Strange New Worlds IV

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “Like the one that almost got the Anasazi!”

  “I think you’re right, Data,” replied Picard. “It seems odd that other than this mention of one, the Federation has no other records of reoccurring spatial anomalies in the area.”

  “When did the wormholes start occurring?” asked Data.

  “Several days ago,” answered Bowman. “Why?”

  “There does seem to be a correlation with your presence here and the appearance of the wormholes,” replied Data.

  “I fail to see how our appearance here would create wormholes!” retorted Bowman.

  “Perhaps it wasn’t merely your presence but something you did to trigger this phenomenon.”

  “I don’t see how anything we have done could do anything.” Bowman shrugged.

  “Perhaps we should continue reading the log. Maybe Taylor found the reason.” Picard scanned the page. “Here. They went to the city.

  “We made it back from the city. At first we thought it was deserted but we did find the mayor or owner. We really don’t know who he is but he seems to be the only one living there. It is troublesome that we see no one else but the man offers us food and shelter if we move into the city. I don’t really see that we have a choice until we find out where we are.

  “The man calls himself Suben and speaks American so I can only guess we are somewhere in the western United States. Arizona—New Mexico maybe. I don’t see how we flew 1,700 miles in an instant but I can’t place the terrain anywhere else on Earth. It might be a trick … We have taken precautions to disable the planes in case that is what they are after.”

  “Poor fools. They didn’t know how far from home they were,” murmured Bowman.

  Picard looked up from the book. “Are there any records about this city?”

  “Legends only. Passed down from father to son.”

  “What do the legends say?

  “Pretty fanciful stuff. There once was a mighty people in the city. They drew water from the sky to fill the crater and then sold it to the plains people for watering crops and the like.”

  “Did they say what happened to the people here?” asked Data.

  “Their legends are vague—that they all died away from sickness or something. It was terrible enough to make it taboo to come here,” answered Bowman.

  “Maybe Taylor found out something.” Picard turned the page. “It has been a week. So far we have seen no one other than Suben. He has made no moves against us yet I feel we are prisoners in a gilded cage. He provides us with every creature comfort and asks for nothing in return. I find it strange that he never eats in front of us and that we have not found where he sleeps. He is more like a groundskeeper or warden than an owner of the city.

  “We have been to the edge of the crater rim and have seen small settlements far below. None show any type of mechanized transportation and when we ask Suben about it he only says not to leave the crater again.

  “It has been two weeks since our arrival. We are growing restless and are making plans to find help. By transferring all of the remaining fuel into one plane there will be enough to fly out of the crater and find help. Two men have volunteered for the mission, Maines and Lavalle. If anyone can make it, they will.

  “Week Three—Maines and Lavalle are dead. It is my fault and mine alone. We transferred the fuel and made our plans but Suben appeared from nowhere as the plane was revving up for takeoff. He demanded we stop but we refused. I gave the go-ahead and the Avenger took to the sky. It felt good to know some of us weren’t trapped, that there was hope. It was then that I looked at Suben. He watched the plane like a tiger watches a gazelle, then closed his eyes as if concentrating. Suddenly a force shot from the ground, massive and swirling. It shot up into the sky after the Avenger. I could see Maines was giving it a good fight but the stress was too much. After a moment the port wing tore away and the Avenger went spiraling down in the sucking, swirling mass. We watched in horror as it crashed, knowing there was no way Maines and Lavalle could have survived. Within seconds the swirling stopped. I looked at Suben and he looked at me, a dark light in his eyes. ‘Don’t try to leave again,’ he said.

  “It seems this Suben could invoke a very powerful weapon,” Picard commented as he rubbed his eyes.

  “I agree,” replied Data. “It would have taken tremendous shearing force to pull the Avenger apart.”

  “Where was I?” Picard glanced down the page. “Here we are.

  “Week Four—The day started with my getting information and ended in death. I pumped Suben for what he knew about the place and did I get an earful.

  “The city we live in was once a thriving place and the capital of the planet. The people came from all over to buy water which filled the crater basin. I scoffed at the idea of this arid place having water. Suben boasted that he could fill the basin in a matter of minutes. Again I scoffed at such an idea but Suben insisted he had the power to do so. Foolishly I told him to prove it. With an air of importance Suben walked into the center of the crater and looked skyward. Suddenly a force ripped from the ground and started a cyclone like the one that carried us here. Within seconds water came pouring down in torrents, almost like the cyclone was a pipeline to an ocean or something. In minutes much of the crater was standing in water.

  “To our horror we also noticed bodies raining down with the water. Falling without hope of surviving, arms and legs flailing about. They hit with sickening sounds that will haunt me until the day I die. I ran to Suben and begged him to stop. He ignored me as the bodies and water continued to fall. I grabbed him and shook him. He jerked his head at me, rolled his eyes back, and went limp. The cyclone stopped. In fear I released him and backed away. In an instant he came to. As his eyes focused he spoke. ‘We must have water.’ He turned and walked away. I watched him for a moment and then turned back toward the killing field before us.

  “Madison was the first to move. He saw a webbed hand raise up and went to it. What little feeling I had was shocked beyond reasoning. The bodies were like I had never seen, like fish people from some bad movie. A few still lived and lay gasping in the air. We tried dragging them to the water but it was too little too late. It was numbing. Our burial count is at one hundred sixty-four bodies.

  “I now realize we are no longer on Earth and like the fish people, we were sucked here by Suben. The only thing that saved us was our planes, but I feel our fate will be the same.

  “Week Five—Three more are dead: Church, Hurley, and Bolton. They tried hiking out of the crater. Suben seemed to know what they were attempting and appeared instantly. He told me I must stop my men from leaving which I couldn’t—they were too far away to hear anything except the crackling as electricity shot across the rim and into my men. Even in the distance we could see their bodies withering in pain. I grabbed Suben again. He ignored me. I wrapped my arms around him and fell with him to the ground. His body went limp as before and the electric bolt stopped. It was then that I noticed my watch glowing with a cool green brilliance. I jerked my arms off Suben and crawled away. In a moment he came to and stared at me for a full minute. He stood and looked at the charred bodies across the crater and then at me. His face was eerily calm. ‘Do not leave the city.’”

  “The radium isotope must have affected Suben somehow!” cried Bowman.

  “I doubt radium would affect a humanoid so quickly,” replied Picard.

  “No,” added Data. “But it might affect the data transfer of a computer processor.”

  “A walking, talking computer?” scoffed Bowman. “I hardly think so.”

  Data raised his eyebrows at Bowman. “I fit that description, and while my pathways are shielded, Suben’s makers might not have seen the need.”

  Bowman was chagrined. “Sorry, Data. I forget myself sometimes.”

  “Taylor came to a similar conclusion,” injected Picard. “Listen here—

  “Week Six—We have been talking. We feel Suben is somehow affecting the radium dial on my watch or that it may be af
fecting him. It is a ray of hope we can’t let go.

  “Week Seven—We have found caverns beneath the city. They are filled with machines like we have never seen. Yet, when we attempted a closer examination Suben appeared and blocked our way. We tried to shove him aside and get our watches near him but he is too wary and his strength is too great. With the memory of what happened to our comrades, we dared not push Suben too far; we left the caverns.”

  “A mainframe perhaps?” asked Bowman.

  “Or something like it,” added Picard. “Obviously the caverns deserve our inspection.”

  “Does Taylor give any more information?” asked Data.

  “Let’s see.

  “Week Ten—We have a plan. Myers reminded me that the dials in the planes’ instruments also are painted with radium. We have a plan and soon we’ll act.

  “Week Twelve—It is done. I got Suben talking about the city again. He said the people kept dying. He tried to stop the death but his powers were useless. He said it was good to have people living in the city again. It fulfilled him. I almost felt sorry as I slipped my watch next to his back. Instantly he went limp. Some of the others ran over and strapped their watches on Suben’s arms and legs. We carried Suben to the caverns and smashed the machines until they stood silent.

  “It has been four months since we landed here. There are seven of us left to make the journey to the villages we see below. We have walled the cavern shut and studded the wall with the aircraft instruments. We hid the planes to keep the curious from knowing our identities. Perhaps we can fit in this world.

  “If you are reading this log I beg you not to remove the wall for he might yet live and the terror will start again.

  “Lt. Taylor USN

  “You have breached the wall,” lamented Picard. “We must assume Suben is free and causing the wormholes.”

  “We didn’t know!” moaned Bowman.

  “No one is blaming you, Dr. Bowman,” commented Data. “You had no way of knowing this would result.”

  “Data, go back to the Enterprise and bring down gear to explore the caverns,” ordered Picard. “I want to see what makes the mountain tick.”

  “Yes, Captain.” Data nodded.

  Picard turned back to Bowman. “Perhaps we can find the source of power and shut it down—”

  “Captain.” Picard turned at Data’s voice. “We have a visitor.”

  Picard looked the man over as he stood there before them. Picard forced a smile.

  “Hello. You must be Suben.”

  Suben did not reply with other than a nod.

  “We mean you no harm,” said Picard. “We are merely studying your beautiful city.”

  “The city—” murmured Suben. A cloud passed over his eyes and then cleared. “You must not leave.”

  “We can’t stay.”

  “You will not leave”

  Picard tapped his combadge. “Enterprise, can you get a lock on us?”

  “Sorry, Captain.” Riker’s voice scratched. “There’s still too much interference. Are you in need of assistance?”

  “Not yet. Keep everyone on board for now.” Picard turned to Suben. “I know of your powers but I have power also. If you detain us I will destroy your city.”

  Suben’s eyes drifted skyward. “A ship. Two ships. Many people.” Suben lowered his gaze to Picard. “They must not leave.”

  “They will leave, as we will,” replied a cool Picard.

  “You will not leave.”

  “Who made you?” asked Picard in an attempt to distract the machine.

  “Made me?” questioned Suben. “Made me what?”

  Picard motioned Data back into the chambers as he occupied Suben. “Who constructed you? Who put you together?”

  “The people did,” replied Suben.

  “What was your purpose?”

  “I brought water from the sky, I provided for them.”

  “Do you know where the water comes from?”

  “Coordinates preselected by the people—”

  “—On other worlds. You are creating wormholes to planets and taking their water, and lives. You are stealing what is not yours,” answered Picard.

  “We must have water. We must survive.”

  “We can show you ways to farm with less water—water you already have.”

  “There is no water. The crater is dry.”

  “There is water on this planet! Enough for all!”

  “I must bring the water.”

  Picard sighed. “It is useless to argue with a machine.” Picard gazed over the walls of the city. “When did the people leave the city?”

  “They left one thousand four hundred and thirty-eight years ago. A great sickness filled them—and they left,” answered Suben. “You must not leave.” Suben looked skyward. “They must not leave.” Suben lifted his hands upward. A beam arced up into the sky and electrical crackling filled the air.

  Picard drew his phaser and hit his combadge, shouting over the static, “Enterprise! Break orbit! The Anasazi must do the same! Now!”

  “We can’t. Something has both ships and is pulling us down!”

  Picard opened fire upon the machine with no telling effect. Stepping the phaser to full power, Picard shot point blank. To his amazement the phaser blast was absorbed, intensifying Suben’s might.

  Picard glanced at the hole behind him. “Data!”

  Not hearing an answer above the power storm, Picard hit his combadge again.

  “Status, Number One!” Picard yelled.

  “We’re losing altitude fast! The Anasazi is breaking apart! We’re beaming her crew off now!”

  “Lock on to our coordinates and fire a spread of deep penetrating photon torpedoes!”

  “We can’t, Captain!”

  “This is no time to be chivalrous, Number One, now fire!”

  “We can’t fire. All weapons systems are down, Captain!”

  Picard shielded his eyes from the flying debris as the beam tore up the floor of the crater. He turned and peered into the chamber opening. He glanced about for Bowman only to find himself alone with Suben. In desperation Picard rushed Suben, body slamming him into an arch abutment. The machine stuttered and then came back full force, flinging an arm that sent Picard flying.

  Picard picked himself up and hefted a large stone and shoved it forward with all his might. With grim satisfaction he felt metal crunch as he hit home. Suben slumped against the stone wall as the energy beam subsided. Picard backed away from Suben and sank to his knees in exhaustion, his breath ragged. He warily watched the machine only to be horrified as the bent and twisted limbs started to move again. As Picard watched, Suben shoved himself erect, the arms lifting as the energy beam grew once more.

  Picard willed himself to his feet and picked up another stone. He stumbled toward Suben in an attempt to finish the demon machine. Yet even as Picard moved, Suben turned toward him, his arms pointing. An arc shot out and paralyzed Picard with fire that seemed to consume his very soul. He withered in pain for his sins against the machine. Yet as he watched, a familiar figure rushed in with a glowing object. And then it was done.

  Picard slumped to the ground as firm yet gentle hands caught him. As his sight dimmed Picard heard a friendly voice. “I am sorry we were detained, Captain. It seems Suben learned from his last encounter—” Then all went blissfully dark.

  “Captain’s log—supplemental: Suben has been disarmed. After Data’s success with shutting down Suben with the radium, Bowman found the machine responsible for his power. While we left his programming intact, the away teams have dismantled his abilities to do anything but move and communicate.

  “The small planet of Alin has been thrust into the scientific spotlight. An armada of research vessels are en route with an army of scientists and archaeologists. The finding of the Avengers has put the historical field on its ear.

  “Starfleet is acting upon my recommendation to bestow Lieutenant Taylor and his crew with the Federation Cross, for bravery ab
ove and beyond the call of duty. If not for their efforts, those many centuries ago, countless lives would have followed them into an unknown oblivion. I can only hope that the condemnation of the past will be erased and a new chapter written on the bravery of the men of Flight 19.

  “Picard out.”

  The Promise

  Shane Zeranski

  The promise was three years old now.

  But still as good as new.

  It was as if he had made it yesterday … which he had.

  Well, technically, he hadn’t made it yesterday. He’d reaffirmed it then. As he always did. He did not let a single day escape when he failed to embrace the vow with such renewed resolution and urgent passion that it caused a tender tear or two to spill onto his cheek. After all, as he was fast learning, now is the most precious time; now will never come again. “Seize now!” was what he often said.

  And so he was. And would do … and had done.

  That was three years ago, when Meribor was only four years old.

  Four years old and dying.

  He had pushed the door to her room carefully open, afraid that even the slightest creak or unkind scrape might thrust her deeper into the final, horrible, dark arms of death. He had padded softly up to her bed and slid gently into the chair next to her. He found himself spending so much time in that creaking, rotten chair these last few weeks. And he hoped he would continue to do so. He hoped that the chair next to her bed would never become empty, because that would mean that …

  Never mind. He couldn’t think that way.

  He didn’t want to wake her. That was not his intent.

  The moon, far above in the still, night sky, shone down defiantly through the plate glass window and cast what could only be described as a heavenly glow upon her tender face.

  She’s an angel, he had thought hollowly. She’s an angel … and her wings are about to be plucked.

  He had just wanted to watch her; watch her small chest rise and fall with each blessed breath; watch the way her soft hair curled up around her pale cheeks; smile as her closed eyes fluttered airily with dreams of butterflies and tea parties and sunny afternoons. And if worse came to worse … watch the fragile life drain from her body …