GEMWORLD: BOOK ONE OF TWO

by John Vornholt

  Picard held up his hand and smiled sympathetically. “Permission denied. We know too little about the rift, even after sending a probe into it. And the morale problem if people started deserting the ship—”

  “But, Captain, we can’t leave her like this,” insisted the commander.

  Picard’s tone grew a bit steely. “We all feel strongly about Counselor Troi and want to see her full recovery, but this is a foolhardy plan. I’m not going to gamble your life on it, or hers. In our fastest shuttlecraft, you couldn’t get to a starbase in less than thirty hours. How would you take care of her? Number One, accept the fact that we’re here until we resolve this crisis.”

  “And if we can’t?”

  “Then she’ll be the luckiest one among us,” replied Picard. “She won’t have to see the end.”

  His combadge chirped and a familiar voice said, “Bridge to Picard.”

  “Go ahead, Data.”

  “Lieutenant Pazlar has reported in. She will dock the shuttlecraft in approximately five minutes, and she has requested a medical team. Lieutenant Barclay is ill.”

  “How ill?” asked the captain, fearing a sickness similar to Danna Troi’s.

  “Space sickness.”

  He let out a relieved sigh. Although he was sure that Barclay would disagree with him, space sickness wasn’t deadly. “See to it. Riker and I will meet them in sickbay. Picard out.”

  He turned to Riker and managed a pained smile. “This gives you another excuse to visit sickbay.”

  “I’m with you, sir,” said the first officer, lifting his chin. “Are you sure we can’t destroy that rift?”

  “Perhaps we can. But we don’t know how, and we don’t know what we’d be destroying. If we can stop the flow of dark matter, maybe it will close on its own.”

  “That’s the plan?” asked Riker.

  “Until I hear a better one.”

  From his bed in sickbay, Reg Barclay looked apologetically at Captain Picard. “I’m really sorry I messed up, sir. I tried to convince them.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” said Melora Pazlar, gazing proudly at the lieutenant. “He did great. I really think the Exalted Ones listened to him and will cooperate with us. He can’t help it if he was in a weightless environment for too long . . . and got a little sick.”

  “No, of course not,” said Picard with an encouraging smile. “I’m sure they won’t hold it against you.”

  Commander Riker bent over and fingered the violet crystal hanging from Reg’s neck. “You seem to have picked up a souvenir.”

  “Yes, it’s . . . it’s kind of a key, like a promotion.” Barclay shook his head in wonderment. “Apparently I’m now the proxy for one of the senior engineers, Zuka Juno. That means we can get access to the shell programming whenever we want, for all the good it will do us.”

  “Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened,” said the captain.

  “Yes, sir.” Reg glanced uncertainly at Melora. “We actually promised to keep it a secret until they had time to deal with it, but I don’t suppose it matters.”

  “We can’t wait any longer,” agreed Pazlar.

  In a somewhat halting manner, with frequent side jaunts, Barclay told the captain and first officer about finding Zuka Juno and bringing him to the shell. When the senior engineer accessed the primary computer code, their worst fears were realized. The code had, indeed, been sabotaged and put into an encrypted loop.

  It was only logical to leave the senior engineer at work on the problem, so Barclay had gone in his place to appeal to the Exalted Ones. To give his words more weight, he had became Zuka Juno’s proxy.

  Melora interrupted, “He really shamed them into taking some action.”

  “I hope so,” said Reg, shaking his head. “By now, Tangre Bertoran has had plenty of time to go the shell and verify it for himself. If we go back there now, maybe we can get some cooperation.”

  The captain frowned. “But we can’t really stop the synergy between the rift and the shell until we break the encryption. We’ve got to find the one who did this.”

  “It could even be Tangre Bertoran,” said Pazlar.

  “Or one of six senior engineers who are scattered all over the planet,” muttered Riker. “We need a plan B in case we never find this criminal. Is there any way to turn off the shell and reboot the system?”

  “Not that we’ve seen,” answered Reg. “As Data pointed out, the system isn’t designed to be shut down.”

  “It would only take an instant to lose the planet’s atmosphere,” said Pazlar, sounding horrified at the very idea. “We can’t shut down the shell.”

  “The only thing in the shell that’s crucial to the atmosphere are the forcefields,” said Picard thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s a way to keep them going. We’ve got to get back to the shell and talk to the senior engineers.”

  “I’m ready,” said Barclay, struggling to sit up.

  “Not you, Lieutenant,” said the captain with a smile. “You’ve done enough for today.”

  “But I am one of the senior engineers . . . sort of.” Barclay tugged on the violet crystal hanging from his neck. “Besides, I feel much better, really I do.”

  “The doctor said he could leave whenever he felt better,” added Melora. She gazed fondly at Reg. “This time, we’ll leave on the artificial gravity in the shuttlecraft.”

  “Very well.” The captain tapped his combadge. “Picard to Data.”

  “Data here,” came the response.

  “Meet us in shuttlebay one. Commander Riker will take over the bridge.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On my way,” replied Riker, moving toward the exit. The big man glanced at the door of Troi’s room, and anguish etched his handsome features. Reg had discovered that no one in sickbay was giving out any information about Counselor Troi, and she wasn’t seeing visitors. Commander Riker must have known that, too, because he lowered his head and walked out the door.

  Reg looked worriedly at Melora. “We’d better have the doctor give us a few extra hypos. I think we’re going to be gone for a while.”

  En route in the shuttlecraft, Picard, Barclay, and Pazlar went over every bit of information they possessed with Data, who was the repository of all their knowledge concerning the rift, the shell, and Gemworld. The android had studied the data from the probe as well as Barclay’s new information about the shell, and he theorized a classic Catch-22: the rift would stay open as long as the shell collected dark matter, and the shell would collect dark matter as long as the rift stayed open. As long as these conditions remained in force, the dark, mutant crystal would continue to grow and choke the life out of Gemworld.

  Picard had no solution to suggest. They would just have to keep gathering information until a solution presented itself. With any luck, thought the captain, maybe they could find the person who did this.

  No Elaysians were seen drifting outside the Ninth Processing Gate so they tethered the shuttlecraft themselves and entered the shell. Captain Picard noted and was amused by the deference shown to Lieutenant Barclay. As Melora Pazlar led them through the tubular corridors, Elaysians and Alpusta pressed forward to see the human who wore the violet shard. When Reg nodded shyly at them, they shrunk back, as if unworthy or embarrassed. Picard soon realized that Barclay, as unlikely as it seemed, had made himself something of a celebrity on Gemworld. Now he would have to be included on every away team to the planet.

  In due course, they found themselves in the deadend passageway that led to the central programming room. Picard’s hackles rose when he saw two yellow-garbed Jeptah waiting outside the vault. He reminded himself that he had his own dignitary—Reg Barclay—and so no one could refuse the team access. However, he knew this encounter wouldn’t be easy when the Jeptah turned around and one of them was revealed to be Tangre Bertoran.

  The Peer of the Jeptah scowled at them. “Come to gloat have you, Captain Picard? As you predicted, we’re incapable of helping ourselves, and we have to depend upon
our saviors from Starfleet.” Picard ignored the taunt.

  Bertoran reserved his biggest sneer for Barclay. “And here’s the new proxy for the senior engineer of the Elaysians. What tricks have you and Zuka Juno concocted for us? Why won’t he let us enter?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Reg puzzledly.

  “I mean, he’s got the door barred from the inside. We’ve been standing out here for a long time, begging him to let us in.”

  “what does he say?” asked Reg.

  “He says nothing. He refuses to answer.” Bertoran looked at his fellow Jeptah. “Are you sure he’s in there?”

  “Oh, yes, Exalted One.” He pointed to Reg and Melora. “He entered with these two and has not left since then.”

  “That was several hours ago,” said Melora.

  “I can tell from the way the hatch is locked, that he’s in there,” insisted the Jeptah.

  Barclay pounded on the solid metal hatch and shouted, “Zuka Juno! It’s me . . . your proxy! Let us in!”

  There was no response, and Reg turned worriedly to the captain. “I don’t get it. He said he’d be trying to break the encryption and would wait for us to return.”

  The captain turned to Tangre Bertoran. “Is it all right if we break this hatch open?”

  “How do you intend to do that? This door is made from our strongest alloy.” The Elaysian frowned worriedly. “You’re not going to shoot your phasers off in here, are you?”

  “There’s no need for that,” the captain assured him. “Mr. Data, please open this hatch.”

  “Yes, sir.” The android floated forward and anchored his feet in the circular entryway to give himself some leverage. Then he gripped the hatch wheel with both hands and gave it a twist. The sound of snapping metal could be heard even through the thick vault, and the wheel spun freely in Data’s hands.

  “By the Ancients—” muttered Bertoran, staring at the android. “You are a remarkable being.”

  “Thank you.” Data pushed the broken hatch, and it swung open, revealing nothing but a few sparkles of refracted light inside. “Zuka Juno?” he asked politely. No answer came, and Captain Picard pulled himself up to the entryway to take a look. The hair rose on the back of his neck as his sense of danger was alerted. The feeling must have been widespread because no one else in the corridor spoke or moved. Data took the point and shot through the hatchway. When Picard heard no shouts of warning, he followed.

  He found the android shining a light around the hundreds of small drawers that lined the cylindrical chamber. It didn’t take the android long to locate the body of a thin, older Elaysian floating in the back of the room. The man’s eyes stared blankly in the unmistakable stupor of death. Data efficiently drew his tricorder and took a reading, but there was no urgency or surprise in his voice. “He is dead.”

  “What? What is it?” shouted Tangre Bertoran, muscling his way past the others in the hatchway. He swooped into the room and followed the light to the ghastly scene in the corner, and his arms fluttered with alarm. “Help him! Is he alive?”

  “No, we’re too late,” said Picard. “I’m sorry. Do you see any marks on him, Data?”

  The android hovered closer to the corpse and inspected him with his light.

  “Don’t touch him!” wailed Tangre Bertoran. “Leave him alone—you must not defile the body! He can only be handled by the Jeptah.”

  “Is he Jeptah?” asked Data with curiosity.

  “No, but that is our traditional function, even before we began caring for the Sacred Protector. We have strict protocols in these matters.”

  “I’ll bet,” said Barclay, peering into the hatchway. “Can we find out how he died?”

  Bertoran whirled on the lieutenant and glared at him before he realized that Picard was watching him closely. “Perhaps,” said Bertoran with a curt bow. “That is also a function of the Jeptah. But after all, he was an old man.”

  “The timing of his death is rather suspicious,” observed Data, continuing a careful examination without actually touching the corpse. “I see no obvious marks of foul play.”

  “Foul play!” echoed Bertoran with a derisive snort. “We may have accidental deaths on Gemworld, but we haven’t had a murder in thousands of years.”

  “And this room was sealed, wasn’t it?” asked Picard. “If it was locked as we found it.”

  “Of course,” snapped the Elaysian. “There is no other way in or out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have arrangements to make.” He bounced off a panel and swooped toward the hatchway.

  Reg barely had time to get out of the way. “What about the program you came to see?”

  “Let’s have some respect for the dead,” said Bertoran. “I’m sure you people don’t mind working with a corpse looking over your shoulder, but I do.”

  As he swept past, Barclay called after him. “What about me? Seeing as I’m his proxy and all?”

  “You’re no longer a proxy,” muttered the Elaysian. Reg sighed with relief, and Bertoran sneered as he added, “Now you’re Acting Senior Engineer of the Elaysians. You can only be removed by the Exalted Ones, and we could never convene enough members at this time. So, Mr. Barclay, you represent me and all of our people in the gravest matter we have faced in a million years. Congratulations!”

  He hurried off, and Barclay turned to the captain and gulped, as if to say he was sorry for getting so hopelessly mired in this situation. Picard felt the same way as he turned to look at the corpse floating in the air.

  Data was carefully studying the dead Elaysian’s mouth. “There is some liquid on his lips, probably saliva,” reported the android. “I cannot get a sample without touching him.”

  “Don’t touch him,” said Melora Pazlar, staring at the android with intense blue eyes. “Please don’t. It’s true, only the Jeptah are allowed to touch our dead.”

  “What will h-happen to him?” asked Reg.

  “He’ll be taken to the Blood Prism and be dedicated to the Progeny.”

  “She means, he will be eaten,” said Data, “by a sentient race known as the Frills. Their holy hunters are called the Progeny.”

  Picard looked up at the body hovering overhead, and he frowned sourly. “I hope that step can be delayed until we find out what killed him.”

  Deanna Troi fidgeted in her sleep, and she felt cloying arms embrace her and hold her against her will. For a moment, she felt as if she might have to wake up and deal with this unwelcome suitor; but in the end, the great dread that had troubled her began to lift. She felt herself melting comfortably back into the serene sleep which had embraced her for so long, before they awoke her the first time.

  The threat was over. It had been dealt with. Their wickedness would not hurt her anymore, at least not for a while. She could rest and build up her strength to resist the next attack—to emerge triumphant in the end. She hadn’t known it before, but she knew now that she was in the fight of her life. The new enemy was strange and clever, but it didn’t know her true capabilities. She didn’t really know them herself.

  But she could dream, and anything she could dream, she could accomplish. That was the greatest gift they had left her, for all they had stolen.

  Chapter Thirteen

  MELORA PAZLAR WATCHED SOLEMNLY as two yellow-garbed Jeptah enclosed the body of Zuka Juno in a yellow fabric bag and floated him out of the programming vault. Beside her hovered Captain Picard, Data, Tangre Bertoran, and Reg Barclay. As unlikely as it seemed, Reg was the new Acting Senior Engineer for the shell, representing the Elaysians; he had the violet crystal to prove it.

  Hovering near the hatchway, Tangre Bertoran watched the visitors carefully, looking for any signs of disrespect as the body was removed. To their credit, thought Melora, the Enterprise crew were quiet and respectful, hiding their impatience well. None of them gave the volatile Peer of the Jeptah any cause for overreaction.

  Melora was beginning to regret ever involving the crew of the Enterprise in this disaster because the longer they stayed
, the more hopeless it looked. She felt doubly bad about Deanna Troi, who was apparently in some sort of hallucinatory state. With all that was happening, she hadn’t even had a chance to visit the counselor in sickbay. Barclay, Captain Picard, and everyone else were struggling valiantly to save Gemworld, but they had been thwarted at every turn by distrust and hidebound convention.

  All this time, her people thought they were so resilient, able to face any peril. In reality, all it took was one deranged engineer to bring Gemworld to the brink of destruction.

  On top of that, Melora was grumpy because her joints ached. She could feel the extra gravity resulting from the rampant crystal growth. In a bizarre way, her homeworld was being reborn into something that would look more like a conventional planet, even if it could no longer support the lifeforms it had supported for billions of years.

  After Zuka Juno’s body had been borne away, Captain Picard looked expectantly at Tangre Bertoran and pointed to the terminal. “Now will you take a look at the programming? I think you can see that it’s locked up.”

  The Peer of the Jeptah sighed and waved at the blinking screen. “Oh, I’ve already assumed that it is. Zuka would have solved the problem, if anyone could. It’s a shame he won’t be here to help us break the encryption.”

  Data bobbed forward. “I do not believe the encryption is breakable. The form of biological, crystalline memory components which this system employs are a thousand times more complex than our best gel packs, and a level-eight encryption could not be broken on our equivalent subsystems.”

  Bertoran smiled condescendingly. “I didn’t say you could break the encryption, but you haven’t really given us a chance, have you?”

  “We should have an alternative plan,” said Picard. “Can’t we find the one who sabotaged your computer? There are only six suspects.”

  “And one of them just died,” said Bertoran. “If Zuka Juno was the one, you would never find out. If I were the one—and I have access as proxy for the Gendlii—you would never find out either. In fact, whichever one of the senior engineers did this, they must be quite insane. I sincerely doubt if they will ever come forward and admit what they’ve done, and I don’t see how you can force them. In fact, I’m not even sure you’ll be able to find them all in these troubled times.”