STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book One

by John Vornholt

  Jaspirin stared at her in mock shock. “Commander, I resent that move. I think you were setting me up.”

  “Not at all,” replied the Zakdorn. “I merely saw an opening I hadn’t noticed before.”

  “Do you want me to take a look at the array?” asked Carol helpfully.

  Quay’to shook her head. “No, that’s not necessary. We’ve got a repair crew on the way—they should be here by tonight. In the meantime, Wilson is trying to rig together something with the tricorders—at least we can have short-range sensors.” The studious calm in the Zakdorn’s voice barely masked her annoyance at this interruption in their routine.

  “If we don’t get another storm,” said Martin Dupovitz, glancing out a window.

  “Can’t do anything about the weather,” remarked Jaspirin, “although everyone keeps trying.”

  Carol smiled to herself, thinking that she had once been able to do a great deal about the weather. But that was in the past, in another lifetime. She rose slowly from her chair, feeling a twinge of pain in her lower back. Weariness overcame the scientist, reminding her that she had awakened well before dawn, fretting over the [10] possibility of the storm damaging her experiments. In the end, it had turned out to be just another beautiful day on Pacifica.

  “Is there anything on the local dish?” asked Jaspirin, glancing at a nearby viewscreen. “When are the yacht races from Pacifica Prime?”

  “Not for another six months,” answered Quay’to, pointing to the chess game. “Your move.”

  Carol Marcus yawned broadly and made a decision. “I’m going to take a quick nap.”

  “Go right ahead, Doctor.” The commander nodded her approval, then went back to her chess game.

  “We’ll have lunch ready for you when you wake up,” promised Martin.

  Marcus nodded gratefully at the young ensign. One of the happy prerogatives of old age was that one could take a nap whenever one felt like it, without eliciting any resentment. She caught the three of them watching her as she made her way to her quarters; they were undoubtedly relieved that she would be inactive for a while.

  Lying in her bed felt as luxurious as lying in a weightless mud bath on Rigel II. Marcus felt all of her worries and pain melting away as her body sank into the mattress. Faintly she could hear the gentle lapping of the waves, lulling her into tranquility. She also heard the muffled voices of her guards, greeting Wilson, who had just joined them in the common room.

  I don’t know when I’ve ever been so tired, Carol marveled to herself. She must have slept, although she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that a strange mist seemed to enter her bedroom, filling it with shadows. Everything became deathly quiet, except for the rhythmic hush of the waves, and her body felt paralyzed, but comfortably so.

  Then a warm hand touched hers, and the mattress dipped as someone alighted beside her. Stirring gently from her dreamy reverie, Carol Marcus looked up to see the most wonderful sight in [11] the whole world: David! Her son’s angelic face was framed by unruly blond curls, and he smiled at her with those delicate dimples and intense brown eyes. How all the girls, young and old, had loved to run their fingers through those curly locks of his.

  “David,” rasped Carol with tears brimming in her eyes. She lifted a trembling hand to touch his face, certain there would be nothing to feel but an old woman’s illusion. To her astonishment, her hand touched real flesh, and she ran her fingers over his nose, mouth, and eyes.

  “David ... you ... how?” she sputtered.

  “Don’t worry about that now,” cooed David, cupping her hands in his. “The universe is full of strange and wondrous things. I’d like to show them to you, Mother. Are you ready to leave this pointless life behind and come with me? Father is anxious to see you, too.”

  “Jim?” she asked in astonishment. “But he’s dead. You’re both dead!” Carol shook her head and screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to consider the obvious. “Or maybe I’m the one who’s dead.”

  “Even in death, there is life,” said David, grabbing her slender shoulders and pulling her into a sitting position.

  “I killed you!” said the old woman, weeping. “I left you behind!” She buried her face in his gray tunic and sobbed loudly, inconsolably. David stroked her matted ivory hair, the child comforting the mother.

  Suddenly Carol looked up in a panic, certain that her loud crying would bring all four bodyguards running. She gazed out the open door toward the common room and saw Martin lying on the floor and Quay’to slumped in her chair.

  “What’s the matter—”

  David touched her lips, silencing her. “Nothing is the matter ... not anymore. It’s taken me a long time to find you, Mother, but now we’re going home.”

  “Home!” said Marcus with a gush of emotion. “Yes, home. Do you mean—”

  [12] David nodded happily. “Yes, back to the Regula I lab—to finish your work.”

  The old woman gulped and looked at him with a combination of joy and disbelief. She didn’t feel dead, so she had to be dreaming. But if this was a dream, it was an exceedingly cruel one, because she couldn’t stand to be torn away from David again.

  He smiled with understanding. “I know you have questions, but you’ve just got to accept what is. I’m here, you’re here, and we can be together just like always. We can start over, do it right. Just come with me ... and trust. Will you do that?”

  Carol nodded, tears of happiness streaming down her face. “Oh, yes, David! If you forgive me—”

  “I forgive you, Mother. We’ll never be apart again. Come along—Father is waiting.” He smiled radiantly and wrapped his arms around her. From the corner of her eye, Carol saw the mists and shadows creeping back into the room, and she had a momentary lapse of doubt. This can’t be happening! David’s solid arms reassured her, and the old woman surrendered to her bliss. Her consciousness seeped away until all she felt was oblivion.

  two

  “The yacht races on Pacifica came to an exciting conclusion today,” said the sportscaster on the audio feed, his voice wafting across the open-air market, along with the smells of a hundred different foods and perfumed oils. Everywhere signs proclaimed “Happy Terran Day,” a celebration marking the day when the first human colonists had arrived on Seran to join the Camorites, Deltans, and other species. Aurora Square was filled with shoppers and revelers, picking up fresh produce, spices, gifts, and tasty delicacies for the holiday dinner.

  The announcer went on, “With fireworks in the sky and a grand flotilla on the waves, the winners were honored today on Pacifica. A Bynar catamaran, the Gemini, won for the second year in a row in the freestyle category. A replay will be broadcast at twenty-two hundred hours on the All-Sport video transponder.”

  “I’ll have to try to catch that,” said Mikel Gordonez as he hefted a melon from a nearby stand and sniffed its dewy freshness. “I’ll come back to the club tonight and watch it with the boys.”

  Leah Brahms lifted her blue eyes from a selection of squashes and [14] tubers and looked curiously at her husband. Gray-haired, paunchy, Mikel was twenty years older than she, and he sometimes treated her like his subordinate, which she had been at the Theoretical Propulsion Group. Lately Mikel had been coming to the planet’s surface almost every night, frequenting his athletic club.

  She couldn’t help herself—she had to ask, “Why would you want to watch a yacht race from the other side of the quadrant? You never pay any attention to the yacht races here.”

  “This is the Pacifica Invitational,” he protested. “It’s famous. All the other ones are just ... the minor leagues.” Mikel scowled and walked away from her. “If you don’t want me to come to town tonight, just say so.”

  Leah followed him through the throng, brushing her chestnut-colored hair out of her eyes. For years, she had worn her hair long, usually pinned up in a bun, but now it was cut short. Mikel hated it. Although she was determined not to fight with him, she was equally determined to make her case. They had a ton of work le
ft to do, and he acted as if they were on vacation.

  As Leah charged after her husband, she realized that she didn’t want to start an argument in public, surrounded by hundreds of residents of the capitol city. Leah Brahms and Mikel Gordonez were respected scientists, known to everyone on the planet as the landlords of Outpost Seran-T-One. Fighting in public wouldn’t win them any friends, and they needed friends now that a vote on their funding was coming up before the council. They had enough enemies already.

  She didn’t want to blame Mikel for all of their problems, but his attention had been drifting for some time, from both the research and her. Even now, her husband strode through the crowded market ten paces ahead of her, oblivious to her struggle to keep up. She was carrying all of their purchases, an armful of bundles.

  Stop! she wanted to scream, but she didn’t. Leah was always the one who worried about appearances, the one who kept quiet when [15] people were watching. She could be outspoken and opinionated on her own turf, but she maintained decorum when it came to the two of them. Where he was frivolous and childish, she was serious and adult. Where he was a people person, she was a techie. They were a good partnership on the face of it, but she still didn’t understand him. Why does he want to watch a yacht race when we’re in the middle of running tests?

  He’s just trying to get away from work, she concluded. Or me.

  Leah didn’t know everything in life, but she knew that Mikel couldn’t get away from her. They worked together all day long, and their names were linked on hundreds of papers, proposals, and studies. It was impossible to tell where her life ended and his began. Colleagues and customers depended upon them—escape wasn’t an option.

  Finally Leah Brahms slowed down, took a deep breath, and paused to look at the colorful booths and luscious wares for sale. It had been Mikel’s idea to come shopping in the market today, not hers. Leah had to admit that she seldom took time to admire the pottery or smell the bread pudding. Maybe I should be the one who changes, she thought with a start. Maybe I should watch yacht races.

  A Deltan woman walked by, pushing a double stroller containing two beautiful, dark-haired children. Leah was suddenly aware of the laughter and gaiety of children all around her, running through the square, chasing their hoops and robotic pets.

  It would have been different if we’d had children, thought the scientist. Never had time, came the familiar reply. She was still young enough, just approaching forty, and she could attempt it yet. But Leah didn’t know whether having a child would balance her life and help the marriage or put undue stress on everyone. She knew that Mikel would be horrified at the idea.

  The truth was, she didn’t have as many other interests and people in her life as she should have. Everything revolved around work, even her marriage, which probably made her boring. She didn’t [16] work very hard at her marriage either, except to stay monogamous when confronted by the rare temptation. There had been moments of unwanted attention, such as Geordi La Forge’s crush on her. At least that was over, and they had become friends. But who could make time for romance, with a husband or anyone else?

  Yes, I’m boring, she decided. If I’m boring to myself, what must I be to Mikel?

  A gangly Camorite bumped into her, and he politely nodded his plume of yellow hair. “Excuse me. Happy Terran Day.”

  “Yes, it is!” Leah replied cheerfully. She gazed up at the indigo sky, ablaze with the brilliance of a double-star system. There was a slight chill in the air, but midyear was coming soon with its dry, warm weather. All around them towered shimmering skyscrapers and sinewy monorails, stretching into the depths of the metropolis. Two joyous children cut through the crowd, waving streamers over their heads. A flotilla of hot-air balloons floated overhead, affording scores of Serans a lofty view of the festivities. On a glorious day like this, what was the point of fighting?

  She tapped her combadge. “Brahms to Gordonez.”

  His voice didn’t sound happy when he answered. “What are you doing? I’m ten meters away from you.”

  “Yes, and you’re going to stay ten meters ahead of me unless you slow down. I just wanted to catch up with you.” She cut through the crowd and bumped into him before he had time to react. After a grin, she said, “Brahms out.”

  He looked down at her, suppressing a smile despite his anger. “Listen, why don’t you come with me to the club tonight? We’ll watch the race together. You don’t get out of the lab enough.”

  “All right, I will,” she answered. “Here, help me carry this stuff.”

  While Mikel gaped at her, she shoved packages into his arms. “Are you kidding?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not kidding,” she said. “You have to help me carry this stuff.”

  [17] “No, do you really want to go to the club with me tonight?” Suddenly he sounded doubtful.

  “Yes, already—I’m going.” Leah was more resolute than ever, because she sensed an odd reticence on his part. Mikel had asked her to go to his club many times before, but she had never said yes. Maybe she should have gone with him before now.

  “Are we about done shopping?” asked Mikel, swiftly changing the subject. “Have we got enough for that special dinner tonight?”

  “I think so. If not, we’ll make do.” But Leah suddenly felt a sort of panic, realizing that the entire day would be lost to shopping, cooking, eating, watching yacht races, and who knew what else? That was the problem with having a life—work always suffered.

  “Let me just check in,” she said, tapping her combadge. “Brahms to Outpost Seran-T-One.” She tried to ignore the way Mikel smirked and rolled his eyes at her attention to duty.

  “Henricksen here,” came a high-pitched, harried response. “Is everything all right, Doctor?”

  “Yes, it’s all right with us,” answered Brahms, speaking above the din of the crowd. She knew every nuance of voice and mannerism in her assistants, and she sensed that Ellen Henricksen was upset. “What’s wrong up there?”

  “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

  “Go ahead and tell me,” said Leah Brahms. “I’ll find out sooner or later.”

  “Well, it’s the test site—” began the worried assistant. “The Civil Guard showed up an hour ago, and they’ve held up our tests. Paldor is trying to talk them out of it, but they won’t budge. They say we’re not allowed to use radiation with any of the local subjects.”

  “What?” demanded Mikel angrily, yelling over Leah’s shoulder. “That’s the whole point of it! What’s the matter with those rubes?”

  Leah looked around at the crowd in the marketplace, wondering how many had overheard Mikel’s remark. A few people glanced [18] their way, but most were worried about holiday preparations and getting the last bit of Saurian sylph butter.

  “Maybe we should go there,” concluded Leah. “We’re done here, anyway. Get ready to receive us.”

  “Paldor didn’t want to call you,” whined Ellen miserably. “We can handle it. Really we can!”

  “We’re on our way.” Leah gripped her husband’s hand and was soon dragging him and all their packages through the crowd, headed toward the outskirts of the square. She kept glancing at the signposts overhead, trying to find one which indicated a transporter kiosk. Mikel kept barking about “superstitious locals” and “bureaucrats on a power trip,” but Leah did her best to ignore him.

  Finally she located a transporter kiosk in the corner of the square, but there was a line of about twenty Serans waiting to get in. On a normal day, there wouldn’t be anyone waiting, but this was hardly a normal day.

  She hated doing it, but she had to pull rank. “Get out your I.D. card,” she told Mikel.

  He smiled slyly as he pulled the card from beneath his tunic and let it dangle from the cord around his neck. “They’re going to hate you.”

  “I don’t care.” Leah whipped out her own badge and waved it at the people in line as she plowed past them. “Medical emergency! Coming through! Medical emergency! We need to use the
transporter.”

  The Serans eyed their packages and attire doubtfully, as if thinking they didn’t appear to be on any kind of emergency. Nevertheless, the customers at the front of the line stepped back to allow Leah and Mikel to enter the kiosk first. Such was the power of the Science Service badges they wore, which marked them as members of the elite on Seran.

  Leah stamped her foot impatiently as she waited for the force-field to clear, then she charged inside the circular room and took [19] her place on the transporter platform. The interior of the kiosk was hardly any bigger than a Jefferies tube, and Mikel struggled to drag all their packages inside. “Hurry up,” she urged him.

  Breathing heavily, the gray-haired man finally took his place beside her on the platform. He looked ruefully at her. “Did anybody ever tell you that you’re a slave driver?”

  “All the time,” answered Leah, knowing it was the truth. She had driven herself and others mercilessly all her life, and she had never learned how to relax. The current emergency probably wasn’t much of one, but it had served the purpose of ending their brief shore leave before it became uncomfortable. She glanced at Mikel, who was busy keeping all the packages in his hands. She had never thought that he could hide anything from her, but maybe he wasn’t as predictable as she thought.

  The most disturbing part of this realization was the fact that it meant so little to her. As usual, her worry was for the work—always the work. Today they were testing the prototype of new, vastly improved radiation suit.

  “Destination?” queried a polite computer voice.

  “Outpost Seran-T-One,” she answered. “Authorization code: five-zero-eight-one-nine.”

  “Prepare to energize.”

  Leah stared straight ahead, waiting for the familiar tingle to grip her spine. The sensation quickly faded, as the walls of the kiosk morphed into a shadowy cargo bay inside the largest of Seran’s eight moons. The hidden outpost had been built as a Starfleet observation post over two centuries ago on the edge of Federation space. After observing the planet for thirty years and finding no high-level life, Starfleet issued permission to colonize. The Camorites had been first, followed by Deltans, Saurians, and others. In time, Federation borders had moved a bit closer to the center of the Milky Way, and the Federation had turned the outpost over to the science branch.