STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book Two

by John Vornholt

  Marcus set down the force-field generator, which stood on a tripod, and took out her tricorder. Although the tree stood a good fifteen meters tall, it was not an altogether healthy specimen, according to the readings. The grow lights and hydroponic system did not seem to be meeting all of its needs. Undoubtedly, the tree would be much happier outdoors, growing in real soil with sunlight and fresh air; its very presence in this bizarre place was something of a miracle.

  Carol walked slowly around the tree, inspecting it with her tricorder. The plant was being housed with all the splendor of a visiting dignitary, yet it remained sick and frail—much like herself under the same kind of benign imprisonment. The old woman felt an instant kinship with the tree, and she wondered if it served the same purpose she did—a combination good-luck charm and crucial cog in their war machine.

  “I wish I could set you free,” she told the tree, picking a shriveled leaf off one of its lower branches.

  This pathetic plant only reinforced her impression of her captors. They seemed to have everything going their way and were on the verge of remaking the galaxy to their own specifications, yet they were also desperate, missing some crucial part of their being. She didn’t know why, but she knew that destroying this tree would wound them, deeply, perhaps fatally.

  It would also create the diversion she needed, and maybe it would reveal their weaknesses.

  The old woman looked around for something that would burn, and she found it in the dried leaves scattered all over the green-house. She quickly assembled a pile of leaves around the spindly trunk, and she produced the small laboratory burner she had kept on her person. Marcus didn’t have the sense that she was killing the tree—she was freeing it from this unnatural imprisonment. Feeling no sorrow, she lit the pile of leaves. Flames quickly rushed up the trunk and spread to the dried branches.

  By the time Carol stepped back, the sick tree was ablaze. She barely had time to crouch behind a stubby bush when an unseen door at the back of the greenhouse whooshed open. At once, a dozen plantlike creatures shambled into the greenhouse, and she cleared her mind so as not to attract their attention.

  She needn’t have worried about that, because their attention was riveted upon the burning tree. The creatures milled around nervously; a few brave ones tried to put out the flames. For their efforts, they were set ablaze. Their panic screamed in Carol’s senses.

  Forgetting caution, she leaped to her feet, grabbing the forcefield generator, and rushing out the door from which the creatures had entered. To her astonishment, she found herself inside a bustling control room, with row upon row of consoles facing a large viewscreen. The consoles were manned by humanoids afflicted with the moss, who scarcely noticed her as she entered their midst. Carol’s attention was riveted upon the screen, where she saw a vast array of emitters and dishes.

  She watched with alarm as immense space doors opened and the emitter array lifted toward the stars. A computer voice intoned, “Sixty ... fifty-nine ... fifty-eight ... fifty-seven—”

  They’re getting ready to discharge the Genesis Wave!

  The first thing she did was set up her force-field generator at the door she had just entered. This stymied the moss creatures who attempted to return to the control room, and she felt their frightened emotions screaming in her mind. Trying to block them out, the old woman staggered into the room, uncertain what she could do to stop the countdown.

  “Stop! Stop it!” she yelled at the collected zombies. “You’re humans! You’re destroying the Federation!”

  They paid her absolutely no attention, and she grabbed the closest human and shook him by the collar. He stared blankly at her, but the moss extending from his neck, mouth, and ears twitched slightly.

  “Thirty-eight ... thirty-seven ... thirty-six—” intoned the computer’s voice.

  Mustering all her strength, Carol Marcus grabbed the man and threw him out of his chair, then she sat at his seat and began to scan his readouts. There had to be a way to stop this countdown! Or maybe the entire vessel had a self-destruct sequence.

  Kaboom! An explosion nearly knocked Carol out of her seat. Debris filtered down from the ceiling, and the giant viewscreen shimmered for a moment. But the countdown continued. Marcus looked toward the other side of the control room, where smoke and sparks billowed from a shattered door. Through the smoke strode a terrible apparition from the past—a heavily armed Klingon with a weapon in each hand, blasting anything and everything in his path.

  Strafing the humanoids at their consoles, killing indiscriminately, the Klingon strode into the room like a messenger of death. He caught her eye and grinned fiendishly as he approached her.

  “Carol Marcus!” he crowed with triumph, aiming his weapons at her. “Prepare to die!”

  twenty-five

  “Fifteen—fourteen ... thirteen—” intoned the computer voice as hundreds of emitters on the viewscreen began to throb with pulsating energy.

  “Go ahead! Kill me!” Carol Marcus shouted at the enraged Klingon. “But stop the countdown! Can’t you see—they’re going to discharge the Genesis Wave!”

  The old Klingon’s resolve faltered for a moment as he listened to the countdown. Then he looked around at dozens of mindless technicians he hadn’t killed, all working their boards as if nothing were amiss. He whirled on the viewscreen with his disruptors and blasted it into silvery shards, then he turned on the rest of the workers and began methodically shooting up their consoles.

  Marcus had never seen such a ruthless rampage in all her life, as the wild-eyed, wild-haired Klingon completely obliterated the control room. Sparks and flaming embers shot into the air, along with severed limbs and chunks of moss.

  Finally the computer voice croaked a strangled, “Four ... three ... two—” then stopped.

  Carol glanced at her board and breathed a sigh of relief—the discharge had been aborted. When she looked up, there was a disruptor aimed directly at her head.

  “I can’t let you live,” said the old Klingon, who looked vaguely familiar.

  “I know you can’t.” Marcus peered curiously at him. “You’re ... you’re the one who survived all those years ago.”

  “Much to my shame,” said the grizzled Klingon. “But I have redeemed myself, and the name of Maltz will no longer be spoken with contempt.”

  As he lifted his weapon to fire, the computer’s voice broke in, “Intruder alert. Decks six and seven.”

  “Are there more in your party?” said Carol.

  “No, I am alone.”

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than four figures materialized in the flash of a transporter beam. Maltz whirled around and fired before they even had a chance to get their bearings. A split-second later, four dead Romulans lay sprawled on the deck among the rest of the carnage.

  “Romulans!” seethed the Klingon. “You know what they will do if they get their hands on the Genesis Wave?”

  “No one will ever use Genesis again,” vowed Marcus as she returned to the only console still working. “This vessel has to have a self-destruct sequence.”

  “How do I know that is truly what you’re doing?” Maltz asked suspiciously.

  “I was under their influence, but not now. Just watch both of those doors. I’ve got a force field on one of them.” Carol Marcus began to work furiously, hoping that the enemy hadn’t made self-destruction too difficult. They had been careful to base all of their systems on Starfleet technology, keeping it simple, knowing that humanoids with diminished capacity had to use the equipment.

  Maltz dutifully checked both doors, the one from the greenhouse, and the one he had entered. He recoiled in horror from the moss creatures lined up pathetically at the greenhouse door, blocked by a simple force-field device. Many of the creatures were on fire, and the room was filled with rancid smoke.

  As he approached the second door, a female voice called from the other side, “Hold your fire! We want to negotiate!”

  He glanced back at the elder human, who repl
ied, “I found it! Just give me a few more seconds.”

  Disruptors leveled for action, Maltz edged toward the door and said in a gruff voice, “We’re in charge of this place now. Any more attacks, and I destroy the Genesis database. What are you offering?”

  “A ship! A full pardon! Riches beyond your wildest dreams!” came the answer. “Just turn this facility over to us—intact. You can’t resist us. At this moment, a Romulan warbird is docking with this fake asteroid, and hundreds of soldiers are boarding. They will join us in a minute.”

  That brought a smile to the old Klingon’s blistered lips. “How fortunate for you. I must confer with my comrades. No false moves, do you understand?”

  “You have five minutes,” came the reply.

  Maltz backed slowly toward the remaining console, where Carol Marcus was completing her preparations. The old woman looked at him and nodded, then she rose wearily to her feet.

  In a voice too soft to carry more than a few meters, the computer said, “Self-destruct sequence initiated. Two minutes until detonation.”

  “You had better get away now,” Marcus said urgently.

  The old Klingon grinned. “I have no escape plan. Besides, I am going where I want to go.”

  “Me, too,” replied the human, shivering.

  “Come here, woman.” The Klingon wrapped a strong arm around Carol Marcus and held her tightly as the countdown continued. “Death is not to be feared. It’s an old friend who has waited patiently for us.”

  “Five ... four ... three ... two ... one. Self-destruct sequence activated.”

  Carol was very glad of the strong arm around her shoulders, holding her up as the deck began to tremble under her feet. At long last, the end was near.

  “What are you doing?” screamed the female Romulan as she charged through the doorway.

  “Dying in glory!” roared the old Klingon.

  There were thousands of mammoth, misshapen asteroids in the Boneyard, but only one of them suddenly exploded like a balloon full of flaming hydrogen. Halos of fire soared outward, consuming the sleek Romulan warbird docked alongside. The emerald-green warship erupted with another momentous blast that tore the starscape asunder, causing a chain reaction among the closest asteroids. Twisted metal, scorched rocks, and flaming embers spread outward in a shimmering ripple of debris and gas.

  On the bridge of the Enterprise, Data had just gotten an auxiliary viewscreen to work, and he cocked his head with interest at this extraordinary sight. Fortunately, their position was a hundred thousand kilometers away from the concussion wave, so they were in no danger.

  The android tapped his combadge and said, “Bridge to Picard.”

  “Picard here,” came a weary voice. “We’re still stuck in this turbolift. Any sign of the Romulans?”

  “Captain,” said the android calmly, “the D’Arvuk has been destroyed, and so has the enemy’s hidden base. I cannot tell you the cause of their destruction, but I can say with certainty that there are no survivors.”

  twenty-six

  “I’m leaving now, Geordi,” said a soft voice.

  Geordi La Forge turned away from the railing on the gangplank that overlooked the bustling central mall of Starbase 302. He saw Dolores Linton and several more members of her geological team, dressed in traveling clothes and carrying their luggage. Forty-eight hours after the events that had ended the threat—events still not fully understood—the Enterprise had limped into Starbase 302 for repairs. Some members of the crew were being reassigned, including Dolores’s team, which had never gotten to perform their survey on Itamish III.

  Geordi looked apologetically at the party he was with, which included Captain Picard, Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, and Data. The captain smiled encouragingly and said, “Go ahead, Mr. La Forge, we still have a few minutes before the admiral arrives.”

  “Thank you.” Geordi quickly shepherded Dolores out of earshot of the others, and they stopped in a secluded corner of the starbase, while travelers and Starfleet officers bustled past them.

  “Um ... so you’re leaving?” asked Geordi. Even after all they had been through, he was still a bit tongue-tied in the presence of the attractive, young geologist.

  Dolores smiled with fondness and brushed his cheek with her hand. “It’s all right, Geordi. I heard that they found Leah Brahms on Lomar, and she’s on her way here. But it was time for me to go, anyway. You know I’d rather be on solid ground, even if it’s not so solid, than the classiest starship in the fleet. Besides, I know you don’t love me.”

  “Dolores,” he said, cupping her hand in his. “I ... I really wish—”

  “You’ve always been totally honest with me, Geordi,” said Dolores, tears welling in her soft, brown eyes. “You’re the most decent man I’ve ever met, and you’re a great catch. But I didn’t catch you.”

  “Dolores,” he said helplessly, grasping for words. “Will you ... will you stay in touch?”

  “You bet!” Dolores answered bravely. “And you had better not make this sacrifice of mine go for nothing! You tell that lucky girl that you love her. And if she ever treats you badly ... well, I’ve got an extra hammock in my duffel bag.”

  With that, Dolores grabbed him in a forceful bear hug, and he could hear her sobbing against his chest. When she let him go, she rushed away without even looking back.

  La Forge stood on the busy gangplank for a moment, unable to move, or think. He was still staring into space when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned to see his best friend, Data.

  “Your tear ducts are active,” said the android.

  That fractured observation brought a smile to Geordi’s lips. “I’m still terrible with women, even when I’m not so terrible.”

  “That remains to be seen,” said his friend.

  “Now arriving at dock one, the U.S.S. Sovereign,” announced a voice over the speaker system.

  Geordi took a deep breath and composed himself before he and Data joined the others. Deanna Troi gave him a sympathetic smile, as did Captain Picard. Both of them knew that the course of love was seldom smooth. As the pipes sounded, announcing the arrival of a high-ranking officer, the entire company from the Enterprise came to attention.

  Down the gangplank strode Admiral Nechayev, accompanied by Leah Brahms. La Forge gulped, somewhat shocked at their appearance. The admiral’s burns had healed, but with unusual results—half of her face was as smooth and youthful as a teenager’s, and the other half reflected her age. Leah looked drawn and haggard, as if she had been fighting a war at the front, which she had. He had never noticed gray in her hair before, but now he did. Still Leah was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  Despite her startling appearance, Admiral Nechayev seemed energized as she rubbed her hands together. “Thank you for meeting us. We only have a few minutes, but I felt that the crew of the Enterprise deserved to get a face-to-face briefing before I returned to Earth to address the Council. Do you mind talking here?”

  “No,” answered Captain Picard with a smile. “We have several questions.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to answer all of them,” said the admiral. “If I can’t answer, perhaps Dr. Brahms can. She uncovered their operations on Lomar. The planet appears to be deserted, but there are extensive underground facilities, where the moss creatures held thousands of humanoids in stasis. They apparently used them as slaves. In their moon base, they had a very impressive collection of hijacked starships, shuttlecraft, freighters—just about any kind of vessel you could imagine. It’s safe to say that these creatures were preying on our shipping lanes for centuries before they launched their offensive with the Genesis Wave.”

  Geordi listened in amazement and horror as Admiral Nechayev described what they had found on Lomar. His eyes drifted toward Leah, and she gave him a wan smile. And he thought he had been through hell.

  “We’ve turned over Lomar to a consortium of scientists from all the great powers of the quadrant,” explained Admiral Nechayev. �
��However, the Romulans destroyed all of the creatures and a great deal of the complex before we got there. We’re working to revive as many of the slaves as we can, but that has proven difficult. We found indications that Dr. Carol Marcus was there, but we didn’t find her.”

  “Were there records of the Genesis Device?” asked Picard worriedly.

  “No. There were fragments of data, but nothing anyone could use to re-create it. We can only surmise that all the records and equipment were destroyed in that explosion in the asteroid field.”

  “Why did they do it?” Riker asked bluntly. “If they were cruising along for centuries, without anyone knowing they existed, why did they feel the need to destroy so many planets?”

  “Because they were dying,” answered Leah Brahms. “They had lost the ability to reproduce. We found ancient records and physical evidence that Lomar had once been a garden planet, with many different species, including humanoids. It must have taken millions of years for the parasites to move from the trees to animal hosts, but that’s when they developed their telepathic abilities. As they multiplied, they must have killed all the humanoid, animal, and plant life—they turned Lomar into a wasteland. That’s when they went underground. Apparently, they needed the trees in order to reproduce.”

  “So they resorted to the Genesis Wave,” said Picard. “Colonization and reproduction in one easy step.”

  “It may have been more complex than that,” said Brahms thoughtfully. “I’ve been trying to figure out why there aren’t any humanoids on the planets they created. Manipulating humanoids may have become something of an addiction to them. I believe they grew to resent it, and hate themselves for it—but they didn’t know any other way of life. In those worlds they created, they were also trying to create a generation that wasn’t dependent upon enslaving humanoids. In a strange way, they were trying to give up their bad habits ... and get back to nature.”