by Dayton Ward
“We’ve got at least three Changed traipsing about the outer hull, Master Chief,” Terrell replied. “They’re punching holes in the ship. Want to go outside and tell them to knock it off?”
“Not really, but we’re in no shape for this sort of maneuvering, at least not down here in the atmosphere. Inertial dampeners are going nuts, so whatever you’re going to do, do it quick. Otherwise, we’re all walking home!”
“Master Chief,” Yataro said, stepping toward Terrell’s command chair and gripping its headrest with both hands, “are you able to channel an electrical charge through the outer hull?”
“Sure. Hell, right now I’m amazed all of us haven’t been electrocuted, already. Why do you . . . Oh! Now I get you. Nice thinking, Commander. Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”
“You’re a little busy?” Terrell offered.
“Hang tight. I’m on this.”
A moment later, every console and light on the bridge flickered, and Yataro heard the unmistakable shift as power distribution was rerouted from nearly every shipboard system. All of this was accompanied by a low, resonating hum lasting several seconds.
“Please don’t let there be an overload,” Theriault said in a low voice. “Please don’t let there be an overload. Please don’t let there be a damned overload.”
“I think it’s working,” reported Sorak. “I have lost one of the Changed life signs.” Ilucci, doing whatever he was doing down in the engineering section, triggered another electrical charge across the ship’s outer hull. This time, three of the auxiliary consoles along the bridge’s bulkhead blinked in chaotic fashion before shutting down, their banks of display monitors and status indicators all going dark.
Overloads, Yataro realized. His idea, if nothing else, was having an adverse effect on the ship’s already compromised systems.
His gaze still fixed on his instruments, Sorak said, “The other two life signs have fallen away, and I am not detecting any others. I believe we are clear, Captain.”
“Right in the nick of time, too,” replied Ilucci over the open intercom. “We’ve got about a billion overloads and burned-out circuits all across the ship. I hate to say this, Skipper, but I’m pretty sure we voided the warranty this time.”
Despite the obvious tension permeating the bridge, Yataro saw Terrell bow his head for the briefest moment and emit a low, soft chuckle. Shaking his head, the captain straightened in his seat. “All right, Master Chief. Do what you can to hold things together, but we’ve still got a job to finish. Ensign Nizsk, take us back, and let’s try to avoid picking up any more hitchhikers.” Terrell regarded Yataro. “Nice thinking, Commander.”
The Lirin nodded. “Happy to be of service, Captain.”
Gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder, Terrell said, “I’m betting Ilucci could use some extra help back there.”
“Agreed, sir,” Yataro said, already moving for the hatch at the rear of the bridge in search of the Sagittarius’s distressed engineering section.
* * *
“It’s getting a bit too exciting down here, Captain,” said Katherine Stano over the Endeavour’s bridge speakers. “I don’t know how much longer we can hold them off. Also, our tricorders are picking up increased energy readings from somewhere below the surface. Are you getting that?”
“What about that, Ensign?” asked Khatami, swiveling her command chair to face the science station.
“Affirmative, Commander,” replied Ensign Iacovino. “We don’t know what to make of it. The energy signature is similar to what we’ve seen in conjunction with the deployment of the drones you encountered on the surface, but this reading has a much higher intensity. Whatever it is, it’s big.”
Stano said, “I’m thinking it’s time for us to be elsewhere, Captain.”
“Agreed.” Pushing herself out of her seat, Khatami stepped around the helm console, her attention directed to the computer-generated tactical schematic displayed on the main viewscreen. Ensign Iacovino had enhanced the readout to show the positions of all Endeavour personnel on the surface, as well as the locations of all Tomol, Changed or otherwise. “We’ve got fixes on all but six of our people, but we’re at least still in contact with them. The transporter room’s standing by to start hauling everyone else back.” It certainly was not the most desirable action to take, given the threat the Changed still posed to the rest of the Tomol villagers.
However, if what Klisiewicz had relayed to her was true as far as Priestess Seta’s beliefs regarding Kerlo and his followers, it was entirely possible that removing the landing party from the equation might end or at least severely curtail the violence taking place on the surface. If Kerlo and the other Changed were struggling to show the rest of the villagers whatever “truth” existed with respect to the origins of the Tomol and the evolutionary course this people was supposed to take, then both the Starfleet and Klingon presence on this world was superfluous at best, and hazardous at worst. That the first Tomol to undergo the Change and forsake her society’s rituals and rules did so without interference from the Klingons was a moot point, as were the attempts by the crew of the Sagittarius and her own people to mitigate the damage caused by that meddling. The simple truth was that, either by direct action on the part of the Klingons or accidental intrusion by Starfleet personnel, the Prime Directive had been violated here on Arethusa. Khatami was sure that the report she filed to Starfleet Command—assuming she and the Endeavour survived the next few minutes—would provide fodder for all manner of debates over Starfleet’s General Order Number One for some time to come.
And if that’s not incentive enough to want to survive this mess, nothing is.
“Mister Estrada,” Khatami said as she moved to stand at the railing in front of the main viewscreen, “notify the transporter room to begin beaming up our people.”
“Captain,” Stano said, “request permission for me and Ensign Zane to remain here until we get Klisiewicz and the others out of the caves.”
“I’m not liking that idea very much, Commander.”
“They may need backup getting past any Changed who’ve made their way into the tunnels. We can’t let Kerlo or the others get their hands on even one of our people.”
Considering the precious few options available to her, Khatami knew there was no time to wait for conditions to improve on the surface. “Permission granted, but we’re going to give you some help.” She looked to the science station. “Iacovino, full sensor sweep of that underground area. I want the rest of the landing party pinpointed.”
The junior science officer replied, “Even if I can do that, Captain, our transporters still won’t be able to lock on to them.”
“No, but we’ll know where they are, and we can guide them to Commander Stano. Mister Estrada, tell Lieutenant Klisiewicz that his captain is ordering him and the others to tie it up and get out of there.” She sighed, pondering the ramifications of evacuating her people. “The Preservers left that thing down there who knows how many millennia ago. It’ll still be waiting for us when we figure out how to get back to it.”
At the communications station, Hector Estrada called out, “Captain, transporter room reports all but eight of our people are back aboard.”
Khatami nodded in acknowledgment. Stano and Zane, along with Klisiewicz, Leone, and the four-person security detail accompanying the latter two, were belowground. Eight people was a lot to track in a situation as fluid and chaotic as their present circumstances, even if they were within a known, contained area.
“I’ve got them, Captain,” said Iacovino. “Commander Stano and Ensign Zane are making their way to the main cavern, and I’ve got Lieutenant Klisiewicz and Doctor Leone thanks to Mister Estrada contacting them. I also have four other readings for our security team. Everyone’s accounted for.”
“Tell them their time’s up,” Khatami said. “Mister Estrada, use our sensor data to get eve
ryone guided back to the surface, and I want the transporter room to yank them up the second they hit fresh air.”
“Captain!” Iacovino shouted, turning from her sensor readings. “We’re being scanned, and I’m picking up indications of a new power surge, beneath the surface. It’s what preceded the weapons used against us before.”
Recalling that the deflectors had been of only marginal use the previous time the Preservers’ energy weapon was used against them, Khatami was of no mind to wait around to be hit again. She turned from the screen, pointing to Lieutenant Neelakanta at the helm. “Evasive! Get us out of here. Full power to the shields!”
The order was barely out of her mouth before a new alarm wailed for attention and the Red Alert indicators scattered across the bridge began flashing in unison.
“Incoming fire!” Iacovino warned an instant before the energy beam slammed into the defensive barrier surrounding the Endeavour. Every light and indicator on every bridge station blinked in response to the strike, and Khatami heard the telltale groan of protest from the ship’s main power plant as it worked to answer the renewed demands placed upon it.
“Our shields are weakening,” reported Neelakanta, as he wrestled with the helm controls and attempted to guide the ship from danger. “Another hit like that and they’ll go altogether.”
“Break orbit,” Khatami ordered. “Where’s Kang’s ship?”
Iacovino replied, “Still holding geosynchronous position. They’re being fired at as well, but sensors aren’t picking up any damage.”
Of course not, Khatami mused. Then again, the Voh’tahk likely had not employed the full power of its sensors against the Preserver complex, so it had not irritated whatever automated systems beneath the surface were tracking the two orbiting vessels. Whatever the pyramid was doing, it did not like being disturbed while it made its preparations.
“To hell with this,” she said. “Iacovino, find me the source of that weapon. We’re taking it out of the game.” It was unfortunate that she was being forced to damage or possibly destroy at least a portion of the treasure trove of knowledge contained within the Preserver artifact, but given a choice between protecting the site or her people, there truly was no choice, at least in her mind. “Estrada, notify Commander Stano that we’re having to pull back and regroup, and that evacuation might be delayed for a few minutes.”
Hang on, Kate. We’re coming.
29
Stephen Klisiewicz had at first been unsure about wielding the heavy, cumbersome alien weapon, but such feelings of uncertainty vanished as he targeted his first opponent and fired.
The weapon, a larger, bulkier version of the lance carried by the Tomol village’s Wardens, bucked in his hands as it belched harsh orange energy that lit up the entire anteroom. Its report was deafening in the confined chamber, but Klisiewicz ignored that as the beam punched the advancing Changed in its chest and sent it flying backward. The transformed Tomol’s head struck the stone ceiling before its body fell back to the unyielding floor, skidding on the well-trod rock before coming to rest against the room’s far wall.
“That’s going to hurt in the morning,” said Doctor Leone, standing with Tormog behind Klisiewicz.
“Indeed,” said the Klingon. “A most impressive weapon.” Both he and Leone also carried lances, and the ancient weapon seemed a natural fit for the Klingon both in terms of design and size. Though Klisiewicz had been reluctant to arm Tormog, the simple truth was that, for the moment at least, he and the landing party were allies against the Changed. However, seeing the look of satisfaction on the Klingon’s face, Klisiewicz was certain the scientist likely was considering how he might be able to abscond with the lance when they all made it back to the surface for evacuation to the Endeavour. Even if he was unable to secure a Tomol specimen for study once he returned to the empire, Tormog might be able to preserve some sense of dignity and honor if he was able to present a representative sample of the Preservers’ millennia-old yet still remarkable technology. Klisiewicz knew that was something to be prevented if at all possible, but right now he was concerned more about surviving the next few minutes, after which he would worry about possible repercussions from any mistakes made during this mission.
At this point, I honestly don’t give a damn.
“Come on,” he said, using the lance’s bulbous head to gesture up the gently sloping passage. “Let’s get out of here.” Despite his own order, Klisiewicz paused for one last look at the Preserver obelisk standing at the center of the great cavern. The hundreds of Tomol who had sought refuge had gone deeper into the subterranean complex, and the artifact was alone in the vast chamber. Using the command sequence he had recorded Seta employing to open the ancient artifact, Klisiewicz had managed once again to seal the pyramid. At first he had been worried that the Changed might succeed in forcing their way into the mysterious structure, but then he was struck by the thought that if the Preservers were to do anything to protect against the Tomol or the life-forms into which they might evolve if left unchecked, it would be to prevent unwanted intrusion into their own creation. If that were the case, then the obelisk likely would be secure even from the power of a Changed.
It’s a good theory, anyway.
“Are you sure this is the right way?” Leone asked, eyeing the various passages leading from the anteroom. “All these tunnels look alike.”
Klisiewicz held up his tricorder. “I’m sure.” Not for the first time, he patted himself on the back for his foresight in recording the route from the surface to the great cavern. Even without Seta to guide the way, the map he had created would be enough to lead them out.
Hearing sounds in a nearby tunnel, Klisiewicz raised his lance and braced himself to fire at any new targets. But a wave of relief washed over him when he saw that the four figures emerging from the passageway wore Starfleet uniforms. Ensign David Hewitt was leading the small group, with each member of the detail carrying a phaser rifle.
“Lieutenant,” Hewitt said as he drew closer, and Klisiewicz noted that the ensign was slightly out of breath. Seeing the unmoving body of the Changed lying against the far wall, he looked to Klisiewicz. “Are you all right?”
“As good as I’m liable to get,” replied the science officer. “You?”
Hewitt held up his phaser rifle. “Well enough, but these things are all but useless against the Changed. They’ve grown too strong. I blew through two power packs keeping a few of them off our backs out in the tunnels. If we’re going to make a run for the surface, now’s the time, sir.”
He studied his tricorder’s compact display screen. “That power reading is still increasing. It’s much bigger than what we recorded when those drones were deployed.”
Leone said, “But similar, right? That doesn’t sound good. At all.”
“Could it be an explosive?” Tormog asked. “A form of self-destruct protocol?”
That made no sense to Klisiewicz. “It’d run counter to everything we know about the Preservers, including the things we’ve seen happen here in response to threats perceived by systems within the obelisk.” It would not be the first time he had witnessed a version of some ancient race’s last-ditch fail-safe protocol in action. The Shedai had employed such technology on uncounted worlds throughout the Taurus Reach, and several of those planets had been destroyed during Operation Vanguard as a consequence of unwittingly triggering those processes. As far as could be determined, the destruction of the Shedai had resulted in the obliteration of all their remaining technology in the region of space they once had ruled, but that certainly did not discount the possibility of another race possessing comparable resources and the willingness to employ them.
There’s a happy thought.
“Sir,” Hewitt said, “the Sagittarius will be waiting for us, but I don’t know how long they’ll be able to hang on. They’re banged up pretty good.”
The entire group turned at the
sound of something moving and saw the massive stone door to the great cavern sliding back into place, seemingly of its own volition, sealing off the chamber and the Preserver obelisk. Within seconds, the other doorways leading from the anteroom closed in similar fashion, save one: the path leading to the surface.
“What the hell?” Klisiewicz asked of no one in particular as he reached for his tricorder. “Why would it do that?”
“Maybe it knows something we don’t,” Leone offered. He gestured toward the remaining accessible tunnel. “And I think they’re trying to tell us something. I’m not a universal translator, but I think the message is pretty clear: get your asses out of my house.”
Studying his tricorder’s display, Klisiewicz frowned. “Yeah, you may be right, Doctor. These new power readings are spiking. Whatever’s getting ready to happen, I think we want to be someplace else. Let’s go; we’re out of here.”
Something big and solid slammed into one of the wall panels blocking the other exits, loud enough to make Klisiewicz flinch. Dropping his tricorder, he fumbled for the lance and readied it to fire as a second object hit the wall from outside, and this time the panel shuddered, though it remained in place.
“There seems to be very little on this world that can stop these infernal creatures,” Tormog said, hefting his lance and aiming it at the wall.
“Go!” Klisiewicz gestured for Hewitt and his team to head for the only unblocked tunnel. “Head for the surface.”
Raising his phaser rifle as a third collision rocked the thick wall panel, Hewitt said in protest, “I can’t leave you here, sir.”
“Your weapons aren’t any good against these things, remember?” The security team would be sitting ducks once the Changed—however many there might be—came crashing through the wall. Again, Klisiewicz pointed to the tunnel. “Go. Get up there and let the Sagittarius beam you up. That’s an order, Ensign!” His command was punctuated by another strike against the wall, and this time a crack formed, spreading across the middle of the dense panel.