Invincible, Book Two

by David Mack

  And, I’m happy to say, I think I’ve found it.

  I’ve been able to extract a visual record from the creature’s “eyes”—actually, recording devices. It took a while for me to determine how to read the things—I finally managed it by constructing an image translator, cannibalizing parts from Dr. Dolahn’s X-ray machine, of all things.

  Some time in the past—it’s impossible to be sure how far, as the manner in which this mechanism tells time doesn’t have an obvious analogue to Federation or Nalori timekeeping—an expedition of aliens came to Sarindar. I can’t say what they were called—the universal translator renders the references to them as simply “the owners”—but the two shii were the protectors for the expedition. Their job was to keep them safe and gather food for them.

  The owners are quadrupedal beings who look, at first glance, like a hybrid between seals and dogs—but, honestly, they don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before. The expedition seemed to be a simple archaeological survey.

  However, I noticed, as time went on, that the owners looked weaker and gaunter—and that there were fewer and fewer of them. My best guess is that they succumbed to some kind of disease. After a certain amount of time, they were gone.

  If the shii—the protectors had taken on a large-scale version of the form of shii when they arrived on Sarindar—had any notion of what had happened to the owners, they gave no indication of it. They simply continued carrying out their duties.

  Those duties included gathering food. The owners,

  I soon realized, fed on the cranial matter of animals.

  This explains the hoarding of heads and the discarding of the bodies. In their minds, they’re still gathering food for their masters, despite the fact that those masters are never going to return.

  Personal log, Commander Sonya Gomez, planet Sarindar, Stardate 53288.9

  I’ve been working on a way to try to communicate with the “shii.” I’ve moved to my tent, since the doleful looks from Dolahn (pardon the pun) have gotten tiresome.

  The work Bart Faulwell did in upgrading the universal translators to understand Bynar speech, when they commune with computers or with each other, has turned into a boon. Most of that work was programmed into my da Vinci-issue tricorder, so I was able to start building a language algorithm for the shii.

  Razka came by to give me a report, and asked me what I was doing. I explained it to him—including what I’d learned about our attacker.

  “Why do you want to talk to it?”

  “To convince it to stop. It doesn’t realize that it’s doing anything wrong. If we can explain to it that its masters are dead and it doesn’t have to hoard food for them anymore, maybe we can get it to leave us alone.”

  “To what end? Commander, this is pointless. These are simple automatons. You no more ‘killed’ anything last week when you shot the first shii than I did when I crashed my father’s hovercraft when I was a child.”

  “Razka, I appreciate—”

  “Commander, you are an engineer. So are most of the men working here. When a piece of equipment malfunctions, you turn it off.”

  “No, you try to fix it. Razka, I really do understand what you mean, but I can’t just condemn this thing without giving it a chance to stop. I killed the first one in self-defense—maybe if I can talk to it—”

  Razka laughed. “You’re even calling the creature ‘it.’” Then he grew serious. “Let me put it another way, Commander. You are in charge of this project. This project has been endangered by these two creatures. Don’t you owe it to the men you’re responsible for to do whatever you can to safeguard them? Yes, it’s true, this thing has been left without any kind of guidance, and it’s simply following its programming. But Kejahna, Rimlek, Entorr, G’sob, D’Ren, and the others are all dead. You yourself commended their mazza to the Shigemos. What of them?”

  I found I didn’t have an answer to that.

  He left.

  I went back to work. Maybe he was right. But the next time I saw that thing, I was going to try to talk to it.

  Him. Her. Whatever.

  First officer’s log, Commander Sonya Gomez, planet Sarindar, Stardate 53289.1

  All requests to the Nalori senate have gone unanswered. There is also no reply from the da Vinci or anyone else from Starfleet.

  The sonic barrier that we erected around the camp has failed. The sonic rifles issued to the Nalori were not designed for such sustained use. One of them had a breakdown in the control unit when the coils overheated. The fact that they even use coils instead of an EPS system is an indication of how substandard they are.

  Unfortunately, the breakdown of one converted rifle caused a cascade reaction, and now it doesn’t work. I have managed to reconstruct parts of the barrier, but that makes it all but useless. Unless the barrier is “airtight,” as it were, the shii can get through with ease.

  The only way to properly fix the barrier is to cannibalize the remaining sonic rifles, but—even if I could convince the workers to give them up—that isn’t a viable option. They are our only defense against the creature.

  And, since the camp is no longer a safe haven, I need to take action.

  The trap would have worked if the shii had actually been hit with any of the shots fired at it. One thing that did work was the lure. So I’m going to try the lure again, this time in the camp hospital. It’s generally the most crowded place anyhow, so the shii would probably scope it out in any case. Meanwhile, I will move everyone to the space beneath the SA. Dolahn should be able to convert it to a makeshift hospital, and I’ll put the remaining armed workers on guard.

  Once that’s done, I’ll lure the shii with the ruby flowers and try to communicate with it. I’ve programmed my combadge so that its translator will render the machine language of the shii, based on what I could glean from the first one.

  Letter from Razka on Sarindar to Marig on Nalor, fifteenth day of Sendrak, twenty-third year of Togh

  My wife:

  Yes, another letter. Because once again I have been reminded of my mortality. Once again, I ask you to kiss my children for me before reading the rest of this letter. Thank you.

  Commander Gomez yesterday hit upon the idea of setting a lure for the monster shii. By the way, she has learned that this creature of legend is, in fact, a machine. It was programmed by strangers who came here on an expedition. The expedition members died, but the two shii lived on. These strangers fed on the brains of other living creatures. This is why the monster shii take the heads of men. They are gathering food for their dead masters. Tragic, in a way, especially given the number of good men who have had to die. In any case, Commander Gomez decided to lure the creature.

  A previous attempt to trap the monster failed, but she did succeed in luring it with a glemnar flower. So she cleared out the hospital and had Dr. Dolahn and J’Roh construct a new hospital under the subspace accelerator. This was sensible, as the old hospital was the easiest place to defend. The new hospital will be even easier to defend. So all the wounded and sick, the doctor, and all the remaining healthy people were moved to the new hospital. Commander Gomez remained behind at the old hospital. She liberally spread the glemnar flowers and waited. She felt that the monster shii would come to the hospital. Her plan was to try to talk to it. She thought she had come up with a way to do so. At least she was not foolish enough to try this without backup. She was armed with her Starfleet sonic rifle. All she had to do was wait until the monster came. We would wait in the hospital until it was safe.

  That, at least, was the theory. Unfortunately, the practice proved somewhat different. We had very few sonic rifles left. Mine, having gone completely unused since I was issued it, was one of them. Those of us who were armed stood guard at the two entrances to the hospital. One led to the dish, the other to the underground tubing. I was stationed, along with J’Roh, at the dish entrance. The other four were at the tubing entrance. This made sense. J’Roh was not a very good shot, and you know what I’m like with
a weapon. It was very unlikely that the shii would come in through the dish, as it would have to climb up onto it and then slide to its center. The tubing provides a more direct access. That, therefore, had the best guard.

  Not that we thought it would matter, of course. We all assumed that Commander Gomez’s plan would work. Well, actually, I assumed that. So did J’Roh. He was the one to first call her “Sañuul” after she solved the riddle of the load-lifters. And so did some others. Most, however, thought that the plan was a foolish one. Many wanted it to work anyhow, but only so that the shii would kill Commander Gomez.

  In fact, I distinctly remember that part. Querti had just said, “If we’re lucky, the beast will take her bait and take that hideous head of hers off.” Then he started to say something else as Anilegna started to laugh. Then the entryway buckled, making an awful, tearing noise. Then a triangle shaped claw ripped into Anilegna’s torso. As he coughed up blood, Querti lifted his rifle and made as if to fire. The claw, still stained with Anilegna’s blood and encrusted with his innards, continued its arc and ripped both the rifle and Querti’s hands to ribbons.

  Next to me, J’Roh aimed his sonic rifle at the door. Unfortunately, there was nothing to aim at. The shii hadn’t come all the way through, and the parts that had were blocked by Querti and by Anilegna’s remains. Not that it would have mattered to me. As before, I froze.

  Oddly, this time, I couldn’t hear the rifles firing, but I could hear Querti’s screams. People closer to me than he was were saying things. I think Dr. Dolahn cried out, and several people ducked under the beds, but I didn’t hear that. The shii ripped through the rest of the doorway, but I didn’t hear that, either. I continued to hear Querti’s screams, though.

  Once he had a clear shot, J’Roh fired his rifle. So did one of the other guards at the door. The second guard’s rifle literally exploded in his face. That, I did hear, as well as his screams, intermingled with Querti’s.

  A hole seemed to open up in the shii’s torso, but it didn’t slow down. It sliced the head of the first guard clean off, while the second guard continued to scream in pain. Then it got quiet for a moment. I noticed that the shii had cut Querti’s head off as well.

  Suddenly, sound exploded in my ears. Dolahn telling everyone to take cover. J’Roh screaming for me to shoot. The second guard still screaming in agony. And I still couldn’t move, couldn’t fire my weapon, couldn’t speak.

  I wanted to, Marig, that’s the worst thing. As loudly as J’Roh was screaming at me, I was screaming at myself. I tried to motivate myself to do something. But I could not budge. I told myself that the deaths of Kejahna, Kelrek, D’Ren, Entorr, and all the others had to be avenged. I told myself that others would die at any moment. I told myself that Commander Gomez had said that I was the one she trusted.

  But mostly I just thought about how I was going to die. And I was so frightened of that possibility that I could do nothing but think about it. And so fear continued to grip me as the shii decapitated Kani and Rimlek. Both of them had been attacked by the other shii, which Commander Gomez had killed. Though they had survived, they had been left comatose. Now they, too, were dead.

  J’Roh leapt down from our guard post at the doorway and shot the creature again. It started to bleed mercury, as the other one had. But its wounds did not seem to stem its horrific tide. With one slash, it cut J’Roh’s body in two. Then Dolahn, the Gallamite doctor, ran up to it. Dolahn is not what I would consider a brave man. In fact, I would mostly consider him a fool. Like all Gallamites, he has a transparent head, so you can see his brain. Someone used to joke that he wore a hat so no one would know how small that brain truly was. The sad truth is, he wore the hat because Kejahna threatened to kill him if he didn’t. In any case, Dolahn ran up to the shii. He was armed only with some kind of edged instrument. He stabbed the creature in an odd place. It was right in the creature’s lower thorax. Probably where its stomach was. After the doctor did that, the shii cut his head off, too.

  His head lay on the floor, the hat having fallen off. I could see his brain. It was not small. In fact, it seemed rather large.

  Then the shii collected all the heads it had severed. I noticed that all the wounds that had been inflicted on it had healed. Well, almost all. The one Dolahn had inflicted continued to drip mercury, even as it collected heads. When it was done, it tucked the heads under a foreleg. Then it ran out the way it came.

  Slowly, people started to come out from under the beds and tables. The floors were awash in blue from all the blood. Some red was mixed in, from the doctor.

  A moment later, Commander Gomez ran in. She asked, “What happened?”

  Some mad fool burst out laughing at that absurd question. It took me a moment to realize that I was that fool. I continued to laugh while someone else—I believe it was Mranol—explained that the shii had come through and killed fifteen more people. The odd thing is, I hadn’t even noticed all the deaths. But I certainly wasn’t going to contradict Mranol.

  I am now sitting in my tent. I am not sure if I’m ever going to leave the tent again. I have now had my rifle for almost an entire year. It has gone unfired the entire time. Could I have made a difference, either in the cave or in the hospital? Probably not. But perhaps I might have helped save a life or two.

  It is obvious that I am not worthy to live when so many good men, like Kejahna and Dolahn and J’Roh, have died. Tell my children that I love them, Marig. And tell them that their father is a coward and a fool.

  Best regards,

  your unworthy husband,

  Razka

  Personal log, Commander Sonya Gomez, planet Sarindar, Stardate 53289.4

  I’m a complete idiot.

  I made the biggest mistake you can make—humanizing a machine. Well, maybe “animalizing” is more accurate. But I should have realized that my idea wasn’t going to work.

  The ruby-like flowers weren’t what lured the shii to the trap in the first place, it was the three Nalori. It was looking for more food to collect for its masters. Because it’s a machine. Machines do what they’re programmed to do, and this one is programmed to kill animals and decapitate them so their masters can eat.

  So, naturally, when you collect everyone in one spot, that’s where it’s going to go.

  God, it’s like I’m a green ensign back on the Enterprise again. And now fifteen more people are dead, and it’s my fault. I’m supposed to be in charge, and all I’ve done is get people killed.

  One of the workers—I don’t even know his name—just came in and asked me to perform the funeral rites again. I was surprised at this, but he said something that surprised me even more:

  “It is not your fault, Commander, it is ours. We fooled ourselves into thinking you were the sañuul, that you had lifted the curse of this miserable place. But you are, in the end, just a woman—as you yourself told us all along. You did not wish us to call you sañuul, and we should have listened. Instead, we are simply all victims of the curse of Sarindar.”

  With that, he left.

  I wish it made me feel better, but it doesn’t even come close. I’ve failed in my duty here. And it’s past time I made up for it.

  First officer’s log, Commander Sonya Gomez, planet Sarindar, Stardate 53289.7

  I’ve received a transmission from the da Vinci, but it’s garbled. The only thing I know for sure is that the signal originated from the Trivas system, which is an unclaimed region of space near the border between Federation and Cardassian space. Unfortunately, it’s not clear from the message if they were cutting short their mission to the Trivas system or if they couldn’t cut short that mission.

  I’m proceeding on the latter assumption, and plan to once again attempt to activate the Culloden. First, however, I must perform funeral rites for those who have most recently died at the hands of the shii.

  Personal log, Commander Sonya Gomez, planet Sarindar, Stardate 53289.9

  After the service for those Nalori who died in the hospital, I checked to
see what rites needed to be performed for Dolahn. According to the database, most Gallamites didn’t practice any particular death rituals, but some belonged to a religion known as Ambrushroi, which requires that the body be burned within six hours of death. However, there’s no evidence that Dolahn was Ambrushroi—and in any case, most non-Ambrushroi Gallamites don’t care what’s done to their bodies, and Razka told me that Dolahn had no family. So I ordered his body burned anyhow. Seemed the best thing to do.

  It’s like the Dominion War all over again—each day goes by with us all wondering who’s going to die next.

  No.

  That’s not going to happen.

  I’m going to face this thing. I’ve assigned one of the engineers to work on the Culloden. As for me, I’m going to find the shii and either convince it to stop what it’s doing—

  —or stop it myself.

  Letter from the workers on the subspace accelerator project to Commander Sonya Gomez, sixteenth day of Sendrak, twenty-third year of Togh

  Commander Gomez:

  By the time you receive this letter, we will be gone. We have faith in Starfleet’s ability to rescue you. Nomis and Repooc were able to bypass the DNA encoding on the Bolian’s ship, and we are taking it. We are willing to face the consequences of our actions. A choice between not working and dying is no choice at all.

  We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, Commander. We apologize for placing the burden of being sañuul on you. That was our mistake, and we hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us, assuming humans have hearts like ours. We should have known that the curse of Sarindar would destroy us all.

  Razka has said that he will remain behind, and he will deliver this missive to you. Razka is a good man, and we are sure he will be helpful to you.

  We are sorry that we were unable to finish the subspace accelerator, but the curse has shown us that it was not meant to be.