious sigh, then he finally stood up and moved toward the open hatch. Just as he started to step out, he hesitated, and his toe caught on the lip of the hatch. His forward momentum propelled him out the door headfirst, his feet following, and Reg whooped in alarm as he somersaulted into the air.
Elaysians rushed to his aid, their hands grabbing his arms and legs, scaring him even more. Reg tried to relax and let the experts set him right side up, but he didn’t relax until he felt Troi take his hand.
“That was quite an entrance,” said Melora with amusement. “You’ll get used to the low gravity.”
“I don’t think so,” answered Reg, his voice trembling and his limbs as stiff as the prisms towering around them. “Just drag me along—I’ll be fine.”
Data joined him, and it felt oddly reassuring to grip the android’s cool, smooth hand.
“Ready,” said Pazlar. She used the hover-platform to drag the linked visitors through the slit in the crystal into an immense rose-colored hall. To Reg, all of it appeared to have been hollowed out by natural forces.
When his eyes got used to the dim, rose-hued light inside the crystal, Reg gaped in amazement. All around the rough-hewn walls were jellyfish-like beings floating up and down in streams of bubbles. A contingent of Elaysians floated in a corner, looking like a heavenly choir, while spiny, long-legged Alpusta bobbed nervously on their webs in another part of the hall. In the center of the cavern was a dense cluster of spindly crystals, which blinked with a startling array of colors as if they were being illuminated from within.
Despite all the other wonders, Barclay had a hard time taking his eyes off the Lipuls. They seemed to be studying the visitors, although they had no eyes that he could determine. Was he imagining it, or did the Lipuls’ rhythmic movments seem to correspond with the blinking crystals in the center?
Pazlar dipped into to a respectful bow and loudly addressed the assemblage. “Exalted Ones, this is Captain Picard, Commander Troi, Commander Data, and Lieutenant Barclay from the Enterprise. They are my shipmates, and they’ve come a long way through great danger to help us. Even now, their ship lies badly damaged inside the protection of the shell. In this time of crisis, we will have to work together to help each other.”
Suddenly Reg realized that the crystals in the center were pulsing in unison with Melora’s voice, as if they were translating. Pazlar turned to the Lipuls floating in the solitude of the crystal. “If not for the dreamships, we would never have known about this grave threat. Now you must tell us everything you know—about the rift, the dark crystals which break for no reason, and the lack of contact with the Federation.”
A strange, synthesized voice issued from the sparkling cluster in the center. “You have done well, Daughter. We had no idea the rift was such a danger to the starship, or we would not have summoned you. Although our contact is infrequent, we have long valued our membership in the Federation. Like you, we have managed to create a peaceful union of many very different species. Our differences bring us strength and vitality.”
Barclay glanced at the captain and saw him smiling in agreement at that statement.
The lights in the crystals grew still for a moment, then shimmered in unison. The voice went on, “Will the one named Data come forward and touch us, for we do not recognize his species.”
Data swiveled his head away from the clump of crystals and exhaled loudly. The gust of air moved him just enough to hover over the sparkling translator. He bent down and touched a thin shard, which turned vibrant blue at his touch.
“I am an artificial being,” explained the android.
“Nonsense,” replied the strange voice. “You are made of elements and natural materials which we know. You are a natural being, not artificial.”
“Thank you.” Data smiled at what he obviously considered a compliment. “I have a theory that the singularity which threatens your world is a dimensional rift.”
“That is correct,” said a normal voice from the rear. The away team turned to see a male Elaysian wearing yellow robes instead of the more common white ones. He pushed off from the cave wall and soared over the visitors’ heads. Showoff, Reg thought.
“Captain Picard, I am Tangre Bertoran, Peer of the Jeptah.” The white-haired Elaysian said his title as if they should all be impressed, thought Reg. He kicked his bare feet in the air as he talked. “The dimensional rift is causing serious problems for Gemworld. It is directing a stream of dark matter at the planet, and this has accelerated the growth of the crystals severalfold. Gravity has doubled, and we fear it may quadruple. The new growth is not stable—it breaks off, as you have seen.
“Most of this dangerous, new growth is concentrated in the core of the planet, but all over Gemworld crystals are breaking. This has cut off travel routes and arteries, trapping and killing our people. Our communication system, which depends upon the crystal for transmission, has broken down. To relate it to your world, it’s like a major earthquake in every city at once.”
Bertoran folded his arms, as if expecting the visitors to do something i
mmediately to rectify the situation. “And I needn’t mention the danger to the entire sector if a dimensional rift stays open.”
The captain nodded gravely. “We know the danget—it nearly destroyed our ship. But we’re going to need a lot more information about this rift. What caused it?”
“How would we know?” snapped Tangre Bertoran. “One day, it just appeared.”
“But you have been collecting dark matter,” interjected Data. “Perhaps that is related.”
Bertoran gave the android a condescending smile. “Very few scientists in the Federation know anything about dark matter, although some believe it constitutes seventy percent of the universe. The shell has collected dark matter in small amounts for thousands of years, converting it to a phosphor-rich fertilizer. We never know how much we’ll get, but we’re grateful for all the energy sources we have. Although you can’t see dark matter with even your best sensors, it’s all around you. It was never dangerous before the rift appeared.”
“Perhaps there is a malfunction in the shell,” suggested Data.
There were audible gasps in the rose-hued cavern, and the Lipuls and Alpusta became more agitated, moving with rapid jerks. Bertoran recoiled in horror, then he spun around, pushed off, and flew away from them. Accusatory glares came from most of the Elaysians, and Pazlar rushed to the captain’s side.
Troi and Barclay leaned in to listen.
“Captain,” said Pazlar with a pained expression, “the shell isn’t just a machine, especially to the Jeptah. It’s a holy relic from the days of the Ancients. It’s the Sacred Protector.” She glanced at Data and lowered her voice. “Sometimes you can’t call a machine a machine, even when it is.”
“I apologize,” said Picard. “We’ll all use more tact.” He loudened his voice to address the chamber. “We ask for your pardon. Commander Data meant no disrespect to the Sacred Protector. But certainly any investigation of dark matter must include your darkmatter collectors.”
“It’s the rift you have to worry about!” shouted Tangre Bertoran. “We Jeptah will attend to the shell as we always have.”
GEMWORLD: BOOK ONE OF TWO Page 7
