Although others had called her “daughter,” Reg began to think Dupanza really was Melora’s mother. At least there was a clear bond of affection between them.
Melora looked at the humans’ puzzled expressions and burst out laughing. She motioned expansively at the Elaysians gathered around them. “They are all my parents! We are all each others’ parents and children. No one knows who their real biological parents are because we time the Great Birthing for the same day, using herbs. The babies are shared, and everyone takes care of them. After you grow up, you can guess sometimes who your biological parents are by coloring and such, but no one knows for sure. As for romantic relationships, we’re mostly monogamous.”
She looked slyly at Reg. “Just like humans.”
Dupanza broke in. “All of the races on Gemworld observe some sort of communal child rearing. It’s a tradition that unites us. So we call each other ‘mother’ and ‘daughter’ even across species. If you’re still around here in two months, you can come to the next Great Birthing.”
“It’s quite a party,” added Melora, flashing Reg those vibrant blue eyes, which were the same color as the crystal which surrounded them.
“Yes,” he said quickly. “I’d love to!”
The others laughed at his eagerness, and he could tell that it had been a long time since they had much reason for joy. These Elaysians were being brave in the face of crushing disaster, but somehow the appearance of their prodigal daughter and her comical shipmates had lifted their spirits.
“A feast!” shouted one of the Elaysians. Others took up the cry. “A feast! A feast!”
“Oh, do we have enough food for a feast?” asked Dupanza worriedly.
“We’re entertaining the Senior Engineer of the Sacred Protector!” cried a woman. “We must have a feast!”
“It’s traditional!” shouted someone else.
As the clamor mounted, Picard held up his hands. “We may not be here very long, and we don’t want you to plan anything special on our account. We’re trying very hard to solve the problem with the rift, so we may be called away at any minute.”
The Elaysians stared at him somberly for a moment. Then one of them held up his fist and shouted, “A feast!”
As the cry thundered around the commune, Dupanza looked at the visitors and shrugged. “I suppose there will be a feast, although we may not be serving quite as much food as usual for these occasions. I hope you don’t mind, Captain Picard.”
“We don’t want to waste your food stores,” insisted the captain.
“Thank you, but sometimes good morale is more important than a full belly,” answered the Elaysian with a smile. “Come on, let me show you around.”
While the energized Elaysians rushed to and fro, preparing for their feast, Dupanza linked hands with the captain, and Melora took Reg’s hand. Pushing off from the shuttlecraft, Dupanza led the visitors toward the nearest net, in which there was a small slit for a door. The netting functioned not only as walls, creating rooms and homes, but as gravity, preventing the inhabitants’ belongings from drifting away. Once Barclay caught hold of the net, he found that he could pull himself along rather easily, and he didn’t feel so disoriented.
They moved from room to room, slipping through almost invisible slits in the walls as they worked their way deeper into the layers of the compound. From what Reg could see, the Elaysians didn’t own much except for bundles of clothing and a few personal items. Their homes were simple, and they slept wherever they floated. The group passed a room full of children, who stared curiously at them, while the yellow-garbed teacher glared at them for interrupting her class.
The netting also partially blocked the light, making it darker the deeper they went into the cluster. Reg didn’t care much for that, but his uneasiness was tempered by the fact that Melora held his hand and often gave it a warm squeeze. Several inhabitants greeted the only Elaysian in Starfleet, and the younger ones called her “mother.”
She shook her head in amazement and whispered to Reg, “I can’t get used to the children calling me ‘mother.’ I was young when I grew up here and when I left, but I’ve come back an adult.”
“A famous one,” added Reg with a proud smile.
“Thanks,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “We’d better catch up.”
They had fallen behind Picard and Dupanza, but the way the passage between the prisms was narrowing, they had no problem catching their guide. The four of them finally emerged in a pyramid-shaped room at the very crux of the massive cluster. Here there were pantries built into the living crystal and tubes to access water from the nutrient strands. Scattered crops sprouted from troughs in the crystal, and a phosphorescent coating on the nets gave the room a dim, lavender glow. Barclay was dismayed to see a work party removing a cluster of misshapen black crystal.
“Even down here,” said Dupanza sadly, “there’s no escape from the unsound crystal. This is our communal room, which we use for everything from dining to the Great Birthing. We’ll have our feast here, although I’m sure it will spill into the other rooms as well.”
She motioned to the water tubes. “May I offer you some water? Our supply is quite pure.”
“Thank you, that would be welcome,” answered Picard. Barclay nodded in agreement.
While they waited, a few more well-wishers came up to Melora and welcomed her home. It seemed as if everyone knew her, or knew of her, and Reg began to think that it must have given her a great sense of security to grow up in a place where everyone considered her immediate family. The open netting made it clear that this was an open society with people who held no secrets from each other. It was a true commune, with everyone sharing the work, sharing Melora, and sharing the unfolding tragedy as their unique ecosystem fell apart.
“Quite a place,” said Picard thoughtfully. “I hope we can keep it intact.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Reg, lowering his head. “What if we can’t? How can we save them all?”
The captain’s lips thinned. “We’ll do the best we can. Whatever happens to them will happen to us, too.”
“But the ship would survive shutting down the shell.” He pointed at the happy clutch of Elaysians hovering around Melora. “They know that we’re not at risk the same way they are.”
“I don’t intend to watch them all die,” said Picard gravely. He looked up and smiled as their hostess returned with two small canteens with sip tubes.
“We don’t need much water,” said Dupanza, “but I know that other humanoids are not so fortunate. Please drink.”
“Thank you,” said the two humans at once. Barclay took a few gulps, surprised at how thirsty he was. The water had a slight sulfuric smell, although maybe that was his imagination. He hoped it wasn’t contaminated by the dark crystal.
“So where are you staying?” asked Dupanza.
“On our ship,” answered the captain.
“Such a great distance to travel,” said the Elaysian, shaking her head. “Especially now, when travel is so difficult. Why don’t you stay here a while and make this your base of operations. We’re much closer to all the enclaves than your ship is, way up there along the shell. You have gravity on your shuttlecraft, so you’ll be comfortable.”
“We might consider it,” agreed Picard.
Reg saw more Elaysians surrounding Melora, bombarding her with questions and greetings, and she was beaming in the glow of their attention. “You just want to keep Melora around longer,” said the lieutenant.
Dupanza nodded wistfully as she watched her prodigal daughter. “That’s true. She really has blossomed while she’s been in Starfleet. I knew she would mature to be beautiful and confident, but this is beyond even what I envisioned. She was home once before, but I was working on the shell and didn’t see her then.”
“What did you do there?” asked Reg.
Dupanza gazed into the distance, and her eyes grew misty. “I was an assistant to your predecessor, Zuka Juno. It’s painful to hear about his death
. He wasn’t ill, was he? Can you tell me anything?”
“We were the ones who found him,” answered Picard. He told her briefly what had happened, adding that they wouldn’t really know anything until the Jeptah had finished their investigation.
“Then I don’t think you’ll know anything,” whispered Dupanza. “The Jeptah are very secretive, and they like to control things. They’re honest and hardworking, but they don’t really trust anyone but each other.” She smiled at Reg. “They must be apoplectic over your having that gem.”
Barclay gulped and touched the violet crystal. “That’s true, they weren’t very happy. I really don’t know what to do with this thing.”
“You wield tremendous power with that crystal,” answered the elder Elaysian. “Be honest and true to your ideals. I think we could use a jolt of fresh thinking here on Gemworld. We’ve never faced a crisis like this before, but I imagine you have faced many crises during your exploration of the stars.”
“We have,” answered Reg, lifting his chin proudly. “We’ll do the best we can for you.”
“That’s all we could ask.” Dupanza gazed fondly at Melora, who was engaged in animated conversation with a large group of Elaysians. The younger ones regarded her with rapt attention. “You’ve brought our daughter back to us, for which I am very grateful.”
Picard’s combadge chirped, interrupting their idyllic respite. “Excuse me.” He tapped his badge. “Picard here.”
“Captain,” said the unmistakable voice of Com mander Data, “we are almost ready to perform the procedure. I advise you to return as soon as possible.”
“We’re on our way,” said the captain. “Picard out.” He gave his hostess an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but it appears that we have to be going.”
“So soon? Before the feast?” she asked with disappointment. “Do you promise to return to us?”
“If circumstances permit,” answered the captain. “Would you please inform Lieutenant Pazlar that we have to be going?”
“I will. Thank you for all you’re doing to help us.” Dupanza used the netting to work her way to the crowd gathered around Melora, and the two women conferred for a moment. After a quick hug, Melora joined her shipmates.
“Are we ready to shut down the dimensional rift?” she asked confidently.
“I hope so,” answered Picard, concern etched into his furrowed brow. “I sincerely hope so.”
Picard, Barclay, and Pazlar were met by Data at the Ninth Processing Gate, and Barclay was amused to see that the android had procured himself a hoverplatform.
“You must rank,” said Reg, pointing to the self-propelled disk.
Data cocked his head puzzledly. “I do not ‘rank.’ Infact, with your temporary title, you outrank me. The hover-platform makes transportation much more efficient, and we have a considerable distance to travel within the shell.”
“Are they still on schedule?” asked Picard.
“Yes. The Alpusta are in final preparations for their space walk. Although I am unfamiliar with the actual procedure they will use to tap into the collectors, the theory is sound. If they can pass one variable to the program, the dark-matter collectors will switch to collecting hydrogen.”
“Is there a backup plan?” asked Reg.
“No,” answered the android. “We have studied every feasible option, and nothing else will correct the problem without disrupting the operation of the shell. Short of finding the engineer who actually corrupted the program, this is our only option.”
“It will work,” insisted Melora.
Captain Picard nodded grimly. “I hope you’re right. Lead on, Data.”
“Link hands,” said the android.
By this time, they were accustomed to linking up, and Barclay smiled as he held out his hand to Melora. This part of being weightless he was beginning to like. Data gripped the hover-platform with one hand and Captain Picard’s hand with the other, and they were soon moving steadily through the tubular corridors of the shell. As they plunged deeper, Reg noticed fewer workers than before, and he saw no Alpusta at all. He had the feeling that everyone and everything was in a holding pattern as they waited for the plan to take effect.
Eventually they entered a large, oval-shaped corridor that was packed with yellow-garbed Jeptah hovering in front of a panoramic window. The Elaysians parted to allow the visitors to enter, and Tangre Bertoran pushed off the wall and glided toward them.
The Peer of the Jeptah was grinning confidently. “Ah, Captain Picard, Lieutenant Pazlar, and our esteemed Acting Senior Engineer—welcome. We’ve missed you, Captain, where have you been?”
“I took them to see my enclave,” said Melora, “and meet my parents.”
Bertoran clapped his hands together, looking delighted at that news. “Wonderful! I’m so happy that you’re taking time to see our beautiful planet. After we’re done here, you’ll be able to travel anywhere on Gemworld and see all of our attractions. Perhaps you’d like to visit my enclave.”
“I certainly hope so,” said Picard with a polite smile. “May I ask, have you discovered the cause of Zuka Juno’s death?”
Bertoran scowled. “I’ve been rather busy, Captain. When we’re done here, I’ll get an update.”
“Even after we solve this problem,” said Picard, “we still have to find out who corrupted the program in the first place.”
The Jeptah shook his head. “We’ll have plenty of time to solve that little mystery after life gets back to normal. Trust me, this will never happen again—the dark-matter collectors will stay off-line indefinitely.”
“That is wise,” concluded Data.
Tangre Bertoran motioned to the window and its expansive view of the star-sprinkled void beyond. “We’ll give you the best vantage point in the house. In brief, here’s what you’ll see: the Alpusta engineers are going to use portable devices to tap directly into the collectors. At the exact same moment, we’ll pass a variable to every collector and end all of this madness. Then we’ll have time to play detective, for as long as you wish, Captain.”
“I only wish to see the crisis over,” said Picard.
“It will be. Don’t go anywhere—we’ll be starting soon. Excuse me.” Tangre Bertoran flew off to confer with his fellow engineers, leaving the four crewmembers gathered at the window, surrounded by milling Jeptah.
Data lowered his voice to say, “Although I am satisfied with their plan, I am not as confident as they are.”
“They have to be confident,” said Barclay. “They haven’t got much choice.” Nobody argued with him.
The four visitors gazed out the window at a vast array of scoops and dishes aimed toward space. The rows of collectors stretched into infinity, and Reg realized why there were no Alpusta at their regular posts—they were all needed for this procedure. It was hard to imagine that the peaceful starscape outside the shell harbored a deadly singularity, but the proof was all around him in hushed conversations and concerned looks. Only Tangre Bertoran, in his role as head cheerleader, seemed totally confident.
They floated in front of the window for several minutes, as the crowd of Elaysians increased in number. Melora gripped Reg’s hand and gave him a brave smile, which he returned as best he could. There wasn’t really anything any of them could say—the fate of billions of beings depended on what happened in the next few minutes.
Finally a chime sounded, and the conversation dropped to an expectant murmur as Tangre Bertoran rose above the crowd.
“It is time!” he announced. “May we please have quiet. Extend the forcefields!” He nodded to an assistant stationed at the only console in the room.
Although nothing looked different outside the shell, Barclay could well imagine the forcefield extending several meters into space. Both he and Melora pressed closer to the window to get a better look, and her grip on his hand tightened.
“Signal the Alpusta!” ordered Bertoran.
Hatches opened on the space side of the shell, and an army of spider
y Alpusta swarmed out, bouncing across the pitted surface of the shell. Reg had seen environmental suits on humanoids, but he had never seen suits on such oddly shaped creatures. Their long, spindly legs were covered in white material with metallic boots, and their spiny, headless bodies were encased in breathing tubes. The way they labored across the shell, Reg assumed their boots must be magnetic. Under normal circumstances, they would use their weblike extensions, but they couldn’t risk that with such a shallow forcefield. The rift would do to them what it had almost done to the Enterprise.
As he looked closer, Barclay realized that each Alpusta had an electronic device strapped to one leg. Each was apparently assigned to a single scoop, and they fanned out across the vast field of collectors. Tangre Bertoran issued orders as he hovered over his chief technician, but everyone else who was gathered around the window fell silent. It was unlikely, thought Reg, that any of them had ever seen a sight like this before—thousands of Alpusta scrambling across the space side of the ancient shell.
Picard whispered to Data, “How long can they stay out there before being adversely affected?”
“The forcefields block ninety-four percent of the thoron radiation,” answered the android. “Even so, our best estimate is that they can remain in space no longer than fourteen minutes before suffering irreversible cell damage.”
Barclay gazed out the window, now realizing why the Alpusta were hurrying to reach their assigned positions. Unfortunately, they had to tap into the system in unison, so they had to wait until every technician was in place. Although it only took a few minutes, the time seemed interminable before the technician at the console announced they were all in position.
Tangre Bertoran hovered close to the terminal, and his amplified voice rang out across the room. “All stations reporting ready. Stand by for countdown!”
While Bertoran methodically counted down, Reg watched in amazement as the agile Alpusta manipulated the wires on their portable devices. Such maneuvers were easy for them, he decided, because they were used to low gravity.
GEMWORLD: BOOK ONE OF TWO Page 18
