The Demon Book 1

by Loren L. Coleman

  The second trigger-happy alien had sensed Rennan’s approach, swinging her plasma-dripping rod around to skewer the Betazoid. Using a specialty he referred to as proprioception, sensing the alien’s actions and using her movement against her, Rennan dodged in, spinning to one side. His environmental suit made it harder, but not impossible. His left hand grasped the rod just forward of its makeshift stock, yanking it free, while his right arm snaked up and around the back of the alien’s neck, putting her into a reverse choke hold that effectively neutralized her as a threat.

  Fear roiled off the two skittish aliens, and Rennan quickly assuaged their worry by throwing the plasma weapon at their feet and holding up his empty hand in a (fairly) universal sign of neutrality. His empathic ability confirmed that he had done the right thing as the aliens hesitated, and then backed away.

  Commander Corsi had her phaser out, covering a trio of aliens who aimed back in a very lopsided standoff. She tapped her combadge. “Corsi to da Vinci. Corsi to Gold!” Nothing. She swore under her breath. “Get a grip on yourselves, people. Vinx? Vinx!”

  The Iotian stood over the two reptilian beings that Pattie had knocked over, his phaser rifle levered from his hip. “Piece of this action? Huh? Ya want that?” A lot of mouth but no real anger, Rennan was satisfied to note. The Iotian was in full control of the situation. The leader of the small alien band lay there, arms raised in another fairly universal gesture.

  Releasing his captive, Rennan stepped over and prodded Vinx back away from the two fallen aliens.

  Stevens already had his tricorder out, taking readings and occasionally tapping his combadge to see if the da Vinci answered. Gomez made placating gestures to the aliens at the team’s rear, where Rennan had left the back of the team open to possible attack. Sonya couldn’t know that the Resaurians were more afraid of being wrong than they were of being threatened.

  Pattie partially unrolled, looking out to see if the situation had resolved itself.

  For the most part, Rennan felt that it had. No one was in immediate danger of firing a weapon. More importantly, no one was hurt. Violence had been avoided.

  That was security’s job.

  Chapter

  9

  As the image materialized on the viewscreen, Captain Gold shivered. And immediately felt abashed. Humans had been exploring the galaxy for centuries, and yet the collective fears of millennia continued to haunt them like a plague.

  Why did they so fear snakes?

  “I am Third Councilman Sha’a of Resaurus,” the figure on the screen hissed. He was difficult to see, as the ambient light on their bridge was low. The alien’s reddish hued scales blended so well with his clothing that it took Gold a moment to realize that Sha’a wore a clinging carmine robe. The councilman’s tongue flickered to the right, “This is Captain S’linth of the Dutiful Burden.” He spread his arms wide and bobbed his head slightly once more. “We welcome you.”

  Interesting that the civilian spoke in place of the captain of the ship; Gold understood right away where the real power lay.

  Resaurians, as they identified themselves, looked like a thick-bodied snake with nearly vestigial legs but strong arms. Coal-black eyes stared forward with a hypnotic gaze. Gold tried to shovel his childish fears aside. Perhaps Resaurians got the willies when looking at humans. The thought helped.

  “Third Councilman Sha’a,” he responded, trying not to trip over the glottal stop in the name. He stood up and took his best “we are friendly and hope you will be too” stance. “I thank you for your welcome.” He paused for a moment, wondering if he should bring Abramowitz up here. No time. “As your ship approached ours, I would ask what your intentions are?”

  Looking not unlike a thin tapeworm squirming for life, Sha’a’s tongue flicked in and out several times before he responded. “Captain, it would seem that you have picked up a distress signal emanating from this black hole. We would like to share with you what you’ll find.”

  “We welcome any assistance, Third Councilman. May I offer the hospitality of my ship?”

  A whitish membrane slid over Sha’a’s eyes for a few heartbeats. Then the councilman nodded. “We will shuttle over, Captain.”

  “No need. Our matter transference system can beam you quite safely aboard.”

  Another long blink. Then, Sha’a nodded. “There will be three of us,” he said. And communication broke off from their side.

  Perhaps the Resaurians were not so comfortable either.

  Gold walked along briskly, with Carol Abramowitz attempting to match his stride; a security detail would meet them in the transporter room.

  “What have you got for me?” he asked.

  Carol paused before responding, trying to juggle keeping up with the captain as she consulted her tricorder. “The Federation has had a few brushes with the Resaurians, but nothing in long decades. I’ve tagged one or two references. The computer did come up with some corrupted files from that old Earth ship I mentioned, but not much beyond that.”

  “Soloman was no help?”

  “Not so far. Even Bynars have their limitations when it comes to computers, sir.”

  “So, for all intents and purposes, this is first contact?” Of all the things going on right now, he had to run into this?

  They entered the turbolift and descended smoothly down.

  “I’d not call it that. More a recontact. However, indirectly I dug up some additional information. Not from our archives, but from a Klingon source.” Carol sounded very satisfied.

  “Klingon?”

  The doors whisked open and they headed toward the transporter room.

  “Yes. It seems that our allies subjugated the Resaurians for the better part of a century, using them for their large mineral deposits. A very hide-bound and slowly developing people, according to the files. Traditions were given more weight than laws, which caused no end of difficulty with their over-lords. The Klingons kept them in virtual slavery, and then discarded them and moved on once the most accessible resources had been tapped out.”

  Gold heard the disgust in her voice and couldn’t bring himself to dispute it. He knew many Klingons that he respected, but as a race…“How long ago was this?” he asked.

  “The dates aren’t translating well, but when Captain Archer made first contact, the Resaurians were already long since free of the Klingons, and that was two hundred and twenty years ago.”

  “So, what does that mean for us?”

  “I’m not exactly sure on all points, but at the very least they are likely to be hostile toward any new race. Their encounter with the Klingons had to be devastating and they’ll most likely do everything in their power to prevent something like that happening again.”

  “So why are they being so open? So friendly?”

  “That’s the gold-pressed latinum question, all right.”

  They arrived at the transporter room, where a trio from security already had phasers drawn and ready.

  “None of that,” Gold said, motioning their phasers away. He turned toward Chief Poynter behind the transporter console. “Energize.”

  The hum and light show commenced, with the energy pulsing, coalescing into three forms: that of Councilman Sha’a, Captain S’linth, and another whom Gold did not recognize.

  Up close, the impression of a snake was even stronger, as their tongues flicked madly and their heads rotated back and forth, swaying, almost hypnotic. Gold immediately took a step forward. He noted a scent of dry, bitter musk.

  “Third Councilman Sha’a, welcome to the Federation Starship da Vinci,” he said and then turned slightly to indicate Carol. “This is our cultural specialist, Dr. Carol Abramowitz, Transporter Chief Laura Poynter,” he said, indicating the transporter chief, then pointed at the security guards, “and Chief Vance Hawkins, Ellec Krotine, and Madeleine Robins from security.”

  Sha’a bowed his head slightly in both their directions. His arm swung out to indicate his own companions. “This is Captain S’linth, introduced
previously.” The third Resaurian, “This is Suliss, overseer of the Dutiful Burden.”

  Gold wondered what the difference was between a captain and an overseer—and who outranked whom. Normally a tone of voice or a facial expression could give something away, but these Resaurians were too alien for him to pick up anything. He’d simply have to proceed as he could.

  “Please, we’ve a room ready for our discussion,” Gold said, still mulling over how to address this trio, and led them toward the observation lounge, which Carol had readied from what scant information they did know.

  “Your hospitality is gracious, Captain,” S’linth whispered in the Resaurian’s hissing style of communication. “Of the first egg.” Several different types of refreshment and liquid had been laid out, and each of the Resaurians found something apparently to their liking. S’linth, though, seemed to be the only one enjoying himself.

  “You are most welcome, Captain S’linth.”

  After several minutes of pleasantries, passed mostly with S’linth, Gold allowed the silence to lengthen. Councilman Sha’a obviously wanted to discuss the topic on his terms. Gold steadily drank from a glass of cold water while Carol sat patiently, waiting. Finally, Sha’a spoke.

  “Captain, it has come to our attention that you have received a distress signal from within the Demon. This black hole.”

  “As you said earlier, Third Councilman.” Gold would not get drawn into a long discussion. His people could be in trouble.

  “Yes, and I’m confident, from what I’ve seen, that you have already verified that there is a space station anchored within.”

  “That’s correct. How do you know this?”

  “Because that is a Resaurian space station.”

  Gold blinked as he took that in. From the startled reactions of both Suliss and S’linth, it appeared to be news to them as well. He traced a circle through the sweating liquid from his glass that marred the table. Despite his misgivings, he began to hope.

  “If that’s your station, then you’ll be able to help us.”

  “I’m afraid, Captain, that is quite out of our capabilities.”

  Captain Gold slowly pressed his hand down against the tabletop, reined in his anger.

  “Why?”

  “Because the station has been abandoned for over several centuries and we allowed the technology…to languish.”

  He leaned back and tried not to let his distress show. Had the away team found nothing? Were they trapped and dying down there alone? What was happening?

  “Several centuries? And it’s still there? Why did you abandon such an impressive research facility?”

  “Yes,” the Resaurian said in a slow hiss, “a research facility.” He paused. “There was a plague on the station, one which drove the…the researchers toward insanity. Tradition dictated that we not allow it to affect the rest of our people if we could help it.”

  Gold grasped suddenly that he distrusted the Councilman, though he could not pin it to anything; he didn’t believe himself shallow enough to distrust simply based upon those dead, holelike eyes, or the dancing black tongue that quivered. It was by far the more human traits. The hesitation. The vague answers. Sha’a was hiding something.

  “Did you pinpoint the source of this plague?” Carol finally spoke up. Whether she did so of her own volition or because she detected his unease, Gold couldn’t tell.

  “No. It remains a mystery to us even today. But considering the danger inherent to this area of space…”

  Carol nodded. “The black hole?”

  “Unable to do anything, we were forced to abandon the station, however much it pained us. We have never returned.”

  It made sense, and yet still something seemed off. Gold looked toward the other two Resaurians and found nothing; they might as well have been statues for his ability to read them. He’d been on the point of informing the Resaurians about their away team, but now demurred. He simply had to find out more about this race. Of a sudden he stood, uncaring if he might be breaching protocol.

  “Sha’a, it has been a pleasure. More, I appreciate your candor on this subject. Nevertheless, there are urgent matters that I must attend to.”

  “Then you shall be departing?”

  “Very soon, I hope. Very soon.”

  Carol stood beside the captain as the Resaurians disappeared through the door, escorted by security. “That was abrupt.”

  “We’ve got to find out more about them, Abramowitz. They’re not telling the truth.”

  She turned toward him with a quizzical look in her eye. “How can you tell? I’ve had an easier time telling what a wall feels than those Resaurians.”

  “I’m not sure, but there’s something….” He arched his neck, as though to stretch his mental faculty past the cobwebs that angry chemical spiders were weaving at a furious pace; he had to get some sleep.

  But not until his crew returned.

  “You and Soloman get back to work on those corrupted files you mentioned. There has to be something in there that can open a crack on these Resaurians.”

  Chapter

  10

  Sonya’s job description rarely included such tasks as first contact procedures. That was left to ships of exploration, like her first posting on the Enterprise. They came through, initiated protocols or not, made a tangle of things or not, and then moved on to the next mission while the diplomatic corps or S.C.E. (or both!) moved in to clean up after them.

  She felt fairly certain, however, that most of those protocols did not involve staring at each other over drawn weapons. Wars could begin that way. And had.

  Fortunately, this S’eth did not appear to harbor a grudge. Just the opposite.

  “Once again, I wish to apologize, Commander, for your reception.” S’eth had greenish black scales from the leading edge of his blunt-nosed face to his coral-tipped tail. His chest scales were smaller and lighter, almost an emerald green. He rested back on a thick coil, his legs propping himself up on either side. It made him look smaller than he actually was, nearly a head and a half shorter than Sonya. “Your matter transference beam caught us by surprise.”

  The Resaurian certainly sounded apologetic. A discreet glance at Rennan Konya, who shrugged and then nodded, confirmed that the Betazoid at least felt comfortable with the alien’s contrite attitude. Rennan went back to intently studying some scorch markings on a nearby wall.

  For her part, Sonya was simply relieved to be out of the bulky environmental suits now that they had ascertained that the Resaurians breathed Class-M atmosphere. She glanced around the operations center where Tev had inserted her team. Panels with actual keystroke pads lay open with jury-rigged components bleeding out onto the metal decking everywhere. Lights flashed on monitors here and there. Most screens had large dark spaces that again told of age and neglect—or maybe just of an inability to repair. More than a few bulkheads and workstation hatches had carbon score marks that might have been from ruptured systems, and sloppy welds could be counted by the dozen, as if the Resaurians had been learning repair procedures as they went.

  Only the main viewer seemed to work perfectly, looking out of the photon sphere. High above, the universe was compacted into a small circle of stars surrounded by bands of blue-shifted light that marked each progressive Einstein Ring.

  The rest of the “sky” was dark. Nothingness.

  Checking on her team, Sonya saw Corsi and Vinx standing together, talking, shoulder to shoulder and facing opposite directions so that one of them had full view of half the bridge at all times. Fabian crawled halfway into a large, darkened workstation, and Pattie inspected a welded door that looked as if it once fronted the opening for a lift of some type. Lense ran intense scans of one of the Resaurians, pausing every few seconds to recalibrate her tricorder. Of the thousand survivors who S’eth assured them still remained on the station, they had so far seen perhaps twenty. In singles and small groups they wandered in, offering a hand and answering any questions put to them.

 
Caught by surprise or not, the Resaurians cooperated with great eagerness now.

  “Your shields were designed for transporters to penetrate easily,” she noted. “I would have thought that our arrival method would be quite common.”

  “It was. It was. Once upon a time. But we haven’t had such an occurrence, well, in decades.”

  Decades! “How long have you been trapped here?” she asked.

  “A lifetime, it seems.” S’eth scratched behind his right shoulder, picking loose a scrap of dried skin that had been wedged in between some of his scales. He tasted the air, black eyes gazing about the bridge. “How long depends greatly on the time dilation, of course.”

  Of course. Decades to the Resaurians trapped within this station could, objectively, translate to centuries outside of the black hole’s influence. How much time was her team losing, right now, separated from the da Vinci? “I don’t suppose a Federation star-date would help?”

  “Not unless you can translate it into the time it takes Resaurus to orbit its sun,” S’eth rasped.

  “Without the da Vinci’s computers, I’m afraid not. Fabian,” she called over to her tactical systems specialist, “any luck?”

  “Nothing,” Fabian told her, head still stuck inside the cavernous workstation. He pulled back out, squatted against the station’s corner, and laid his head back against a nonfunctioning keypad. “This is all local station comms. I can’t find a subspace transmitter here. I’m not even certain how they sent their distress call.”

  Sonya looked to S’eth. “Much of this station was automated,” he explained. “We have retaken manual control over as much as we dare.”

  “And your subspace communications?” she asked.

  “On a lower deck, I imagine. It was never a part of the main operating systems.”

  Sonya couldn’t put her finger on why she thought the Resaurian had just hedged on the truth. It simply felt not quite right. Either way, it was damn strange.

  “Can we triangulate on the transmission?”