by Dayton Ward
“We’re okay,” Klisiewicz said. “We only have to hang on for another minute.”
Neither Stano nor the rest of her group had seen any Changed since emerging from the caves, and the reason for that had become obvious when she got her first look at what was happening all around them. The surrounding terrain—the forest, clearings, bodies of water, everything for as far as they could see—was succumbing to the effects of the petrification. Looking back the way they had come, Stano saw the wave of energy washing over the entire area, leaving behind a blanket of pale brown stone covering everything from the base of the mountain to the horizon. A constant low rumble accompanied the effect, sounding like a mix of rushing water and the steady ebb of a starship’s warp engines. Stano found the sound not even remotely pleasant. As for the mountain itself, it was the epicenter of this newest tactic from the Preservers and their ancient yet seemingly omniscient technology, with a tightening ring of energy pulsing up from the base and rushing to cover the slope. The effect was accelerating as the circle drew tighter, leaving her group precious little time.
“Are we clear yet?” Zane asked.
Consulting the tricorder slung from her left shoulder, which she had left open and active in order to provide constant updates on their progress, Stano shook her head. According to her scans, which were little more than a muddled mess of incoherent data, they still were too close to the mineral deposits that clouded sensors and transporters. “I can’t tell. My tricorder’s still screwed up. There’s a shelf about fifty meters ahead. If we can get there, the Sagittarius may be able to get close enough for us to hop aboard.”
“Transporters have a lock on you,” said the voice of Captain Khatami over her open communicator, “but it’s still iffy. Keep moving.”
Stano saw the Sagittarius hovering near the shelf. The scout ship was definitely the worse for wear, but right now she was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Even from this distance she could see that its rear cargo ramp had been lowered, and someone was standing near its edge, waiting for her and the others to close the gap between them and the ship. The distance to the Sagittarius, Stano realized, was greater than the area of mountainside separating the landing party from the wave of materializing stone rising toward them. So close was the effect now that she could hear it moving over grass and rock on the slope, covering everything in its path. There was nowhere to go but up.
“You know how you sometimes imagine the different ways you might die?” Leone asked, his breathing labored as they continued to climb. “This one’s never come up.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Doctor,” Khatami said.
Then Stano smiled as she felt the first familiar tingle of a transporter beam forming around her body.
* * *
Khatami stood spellbound as she watched the flood of stone sweep over the sides of the mountain, coming to a halt perhaps one hundred meters from its peak. The image provided by the Endeavour bridge’s main viewscreen was from almost directly above the Suba island, with the mountain and surrounding area enlarged and enhanced and sparing no detail as the Preserver fail-safe protocol continued unimpeded. Aside from the mountain’s summit, the rest of the landmass was now covered by a blanket of red-brown stone. Grooves and ridges reminded her of rock canyons and formations she had hiked while on vacation in the desert regions of North America. That it had sprung up before her eyes, and not because of millions of years of erosion, uplift, or other tectonic activity, actually was the least disturbing aspect of what she beheld.
“Readings are stabilizing, Captain,” reported Ensign Iacovino. “The field is . . . it’s not really inert. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I’m registering indistinct bio readings from within the rock. Tomol, indigenous wildlife, flora—it’s all there. The entire island’s been perfectly preserved, just as if it had been put into stasis.”
At the rear of the bridge, the turbolift doors parted to admit Commander Stano and Lieutenant Klisiewicz, exhausted in their dirty and torn uniforms, but Khatami was relieved to see them. Stano made eye contact with her and nodded.
“Thanks for the pickup, Captain.”
“Remember that when you sign for the tip. Status?”
Already moving toward the science station, Klisiewicz hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Doctor Leone and Ensign Zane took Tormog to sickbay.”
“Tormog has a broken leg,” Stano added, “but the doc thinks he’ll be okay.” She pointed to the viewscreen. “That’s insane.”
Still marveling at the effect herself, Khatami replied, “We’re monitoring the end of the process now. Ensign Iacovino says everything caught up in it is still alive, just locked in whatever the Preservers call hibernation.”
“The whole damned island?” Klisiewicz asked, shaking his head in obvious disbelief. “Any Tomol life signs outside that area?”
Iacovino replied, “Nothing I can find, sir.” Bending over the science console, she adjusted a handful of controls and peered into her hooded sensor viewer. “There are several hundred Tomol within the mountain who haven’t been caught up in the effect. All of them are in the cavern with the Preserver obelisk.”
“Are any of them Changed?”
“I can’t tell, Captain.” Iacovino frowned. “We’re already pretty much at the limit for our sensors penetrating the interference from all the mineral deposits.”
“So all of those people are trapped?” asked Lieutenant McCormack from the navigator’s station.
Klisiewicz tapped a series of controls on the console next to Iacovino, and one of the station’s overhead monitors activated, transferring data from the sensor viewer to its display. “It doesn’t look that way. According to these readings, the cavern containing the obelisk wasn’t included in the wave, and there’s at least one open passage leading from the cavern to the top of the mountain.”
“So you’re saying the Tomol could just walk out of there?” Khatami asked.
Shrugging, Klisiewicz replied, “More like someone could walk down there. The Preservers, for example.”
“That would make sense,” added Iacovino. “You said from your study of the pyramid that the Preservers would send someone to investigate if the failsafe protocol was triggered, and maybe even reverse the process once it was determined it was safe to do so.”
“Too bad they all died out,” Stano said.
“Exactly.” Klisiewicz returned his attention to the monitor. “We’re still detecting the energy sources from the caverns, including the obelisk. They definitely meant for it to remain unaffected by any last-ditch effort to contain the Tomol.”
At the communications station, Lieutenant Estrada announced, “We’re being hailed by the Voh’tahk, Captain.”
“Tell them to stand by,” Khatami said. She knew that the Klingon battle cruiser had suffered significant damage during the final moments of it and the Endeavour’s standoff with the Preserver planet-based defenses, and that Kang would be wanting an update on any assistance she would be providing. “They can wait, at least for a few minutes.”
Returning her attention to the main viewscreen, Khatami studied the mountain and its adjacent terrain, all of it surrendered to the whims of a race believed to be long dead. That the Preservers had planned for this, even after all of their effort to bring the Tomol to this idyllic world and establish their self-policing society rather than simply snuffing out the remnants of their species on their homeworld, how great was the true threat embodied by this people? What secrets had the Preservers taken with them on their path to eventual extinction? Of those, which ones remained to be discovered?
The obelisk, of course, was the key. There was no other logical conclusion.
“Get yourself cleaned up, Mister Klisiewicz,” Khatami said, shaking her head in wonder at the Preservers’ handiwork. “And tell Doctor Leone to do the same. Our job’s not finished here just yet.”
32<
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There had been infrequent occasions during her life when Atish Khatami had wished for nothing more than a fleeting respite from the demands of duty and obligation, whether to her uniform or even her family and friends. She always imagined a quiet refuge—a garden, a small mountain lake, or even a cabin with a fireplace before which she might curl up on a sofa with a favorite book—that offered escape, if only for a few precious moments, from such pressures.
As she walked through the quiet environs of the Tomol village, Khatami felt herself wanting both to flee to that illusory safe harbor and yet unwavering in her desire not to leave this place, at least not until she could find some way to restore to it the life that had been taken from it.
The sound her boots made with every step over the rough, unyielding stone material covering the entire village and everything for kilometers in every direction drove home the enormity of what had happened here. The huts and other structures, sculptures and other freestanding decorative pieces, furniture, trees and other vegetation and, yes, even those Tomol who had not evacuated to the relative safety of the caverns all stood silent and still, bereft of anything that indicated that this place mere hours earlier had been home to hundreds of people. Now all of it, along with the rest of the Suba island, was still, arrested by the unyielding stone shroud.
Some Tomol—far too few of them—walked about the village just as she did, their expressions all conveying the same horror and disbelief at what had been visited upon them. These were the fortunate ones who had been inside the cavern containing the Preserver obelisk, which had been sealed to prevent entry by Kerlo or any of his Changed followers. As such, they had been insulated from the effects of the Preserver’s final protective measures against the Changed, but Khatami knew their relief—if they even felt such an emotion—was at best bittersweet.
Far more prevalent was the sadness gripping those spared the Preservers’ last strike against the Changed, as villagers returned aboveground to try to locate friends or loved ones who had not made the flight to safety. Khatami herself had seen several Tomol caught up in the effect, immobilized with the same cold yet ruthless efficiency as that visited upon the Changed and indeed everything else within the targeted area. Still lingering in her mind was the image of the young female she had seen after peering into one hut’s open window, huddled on the floor with her arms hugging her legs and her chin pressed against her knees and enveloped in the same reddish-brown crust that coated everything else. The ghastly scene had hammered home the point that three members of her own crew also had been so imprisoned. Khatami had visited the area where her people were targeted by the Preserver drone, and the sight had filled her with sorrow and a grave sense of utter helplessness. Being forced to leave them behind was a decision she dreaded. Likewise, she knew she would be forever haunted if she were forced to depart this place after failing to do anything to restore it to what it once had been.
So let’s do something about it.
Her communicator beeped, and she flipped open its cover. “Khatami here.”
“Captain, this is Commander Yataro,” said the voice of the Endeavour’s chief engineer. “You asked to be notified when we were finished assisting the Klingons with their repairs. Our tasks are complete and we have returned to the ship.”
“I trust everything went well?”
“It did. The Klingons exhibited their usual displays of effrontery, as well as making no effort to hide their chagrin at being forced to accept our assistance, but Captain Kang saw to it that our efforts were not wasted.”
Khatami nodded, satisfied with the report. “Excellent news, Commander. My compliments to you and your team. You’ve had a pretty busy last couple of days, but you came through in fine fashion. I appreciate it.”
“You are quite welcome, Captain. Yataro out.”
As she closed her communicator, Khatami heard footsteps approaching from the path leading out of the village. It was Leone, walking alone. The doctor’s face was grim, which by itself did not communicate a great deal as that tended to be his default expression. Now, though, she thought she saw a definite sadness in her friend’s eyes.
“Tony? What is it?”
“A big bunch of nothing,” Leone replied, shaking his head. “I just talked to Klisiewicz, and they’re coming up empty back at the obelisk.” He let his gaze drop to the ground, which like everything else was encased in the same stonelike material. “It’s like we said earlier—this stuff, whatever it is, is a living thing with a single purpose: keep whatever it holds within it alive.” Dropping to one knee, he ran a hand across the stone veneer’s rough surface. “I could spend the rest of my life here studying it and never find all the answers.”
“And we’re sure that trying to cut through it could kill anyone trapped inside it?”
The doctor frowned. “I don’t think cutting into it will kill everyone across the whole zone, if that’s what you’re asking, but it could certainly be detrimental to anyone in close proximity.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“Hell, no, I’m not sure.” Leone rose to his feet, eyeing her. “Why, what are you thinking?”
Khatami blew out her breath. “Ensign Sotol and the others. I’m not willing to leave them here. If we can’t find a way to reverse the process, then . . . then I want you and Klisiewicz to attempt removing them from the rock.”
She saw the struggle playing out across her friend’s features, his oath to do no harm to a patient weighing against his obligations to her, along with the realization that trying to free the captive officers and failing might somehow be a preferable fate than eternal imprisonment. “Atish, I don’t know.”
“Captain? Doctor?”
Lieutenant Klisiewicz and Seta were entering the village from what had been the path leading to the mountain, followed by a small band of Tomol. Scanning the crowd, Khatami noted the range of expressions on the faces of the survivors and the emotions they conveyed. Despair was present, of course, but there also was something else.
Hope?
“Seta,” Khatami said, smiling at the sight of the young priestess. “It’s good to see you again.” Their previous meeting had been a rushed affair on the Endeavour’s hangar deck prior to her leaving with Leone and Klisiewicz to return here to Arethusa. “At first I’d thought you were caught up in all of this.” It was only after she had sent people back to the surface to survey the results of the Preserver obelisk’s actions that Khatami learned that Seta was among those Tomol who had been protected inside the cavern.
Smiling, Seta extended her hands and Khatami took them in her own. Was it her imagination, or did she sense a warmth and energy radiating from the young Tomol leader? There was no mistaking the glow in the girl’s eyes, indicating that the Change had taken place within her as a result of her encounter with Kerlo, but there was no sign of the rage or madness that had characterized Nimur and the others who had fallen victim to the transformation.
“I am happy to see you as well,” Seta said. “I wish to thank you for everything you have done for my people. We owe you a debt we can never repay.”
Uncertain such a sentiment was deserved, Khatami felt a pang of remorse gripping her. “I don’t know what to say, Seta.” She looked away from the priestess, her eyes once more taking in the lifeless village. No, not lifeless, she reminded herself, but it might as well be. “I look around, and all I see is an enormous testament to our total failure here. All of this is our fault. If we had chosen not to visit your world, if our enemies had left you in peace, you . . .”
“Nimur would still have embraced the Changed,” Seta said. “We would still have attempted to reclaim her, and we might well have ended up just as we are now. For all I know, I too would be with the Endless, forever unable to help my people.” She squeezed Khatami’s hands. “But you are here, and because of that, I stand before you, apart from the Endless.” Looking to Leone, she added, “And
if not for you, I would not be able to help my people as I now am prepared to do.”
“I don’t understand,” Khatami replied, then looked to Klisiewicz. “Wait. Did you find something in the obelisk?”
The science officer indicated Seta with a nod. “Not exactly.”
Releasing Khatami’s hands, Seta held her arms away from her body in a gesture of embrace. “Kerlo changed me, but not before Leone provided me with his medicine. Though I now am one with the Change, it is not like it was for Nimur and the others. This is something . . . quite different.”
“Different how?” Leone asked, reaching for his tricorder and retrieving the scanner from its storage compartment. He activated both devices and waved the scanner over Seta’s head and down across her body. “This is . . . I don’t know what the hell this is. Elevated heart rate and blood circulation, but no sign of stress or pressure. Brain activity is off the charts. It’s like she’s got ten or twelve of them in her skull. Neurological activity is . . . this is unreal.”
“It is very real, Leone,” Seta said, “and it is just the beginning. My eyes see everything. My ears hear everything. My mind understands. The wordstone has finally shown me the way.”
“You were able to read the symbols?” Khatami asked.
Klisiewicz said, “I think the best way to describe it is that it spoke to her, Captain. I didn’t hear anything, but she certainly seemed to. When she emerged from the obelisk, she asked to come here.”
“I want to share with you what I have learned. Without the haze of fury that has clouded the minds of all Tomol since the time of our enslavement by the Dark Gods, my people possess a potential far beyond anything we could possibly have imagined.”
Stepping back from Khatami, Seta knelt on the stone shell encasing the village and everything else for kilometers in all directions, placing her hands flat atop its surface. “The pulse of life flows through this, the Shroud of the Endless. I touch it, just as it touches me.” As she spoke, her hands began to emit a soft, golden glow that seemed to enter the rock and expand across the stone.