“Mr. Barclay, go with her,” ordered Picard. “Take a shuttlecraft—it will be faster and safer.”
The Elaysian whirled around as quickly as she could. “With all due respect, Captain, I think I can handle a protocol matter with my own people by myself.”
“Lieutenant, some of your people have proven to be very intractable. I don’t want anybody from this crew going anywhere on this planet alone. Do I make myself clear?”
She lowered her head. “Yes, sir.”
The captain granted her a slight smile. “Besides, it always helps to view a situation from two different sides. While you hunt down these engineers, try to find out when each of them was last on the shell.”
“A little detective work,” said Barclay, rubbing his hands together. “I don’t mind that at all.”
“We’ll check on it, Captain.” Melora shuffled out the door, barely waiting for Reg to catch up.
“I could give you more detailed descriptions,” said Data, “but until we inspect the programming, we can draw no conclusions. Their technology is both more sophisticated and more primitive than ours, owing to its advanced age. The shell is a remarkable combination of traditional circuitry and organic components made from the crystal.”
The captain sighed. “At some point, I would love to hear about their technology in detail, but right now we need to finish repairs.”
“What we really need is some sleep,” insisted Crusher. “We’ve been here for sixteen hours now, and most of us were up a shift or two before that. Did Barclay sleep at all?”
“He slept on the shuttlecraft,” answered Data.
“All right, Beverly,” said Picard with a weary smile. “Mr. Data, you have the bridge. I’d like to send a probe into that rift, even if the chances are slim that we’ll learn anything. So think about what kind of sensors would be most useful.”
The android nodded thoughtfully. “I will make preliminary readings. If the other dimension contains a dark-matter nebula, which seems likely, we might be able to detect trace gases associated with a nebula.”
“Make it so,” said the captain.
“One more thing,” said Dr. Crasher. “I just want to remind everyone that there are some severe side effects associated with weightlessness. Muscle loss, atrophy, nausea, cramping. I know it’s pretty out there, but take your hypos and try not to stay off the ship for extended periods.”
“If my projections hold true,” said Data, “Gemworld will soon have gravity again, but it will no longer be pretty.”
That was not the cheery note on which Picard would have hoped to end the staff meeting, but it was fitting. “All of you have things to do,” he said, “with sleep being primary among them. Dismissed.”
Chapter Nine
REG BARCLAY FLOATED in an uncomfortable silence a few centimeters above his seat on the shuttlecraft. He was uncomfortable not because of the weightlessness but because of the icy curtain of silence Melora Pazlar had strung between them. She hadn’t spoken to him since they left the briefing aboard the Enterprise. True, she had to pilot the shuttlecraft, and there were plenty of obstacles among the glittering crystals, but she could acknowledge his existence, couldn’t she?
He thought about tightening his lap belt some more, but he didn’t want to appear to be frightened of the low gravity. More than anything, he wanted Melora to feel that he was sympathetic to her, but how could he be sympathetic if he was scared of low gravity? So the lanky lieutenant floated nervously above his seat, trying to cross his legs and appear nonchalant.
Under the best of circumstances, Reg wasn’t comfortable making small talk, and this was even more torturous. He didn’t even know where they were going; but it couldn’t be the shell because they were headed the wrong direction. He had to trust that she was on-mission, which was to get one of the six senior engineers back to the shell. There was no other way to gain access to the high-level subroutines.
Reg decided that he was within his rights to ask where they were going. After all, it wasn’t top secret, and he was an integral part of the away team. Nevertheless, he had to screw up his courage to even clear his throat, which he did. That guttural sound didn’t get a reaction from Melora as he had hoped, so Reg grew bolder. “Uh, I was just wondering . . . w-where are we going?”
She ignored him, and Reg felt a flash of anger, which spurred him to try again. “Come on, Melora! You can’t ignore me the whole trip—you’ve got to talk to me sometime.”
“But not until I have to,” she snapped back.
“Well . . . you can at least tell me where we’re going.”
She sighed impatiently. “The Hold of the Regal Oneness.”
“Oh, that clears it up,” muttered Barclay. “I was worried we were going to the hold of the Twoness or Threeness.”
She seethed angrily at him. “I can’t believe you suggested that one of our senior engineers sabotaged the shell. What could possibly be the motive for that?”
Barclay gulped. “I was just drawing a logical conclusion. If you hang around Data enough, you end up doing that. Please forgive me—it’s nothing personal.”
“I know.” Melora slowed the craft down, as much to give herself a moment to think as to avoid a large cloud of dark, shattered crystals floating in the air. A few of the shards sizzled on the shuttlecraft’s forcefield. “It’s just that I haven’t been back here in so long, and I feel like I don’t belong. My loyalties are divided. I never questioned any of our traditions before, but now I do. Gemworld is the same place I left . . . but it’s not.”
She shook her head in amazement. “When I was growing up here, I thought it was a paradise, a place where there was never any strife or ill feelings. Now for the first time I see that some of us are petty and small-minded. Also, the Lipuls summoned us, but my own people don’t seem to want us. I’ve never noticed the philosophical difference between our species before. I thought we were always in agreement.”
“Well,” said Reg, “you left here a child and you came back an adult. You lost your innocence along the way. Fighting in a war will do that to you.”
Despite her silky blond hair, Melora’s face looked as dark as the cloud of broken crystals. “And I’ve heard all of you talk about Gemworld: ‘It’s artificial, it’s a skeleton, it should have died a million years ago.’ And, you know, I look around here, and I can’t help but to agree with you. Now I’ve seen young planets in their prime, and I know this planet is more preserved than alive. Who have we been fooling all these years?”
“Melora, you’re . . . you’re dead wrong,” insisted Reg. “Gemworld is a beautiful place, a triumph of the will to survive. You’ve built, you’ve adapted, and you’ve lived in peace forever. Your people don’t have to apologize for anything you’ve had to do to survive. So what if Gemworld doesn’t look like a thousand other planets? We’re all impressed with it, even if we can’t figure it out exactly.”
Melora gave him an appreciative smile, then turned back to her instruments. “Thank you, Reg. I’m sure glad I ran into you in the corridor and not somebody else.”
He looked down sheepishly. “Uh, no, I think I ran into you.”
“No, I wasn’t looking where I was going. That’s me, full speed ahead! Good thing my full speed on a ship isn’t too fast.”
“Then I can stop feeling guilty?”
“Yes.” Pazlar laughed. “You feel guilty too often, Reg. You act like you’re always being punished for something.”
“Well, I was kind of a mischievous child,” admitted Barclay. “And even now, I still seem to mess up a lot and irritate my crewmates. I guess I’m never quite sure if people like me, or if they’re just putting up with me.”
“Your shipmates seem to like you just fine,” answered Pazlar. “And whatever mistakes you’ve made, you still have a really good record—lengthy service on the Enterprise and every vessel you’ve been aboard.”
“You checked my record?” asked Reg, not sure if he should be pleased or annoyed.
&nb
sp; “Only because I didn’t want to bring somebody aggressive down here to Gemworld. I wanted to bring somebody like you . . . nice.”
“Why, thank you,” said Reg, now certain he should be pleased. “I did some checking on you, too.”
“You did?” Melora smiled, actually sounding pleased.
“But not your record,” admitted Barclay. “It was more like scuttlebutt.”
“Oh,” she said knowingly, “one of my favorite parts of Starfleet—scuttlebutt. You found out that I like human men.”
“Uh, yes,” said Reg, certain he was blushing. “I mean, I found out you were involved with a couple of human men.”
She shrugged. “Yup, humans are my weakness. But I move around far too much to have any kind of real involvement. It’s odd, but I seem to be attracted to men who are rather shy and insecure—maybe they remind me more of home. Tangre Bertoran not withstanding, most Elaysians are mild mannered.”
But Barclay was barely listening; he was still rerunning in his mind the part where she said she was attracted to men who were “shy and insecure.” Could that mean him?
“Yes,” he said, trying to agree with her. “Tangre Bertoran—a great man!”
She frowned puzzledly at him. “That’s debatable. So, why aren’t you attached? You’ve been on the same ship with the same crew for as long as I’ve been in Starfleet.”
“I haven’t met the right woman,” he said, shrugging his lanky shoulders. “Remember, I’m shy and insecure.”
Melora smiled. “That’s what they all say.”
Now that the conversation had turned to his love life, or lack thereof, Reg felt a desire to change the subject. “We are chasing down a senior engineer, right?”
“Yes. On the shell, they told me that the engineer who represents the Elaysians is at the Hold of the Regal Oneness. Despite the title, it’s nothing but a communal storage area, but an important one. It serves a wide area, and if something were to happen to those stores, the whole region would be in turmoil.”
“How much farther?”
“We’re almost there,” she answered. “See how many people live around here?”
Barclay peered out the window, and he finally noticed a few small details which revealed that these rainbow-hued crystals were indeed inhabited. Filmy nets were strung in the crux of one massive cluster, and hover-platforms were tethered nearby. Some greenery grew in clumps from a large prism, and thick nourishment strands snaked through the crystalline structures.
Looking as hard as he could, Reg couldn’t see any actual Elaysians flying around or watching from their homes, as they usually did. Melora mentioned it first. “I don’t know where everybody is. Maybe we’ll find out.”
Without warning, a shaft of dark shards rose from deep in the planet and plowed into the tiny shuttlecraft. It was buffeted by the impact, but the shields held as a shimmer rippled across the bow. Reg flinched while Melora calmly piloted them away from the deadly debris. When he opened his eyes, he saw the deadly cloud whoosh past them, put into motion by an unexpected gravity spike.
Melora looked intent as she piloted the shuttlecraft back onto course, and they picked up speed. Reg was going to inquire about the wisdom of that, given what had just happened, but he remembered that Melora was the kind who plowed full speed ahead. She was worried about her people and their food storage, and she wanted to reach them as soon as possible.
In short order, they saw Elaysians hovering in the distance, and Melora slowed down the shuttlecraft, to Reg’s relief. They cautiously approached a large cluster of yellow crystals that seemed to be completely enshrouded in green nets, with a swarm of Elaysians frantically adding more nets. As they drew closer, Barclay could see why—there were huge rips in the net where discolored black crystals had poked through. In fact, the mutated crystal seemed to be growing from every nook and cranny of the storage area. Some of the dark growth had crossed paths with the healthy growth, and several of the yellow prisms were broken and cracked.
Melora gently applied thrusters to bring the shuttlecraft to a stop, and they both braced themselves to stop their own momentum. This time helpful Elaysians didn’t crowd around to tether them—they kept working. Their frantic efforts reminded Reg of people stacking sandbags to hold a swollen river in its banks, with just as much chance of success. No one paid attention to the visitors as Melora popped the hatch and leaped from her seat, sailing into the dim blue sky. With a gulp, Reg floated uneasily from his seat, and Melora had to reach back in and help him through the hatch.
Gripping his hand, she pushed off from the shuttlecraft, and they sailed toward the nearest expanse of netting, which clung like moss to a large yellow prism. As they drew closer, Reg could see a huge clearing beyond the netting, but it wasn’t clear—it was filled with smaller nets and bundles of supplies, many of them impaled on gray, misshapen crystals that grew everywhere like weeds.
She allowed them to drift into the net, which caught them gently and held them in place. Reg and Melora hung there for several minutes, staring at the frenzied activity and the awful destruction. Elaysians wearing environmental suits were working on the mutant spires, trying to cut them with whirring hand saws. Black clouds of dust floated over the work crews, attesting to their efforts. To Barclay, it was disconcerting to see these alien technologies in this unlikely place, and he couldn’t imagine how Melora felt.
“The thoron radiation,” she said worriedly. “That’s why they need the suits. It’s not dangerous in small quantities, but concentrated it can cause radiation sickness.”
“I know,” answered Reg, “but they can’t saw down all the new growth—it’s sprouting too fast. They’ll have to abandon this site.”
“They can’t,” she said worriedly. “There’s nowhere else to take the stores. All of the large spaces are being eaten up by the dark crystal.”
A worker in regular garb floated past them, studying a tricorder, and Pazlar yelled at him. “Excuse me! Where is the senior engineer, Zuka Juno?”
He was about to ignore her until he noticed Barclay’s Starfleet uniform. Then his expression grew disdainful. “He’s very busy right now. I suggest you go back to your ship, where it’s safe.”
Melora pointed behind them. “Do you see our shuttlecraft?”
“Yes.”
“Zuka Juno will join us there in five minutes, or we’ll open fire on the nets with our phasers.”
“You wouldn’t do that!” shouted the Elaysian, aghast.
“I would. Once I destroy the nets, Zuka Juno won’t be busy anymore. Come on, Lieutenant.” She grabbed Reg’s hand and deftly pushed off a nearby facet. They drifted lazily back toward the shuttlecraft.
“This shuttlecraft doesn’t have any weapons,” whispered Barclay.
“You know that, and I know that. But they don’t.”
In short order, all of the Elaysians took notice of them, and much of the work stopped as the workers considered this new threat. Although it was as weightless in the shuttlecraft as out of it, Reg felt safer inside. He monitored thoron readings, while Melora hovered impatiently just outside the hatch.
“How much time has elapsed?” she asked Barclay.
“Almost five minutes,” he answered. “I can cycle through the landing lights, which might frighten them a bit.”
“Go ahead.”
Reg put the tiny craft through the most impressive light show he could muster, and the Elaysians began to scatter. After a few moments, a section of netting parted, and a thin, older Elaysian emerged, gripping a hover-platform. He was followed by an entourage of two or three more Elaysians, all of whom looked angry enough to bite through the crystal. This disgruntled party cautiously approached the shuttlecraft, and Reg powered off the lights.
A violet light glowed on the chest of the older Elaysian. As he came closer, Reg could see it was a crystal shard on a metal chain. Melora crossed her arms and floated in the hatchway, waiting for him.
The older man’s voice shook with rage. “Whos
e side are you on, my daughter? I can’t believe you would threaten to destroy this precious hold!”
“I don’t have to destroy it,” she answered. “The crystal is doing that.”
He bowed his head, conceding the fact. “What do you want?”
“I want you to come with us to the shell. Our Starfleet engineers want to know why dark- matter collection has increased sixteen-fold. They want to know why this is happening.”
Zuka Juno snorted derisively. “They want to inspect our programming.”
“Well it’s high time somebody did, isn’t it?” snapped Pazlar.
The two Elaysians—one young, one old; one wearing a Starfleet combadge and the other a violet crystal—stared stubbornly at each other. Finally Zuka Juno lifted his hands in resignation. “Do we have to go in that vehicle?”
“I’ve turned off the artificial gravity, and it will be fast.” She moved back to allow the engineer to enter before her. Barclay floated toward the rear of the craft, almost banging his head on a fire extinguisher in the process. Melora situated the distinguished Elaysian near the front of the craft, then she hovered over the pilot’s seat, checking the readouts.
“Hi!” said Reg with false cheer. “I’m Lieutenant Reginald Barclay.”
The Elaysian regarded him with pale eyes. “Still planning on shooting us?”
“No,” he answered sheepishly. “We don’t have any weapons.”
Pazlar quickly shut the hatch. “I’m sorry I had to lie back there, but this is important.”
Zuka Juno sighed heavily. “Everything is important these days. There are crises everywhere, and nobody knows what to do. We are losing our homeworld to this foul growth! I don’t really think inspecting a few lines of code will do much good.”
“We’re just looking for some answers,” replied Melora. “We’re not alone in this—the Enterprise crew can help us, if we only let them.” She fired thrusters and slowly pulled away from the yellow cluster.
Barclay tried to sound nonchalant as he asked, “Um, when was the last time you were on the shell?”
GEMWORLD: BOOK ONE OF TWO Page 11
