“I’m listening,” said Karuw. “I had been thinking the same thing.”
Brahms pointed to the small transporter platform a meter away. “We know we can send an animal through from here, like you did with that test. So we ask for a volunteer to beam into the system, and at the same time we use your emulator to issue the repeat command—like several people are going at once. Unless I have this wrong, the full satellite should try to lay off the workload on down the line, and that trips the system into full autosequencing, which is what we want. It should wake up the rest of them . . . to start beaming down.”
Karuw nodded excitedly. “Yes, absolutely! An Aluwnan must transport in, because that’s what the system expects—and those bioneural networks can be very picky. You know, it’s doubtful we’ll have a way to get your volunteer back.”
“Uh, yes, there’s that complication,” agreed Brahms.
The Aluwnan whispered, “Don’t mention that to anyone, will you? They might not allow us to do it, and we do have a volunteer.” The older woman looked pointedly at the younger.
Leah gulped and shook her head. “I don’t think we can allow you—”
“I spent years in a cell already,” she said through gritted teeth, “and I’m not going back. I don’t mind paying for my crimes if we can get the people out. We’ll pick a satellite that was emptied of a few passengers, so there might be room to store my pattern.”
“You’ll get out last,” added Leah, “at the end of the queue.”
“That sounds good to me,” answered Marla Karuw, leaning over Brahms’ console. “Now let’s see what else we can do to get more power to those satellites.”
* * *
“Move them into the clearing!” called Riker, motioning to the work crew of Aluwnans and Enterprise crew members to carry the transporter booth out of the trees. They bore the enclosure on two poles slung over their shoulders, and Riker motioned them to lug it to a sunny area that had been filled with dry dirt and graded level. As soon as they got the box erected in place, Komplum’s crew took over, checking diagnostics and making it ready for action.
Scores of similar crews were working all along the wide strip of land where the transporter booths had been erected over the last few days. Most barren areas had survived the anti–Genesis weapon better than the forest, although some blue boxes had sunk into the quicksand. Ships in orbit were using tractor beams to free the sunken enclosures, while other crews rushed to set them upright. The Klingons were beaming helpers down, and their numbers were growing every hour. In fits and starts, the workers rushed against the looming deadline.
Riker and his crew were jogging through chalky mud to the next location when a shuttlecraft zoomed over their heads and turned around to land in their path. When Riker saw it was a Starfleet shuttle, he waved his hand and led the way through the muck. At least running kept the blood flowing, he decided, and a person didn’t get as cold.
When he saw Worf jump out of the craft and head toward him, Riker quickened his pace. Panting and bent over from exertion, he reached his old comrade, who held up his hands and said, “At ease. You’ve got a few minutes to wait here, then we’ll take you to your next site.”
“Thanks,” said Riker, grabbing his canteen. “Why are we waiting?”
“The first of the plasma bursts is due any moment,” answered Worf. “They told me I had better land the shuttle for it, and I was looking for you. My son found the new ruler, so they’ll have someone to welcome them back to Aluwna.”
“I hope they’ll have counselors with them,” said Riker, looking around the daunting wilderness. “I wonder . . . will they ever forgive us for what Genesis did?”
“Someday, if we prove worthy.” Worf squinted into the grayish, overcast sky. “Did you see a glimmer?”
Riker looked upward just as the heavens were infused with light, like a lightning bolt that’s frozen at its peak discharge. The whole sky seemed to pulsate with light, and more than a few Aluwnans ducked for cover. Riker heard muttering, and he told his work crew, “It’s okay! We’re doing this to recharge the satellites!”
Even though he knew it was harmless, the artificially bright sky seemed ominous after all that had befallen this poor planet. He couldn’t blame people for ducking, especially when the ships vented their plasma for almost a minute. Shortly before it ended, a light rain began to fall, and a glorious rainbow arced across the sky for several seconds. That cheered everyone, and the work crew was enthusiastic as they climbed aboard Worf’s shuttlecraft.
No sooner had they taken off than the pilot spotted something on the ground. “Ambassador Worf!” he called. “Take a look out the port window.”
The pilot banked around in order to give everyone in the rear a chance to look out and see what he saw. Riker was seated right behind Worf, and they jockeyed to fit both their big heads into the small window frame. The battle was worth it, because below them, slogging through the sand at the edge of the forest, was an amazing prehistoric beast—like a cross between a dinosaur and a sea serpent. If that weren’t astounding enough, people were riding the beast, and they waved as the shuttlecraft cruised overhead.
“Did that look like Deanna to you?” asked Worf.
“There’s one way to find out.” Riker tapped his combadge and said, “Riker to Troi. Are you in the vicinity?”
“Troi here,” she answered happily. “I’m right below you. We picked up some native transportation.”
“I can see!” exclaimed Riker. “You’re headed toward our camp, and we’ll meet you there when we finish.”
“Take your time, we’re having fun. Troi out.”
“You should marry her,” said Worf, intruding into Riker’s thoughts. “You never know how long you will be together, and you should spend your time with passion.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” replied the human thoughtfully. “I really can’t see letting her go again. But I won’t be able to get away without having a big wedding . . . maybe a couple of them.”
“Well then, never mind,” said Worf.
The human knew his friend was kidding, although Worf kept his most dour poker face. “Pilot!” called the Klingon. “Status?”
“We’ve passed two booths that are reported to be in good shape, and we’re about to land near one that needs repair,” answered the pilot.
“Take us down,” said the Klingon. “Gently. And look for bedrock, not quicksand.”
“Aye, sir.”
The shuttlecraft dropped in altitude and swept over majestic trees on the edge of a muddy stream that was trickling through the bottom of the wash. It was silt-ridden now, but the more it rained, the clearer it would flow. Maybe the zebra effect wouldn’t last forever, thought Riker, but for now there was cleared land and plenty of fallen lumber, side by side.
* * *
In space, the rarefied atmosphere blazed with a light that was almost crystal in its fragility and purity, but it grew brighter as the particles danced through the cloud cover of Aluwna. The great Klingon warships soared swiftly over the string of satellites, expelling bursts of plasma that had built up through countless warp excursions. They had even performed a quick warp maneuver at inefficient loads to have some more plasma to vent on this second round. There had proven to be little else the Klingon task force could do on such short notice, with the minutes ticking off at high speed.
The Enterprise also followed a row of satellites, venting as much plasma as she had, considering her warp core was gone. Captain Picard still had a skeletal crew, because he was also in a recharging and refitting mode. Almost all the shuttlecraft had launched to aid in the rescue effort, but he didn’t want to risk using transporters. The majority of the crew were safer on the ground, although there were disturbing reports of evacuees encountering large, predatory beasts on the new Aluwna.
“We’re out of plasma,” complained La Forge from the engineering station on the bridge. “That’s the second burst, and we won’t be any good if they want a third o
ne.”
“Report to central command on the Doghjey,” replied Picard, his lips thinning worriedly. “How much time is left?”
“Forty-five minutes,” answered Geordi. “They’re cutting it close, because they’ll need some running time.”
* * *
“Only half a unit left,” muttered Marla Karuw from the copilot’s seat of the shuttlecraft. “That’s barely enough time to let everyone out of the buffers. We can’t wait any longer.”
Leah Brahms turned to look at Data, who was ostensibly in charge of this craft and this mission. He hadn’t seemed adverse to command, and he made instantaneous decisions. At the controls, Regimol cut the thrusters and let the shuttle drift toward a metal flower suspended in space—an Aluwnan transporter satellite in very good condition. Twenty-one people had been released from this bionic machine during the first round, days ago.
“Distance?” asked the Romulan.
“Twenty meters,” replied Data. The android looked up at the two women, and Leah Brahms tried to figure out his inscrutable expression. “You have been discussing what to do,” he said, “so I presume you can do it without our help.”
“Yes, we can!” vowed Marla Karuw, jumping to her feet. “Um, I’m going to transport into the satellite, while Dr. Brahms sends the repeat command. Some of the satellites won’t kick on until the sun reaches them.”
“No need to explain,” said Data with a placid smile of understanding. “I have very good hearing. Give me a moment to alert the ships and the ground teams.”
“It’s been a pleasure serving with you, Professor Karuw,” called Regimol. “We’ll stay here to see if you beam back.”
“Thank you,” answered the scholar with a heartfelt tremble in her voice. She bounded onto the small transporter pad in the rear of the cabin, across from the lavatory.
“You are cleared to transport,” said Data. “However, Komplum may be mad, because you are technically still his property.”
“Give him my regrets,” answered Karuw, her voice cracking.
Leah took a big gulp of air and cleared her throat. “Are you sure—”
“Have you got the repeat command ready?” asked Karuw, lifting her chin. “If so, energize.”
Leah Brahms nodded, because Marla Karuw and the repeat instruction were going together to the shiny bird with half a dozen open wings. When she punched the activation code, Marla Karuw’s body swirled into a tubular rainbow, such as those they had been seeing all morning in the plasma-induced rain. At the same instant, the satellite blinked on, and several of their sensors kicked into high gear, spewing readouts onto all their screens.
“It’s working!” cried Leah Brahms, thrusting her fist upward. “Have we gotten the whole chain working?”
“On either side of us, we’ve got machines coming on,” answered Regimol. “We’re sending something to the planet—we’ll just have to hope the cargo is in good condition.”
* * *
Worf held his breath as the transporter booth closest to camp—the one in which Curate Molafzon’s body had been discovered—blinked on and began to hum. Riker, Alexander, and Overseer Farlo also stepped to his side and stared at the whirring blue box, and dozens of Aluwnans and Klingons stopped what they were doing to approach the blinking enclosure. The ambassador straightened his spine, expecting trouble and ready to deal with it, because he knew what horrors could come out of these boxes. He wished them well, but the Aluwnans were on a fragile footing emotionally, so he had to be ready to quell a riot.
The door of the enclosure shook, then opened, and a dazed child about ten years old stepped out, followed by an Aluwnan woman who gripped the child protectively. A huge cheer went up, and everyone in camp broke into hoarse cries and hooting applause. This did very little to calm the survivors, and Farlo and Alexander rushed forward to lead the small family away from the booth, so more survivors could exit. Farlo took them to see the huge beast which Deanna Troi had ridden into camp, and that was acceptable to Worf. That behemoth was making more friends than any other creature on Aluwna.
All over the planet, dazed survivors were stepping out of transporter booths and meeting welcoming parties, who tried to explain the strange sights and smells. It seemed as if there was a plethora of constables and children among them, but all were given water and rations. Dr. Crusher and other medical teams were standing by, but the vast majority of evacuees suffered more from shock, grief, and denial, for which there was no medical cure. Although they were alive after having survived a power loss, a fungus, and other dangers, for them it was but an instant since they boarded the transporters in their cities and towns. All those places were gone; in return they had inherited a bizarre wilderness, which only accentuated their loss.
Still there was great joy among all those Aluwnans who had come days earlier, either by ship or by the first transporter release. They had thought they would never see so many of their fellow Aluwnans again, and their good spirits lifted the newcomers. There were also wonders to be seen in this strange world: amazing growth and destruction, incredible animal life, and lush forests bordered by great plains which were already growing grass. Apparently, this grass was a wild grain, which the Aluwnans knew how to cultivate and harvest. Worf and the Klingons maintained a watch for the moss creatures, but they were never seen again on Aluwna.
* * *
“No more moss creatures at all?” asked Jeremy Aster, sitting up in his hospital bed at Starfleet Medical Center in San Francisco. His wounds were almost entirely healed, Worf was glad to see, and even his facial scars were going away. “What did you call them?”
“poch’loD,” answered Alexander with a grin as he sat on the side of Jeremy’s bed. “But you were right, because those big slugs—we called them nujgharg—were very good eating. The Klingons ate so many that they were going extinct even before the anti–Genesis thing went off.”
“Our crew was getting quite addicted to them,” said Worf with disapproval. He lowered his voice to add, “Don’t tell Starfleet, but some Klingons are planning a hunt for nujgharg on one of the other Genesis planets. Rare, dangerous to catch, and quite tasty—they might become a Klingon delicacy.”
“The Aluwnans seem to like their new overseer, too,” said Alexander with some pride. “Although he’s just a lad, he’s got a good head on his shoulders, and he wants to do well. There’s lots of raw materials to rebuild, food is growing, and the Federation will continue to assist.”
Worf nodded his head solemnly. “We freed ninety percent of the people trapped in their satellites, which is an extraordinary achievement. I wish the person who made it possible could have seen it.”
“And the Enterprise?” asked Jeremy. “What happened to them?”
“They’re still in orbit around Aluwna,” answered Worf with amusement, “waiting for Starfleet to bring a new warp core.”
Alexander laughed, and shook his head. “But I don’t think they mind—it’s almost like shore leave at this point, with lots of romantic, isolated places to visit. Geordi La Forge and Leah Brahms looked very happy, and so did Commander Riker and the counselor.”
“That is true,” said Worf with satisfaction. “I keep looking for something good to happen from all this. Maybe now.”
With a sigh, the big Klingon took a step closer to the bed and patted Jeremy gently on his shoulder. “Now, son, you must rest, so the doctors will release you on schedule. You can rejoin the officer-exchange program next week, and I’ll do what I can to get you back on the Doghjey.”
“Qapla’!” said Jeremy, holding out his fist to the two Klingons. With gusto, the family joined fists and echoed the sentiment: “Qapla’!”
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Genesis Force Page 29
