STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book One

by John Vornholt

  “Alert the task force. Hold for my mark.” The captain lifted his hand, then brought it down decisively. “Fire.”

  “Torpedoes away,” said the Deltan, looking up at the viewscreen, [233] where two streaks of light shot outward from the ship, headed toward the asteroids.

  “Going to impulse power,” said Jorax on the conn. The image on the viewscreen blurred and took a few moments to refocus as the Neptune sped away. They had done this routine so many times with the earlier probes, their actions were almost automatic.

  Seconds later, they had stopped and were again watching the endless, ageless sprawl of debris called the Boneyard. Without warning, ten violent eruptions tore through the asteroid field, like a string of firecrackers going off in a pile of dirt. Rock and debris were blasted outward and inward, turning the targeted area into a ricocheting demolition derby.

  A minute later, it was relatively peaceful again in the Boneyard, except for slowly expanding clouds of dust and clumps of debris hurtling outward.

  “Anything on sensors?” asked Captain Landwaring, leaning over Herron’s shoulder.

  She frowned curiously at her readings. “I’m detecting vegetable matter.”

  “Vegetable matter?” asked Landwaring curiously.

  “It’s true,” said the science officer, Mitchell, who peered at his own readouts. “But it looks old. Probably lichens on the rocks, still there from eons ago when this field was a living planet.”

  The ops officer suddenly sat up. “There’s something metallic out there, Sir! It appears to be spherical in shape.”

  “Spherical?” asked Landwaring. “You mean, as if it were manufactured?”

  She nodded her head. “I’ve isolated it—I can put it on visual.”

  “Do it.” The captain folded his arms and gazed expectantly at the viewscreen overhead. Thus far, they’d had nothing of interest to look at, and he was eager to see this metallic sphere which had lain hidden inside the Boneyard for who-knew-how-many years. When the image cleared, he gasped with surprise. It looked like a [234] charred, dented escape pod, revolving slowly as it sped through space.

  “What’s the size of that thing?” he asked.

  “It’s approximately four meters in diameter,” answered Mitchell. “There are no lifesigns on board, and it doesn’t seem to be producing any power. But I am picking up a bit more of that vegetable matter. Maybe it’s old foodstuffs.”

  “Conn, take us within a hundred kilometers of the sphere,” ordered Captain Landwaring. “And get a tractor beam on it. Just to stop it. Don’t bring it aboard. Keep shields up as much as you can.”

  “Yes, Sir,” answered Jorax, working his console.

  While he was doing that, the captain prowled behind the row of secondary stations. “Tactical, what are the other ships reporting?”

  “Same thing we’re seeing,” answered the Deltan. “That sphere is the only thing of interest.”

  “I’m locked on with tractor beam,” said Jorax on conn. “The sphere has stopped moving.”

  It had even stopped revolving as it hung in the darkness of space, bathed by the eerie glow of their tractor beam. Landwaring peered curiously at the relic on the viewscreen and ordered, “Tell the other ships to converge on our position. Shields up.”

  He wanted to believe that this find was significant, but there were plenty of logical explanations why an escape pod had become lodged inside an asteroid field. After all, they didn’t call it the Boneyard for nothing.

  “Mitchell,” he said to the science officer. “I want you to do an EVA inspection on that object, while we take another look around for anything that got shaken loose. Take the shuttlepod. Herron will pilot for you.”

  The young science officer gulped. “You want me to go outside and do a hands-on?”

  “Yes,” answered the captain in his coldest tone. “You can start earning your keep around here.”

  [235] “Come on, Sir,” said Ensign Herron, pointing to the door. “I’ll be right there in the shuttlepod.”

  “Sapor, take the conn,” ordered Landwaring, motioning to the auxiliary consoles where relief personnel were waiting. “Come on, let’s move quickly,” he said. “They’re not paying us to sit on our hands. While we’re messing around here, that thing is eating its way through the Federation.”

  The shuttlepod was the smallest self-propelled vessel to carry Starfleet markings, except for one-person escape pods. The clunky little craft didn’t have warp drive, and its range was limited, but it was all they had room for on the Neptune. Nevertheless, Eileen Herron liked piloting the little sprite, and she was the best on the ship.

  Peter Mitchell sat down beside her, wearing a thin, low-pressure environmental suit, and he gave her a pout that was part disdain and part fear. “I shouldn’t have to do this. Don’t we have security officers or something?”

  “You know, science officer isn’t a desk job out here,” answered Eileen. “And the Neptune isn’t a big cushy starship. We have a small crew, and everybody has to do as many jobs as they can. Besides, we don’t know you, and the rest of us have been through hell together. So you have to prove your mettle.”

  “Prove my mettle,” echoed Mitchell doubtfully. He hefted an armful of tricorders, tools, drills, and sample bags. “Okay, let’s do it. At least I get to ride in Eileen’s Buggy.”

  “Oh, you heard them call it that,” said Herron with a grin. “Nobody can touch me in this thing. How close do you want me to get?”

  “How long is the tether?”

  “We usually do fifty meters.”

  “Okay, make it thirty. Then I can get all the way around it.”

  [236] “Hold on.” The ensign applied thrusters, and the shuttlepod shot out of a small opening in the underbelly of the Neptune. With a few quick, sure maneuvers, Herron homed in on the aged sphere floating in space. The closer they came to it, the more it looked like space junk, although it appeared mostly intact. She was amused at how it seemed to be about the same size as the shuttlepod, although of a completely different shape.

  She applied reverse thrusters then looked at her instruments with a smile. “Thirty-two meters away. Is that close enough?”

  “Good flying,” muttered Mitchell, peering at the sphere which filled the main viewport. “I don’t see why we can’t bring this thing onto the ship for study at our leisure.”

  “Just make a quick appraisal of it,” said Herron impatiently. “Take some readings, a core sample, a few souvenirs—just do your job. I don’t think anyone will be shocked if it doesn’t have anything to do with why we’re out here.”

  “I know what to do,” Mitchell said huffily. “Prepare to open the hatch.” He put his helmet over his head, and Herron helped him tighten the seals. Both of them checked the readings on the tether.

  “Go get ’em, Tiger,” she said with a thumbs-up. The pilot grabbed an oxygen mask from a panel overhead and put it over her face. Then she belted herself into her seat. Force-fields would keep most of the atmosphere inside the shuttlepod, but it never hurt to be safe.

  “Ready?”

  He nodded, and she cracked the hatch open. With a whoosh, a bit of the air flew out, and Mitchell fumbled anxiously in the sudden weightlessness. Finally he managed to extricate himself from his chair and float out the open hatch. He quickly attached his tether.

  Once the science officer got hooked up, he oriented himself fairly well. Taking a small harpoon gun from his bag of tools, he shot a grappling hook at the sphere. On his first attempt, he hit the [237] relic and got a solid hold with the molecular bonding. After tugging hard on the rope, he set out, pulling himself easily hand over hand in the microgravity of space, his tether trailing behind him.

  From her pilot’s seat, Ensign Herron shut the hatch, having decided that the mission was going smoothly so far. On her instrument panel, she saw that Mitchell’s vital signs were a bit elevated, but that was normal. Checking her sensors, she concluded that this part of space was about as boring as it got, even
if the source of the Genesis Wave lurked nearby. With no sign of the deadly weapon, it felt as if they were the victims of some mass hoax.

  Gazing out her viewport, she noticed that Mitchell had reached the mysterious sphere and was taking tricorder readings. Then he moved very close to the relic, as if he were listening to something inside. Or perhaps he was trying to read markings on the hull. Herron thought about asking Mitchell what he was doing, but she didn’t want to interrupt him. He obviously wasn’t having any difficulty with his assignment. In fact, he moved around the sphere touching and feeling its surface as if he knew its intimate workings.

  Then he astounded her by pulling or pushing something that opened a hatch. At any rate, a dark cavity suddenly appeared on the surface of the sphere, and Mitchell stuck his hand into it.

  Now Herron got on the comlink. “Mitchell, what are you doing?”

  “I’ve got to go inside,” he replied insistently. Without any further leave, the science officer popped into the sphere and was gone.

  She hit the comlink again. “Shuttlepod to Neptune.”

  “Go ahead,” said Landwaring. “How’s it going?”

  “Well, Mitchell is being awfully brave,” she reported. “He just went inside the thing.”

  “Really,” said Landwaring, sounding impressed. Then he grumbled, “I didn’t clear him to do that. Can you see anything?”

  “It looks awfully dark in there, Captain.” Herron shook her head. “I’m only thirty meters away, and it doesn’t look like anything but [238] space junk to me. I don’t see how this could be connected to the Genesis Wave.”

  “Do you think we could beam it aboard?” asked the captain.

  “Only if we took it apart, and I don’t know if it would be worth the effort. This old museum piece will still be here if we need it later.”

  There was movement around the pod, and a helmet emerged, followed by the rest of the environmental suit. The ensign sat up in her chair. “He’s coming out.”

  “Reel him in,” ordered Landwaring. “Unless there’s something pertinent we should investigate, I want you to get back here.”

  “Yes, Sir. Shuttlepod out.” The ensign gave two taps on the companel. “Herron to Mitchell, I’m going to bring you in. All right?”

  The hooded figure waved to her and hefted what looked like a bag of old leaves. Slowly he removed the grappling hook from the sphere. Herron activated the winch to retract the tether; then she put on her oxygen mask. The ensign watched with amusement as Mitchell’s body drew closer; he looked like a kite floating at the end of its string.

  A few seconds later, she sprang the hatch, and the suited figure climbed back into the shuttlepod. His movements stiff and jerky, Mitchell deposited his equipment and samples behind the seats; then he settled into his chair. His chest went up and down in the suit as he caught his breath. Herron knew what it was like to readjust to gravity, so she let him have his moment of reorientation.

  Finally, Mitchell removed his helmet and smiled at her, looking somehow more at peace and more handsome than he had before. This trip had been a confidence builder for him, she decided.

  “Is there anything unusual?” she asked. “Anything we should report back to the ship before we leave?”

  “No,” he answered, staring straight ahead. “It’s dead. Really old. I don’t think this escape pod, or small craft, was ever manned. Maybe it was released by mistake.”

  [239] “What’s that stuff in the bag?” asked Herron, glancing behind the seat. Now that she saw the dried plant life at close range, it looked dirty and gray, like old clumps of Spanish moss or mistletoe. “Are you sure we should bring it back to the ship?”

  Mitchell gazed meaningfully at her, his words calm and soothing. “It’s inert, and it’s probably the only thing that will tell us the age of this craft. It’s definitely not Federation. It must have been a survival pod of some sort, because they had a kind of hydroponic growing system. That’s the remains of it, a plant that’s been dead for a long time. It’s no more harmful than your grandmother’s pressed flower collection.”

  She blinked at him, amazed. “How do you know about my grandmother’s pressed flower collection?”

  He shrugged. “Every grandmother has a pressed flower collection. So did mine.” He boldly touched her arm. “It’s just one more thing we have in common.”

  Herron knew she should slap him, but the move had caught her by surprise ... and in an oddly receptive mood. In fact, her skin seemed to burn where his mere fingers touched it, even through a heavy glove. Why had she never noticed how desirable he was?

  “What do you say to calling the captain, and telling him that neither one of us feels well. We’re both going to need to go lie down in our quarters.”

  She smiled slyly and punched her companel. “Shuttlepod to Neptune.”

  “Landwaring here,” came the response.

  “There’s nothing major to report,” said Ensign Herron, gazing at the handsome man beside her. “Mitchell just says it’s real old and real dead, so we’re on our way back.”

  She coughed and tried to sound sick. “But I don’t feel well, and neither does Mitchell. We’re going to need to go to our quarters and lie down when we get back.”

  “What’s the matter?” asked Landwaring with concern.

  [240] “I don’t know, maybe it’s something with the air in the shuttlepod. It got a little thin when we opened the hatch. It’s all right now. I’ll run diagnostics when we get back.”

  “All right,” said the captain begrudgingly. “I guess you’ve both earned a rest, but don’t expect it to be a long one. Sometimes an EVA can leave you a little nauseous.”

  “I’m sure that’s it,” answered Herron, barely containing her excitement over being alone with Mitchell. “Shuttlepod out.”

  twenty-one

  Maltz snored peacefully in a corner of the radiation laboratory, snuffling and grunting to himself, while Geordi La Forge and Leah Brahms poured over equations and charts on their situation monitors. These documents represented the release patterns, speeds, and trajectories of the Genesis Wave once it hit a planet, and it couldn’t be more devastating. They continued to sift through data gleaned from Commander Troi’s jaunt on Persephone V, and it felt as if they needed months to get a hold on this thing, when all they had was hours.

  La Forge couldn’t help but glance at his beautiful colleague every now and then, just to make sure she was really here beside him. It wasn’t that she was a distraction—her presence was more reassuring than anything else. If the universe could drop her here beside him, then maybe it wasn’t as cruel as it seemed to be at the moment.

  However, Geordi didn’t care much for her Klingon chaperone. He understood survivors’ syndrome and how the two of them might have bonded in that shuttlecraft, but he was still a little jealous. Leah and Maltz were a crew, albeit tiny, but he wasn’t part of it.

  [242] Still he and Leah worked as smoothly together as they ever had, in reality or simulation. She was immersed in the task at hand, and Geordi was basically assisting her. He was in awe of her intellect and drive, although the urgency of the situation made the atmosphere around the lab unusually grim.

  Other teams on nearby ships and elsewhere in the Federation were wrestling with the same problems. Some of them reported different solutions or variations on the phase-shifting plan. Since the Romulans were already on their way with the interphase generators, it was definite that phase-shifting would get the first trial under fire. The irony was that Leah had created the vaunted radiation suit, but she didn’t have a lot of faith that the same technology could protect thousands of people at a time. Despite her dedication and hard work, it was clear that she would have preferred to be with the task force that was hunting down the perpetrators of this horror.

  While Leah continued poring over equations and charts, La Forge checked on dispatches from Data. In addition to his bridge duties, the android was sifting through incoming correspondence from their colleagues
. He rejected the preposterous and unworkable, and the stuff that just rehashed what they already knew, forwarding anything he thought might be helpful. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a lot.

  As Leah had surmised, the Genesis Effect only extended a certain distance into the crust, since it retained its terraforming characteristics and was programmed to move fast over a planet that met the right criteria. This had brought many suggestions for using mines, caverns, underground storage tanks, missile silos, and the like for shelters. Unfortunately, the wave triggered earthquakes and volcanic eruptions as a side effect. Plus it wasn’t always predictable how deeply into the crust it went. It was probably dependent upon the composition of the bedrock.

  The effect on stars, nebulas, and miscellaneous objects in space was more devastating and unpredictable, resulting in total [243] reconfiguration. Even in Leah’s radiation suit, Geordi wouldn’t care to be caught in a starship when that wave hit it. Oddly enough, despite the horrendous upheaval, a suitable planet was the safest place to be.

  “Anything new?” asked Leah, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. Although she didn’t appear to be paying that much attention to him, she always seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

  “No,” he answered glumly. “A correspondent from Alpha Centauri would like us to put everybody in transporter suspension while the wave passes through.”

  “That would work, except how do you protect the transporter stations themselves?” She shook her head glumly. “Unless we stop the wave itself, we’re just killing time ... along with a lot of planets.”

  “But the same technology saved you,” said Geordi, hating to sound like a broken sound chip.

  “Oh, it may save lives, but if you think you’re going to save anybody’s home with this, you’re sadly mistaken. You’re still going to have to evacuate these people.”

  “If we can evacuate them at a normal pace, that might not be such a bad tradeoff.” La Forge took a deep breath and tried to tone down his rhetoric. “If I’ve learned one thing in my decade on the Enterprise—if you can’t do anything else, you buy time.”