GEMWORLD: BOOK ONE OF TWO

by John Vornholt

  Although the inhabitants seemed to use little technology in their homes among the crystal, the interior of the Ninth Processing Gate was a technological marvel. The corridors were cylindrical, and monitoring stations were everywhere—on the floor, ceiling, and walls. Most of these stations were unstaffed but inspected frequently by teams of fast-moving Elaysians. Snaking along the curved walls were narrow chutes and tubes, which looked like colorful veins. Materials seemed to be moving briskly through these conduits.

  They stopped for a moment when the corridor became congested with workers. Deanna bent forward to inspect a bluish conduit full of liquid, and to her surprise a Lipul shot past, causing her to bolt upright in alarm.

  “Steady there,” warned Captain Picard with a sympathetic smile.

  A moment later, they were in motion again, going up or down in branching corridors as the Alpusta desired. Troi knew they were moving laterally inside the shell, but it felt as if they were plunging deeper and deeper into a highly sophisticated complex. Some of the walls were illuminated with diagrams and flow charts; other walls were lined with filters, canisters, and apparatus she couldn’t identify. Through tinted windows, she got glimpses of laboratories, testing equipment, and research facilities. At least that’s what she guessed they were as the Alpusta whisked them along without comment.

  Troi glanced at Data and saw that the android was bursting with questions, but he showed restraint and remained silent but curious. There would be explanations later, or they would have to deal with Captain Picard. Reg and Melora conversed in low tones, and Troi imagined that Reg was getting a more informative tour than the rest of them.

  They entered what appeared to be a drinking room. There was nothing else you could call it, thought Deanna. Both Elaysians and Alpusta lined up politely to drink from long sip tubes immersed in swollen green bladders, fed by veins of liquid in the wall. They weren’t offered any of the refreshment, and the procession moved on.

  They passed through a long, narrow chamber that looked like pictures Troi had seen of the engine room of an old transatlantic steamship. Great pistons churned, and hydraulic pumps and bellows wheezed. Here Alpusta seemed to be in charge, and the spider-like creatures swarmed all over the aged machinery, tending it lovingly. This machinery needed no explanation, thought Troi; without gravity to aid in the flow of materials, all the hydraulics and pumps were necessary. It was the first time that she got a feel for the incredible age of the shell.

  The procession continued on, led by the stoic Alpusta. Briefly they passed a window which opened on the space side of the shell. Troi glimpsed row upon row of collection dishes, standing in the shadows of much larger hydrogen scoops. Before any of them could really get a good look, they had bobbed past the window.

  There were suddenly fewer workers in the circular corridor, and the walls appeared jewel-like, as if made from the crystal. The passageway ended at what appeared to be a fortified hatch—almost a vault. It was guarded by two Elaysians wearing yellow robes, and Deanna recognized the white-haired one as Tangre Bertoran, the man who had argued with them in the hall of the Exalted Ones. The other one must also be a Jeptah, decided Troi. Neither one of them looked happy to see the group of outsiders, even with an Alpusta and an Elaysian escort.

  “I regret to say that this portion of the shell is closed to you,” said Tangre Bertoran in no uncertain terms.

  “What’s in there?” asked Captain Picard.

  “Programming systems, high-level access.”

  Pazlar pushed off from the wall and zoomed to within a few centimeters of the Jeptah’s face. “These people have risked their lives to help us. How dare you defy the wishes of the Exalted Ones!”

  He returned her glare. “For eons, the Jeptah have tended and protected this holy relic, and it has tended and protected all of us. Never in our long history have we opened the inner workings of the Sacred Protector to the eyes of outsiders. It was understood when we joined the Federation that we did not have to share our technology.”

  “Believe me,” said Barclay bravely, “we could d-duplicate everything we’ve seen here. Maybe it would take a while, but it took you a while. The Federation will still be here tomorrow, but that’s hard to say about Gemworld. All it would take is for you to lose the forcefield, and you lose your atmosphere.”

  “Precisely!” bellowed Tangre Bertoran. “Why do you think we are so protective of the workings of the shell? A moment’s sabotage could kill every living creature on Gemworld!”

  He ignored the others and appealed directly to the captain. “You are a man of honor, a hero in the Federation. We know this. Can’t you accept the fact that we know when the shell is working properly? Do what you do best—destroy the rift out there! We don’t have any weapons, or we would do it.”

  The captain’s lips thinned, but he replied calmly, “We don’t merely destroy everything we find in space. Until we know what created that rift, we don’t know how to deal with it. We need information. I’d like to remind you that the Lipuls contacted us. Perhaps you should discuss your concerns with them.”

  “You can’t change anything here, anyway,” insisted the Elaysian. “There are protocols even we must follow, and none of the senior engineers are present. It would do you little good to even—”

  With a swift, violent motion, the Alpusta picked up the Elaysian with half a dozen of its legs and hurled him headfirst down the corridor. Flailing his arms and legs, Bertoran finally managed to stop his momentum and bounce off a wall. He whirled around and glared at the Alpusta. “Jrojak! You will answer for this!” The Alpusta turned its forest of stalked eyes on the other Elaysian guarding the door. He swiftly punched a code into an entry pad, and the hatch popped open with a rush of air. The Elaysian backed away as Jrojak swept past, dragging the captain, Troi, Barclay, Pazlar, and Data along in its wake.

  They entered a room that was unlike any programming center Troi had ever seen. The walls of the tubular chamber were covered with small drawers. Between the rows of drawers, clawlike switches clicked with numbing regularity. An access panel lay open, its sparkling circuitry revealed, and there was one monitoring station like the ones they had seen throughout the complex.

  The far wall was covered with a tapestry made from coarse cloth. As Deanna peered more closely at this wall-hanging, she noticed that it had numerous small pockets.

  Another Elaysian tried to scurry from the chamber, but Pazlar stopped her. “Don’t go,” she said. “Please tell us what’s happening here.”

  The Elaysian looked uncertainly at the Alpusta, and the green crystal on its belt glimmered. “Speak, our daughter,” said the metallic voice.

  She gulped and nodded. “I am not Jeptah. I understand how serious this is.”

  “Then help us,” said Picard, “so we’ll know how to help you.”

  The Elaysian motioned around at the tiny drawers.

  “These are the repositories—you might call them master circuits—made from the living crystal.” She pushed off and floated to the wall-hanging with all the pockets. From one of the pockets, she took a red crystal shard about thirty centimeters long. It looked like one of the spiny crystals from the cluster they had seen in the hall of the Exalted Ones.

  Crystal in hand, the technician drifted toward a drawer over Troi’s head and opened it. Very carefully, she shoved the shard into its slot, and the accompanying switch began to tick softly. “It is that simple,” she explained, “but it is not simple. It usually takes an acolyte the equivalent of twenty years to learn to program the shell. All the functions are available, but not all the crystals are available.”

  “What do you mean, they’re not all available?” asked the captain.

  “The six master crystals are in the possession of the senior engineers, one from each of the sentient species. We can program many functions here, but access to critical systems is limited to the six senior engineers. None of them are present on the shell at this time.”

  Troi stared in amazement. “Ho
w could they not be present in this time of emergency?”

  “There are serious problems in the rest of Gemworld,” answered the Elaysian defensively. She shook her head in frustration at having to deal with these outsiders. “The senior engineers are high-ranking dignitaries. There’s no one more important, not even the Exalted Ones. They are the only ones who are able to make substantive changes in the shell programming.”

  “Perhaps we should recall them,” said Barclay.

  The captain raised his hand, quelling other suggestions. “I’m sure there’s much we can learn from . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Haselma,” answered the programmer with a slight bow. She glanced uneasily at the Alpusta. “If it’s the wish of the Exalted Ones, I will show you what I know, and how it relates to the crisis. You will have to send me your most intelligent engineers—this technology was advanced a million years ago.”

  Captain Picard smiled confidently. “I think Commander Data and Lieutenant Barclay will be able to keep up with you.”

  His combadge chirped, and a voice said, “Enterprise to away team.”

  “Picard here. Go ahead, Number One.”

  “We should be putting up shields now, but we have a problem. We’re surrounded by about a thousand Elaysians, and they refuse to go away. We can’t use thrusters or impulse engines for fear of injuring them.”

  “Did they say what they want?”

  “Yes, access to our engine room, torpedo room, and weapons systems. And one more thing, they’re all wearing yellow.”

  “Our friends, the Jeptah,” said Picard with consternation. “Data and Barclay have to stay here on the shell, but the rest of us will return immediately. Picard out.”

  The captain turned and looked at Data, wishing that he didn’t have to leave anyone on the shell, where they didn’t seem to be entirely welcome. “Perhaps we need to send for security.”

  “I will be security,” said a metallic voice, and they turned to see the Alpusta bobbing slowly on its web.

  “Thank you,” said Picard with apparent relief. “Lieutenant Pazlar, if you’ll lead the way out.”

  The young Elaysian looked chagrined by these developments. “I’m very sorry, sir, for the problems we’re facing. I knew some of my people were mired in tradition, but I didn’t think they would try to hamper us. These are frightening times—it’s bringing out the worst in us.”

  “You’re not accountable for every member of your species,” said Picard with sympathy. “Data, don’t hesitate to contact the ship if you need help. As soon as we can spare more people, we’ll send them over.”

  “What precisely are we looking for, sir?” asked the android.

  “A connection between the shell and the dimensional rift. Check on their dark-matter collectors, too. Let’s use the process of elimination to rule out the obvious. Maybe this shell has nothing to do with it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Troi noticed Melora giving Reg a worried glance. He nodded confidently. Good work, Reg, the counselor thought. You’ve come a long way. The Elaysian took the captain’s hand, and he in turn took Troi’s hand. Deftly bouncing from wall to wall, Melora quickly picked up momentum, and they were soon flying down the tubular corridor.

  Chapter Eight

  CAPTAIN PICARD COULDN’T HELP being reminded of Gulliver and the Lilliputians as he cautiously piloted the shuttlecraft toward the Enterprise. Suspended in the blue sky, festooned with ropes, the Enterprise looked more like a dirigible than a starship; and thousands of yellow-garbed Elaysians swarmed all over her. They were apparently trying to tie the ship down, or tie themselves to her. More and more of them were arriving every minute, and a long chain of towed Elaysians stretched across the sky like the ragged tail of a kite.

  Beside him in the copilot seat, Melora Pazlar lowered her head in embarrassment. “I can’t tell you how much I regret this, sir. I don’t know what’s taken hold of them.”

  “Fear,” said Deanna Troi. “It’s a strong motivator, not always for the best.”

  “Don’t they realize how dangerous it is out here?” said Picard in amazement. “The new crystals are breaking off as fast as they grow, and with the gravity increasing—”

  He didn’t finish his statement because he knew his ship’s counselor was right. They were locked in fear, striking at the wrong enemy, and rational discourse would not be easy.

  Troi observed, “The Jeptahs’ reaction to us is a classic case of ‘killing the messenger,’ because they don’t want to hear what we’re saying. We’re raising questions they can’t begin to raise themselves.”

  “Any ideas about how we can get them to leave?” asked Picard. He slowed the shuttlecraft down to a controlled glide. In another hundred meters, the path would be blocked unless the throng of protestors voluntarily parted for them. Instead the Jeptahs seemed to be drifting into the shuttle’s path, forcing Picard to go even slower.

  Melora clenched her teeth in anger. “I wish we could stun them all.”

  “That seems a bit drastic,” said the captain, mildly amused. “And we would also have to transport them all to the planet. No, there doesn’t seem to be anything to do but hear them out.”

  As the shuttlecraft drew perilously close to the Elaysians, Picard applied forward thrusters and brought them to a complete stop. Then he popped the hatch, letting fresh air and sunshine pour into the small craft, which refreshed his weary spirits. Gemworld was a special place, but all the things that made it special also made their job difficult.

  Elaysians fluttered around them, peering into the shuttlecraft with a mixture of curiosity and anger. Picard went to the open hatchway and surveyed the crowd of yellow-garbed humanoids, who were scattered into the sky as far as he could see. Off the bow of the shuttlecraft was the Enterprise, seen from an angle Picard had never expected to see, unless he were floating in the darkness of space. With all the ropes hanging from it, the starship looked like a metallic Moby Dick—a monster dwarfing everything in sight.

  “I am Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the Enterprise!” he called out to the Elaysians. “Do you have a spokesperson, someone I can talk to?”

  “Tangre Bertoran,” came the answer, which hardly surprised Picard.

  “Someone get Tangre Bertoran!” His name was shouted aloud and carried across the wind by a chain of voices.

  “We demand to be let onto the ship!” shouted one of the Jeptah. This cry was taken up for several moments, but Picard didn’t react. He wasn’t going to negotiate with an angry mob, not when he could talk to the main instigator.

  Melora Pazlar appeared in the doorway, glaring at her fellow Elaysians. The captain could tell that she was about to explode. “Now would be a good time for diplomacy,” he cautioned her.

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m just so disappointed with them. I knew that I was shorttempered and demanding, but I didn’t think so many other Elaysians were.”

  “Do you have any police, or anyone we could call for assistance? To reason with them?”

  Melora shook her head. “We haven’t needed law enforcement for millennia. The Exalted Ones might be able to reason with them, but it would take time to convene them and send a delegation back here. The Jeptah have never been shy.”

  “So I gather,” replied Picard.

  When a few of her fellows gazed at her with curiosity, Melora granted them her most charming smile and nothing else. Deanna Troi also came to the hatch and waved, but they pointedly ignored her. While they waited, the captain contacted the bridge and told Commander Riker that the shuttlecraft was just outside the hull, trying to negotiate a withdrawal of the protestors. Riker wished him luck.

  Finally the curtain of Elaysians seemed to part, and a small procession zoomed toward them. Tangre Bertoran was in the lead, with his own hover-platform, and about six associates followed in his wake.

  The white-haired Jeptah looked defiant as he approached Captain Picard. “Ah, Captain, I knew we would meet again. We’
ve shown up for our reciprocal tour of the ship. We would also like to use your weapon systems, as you used the Sacred Protector.”

  The captain sat down in the hatchway and dangled his legs in midair. “You do know how dangerous it is out here, don’t you? Another avalanche of broken crystals could occur any moment. The only reason we would like you to leave is so that we can put up our shields.”

  Bertoran frowned, and the triangle on his forehead stood out in tight relief. “You violated the sanctity of the Sacred Protector and the rules of the Jeptah.”

  “And so you wish to violate our sanctity and our rules,” said Picard evenly. “You’ve done so, in a most impressive way. We can’t even leave, for fear that our thrusters and impulse engines will harm the protestors. Are your people tying themselves to the Enterprise?”

  “The ropes are symbolic,” answered Bertoran. “It means that you are bound to us by the rule of law. We have command of your ship while it is within our shell.”

  “So what are your demands?” asked Picard.

  “That you stop invading the Sacred Protector. That you allow us to inspect your weapons systems and engine room, and that you destroy the rift with your weapons.”

  Picard felt Pazlar stir behind him, and he turned to see her sputtering with anger at this popinjay and his demands. He gave her a knowing smile and whispered, “How far will any of them be able to get once they come onto the ship?”

  She brightened immediately. “Oh, they’ll be miserable. They have no idea what it’s like to move around in gravity.”

  Picard turned to the multitude of Elaysians, floating all around like an assemblage of angels. He rose to his feet and waved like a politician. “We will be happy to meet the demands of Tangre Bertoran!” That proclamation was followed by a surprised clamor of voices and a startled look on Bertoran’s face. Picard went on his best populist manner. “But we can’t take all of you. Perhaps your esteemed leader and a small party, but the rest of you must disperse, so that we can put up shields.”