“Why don’t we call them ‘hot-fudge sundaes’?” asked Geordi.
“Works for me,” Dolores said, with a laugh. “Before we leave, I want to check the depth of this pond.”
She lowered one of the rocks to the bottom of the pond, noting how far the net extended into the water. Geordi watched absently as she took the measurement, and he noted how the water had gotten clearer now that most of the life-forms had been removed, allowing the sediment to settle. The water acted like a prism to distort the portion of the vines that were underwater.
Water bends light waves, he thought to himself. Waves can be bent. He suddenly remembered the testing back on the Enterprise before they had deployed the interphase generators on Myrmidon. He could never get the protomatter beam lined up with the target, because the protective force field kept bending it. He finally had to turn the force field off to complete the test.
He muttered aloud, “If the protomatter beam can be bent, maybe the Genesis Wave can be bent and redirected. If it passes through a convexo-concave lens, it can even be narrowed!”
“Pardon me?” asked Dolores.
He jumped up, grabbed the geologist, and kissed her excitedly on the mouth. “I think I know how to stop it!”
“What?” she asked, still in a daze from the kiss.
“I know how to stop the wave!” he exclaimed. “We’ve got to get back to the ship!”
“Geordi—”
He pounded his palms on his forehead. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this before! But there was so much going on, and we were committed to the phase-shifting. I’ve got to see if the subspace radio works!”
He jumped off the rock and landed in knee-high mud. After he had lurched helplessly in the muck a few seconds, Dolores had to reach down to pull him back to safety. “Nobody rushes on this planet, Geordi. Just slow down, take your time.”
“No, we haven’t got any time!” he shouted. “I’ve got to get back. Right now!”
She gave him a wistful smile. “So much for paradise.”
six
Will Riker scowled and considered doing something he hated to do—argue with Captain Picard. He had long ago given up the notion of fulfilling one of a first officer’s primary duties, that of keeping the captain on the ship and out of danger. But even Riker had limits. Since they were in the privacy of Picard’s ready room, the commander plowed ahead.
“Captain, I’ve got to disagree with your decision,” he began, rising to his full height and looking down at the smaller man. “Even if you ignore the danger, which I can’t, our command staff is already decimated with La Forge gone and Crusher out of commission. With you and Data gone, we’ll really be shorthanded on the bridge.”
“You’ll have to press Troi into service for your relief,” the captain said evenly as he stepped behind his desk. “I’m sorry about this, but I don’t expect Data and I will be gone for very long.”
“There’s a good chance you’ll never come back,” the first officer said, with exasperation. “Do you remember what the residue of that wave did to our torpedo module?”
The captain sat down and studied his computer terminal. “We weren’t in a cloaked ship with phase-shifting. I’ll admit, there’s danger, but Commander Jagron is right when he says that someone from the Federation should go along. I’m a logical choice, and so is Data. I’ll note your objections in my log, Commander, but this discussion is over.”
Riker heaved a sigh and put the brakes on a half dozen other good arguments. That was the prerogative of being the captain—you decided when the discussion was over, and who won. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could even bring up the point that bothered him most—he was worried about Deanna taking over the bridge, She had gone through hell both on Myrmidon and Persephone V, getting a head injury in the bargain. If the situation weren’t desperate, she would be recovering in sickbay.
These words passed through his mind, but he said instead, “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I think I’d better take a dinner break before you go. I’ll alert Troi to come to the bridge.”
“Very well, Number One.” The captain looked up and gave his first officer a sympathetic smile. “You know, I’ve appreciated the freedom I’ve had to leave the ship—a luxury many captains in Starfleet don’t have. It’s all because of you, knowing the ship is in such excellent hands.”
Riker’s scowl lightened a bit. “Fleet scuttlebutt has it that you’re going to take over the whole evacuation if Admiral Nechayev doesn’t make it. Is that true?”
Now it was Picard’s turn to scowl. “I’m afraid so. That’s why I’m personally going to bring her back. Get some dinner and as much rest as you can, Number One. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.” The tall first officer strode from the ready room onto the bridge. “Data,” he said as he passed by the android’s station, “do you have any idea when you and the captain will be leaving?”
Data checked his screen. “The Romulans have indicated that they wish to leave at nineteen-hundred hours, providing they are satisfied with the latest sensor readings.”
“Then I have about forty minutes for a meal break,” said the first officer. “You have the bridge. I’ll send Troi up here in case you leave sooner than that.”
“Yes, sir.”
As he strode toward the turbolift, the commander tapped his combadge. “Riker to Troi.”
“Troi here,” said the counselor. “Did I forget a date for dinner?”
“No,” Riker answered with a smile as he stepped into the turbolift. “Computer, deck eight.”
After the doors snapped shut, he went on, “The captain and Data are leaving the ship to return with the Romulans to Myrmidon. I’m not thrilled with this decision, but—”
“You were overruled.”
Riker sighed. “Let’s just say, you are now my only relief on the bridge. I’m taking a dinner break, so report there as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir. There’s not much going on here in sickbay, anyway.”
“How is Beverly?”
“Sleeping peacefully,” answered Troi. “They say she’s getting better, but I don’t see any change in her condition. None of the others have regained consciousness, but they’re talking about bringing them around.”
“That investigation is going to have to be put on the back burner for a while,” the first officer grumbled. The turbolift came to a gentle stop, the doors opened, and he stepped briskly into the corridor.
“I would like to spend some more time with Dezeer,” said Troi.
“After the captain and Data leave, I’ll take over for you.” Riker passed a crewman who was stopped in the corridor, studying a map of the ship on the public display. The ensign glanced at the commander, giving him a blank look, then he turned back to the display. If Riker hadn’t already been involved in a conversation, he would have offered to help the man, but he kept walking.
“I’ll let the Hutamps know they have to keep Dezeer for a little while longer,” said Troi.
“I hope they’re getting along.” Riker stopped at the doorway to his quarters and placed his hand on the wall panel, which instantly read his palm print and opened the door. “I’d better let you go,” he said. “Just alert me when the captain and Data are ready to leave.”
“Eat something healthy. Troi out.”
With that admonition in mind, he headed toward the replicator, walking past his trombone, music stand, and old record player. Riker rubbed his eyes for a moment, deciding what to order. “Computer, give me a large bowl of Chinese stir-fried vegetables over brown rice, easy on the soy sauce.”
A steaming bowl of food appeared in the receptacle, and he took it and placed it on his dining table. Then he returned to the replicator and added, “Green tea, iced.”
After that, all he needed were chopsticks, a napkin, and some reading material. For that, he picked up a padd containing a report on the just-completed repairs to the forward torpedo module. He ordered up some Benny Goodman instrumentals for ba
ckground music and sat down to his dinner.
Riker was about halfway through his reading and his Chinese food when his door chimed. He quickly wiped his mouth and gulped down a mouthful of food before he replied, “Come in.”
The door slid open, and a shapely figure entered. It took him a moment to focus his eyes and realize it was Deanna. He leaped to his feet, a smile on his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I contacted the bridge, and they’re not leaving right away.” She walked toward the table, sniffing the air. “Mmmm, that smells wonderful.” But it wasn’t the food she was looking at with hungry eyes, it was him.
She lifted her hand to stroke his clean-shaven jaw, as she gazed longingly into his eyes. “Oh, Imzadi, you mean so much to me. Why can’t we ever fit in some time for ourselves? Why can’t we get away and forget about everything else?”
“I’d whisk you right away,” he replied in a husky voice, “if Earth and half the Federation weren’t about to disappear.”
“Well, just a minute or two won’t make any difference,” she whispered, her lips drawing closer to his.
He suddenly noticed something odd about her forehead—the bruise from her injury was gone. Before he could think any more about that, her lips clamped onto his. Her kiss, which was always wonderful, tasted extraordinarily delicious.
Riker was so engulfed by her kiss that he surrendered completely, and he didn’t even know when he lost consciousness and slumped to the deck. He never realized that the creature he had kissed was not even remotely humanoid. With a shudder, the being pulled hundreds of loosely hanging strands of moss into the semblance of two legs, two arms, and a torso. It was a rough approximation, but that was all the parasite needed to be ambulatory in its waking state. A cloud of fungus, so small as to be invisible to the naked eye, floated around the amorphous gray figure.
A branchlike tendril reached down and plucked Riker’s combadge from his fallen body, absorbing the small device into its wispy recesses. Then the cryptogamic creature shambled to the door and exited into the corridor.
On a makeshift cot in the moist sand of the riverbed, Alynna Nechayev lay sleeping. At times the admiral would moan or twitch, but she was still under the influence of the drugs the Bolian doctor had given her. She wouldn’t wake up for hours. Geordi La Forge stood over the admiral, marveling at the signs of recovery. Not only wasn’t there any scarring or discoloration, but the healed skin looked fresh and young. She would probably have to have cosmetic surgery to age the new skin to match her unburned skin. He just hoped there were no side effects from his desperate application of the soil while it was still mutating. Even if there were, he had done what he had to do to save her life.
La Forge wanted to wake the admiral up and tell her about his plan to stop the Genesis Wave, but she was in no position to help. None of them were. They were totally dependent upon the Romulans.
At his insistence, he and Dolores had rushed back to the riverbed only to find that they didn’t even have enough juice left in the gel packs to power their portable subspace radio. All they had were their combadges, which didn’t work because of the electromagnetic interference. No communications worked, except for screaming really loudly, which was what Geordi felt like doing.
“There they go,” said Dolores Linton sadly.
La Forge looked up to see a mass exodus of Bolians trudging out of the riverbed, dragging their meager belongings and their bawling children and animals with them. It seemed that no one was going to stay with the three Starfleet officers, who had saved their lives. At least the survivors were headed east toward the geyser he had pointed out, Geordi noted with satisfaction.
The unruly mob got bogged down immediately when they hit the underbrush, bumping up against the advance party, who were supposed to be clearing a path with clubs and tools. Children were crying, animals were baying and struggling against their ropes, and some of the adults were complaining loudly. La Forge fought the urge to run over and help them get organized. When the Romulans came back to get them, he realized, none of these people would be able to leave. Perhaps it was just as well that they were showing their independence and determination, because they would need it.
Still he wondered how the people in Quonloa would react when fifty thousand more people showed up on their one and only doorstep.
“At the pace they’re going,” he observed, “it will take them days to get there.”
“I don’t feel right about letting them go out there alone,” muttered Dolores. “I think I’m going to go with them.”
“What?” Geordi asked with alarm. “You can’t go with them. When the rescue party comes looking for us, they won’t know how to find you! If our combadges aren’t working, we will have no way to contact you. Yours will be just one of millions of lifesigns!”
The attractive geologist gave him a shrug. “You’re doing what you have to do by running back to the Enterprise. What if those people hit quicksand or sinkholes? They don’t know what to look for, but I’m beginning to understand the geography of this place. Basically, they need a scout, and I’m the best one for the job.”
Geordi’s shoulders slumped, and he tried to think of some way to dissuade her. But he could see from the determination in her eyes that she wanted to be useful, and they did need her.
“If you don’t get back in time, I’ll try to convince them to look for you,” he said. “But I can’t promise anything.”
Dolores gave him an affectionate smile and gently touched his cheek. “You save the Federation, Geordi, that’s your job. I just want to save this group and take a look around this crazy planet.”
She lowered her eyes and kicked at the sand. “If I don’t get back in time, and you can’t find me, do what you have to do. Don’t worry about me—I’ll survive.”
“But—”
She stared at him with her dazzling dark eyes. “Geordi, you try to be happy, because that’s one area where you don’t try hard enough. If that means chasing after Leah Brahms, then chase after her. But when you find her, make sure you tell her how you feel.”
Geordi opened his mouth to protest—to say that he didn’t feel anything special for Leah anymore—but both of them would know that was a lie. Instead he grabbed Dolores. Her brawny arms wrapped around his back and came close to crushing him, while her body melted against his.
When their lips finally parted, she grinned at him and said, “That will get me back here quicker than a bunch of Romulans showing up. Take care, Geordi.”
He didn’t really trust himself to say anything, so he watched in silence as Dolores joined the throng making its way through the misty woods. He heard her voice ringing above the others, telling them to watch out for quicksand and sinkholes. They probably didn’t realize it, but their luck had just taken a dramatic turn for the better.
What about my luck? Geordi thought glumly. Without that beautiful geologist, would his life take a turn for the worse?
“Picard to bridge,” said the captain as he stepped upon the transporter platform. Data joined him, bearing two satchels full of their belongings and copious records about the Genesis Wave and the location of the shelters on Myrmidon.
“Troi here,” came a crisp response.
“Hello, Commander,” said the captain, mildly surprised. “Riker not there yet?”
“He sent word that he’s on his way,” she replied. “Said in his message he fell asleep.”
“I’m sorry we had to wake him. I just want to make sure there were no further messages from the D’Arvuk.”
“No, sir, they’re expecting you, and they hope to leave immediately.”
“Very well. Maintain your position and wait for us.” Picard would have preferred to have the Enterprise tracking them on sensors, but there was no chance of doing that while they were under cloak. “Picard out.”
The captain had a moment of doubt, when he wondered whether he should leave the ship under such clouded conditions. He could only hope that the journey would be
as swift as he envisioned, and as productive; but in reality, they had no idea what they would find on Myrmidon.
“Coordinates are laid in,” reported the transporter operator, probably wondering why the captain was delaying.
Picard nodded and said, “Energize when ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
A moment later, the human and the android disappeared in two sparkling pillars of displaced molecules and refracted light.
“Stay close together!” shouted Dolores Linton to the ragtag band, which was strung out behind her for what looked like a half kilometer. To her right, a murky waterfall plummeted downward with a roar. Its origins were lost in the mist above the towering treetops, and it plunged into a jagged basin and promptly disappeared. The ground underfoot had the consistency of gelatin and smelled like reptiles pickled in formaldehyde.
“Stick to the path—no stragglers!” Although she kept yelling, Dolores doubted whether many of her charges could even hear her, and soon they wouldn’t be able to see her either. It was getting dark in the cold, gloomy forest. The geologist couldn’t tell if the gloominess was due to nightfall or the massive trees overhead. Here the hanging moss was so thick that it was like a shroud, and she was worried about stragglers falling behind and getting lost.
At least, thought Dolores, the underbrush was more sparse where the moss grew in abundance, and that made clearing the path easier. She had given up the idea of scouting ahead, because there was no chain of command. She had no one to pass information to, no one willing to make the unruly mob work together. With her tricorder, she was the only one who had a compass. In this power vacuum, Dolores was forced to do everything—from guiding the path-cutters to haranguing the stragglers to keep up. She had shown the advance party what the sinkholes and quicksand looked like, and so far they had avoided serious mishap.
“Tighten up there!” she bellowed, wondering how long her voice would hold out.
As she surveyed the horde spread out behind her, Dolores was reminded of crowds leaving sports stadiums in her native Ohio.
STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book Two Page 7