by Greg Cox
“Is that a weapon?” the guard growled. “Surrender it at once!”
“I am sorry. I cannot comply.”
She fired at the head guard, hoping to give Kirk time to draw his own weapon, but an incandescent force field manifested around the guard, absorbing the phaser blast. She switched to a higher setting, but this proved equally ineffective. A guard grabbed her wrist, and a sudden energy discharge jolted her nervous system and temporarily disrupted her hand’s exoskeleton. The shock caused her to drop her phaser, which clattered onto the floor.
“Seize them!” the guard ordered. “Overpower their shields!”
“What shields?” a puzzled officer asked aloud. He was the same one who had shocked her hand. “I didn’t feel anything when I grabbed her.”
The security team closed in on them. Kirk threw a punch at another guard, but his clenched fist bounced off the man’s force field. Kirk yanked back his hand as though it had been shocked. No such obstacles prevented the guards from subduing the intruders. Their gloved hands delivered jolts of discharged energy that quickly eliminated any possibility of resistance. Prying fingers wrested Kirk’s phaser from his grip, then relieved him and Seven of their tricorder and gear. The head guard tore open Kirk’s carryall and removed one of the crystal wedges.
“What’s this?” he demanded. “Some kind of explosive?”
“Trust me,” Kirk said. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“You think this is funny?” The guard slapped Kirk across the face with the back of his hand—and looked surprised when his hand actually connected with Kirk’s face instead of a force field. “What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you defending yourself?”
“Chief Sergeant!” one of his subordinates cried out. “Look at your hand . . . and his face!”
Black makeup was smeared on the sergeant’s glove. Pink skin showed through Kirk’s half-and-half makeup. Seven realized that their situation had just taken a significant turn for the worse.
“What—?” the sergeant gasped in surprise. He reached forward and wiped a streak of makeup off Kirk’s face, then did the same for Seven. His eyes widened in shock and he stepped back from them. “You’re aliens! Both of you!”
Seven saw no point in denying it. “That is correct, but we have no stake in your present conflict. We mean you no harm.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Kirk insisted. “We’re not here to cause trouble, for either side.”
But the sergeant wasn’t listening to them anymore. He paced back and forth, trying to decide on an appropriate course of action. Seven assumed that dealing with alien spies was outside his usual duties.
“The major needs to know about this,” he decided. “Take them to Command Operations!”
A rough hand shoved Seven in the back, pushing her forward. The guards marched Seven and Kirk down the corridor, keeping a close eye on both prisoners. Seven noted, with a degree of satisfaction, that they seemed to be proceeding in more or less the direction that she and Kirk had been heading before they had been detained by the guards. A secure elevator carried them down to the lower levels of the complex, which Seven also chose to take as an encouraging development. She attempted to keep the confiscated fragments in view. Recovering them was essential; without the components, they had no hope of leaving this era, let alone completing their mission.
“What is this place?” she asked, now that there was no longer any point in pretending that they belonged here.
The sergeant snorted. “The Center for Biological Security, of course. Like you didn’t know that!”
“Never hurts to ask,” Kirk said.
Sixteen
The elevator discharged them into an underground bunker occupied primarily by security forces and technicians. A small chapel, which appeared to be built into the original foundations, offered comfort and sanctuary to several of the latter, who sheltered together in hopes of deliverance. The sergeant and his troops escorted Kirk and Seven past the chapel, which was apparently not their final destination. The party passed through several increasingly stringent levels of security before being admitted into a central control center dominated by a large wall of monitors depicting images of conflict and carnage. Tense analysts, under obvious stress, sat at rows of terminals, struggling to keep up with a flood of information pouring into the war room. The air reeked of perspiration and anxiety. A heated argument was under way.
“We can’t wait any longer!” a middle-aged black-right female declared. Cropped brown hair had silvered at the temples. Her military bearing and authoritative tone told Seven more about the woman’s position than the necklace she wore. “We’re losing control all over the planet. Just look at what’s going on out there!”
She gestured at a wall of monitors, which depicted numerous fronts being waged in a variety of time zones. Streets and cities had become infernos. Hordes of rioters overran military bases and government installations. Captured aircraft and armored vehicles joined the insurrection. An illuminated map of the world was lit up with blinking indicators of battles and bombings. The violence appeared to be taking place on every corner of Cheron and in the sky and seas as well.
“Major Rathis!” an analyst called out from his station. “New Alaspus has gone dark! We’ve lost the capital!”
“You hear that, Doctor Lael?” the female commander asked. “All hell is breaking loose out there. The half-whites can’t be contained anymore. We have to unleash the virus now before they tear down our entire civilization!”
The target of her remarks was an older male who stood out from the others by wearing a rumpled gray lab coat over his conventional attire. His lean face was drawn and haggard, as though he hadn’t slept in days. A balding pate revealed that his bisected coloring extended to his scalp.
“But I keep telling you, Major,” he said. “The virus isn’t specific enough yet. It can’t differentiate between us and them. If we release it now, it will infect everyone, not just the enemy!”
That was not what Rathis wanted to hear. “You’ve been saying that for months now,” she snarled in frustration. “What’s the big holdup? How hard can it be to whip up a bug that can tell us from those animals? They’re nothing like us. Hell, we can’t even interbreed. They’re a completely different inferior breed!”
“I know, I know,” Lael said wearily, as though he had already tried to explain this many times before. “But we share a common ancestor and biology. Indeed, some studies indicate that the differences between us are primarily cultural and educational . . .”
“Spare me your radical theories, Doctor!” the major snapped. “Growing up, I was always taught that the Anti-Maker created the half-whites as a perverse mockery of the true Creation and, frankly, that’s good enough for me. Now I’m sure that sounds very quaint and old-fashioned to an intellectual such as yourself, but—”
“Excuse me, Major,” the sergeant interrupted. “But we caught these monotone aliens snooping around . . .”
That instantly caught the attention of both Rathis and Lael.
“Aliens!” The major stormed over to inspect the prisoners. Bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, while Lael appeared both intrigued and dumbfounded. Rathis reached out to test Kirk’s makeup with her own fingers. Black and white paint smeared together as more pink flesh was exposed. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s rather hard to explain,” Kirk said, “but we want no part of your conflict here. We aren’t taking sides.”
“Of course!” Rathis said sarcastically. “You just happened to drop by our planet and attempted to infiltrate a vital government facility because you had nothing better to do with your time.” A sneer twisted her lips. “Let me guess. Some rabble-rousing malcontent made it off-planet and spun you a heart-rending sob story about how his poor, oppressed people were being treated oh-so-cruelly here on Cheron, while neglecting to mention their relentless attempts to topple our society. Well, we know how to deal with outside agitators like
you!”
Seven disputed the accusation. “My companion is correct. Your civil strife is irrelevant to us. We are here merely as . . . observers.”
“So you can report back to your people, and every neighboring system, what tyrannical monsters we are?” She flung the charge at the strangers like a photon grenade. “How would you like it if we trespassed on your planet and interfered in your own internal affairs? The Styxxians tried that once, generations ago, but they learned better. A retaliatory attack on their homeworld taught them to mind their own business.”
Seven recalled that, according the Enterprise’s mission logs, the Cheronian fugitive Lokai had claimed that his people had been forcibly conscripted to fight in interplanetary wars against Cheron’s enemies. She suspected that this was what he had been referring to. It seemed that the black-right rulers of Cheron had little patience with “outside agitators,” which did not bode well for her and Kirk.
“Where are you from?” Rathis demanded. “Tartarus? Sheol?” She jabbed her finger into Kirk’s chest. “How many others of your kind are on this planet?”
“Just us,” Kirk said. “I promise.”
The sergeant stepped forward and presented the captured gear and weapons to Rathis. “The aliens had these in their possession, Major.” He handed over Seven’s phaser. “This is an energy weapon of some sort.”
“Is that so?” Rathis said, accepting the weapon.
“Let me see those personal effects,” Lael said, eager to examine the otherworldly equipment. He immediately zeroed in on the colored fragments contained in the packs. He held a wedge up to the light, his scientific curiosity aroused. “What is this? What is it made of?”
“That is unknown,” Seven said. “Please take care with that artifact. It is of considerable importance to my work.”
“Why?” Rathis peered at her suspiciously. She toyed with Seven’s phaser, playing worryingly with the settings. “What are you up to?”
Before Seven could attempt an answer, sirens blared throughout the bunker. Annunciator lights blinked furiously. Exhausted technicians sat up straight, while the guards went on high alert.
“Major!” an analyst at a terminal cried out. “The rioters have breached our defenses. They’re inside the building!”
A monitor screen confirmed his report. White-right intruders rampaged through the upper floors of the complex, attacking terrified black-right citizens. Individual force fields were overwhelmed by the crackling energy discharges of multiple assailants. Labs and offices were ransacked and torched. A white-right face, contorted with fury, glared directly into the camera on one screen. He mouthed inaudible obscenities before a sudden green flash lit up the screen, which then dissolved into visual static. Muffled screams, shouts, and explosions filtered down from the floors above. The violence sounded disturbingly nearby and getting closer.
“No,” Lael whispered. The white half of his face went paler still. “The virus. If they get to the biohazard facilities, violate the sterile fields, or just blow up the entire complex, they could unleash a plague that would wipe out everyone, no matter what side they’re black on!”
Rathis half-blanched as well. “But those labs are locked up tight!”
“So was this building . . . in theory.” Now it was Lael’s turn to point to the unfolding chaos on the monitors. “They’re already setting fire to the facilities above. If they reach the secure areas . . . We have to destroy the virus now, before it’s too late!”
Rathis hesitated. “You can’t be serious. We’ve sunk too much time and resources into this project. It’s our best hope of solving the half-white problem once and for all.”
“If we don’t destroy that virus now,” Lael insisted, “a world-wide insurrection will be the least of our problems!” She raced to the nearest computer terminal and shoved a technician out of the way. She spoke into an attached microphone. “Activate emergency sterilization procedure. Security code: three-zero-S-Q—Vali—double-X-five. Repeat: Activate emergency sterilization procedure.”
Seven shared a concerned look with Kirk. She was uncertain what the center’s “sterilization procedure” entailed, but she feared that it would not be conducive to completing their mission. It was more than possible that Lael intended to incinerate the entire complex—and everyone in it.
The distraught scientist called out anxiously to Rathis. “Major, I need your authorization, too!”
“Damn it,” Rathis cursed under her breath, before reluctantly joining Lael at the terminal. “Emergency sterilization authorized. Security code: eight-seven-V-K—Farfin—double-X-five. Repeat: Emergency ster—”
An angry crackle from the computer terminal cut off her command. The overhead lights flickered and went out, as did the wall monitors. For a second, the bunker was thrown into darkness before the emergency lights kicked in. Analysts stared in dismay at dead screens. They stabbed frantically at control panels. The smell of burning circuitry filled the command center.
“No, no, no,” Lael blurted, panic tingeing his voice. He tried and failed to reactive the terminal. “They’ve burnt out the control circuits! I can’t reinitiate the sterilization sequence!”
“That’s not possible,” Rathis protested. “Their inferior minds are simply not capable of that kind of concentrated willpower. It takes centuries of specialized training to achieve that degree of skill. The half-whites don’t have the discipline to master the power of their minds!”
Lael laughed bitterly. “It seems we underestimated them . . . again.”
“No!” Rathis refused to believe it. “They must have had help! Misguided liberal collaborators and race traitors.” She wheeled about to glare at Seven and Kirk. “Or alien accomplices like these two!”
“We had nothing to do with this!” Kirk insisted.
“Liar! You meddling monotone do-gooder!” Rathis aimed Seven’s confiscated phaser at the prisoners. “Tell me how you did this or—”
An explosion went off in the corridor outside, followed by the din of pitched combat. Hoarse voices shouted a familiar slogan, which now seemed much more relevant to the present situation:
“NO CHAINS! NO POISON!”
Seventeen
A cadre of white-right revolutionaries burst into the command center, hurling crude explosive devices. Seven and Kirk hit the floor, throwing their hands over their ears, even as the center’s staff was thrown into disarray by the attack. Crackling force fields protected Rathis and Lael and the others from flying shrapnel, but the bombs wreaked havoc on the furnishings and equipment. Seven watched in dismay as their personal effects, including the two fragments, spilled onto the floor in the chaos. Doctor McCoy’s hypospray rolled within reach and she snatched it while she could. Kirk scrambled across the floor to rescue his phaser. His gray suit was torn. Soot joined the smeared makeup on his face.
“Stop them!” the Cheronian sergeant shouted at his officers. “Repel the invaders!”
A handful of black-right security forces tried to mount a last-ditch defense, but they were rapidly overrun by superior numbers of rioters. The sergeant’s force field succumbed to the flashing energies of more than a dozen attackers. Along with the rest of the guards, he was beaten to the ground by glowing fists and boots. Within minutes, the rebels had seized control of the bunker.
“Stay sharp,” Kirk advised Seven as they cautiously rose to their feet amid smoke and debris. He held on to his phaser. “I think we may have just gone from the frying pan to the fire.”
“I was not aware the Cheronians were cannibals,” Seven replied.
Her auditory implants attempted to compensate for the ringing in her ears, with mixed results. She glanced about for her own phaser and spotted Rathis groping on the floor for it. A rebel boot came down on her hand, and she yelped in pain. Blood-stained white fingers reached down and claimed the phaser instead. A sardonic voice mocked the fallen soldier.
“Looking for something, Major?”
The voice belonged to a smirking right-
white male. His ripped gray suit was spattered with red. An old scar stretched diagonally across his face from white to black. Mussed blond hair suggested that tinting Seven’s own tresses had been unnecessary. He lifted his boot from the major’s hand.
Rathis glared up at the rebel with sheer, undisguised hatred. Spittle sprayed from her lips.
“Udik! You half-white maniac!”
“Nice to see you again, too,” the rebel replied. “Bet you wish you’d listened to me now, when I demanded justice for my people!”
“I only wish we’d executed you and the rest of your murdering kind!”
“Too late for that,” Udik gloated. “You and your half-black comrades won’t deprive us of our dignity any longer or poison us with your obscene experiments.” He glanced around with contempt at the trashed command center. “That is what you were doing here, correct? Plotting to sterilize us, sicken us, turn us into addicts, perhaps even exterminate us?”
Seven knew that his charges were not unfounded, but she held her tongue. She saw little to be gained in fanning the flames.
“And why not?” Rathis snarled, unrepentant. “You’re vermin, all of you! Nothing but trash and parasites!”
“No! That’s what you want us to be, what you tried to make us!” Udik viciously kicked Rathis in the ribs. “But not anymore! You’re going to pay now, every one of you!” He raised his voice to exhort his comrades. “Tear this place apart!”
“Wait!” Lael cried out frantically. Scrambling to his feet, he pleaded with Udik and Rathis. “You can’t do this, not here. There are dangerous biological materials in this center. You have to call off this madness . . . for everyone’s sake! It’s not safe!”
“Oh, now you’re worried about safety?” Udik said scornfully. “What do you call this place again? ‘The Center for Biological Security’?” He spit upon the floor. “More like the Center for Attempted Genocide!”
Lael flinched at the accusation but kept trying to get through to the rebel leader. “It doesn’t matter what you think we’ve done in the past. You have to believe me. Everyone on this planet is in danger!”
