No answer. No choice. He chose an aisle and started walking.
Caught. Slung upside down over a shoulder. Hauled like a dead thing by hateful guards with hurting hands.pain ripping through her chest, blood bubbling from her mouth and nose, a dark trail dripping on the ground. that was how she came this way before.
Caught? No, she was never caught! Part of Saavik's mind was still asking questions while memories came bursting in her brain.
Pain. Eyes swimming, watching: a moving hip, clanking belt, a tiny shine of metal. Arm dangling, fingers reaching-shining knife! Dizzying pain. Then sliding off a shoulder, falling to the ground. Guards cursing-not seeing how she curled into a ball and pushed the knife inside the rags around her waist. Sharp boots kicking, laughing, lifting. Darkness taking everything away.
And she was here again-in this trap with the walls of eyes, lights that moved like dust in the suns, this place of nowhere to hide. But she had tried, huddled in their sickening brightness with blood welling in her throat. Saavik looked around and found herself alone. Not move, not now, not ever make a sound. no, that was after-after what she'd done. Shame opened in her like a wound. She couldn't remember why. Her heart thudded, pumping fear, and madness closed around the edges of her sight. In some other far reality, someone called-a voice that should not be calling here. She knew she should be answering, but the screaming in her mind grew with every step she took, swallowing her voice, drowning out her name. It was all happening again. Boots tramped, voices called, death hunted in these halls of light. make It never see me. make It never hear me, make It.
IT. had lived!
She remembered that, and blood ran freezing in her veins.
Because It. was real. It was still here. And she felt Its presence now, waiting for her in the dark, waiting at the end of all the light.
"Saavik!" Spock left the corridors behind, calling, adjusting his eyes to the gloom. Hulking contours of machinery loomed in the ambient light: canisters, gauges, conduits feeding down to a generator shaft drilled deep into the cavern's floor and spanned by a catwalk overhead. He considered an attempt to nullify the forcefield-and rejected it: a time-consuming task, even if the catwalk held his weight. And something else disturbed him.
This was a factory gathering dust, its automation hidden, encased in steel, its enclosed conveyor belt halted long ago. But there weren't adequate safeguards for dealing with these deadly products. One finished weapon still rested on a platform; others were piled on a wheeled cart nearby, and down inside the shaft power cells still glowed, charged by geothermal energy from the planet's core. Production here had ceased abruptly. The place had been abandoned in disorder, as had the colony above. Ahead the cave stretched on in shadows. More equipment, laboratory counters, lined one wall, and beyond that. shapes.
Many of them. Shadowy outlines with faint points of light, tall, oblong. he moved forward with a sinking heart, suddenly knowing what he would find. His light pierced the dark, tricorder whirred, and Spock came face to face with the horror that was Hellguard: test chambers. Test subjects. Rows upon rows.
The Vulcans had been here all along, those ill-fated crews of Perceptor, Criterion, Constant, and Diversity. The men and women of science and peace, who set out to map the stars so long ago, were missing no more.
Saavik felt her way along the cavern wall, seeing things that were no longer there: machinery clanked and hummed beside a shaft of fire. Dust rose around the generator's pit like smoke, red in the glowing air. She felt guards' bruising hands pinning both her arms, heard their spiteful laughter as they dragged her, kicking, biting, scratching, to this place inside her dreams.
Remembering made her cold. Shivering, she crouched behind a laboratory counter, dug knuckles into eyelids to make it go away, but she couldn't stop the seeing. She raised her head, looked through cloudy vials and beakers where a parting beam of light swung among the pillars of the dead, where memories took shape and walked, and burned their sad, despairing eyes into her soul.
Quiet Ones. Not so many standing all together, but more of them than guards-Bastard Guards! Stupid Quiet Ones not to fight, not to know how they were going to die.
". resisting, Lord. They refuse to move."
"They always do, at first," said a man in a long black cloak. Guards shouted, shoved, afraid of going near those dying places themselves. Quiet Ones didn't listen. They knew Death was in their eyes, sorrow when they looked at her, all sunken faces, naked bones. why did Quiet Ones always die? Her own guards jerked her forward into a ring of light. She struggled, ached to reach her knife, stole a glance at it. And that glance froze her struggles and her heart. The knife's bright point poked out through the rags around her waist, rags that were coming untied.
"Then they must learn," the voice sighed, annoyed. Black Cloak flowed, turned toward her. "Centurion! What is this?"
"Nothing, Lord, your pardon. Little bitch made trouble up above. "Iron hands twisted, held her fast. Cloak moved closer, looked down with cold, dismissing eyes. Then It smiled-an evil, horrid smile. She cursed, spit at It, screeching empty threats.
"KILLS YOU FACE! KILLS YOU EYES! KILLS YOU BASTARD-"
-and earned herself a reeling blow across her head. Its eyes looked over her, angry at her guards. "Shut her up. We've trouble of our own-but none that can't be solved." Quiet Ones moved all close together, pretending not to hear. Black Cloak rustled. Its finger pointed in their midst. "Take that one first."
He didn't look afraid. A soldier seized him, dragged him out, ripped away the tatters of his robe.
"FIGHTS! YOU FIGHTS!" Saavik screamed A stinking hand clamped across her mouth. She fought for air, felt the knife begin to slip, then catch again and hang heavy at her waist.
That Quiet One never changed his face, not even when a sword sang through the air and sliced away his arm. Blood spurted, sprayed, pooled upon the ground The blade went up, came down. Again. Again. Again. Screams rose, congealed in Saavik's throat. She couldn't look away. Her world turned spattered, green and dark. Finally he fell. The sword struck one more time. His head rolled free, eyes wide and staring in pieces of himself Then everything was quiet, no sound but rasping whimpers as she sucked in air through fingers of a smothering hand. Black Cloak sighed.
"A pity," It said, "such a waste. The chambers-now!"
And still they did not move.
"I will not be disobeyed!" It screamed. "If I must. no! No need!" The Cloak rippled, whirled. Eyes lit on what they sought, and the face contorted in Its smile. Hand lifted, finger pointed straight at Saavik. "Take that one next, take her."
Spock's hands shook. He steadied them. Grief blotted out his thoughts, and in its wake a towering rage. Hundreds of Vulcans and their children looked out from stasis-chamber tombs, a broken box in every one, and on every door a data plate showed how long each subject took to die. Blackened faces froze in agony, the last vestige of control torn from them at the end. He forced his mind to logic: their torture ended long ago; their knowledge of this place was forever lost. He walked the aisle running down the center of the rows and paid them homage in the only way he knew-by recording everything. He retraced his steps, noting that the chambers hung suspended on cables from the gridwork, safer than resting on this planet's shifting ground. They bore no names. But there were dates, beginning in the rows farthest back nearly twenty years ago. Later victims, many of them children, had died much quicker deaths. The row in front was not entirely filled; open chambers waited, empty but for a glowing, rainbow box.
That last entry-Spock converted it to Federation stardate. It could not be coincidence.
On that very date more than six years ago, Enterprise heard a signal coming from the Neutral Zone, and his fingers rested on a dying woman's face. Brave, doomed T'Pren. For her, for so many, that signal came too late. But not for a handful of misbegotten children, the last of a generation born to feed these chambers. One of them had seen this place and lived-and so might worlds if there was time. No, T'Pren did not die in va
in. And Saavik.
"Saavik!" he shouted. "Saavik, answer me!"
A sound. It might have been a footstep.
"Saavik.?" It came again. Definitely footsteps. He probed the shadows with his light, knowing she could dodge it if she chose-then knowing something else, a fact he always took for granted until now. Saavik made no noise when she walked.
The footsteps shuffled closer from the recesses of the cave, far beyond the rows of chambers. Spock shone his light between them, caught a movement in the dark: something tall, draped all in black.
It wasn't Saavik.
". that one next, take her."
Yesyes! Takes me! Takes you bastard hands away and-
"NO!" someone said. She never knew which One it was. The word rang into silence. All their eyes were on her for a moment, then the Quiet Ones turned away, moving all together, going where It wanted them to go, all because of her.
NOT! she tried to scream, NOTNOT! FINDS KNIFE! KILLS FOR YOU! KILLS THEM ALL!. but the hand across her mouth kept the words inside. Clear doors slid shut, one by one. In each chamber came a blinding flash of light. Now their faces changed. Quiet Ones writhed in their dying places, beating hands against their walls, but their mouths made no sound-while It walked up and down and watched the little changing lights. Then Quiet Ones stopped. Little lights stopped. It stopped, turned again. and smiled.
"So. This served a purpose after all. Get rid of it."
BASTARD! LIAR BASTARD! Madness exploded in her head. They dragged her by the arms to an empty chamber, across floor awash with blood. She thrashed and kicked and fought, forgetting how she hurt, forgetting how she couldn't win, forgetting everything.
The rags around her waist gave way. The knife dropped out, clanking on the stones, lay there shining in the light. "Well, well. What have we here?" lt said, laughing at her little knife.
"Bitch!" the rightful owner swore, and made his last mistake. He loosed his grip an instant, bent to snatch it up. She twisted like an eel, and by the time his fingers reached the ground, the knife was buried in his belly, ripping, jerking free. He gasped and moaned, clutched his middle, stared in disbelief at entrails spilling through his hands. Her other guard lunged. She let him come and stuck the blade clean through his heart.
They all came at her then, and she fought with killing frenzy. Blood sprayed, soaked her hair and slicked her skin as she gouged and slashed at anything in reach. Something dark loomed behind her, came down like death in billowing black. Hot breath whispered on her neck, the throaty sound of laughter.
She drove the knife upward through blinding layers of cloth, raked it sideways with all her might. Black Cloak fell shrieking to Its knees. Blood poured down Its face, fingers clawed at where the eyes used to be, and It screamed. oh, how It screamed.
Saavik ran, from rushing guards and rows of chambers, past wide-eyed workers at their pit of fire. Shouts rang; footsteps pounded after her; hoarse, racking screams filled the air. Quiet Ones died, because of her. It still lived, because of her. and nowhere, nowhere left to hide. She plunged into the flickering maze, darted this way, that way, any way.
And woke. Drenched in blood, huddled in a labyrinth of light trying to remember why. But someone was screaming, so loud she couldn't think; something was coming to find her, kill her, for whatever she had done. Make It never see me. but someone did.
RUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUN.
It lived. She must remember that, and It would hunt her down no matter where she ran, how hard or fast or far. Those walls of eyes would watch forever, and It would always be here, waiting in the dark, while It screamed and screamed and screamed.
It was a specter, an empty shell, the shadow of what used to be a man who felt his way along the aisle between the chambers. His cloak was threadbare, torn, and Spock saw why he never flinched against the light. Beneath the hood and hair gone white a scar gouged that wraithlike face, sliced across the empty sockets of his eyes. He sensed a presence, stopped, drew himself up tall. Some remnant of authority still lingered in his bearing. When he spoke his voice quavered, and his language was Romulan.
"Who comes here?" he called.
"Sir," Spock answered him in kind, the courtesy souring in his mouth. "I come. to serve."
"Ah. you come back at last! I have waited! I have kept it all in order! See," he gestured blindly, "how well my work is done? First sends for me now? It is time for my report?"
Who? To whom did he report? "Yes," Spock said, "it is time."
". report. ah!" The man tottered a few steps closer, still far down the center aisle surrounded by rows of tombs. "My work, my discovery of the ages! No one-no world can stand against it! I told him long ago how it would be: many ships, many new worlds. report? Is it time? I keep this place for him. keep it all in order. See. how well my work is done?"
Spock swung the light about searching frantically for Saavik, wondering how best to get them both aboard. This man's mind had long ago descended into madness, but whatever knowledge might remain must be preserved. The voice droned on, and the ravings took a dark and angry turn.
". or my work of so many years! They left me here, you see? Aaaiii!" he moaned and touched his face, tortured by some memory. "You see, but I do not! You-are you still there?"
"Yes." Spock moved closer, anxious to keep him talking. "Tell me of your work. There was. some accident here?"
"Accident?" he shrilled and began to laugh, a hollow, dreadful sound. "Yes accident! A child, an insignificance-she tried to run away! But my guards caught her. Yes, many guards once. told me how they caught her! Oh, she died for what she-"
"LIAR!" A scream split the air.
Saavik's shadow fell between them halfway down the aisle as she stepped into the beam of light. Spock caught a glimpse of streaming hair, the face of an avenging fury, and the glint of metal in her upraised hand.
"Saavik! No!" he shouted. But she was beyond hearing, screaming out the hatred of a lifetime.
"GUARDS LIED! YOU LIED! YOU HATEFUL, MURDERING BASTARD!"
He backed away, helpless and afraid. "Who comes-"
"I DO!" Her voice rang. "THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY! BUT I'VE COME BACK! AND YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!" Her spirit soared. She tasted blood-and triumph-and she wasn't running anymore; she would never run from anything again. Her arm swept up-
"No, Saavik! No!"
-and something dark loomed behind her, came down reaching for her hand. She knew this; it had happened all before, it was all happening again. With a howl of rage, she whirled, blade slicing through the air. and the present crashed into the past.
Shining knife, Starfleet uniform, and. Spock. Somehow, she wrenched the blow aside. It glanced off his shoulder, tearing fabric, not skin. Oh, Spock. and his face never changed, not even when. Saavik flung her knife away, hurled it far into the dark, heard it clanging somewhere on the stones. The cloaked figure swayed, backed away pawing at the air, and his moans rose to hoarse, haunted screams. She lunged; Spock stood in her path.
"Saavikam. We must leave this place."
"They-" she stared around at the chambers, her hands clapped over her ears to stop the sound, "-wouldn't fight! They just-walked in there! Because of me, Spock! Because he-he did this! And he's getting away! Don't let him live! Let me-"
"Think, Saavik!" Spock shook her by the shoulders. "Think of what he knows! Think of the lives at stake! Think!"
But Saavik couldn't think. She did the only thing she could: she ran. Away from the dead and the enemy, away from Spock, and away from herself, while shrieking reverberated through the cave.
And with a frustrated glance in the direction of the receding screams, Spock went after her, stopping only once along the way.
"Correct, Mr. Sulu. Three graduated containment canisters. Beam them down at once. The return cargo will be triple-sealed, but isolate transporter room's life-support until it is safely aboard. Then secure it in lab one."
"Yes, Mr. Spock, I certainly will." Sulu swallowed hard and nodded at Uhura to relay the order
s. That cargo could turn Enterprise into a ghostship. "Canisters on the way, sir. Now, about that survivor, you say he might know-"
"That remains to be seen. He is less than competent. I will bring him out with me when I complete our task. Mr. Scott-"
"Twenty minutes more, sir," Scott broke in from Engineering, "an' I cannot do it faster. We're addin' extra shieldin'-an' hope to heaven it's enough! That planet's shakin' in its-"
"I am aware of the seismic activity. Please proceed."
"Will Saavik go with you, sir?" Sulu asked.
"No. She will beam up shortly. Prepare to receive cargo."
"Standing by, Mr. Spock. We'll confirm."
"Sulu." Chekov turned, pointing down at his scan's display. Sulu came to stand over his shoulder. At the edge of the screen three points of light were winking, moving slowly into the grid. Readouts flashed in one corner.
Star Trek - Pandora Principle Page 22
