by Ilsa J. Bick
But the mind-scream—Kaldarren had stumbled over rock until he found the tunnel—how had Jase managed that? The echoes were still there, and there was something else, too, something that was neither Jase, nor Pahl. Something alien.
Oh, Jase. Kaldarren’s pulse throbbed in his temples. His mind was still bruised from the assault, and he willed a partial shield, knowing he’d be of little help to his son if he were incapacitated. Jase, Jase, Jase, where are you?
Getting down the tunnel was difficult; Kaldarren didn’t have a light, and so he let his tricorder, the boys’ flare-markers, and his mind lead the way. Now, standing in front of the metal panel, Kaldarren felt rivers of sweat running down his back. His breath fogged against his faceplate and he forced himself to slow down, try to stay calm, and he found himself wishing, fervently and for the first time in years, that Rachel were there.
She’d know what to do. Kaldarren’s fingers slipped over the tricorder controls; the indicators went red, and his tricorder blatted an error message. Oh, how stupid! He wanted to scream, smash the instrument against the rocks. Damn her, damn her, I’ve seen her about as frightened as a person can be and still live, and she’d know how to handle this, what to do, Rachel, Rachel ...
Stop. Kaldarren clamped his shaking lips together. He couldn’t panic. If he did, he couldn’t help his son. Steeling himself, Kaldarren tried again.
The tricorder went red ... red ... red ... double green. The panel slid to one side. Another room. Small. Dark.
Go. Kaldarren hesitated, all his senses screaming in protest. If there was nothing on the other side, if the panel didn’t open, he’d be trapped in there and Jase, he wouldn’t be able to get to Jase. But, no: His eyes scoured the readings on his tricorder, and he adjusted its range and gain. Beyond that second panel, there was air, warmth. Jase.
Go. Kaldarren squared his shoulders. Go!
Kaldarren stepped into the darkness.
“I see it,” said Talma. They had moved to within sensor range of the planet, and now she found that she wanted to break something. But Halak was standing right beside her, so she couldn’t. Instead, she drew a deep breath. Appearances.
“Sivek?” She almost said Vaavek. “Are you absolutely sure?”
The Vulcan threw her a glance that, on a human, might have been describing as withering. “There is no mistake. Granted, the magnetic interference coupled with ionized plasma contrails makes sensor readings difficult. But difficult is not a synonym for impossible, and I had rerouted auxiliary power to my sensors to compensate. Therefore, that,” he nodded at one grid upon his sensor display, “is a signature consistent with a landskimmer. And that,” the Vulcan enhanced another area of his scans, “or should I say those are life-forms, humanoid, three. Two are in close proximity, perhaps in a room. The third is heading in their general direction.”
“And that?” Halak reached past the Vulcan to point out a pulsating resonance signature deep in the planet’s surface. “That’s much further down. It’s not geological?”
The Vulcan pursed his lips. “I had considered that as a possibility and discarded it. The signature has periodicity; it appears to be artificial and is likely an energy source. There is also a secondary energy signature that I have never seen before.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“I believe I just said, I’ve never seen it before. Therefore, I can only describe, not tell you what it is. It is neuromagnetic.”
Halak frowned. “Brain waves? Sivek, you’ve got to be wrong. How ... ?”
“Commander, I just said ...”
“All right, boys,” Talma intervened. “Zip ’em away for now. And no,” she said before the Vulcan could ask, “I’m not explaining that.”
“All right.” Halak folded his arms over his chest. “We’ve got a power source and some archaic laser-propagation wave, and now we’ve got a location, the place this portal of yours most likely is. As I recall, the plan was not to have a run-in with whomever Qadir’s got down there, and you can bet that propagation wave’s going to be picked up by someone soon, and that someone’s likely to be a Cardassian, and probably more than one.”
“Not necessarily. You heard Sivek. It’s so weak we’re lucky to have seen it, and we’re still fairly far out, not even in orbit yet. Right?” Talma addressed this to the Vulcan. “It looked like a magnetic burst, right?”
“Correct. Most ships would pass it off as being inconsequential.” Vaavek paused. “Unless it happens again.”
“See?” said Talma to Halak. “Nothing to worry about on that score. That thing’s so weak, it would take a miracle for anyone to see it.”
“What if it’s a distress call?”
Talma shifted impatiently. “If it is, then that’s all the more reason to get down there. Now I’m certain those energy fluctuations come from that portal. We can’t beam down because of all that radiation and stellar wind. Better you and Sivek go down in a pod.”
“So Sivek can keep an eye on me,” said Halak, his tone sour. Talma suppressed a tight smile. She’d produced the orders with assurances about rescuing Arava he’d requested, so there was no question now that he’d follow through. “As if I’ll get very far in a pod. What’s it make, Sivek? Warp one?”
“One-point-five. Under optimal conditions.”
“Uh-huh.” Halak turned to Talma/Burke. “And what about you?”
“I will stay onboard the T’Pol and nudge her into lunar stationary orbit on the far side of the planet’s larger moon, out of sight. From there I can monitor the space immediately around the planet. Don’t worry,” she said, reading Halak’s expression. “I’ll let you know the instant any Cardassian scouts arrive. Remember, Starfleet has no more interest in the Cardassians finding us than you do.”
“With that signal, they’ll be in this sector ...”
“They won’t, but the longer we stand around arguing, the greater the likelihood they will. Now you know what to do?”
Halak sighed. “Locate and secure the portal. Take detailed sensor readings on the construction and operation. Try not to get myself killed. Anything else?”
“No.” Talma’s eyes slid to Vaavek. “You?”
“A moment alone, if you please.”
“Right,” said Halak, backing out of the T’Pol’s bridge toward the gangway. “I’ll just stand over here while you two whisper.”
“No,” said Talma. “Stay right where you are. Anything you have to say, Sivek, you can say in front of the commander.”
The Vulcan didn’t look convinced. “Why are you remaining aboard? It’s a Vulcan ship. You are Starfleet Intelligence. This is not the V’Shar’s mission.”
“But you’re a Vulcan,” said Talma easily. “And a Vulcan male at that. Far better equipped to deal with Commander Halak than I am.” She looked over at Halak. “Isn’t that right?”
Halak put his hands on his hips. “Maybe. We could certainly go one-on-one right now, see what happens.”
“You would not enjoy it, Commander,” said Vaavek. “If, however, you are someone who thrives on experiential learning, I am willing to accommodate you.”
“Down, boys.” She returned her gaze to Vaavek. “That’s the plan. Okay?”
“Not entirely,” said Vaavek.
“Good, I’m glad that’s settled. Now, we’re wasting time. You and Halak get down there. And Sivek, don’t forget a phaser.”
“Wait a minute,” Halak protested. “If he gets one, I want one.”
Talma slid into the pilot’s chair and swiveled around until her back was to the commander. “No.”
“I get it. I get to take care of whomever’s down there, but then Sivek gets to take care of me.”
Talma plotted her course for the planet’s moon. “Only if you misbehave, Commander.”
“You know that won’t happen.”
“Well,” now Talma pulled her head around and gave Halak a sweet smile, “let’s hope not, for your sake—and for Arava’s.”
“My sake?�
� Halak’s face darkened with an angry rush of blood. “The only reason I’m doing this is for Arava. I don’t have anything left to lose except her.”
“Then I’m quite fortunate,” said Talma, turning aside once more. “Because they say that the most dangerous man is the one who’s got nothing left to lose. Good luck, Commander.”
“I believe in making my own luck, thanks.”
“Then I suggest you make a lot of it, Commander.” Because you can bet—Talma listened to Halak’s angry footsteps fade away as he clambered down to the waiting pod—that if you and Vaavek fail, I’ll be making mine.
“Twice?” Garrett leaned over Bulast’s shoulder and stared at his communications display. “Are you sure?”
“There’s no mistake, Captain,” said Bulast. “See, these time indices, here and here? Two distinct signals: a blip on and then off, and now one that’s continuous.”
“Oh, good,” said Stern, who’d been hovering around Garrett’s command chair for the last hour. “Now we’ve got alarms. We lose Halak’s transponder signal in all that radioactive slush out there, but we get alarms.”
Garrett ignored her. “So you’re saying it’s like a door.”
Bulast nodded. “Like a door that opened and closed. Twice. Only the second time, someone left it open.”
“Careless,” said Stern.
“Or maybe,” said Bat-Levi, who’d been studying the same signal at her station, “maybe it’s not that the door’s been left open, but that the alarm hasn’t properly been turned on, or off, to begin with. Captain, I remember my parents had an alarm for their house. Even if your retinal scan matched, the thing let off a little bleep. It was a redundant system. Retinal scan outside, voice print inside. But here was the real catch. If someone, an intruder, were to somehow fake the retinal scan but made a mistake along the way—bungled the match before getting it right, let’s say—the system let him in. But then it sent out a silent alarm, and the alarm stayed on.”
“So as not to alert the intruder.” Garrett looked over at Bulast. “Could that be it? Is it a distress call?”
“Captain, there’s no way of knowing. The first signal reads just like the commander said, as if someone opened the door, maybe tripped an alarm doing it but then disarmed it. Closed the door correctly, maybe, I don’t know. The second reads as if they didn’t bother closing it, or maybe didn’t know they had to. But here’s the other thing that’s peculiar. That signal reads like a general distress only the band is narrow, closer to infrared. So the technology is ancient. Mid-twenty-first century stuff.”
“Damn.” Sighing, Garrett resumed her pacing. She’d been pacing for two hours, too keyed up to sit in her command chair. Probably wearing a groove in the deck. “Damn, why did this have to happen now?”
“Captain,” said Glemoor, “in terms of probabilistic ...”
“I think that was an expression, Glemoor,” said Stern. To Garrett: “What do you want to do?”
“What I want and what I have to do might be mutually exclusive. What about Halak? Any luck getting his signal back?”
“No,” said Bulast. “We lost him as soon as the T’Pol dropped out of warp.”
“But we’ve still got the T’Pol.”
“Not really,” said Glemoor. “We’ve picked up remnants of a warp signature consistent with a Vulcan warpshuttle in this sector. But those remnants are decaying fast in the strong magnetic field of that binary star system out there. Old or new, I have no way of knowing. They could have left this sector and we wouldn’t be able to tell.”
“But they were heading in this general direction,” Stern pointed out “And there’s nothing leading away from here. So they’re still around.”
“Unless the ship backtracked and exited the system at a point too distant for us to see, perhaps subtending its signal behind the neutron star. If the T’Pol elected to swing close to the neutron star, any warp signature would have been distorted, almost like a cloaking device.”
“Could the alarm be coming from Halak?” asked Stern.
Bulast spoke up. “Negative on that, not unless he’s jury-rigged something. If he has, you’d assume he’d try to target us, not just blare a general distress.”
“Maybe he didn’t have a choice,” said Stern.
“And risk alerting the Cardassians?” said Garrett. She ran a hand over her forehead. “I don’t think so. And speaking of Cardassians, any sign of them?”
“Not yet,” said Bat-Levi. She didn’t say that might change in the very near future. She didn’t have to.
“What about origination point?” Garrett looked over at Glemoor who was seated at his console to Castillo’s left. “Where’s that alarm coming from?”
“Origination point of the propagation wave appears to be the fourth planet, Captain. I read power emanations and a periodicity that’s different from the general background wash of gamma rays from that neutron star.”
“What type of power is it?”
“That is what is so unusual, Captain. I wasn’t certain of my findings initially, but Commander Bat-Levi has verified. There are actually two signatures: one is something very close to fusion power. But the other is neither nuclear nor thermal. It is not electromagnetic, but it appears to be a highly charged neuromagnetic plasma interface.”
“Neuromagnetic?” Garrett glanced over at Stern, who only shook her head. “You’re saying brain waves?”
“In a manner of speaking. It’s more like a plasma cloud of ionized particles, only in this instance the driving force is neuromagnetic, and not radioactive. Both emanate from deep beneath the planet’s surface. And there’s something else.”
“What? Another power source?”
“Not exactly.” The Naxeran screwed up his face in a way that reminded Garrett of an inquisitive cat. “There’s a biosphere, Captain. That is, I believe there is. We’re still at the extreme limits of sensors.”
“A biosphere?” Garrett was at Glemoor’s station in two strides. “Are there life signs? Did they send the signal?”
“Negative. The alarm appears to have originated underground.”
“Near that neuromagnetic power source?” And when Glemoor nodded, Garrett continued, “What about ships?”
“At this distance, I can not say for certain if there are ships. Certainly, there are none orbiting the planet. The planet does possess two moons, however.”
“So a ship could hiding behind one.”
“That is a possibility. With all the radiation in the area, it is also just as possible that there is a ship we cannot see.”
Bat-Levi said, “Captain, we have to assume that the alarm’s genuine until we know otherwise. The T’Pol could be anywhere, and we have no way of knowing exactly where, or whether she’s moved off. But distress calls take precedence.”
“Rachel,” said Stern, “you can’t ...”
“Doctor,” said Garrett, in a peremptory tone that brooked no debate. “Much as I might like it to be otherwise, Bat-Levi’s right. If that’s a distress call, we have to answer.”
Stern was undeterred. “And if it isn’t? What if it’s some old hunk of junk that’s malfunctioned, or something? You going to gamble Halak’s life on a lousy machine?”
“We don’t know that it is junk, and we don’t have the luxury of assuming anything.” Garrett blew out a long sigh. “All right, everyone, listen up. This is what we’re going to do.”
Chapter 32
Air. Kaldarren jogged down the tunnel, his helmet banging his right thigh. The air was warm but smelled old and was thick with decay. Kaldarren saw light just ahead. He squinted at his tricorder. Reading an entryway, and this tunnel’s been carved, it’s artificial, there’s plaster on the stone, and that long tunnel to the west, those branch points, this has to be a tomb ...
For an instant—when he turned into the main burial chamber, with its vaulted ceiling, and saw the dead king and all that wealth spilling over the stone floor and the fabulous mural—Kaldarren forgot everything: Che
n-Mai, the portal. Even Jase. Kaldarren let out his breath in a sigh of wonder. It was all here. He’d been right. A xenoarchaeologist’s dream, the find of a lifetime. And the writing on the walls: Hebitian, but with archaic variations different from the script he’d seen, the one officially touted by the Cardassians as proof positive of their descent from the ancient race. But the Hebitians had been here, Kaldarren knew now. The Hebitians had been on this planet, thousands of years ago.
Then Kaldarren remembered the mind-scream. They were still here.
Jase. Kaldarren’s eyes jerked to an opening diagonally across the main burial chamber. In there.
He felt them before he saw them or knew what they were: a strange, insistent tugging at the back of his mind, like fingers scrambling around the seam of a door, searching for a way to pry into his mind. Their touch was cold, malevolent. Kaldarren shivered. Evil.
And for a split second, Kaldarren felt fear. But he had to stay calm. More than that: He knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that if he was going to get Jase out, he’d have to open his mind and let these things inside, so he understood what he was dealing with and how to fight them—but not just yet.
Oh, Rachel. Kaldarren thought her name as if it was a type of prayer. He wasn’t sure why he thought of Garrett just then, but perhaps it was because of the darkness of the things skittering around the edges of his mind. Their evil filled him with fear and such foreboding ... Kaldarren closed his eyes, as if doing so would block out his fear. Oh, there were so many things he’d never told her, and other things he wished he’d left unsaid. How they’d hurt one another, and now it was too late to tell her how sorry he was. Good-bye, Rachel.
And then, before he could change his mind, Kaldarren hurried into the next room.
The room was small and close, suffused with a silver glow that reminded Kaldarren of light globes, though none were visible. He saw Pahl, standing beside a pile of dark rubble. The boy’s back was to him, and as Kaldarren stepped forward, the boy pivoted on his heel until Kaldarren saw the ice-blue eyes, the silver mask.