by Greg Cox
It’s Speckles’s family, she guessed, come to make sure s/he’s okay. They must have heard that s/he had been attacked back at the camp and were eager to see with their own eyestalks that their loved one had not been harmed. Una found herself genuinely touched by the tender reunion. The Jatohr obviously cared deeply for one another.
“It was just a stun beam,” Una said apologetically. “It doesn’t cause any permanent damage.”
Speckles’s mate only glared at her.
“Come along,” a guard ordered, prodding her with a forelimb. “The Commander is waiting.”
Leaving the onlookers behind, Una was led into a clear, domed turbolift that resembled the top half of a bisected bubble. Water pressure, no doubt pumped from the lake, caused the bubble to accelerate upward. As it cleared the submerged levels of the citadel and rose up the base’s central tower, one-way viewports in the tower offered her an aerial view of the citadel.
The basic design resembled an old-fashioned wagon wheel. Radiating spokes connected the central hub to the outer walls. Tinted sunroofs covered the gaps between the spokes. Ramps and walkways ran along the tops and inner faces of the walls. Una recalled the Usildar’s claim that the citadel had simply appeared, fully formed, out of nowhere. Now that she’d witnessed the landing party being instantaneously “unmade” just as the Usildar had spoken of, she was inclined to believe their testimony regarding the citadel’s miraculous arrival as well, but that still left her wondering where the vast fortress had come from and how the Jatohr had transported it here.
Maybe I can finally get some answers.
The bubble brought her to the topmost saucer, which was immediately recognizable as some sort of command center. Large illuminated screens lined the curved walls, offering views of various Jatohr operations throughout the continent. Una spotted the labor camp in the valley, alongside images depicting deforestation, fungus farming, and mining elsewhere. She winced at the brazen environmental imperialism on display, although the Jatohr appeared untroubled by the images. They slimed about the command center, attending to various banks of equipment and control panels, like the bridge crew on the Enterprise.
The buzz of activity quieted as she was herded into the ops center. Multiple eyestalks turned toward her, scoping her out, while hushed gurgles greeted her arrival as she was led up a short ramp to a raised platform at the center of ops, where she was presented to two waiting Jatohr, standing at either side of a tabletop display panel. The smaller of the two started toward her, hir tentacles extending curiously, but a brusque, phlegmy imperative from the bigger one called the curious slug back, as though urging caution. The Jatohr vocalized energetically at one another, leaving Una in the dark once more.
“I can’t understand what you’re saying,” she tried explaining again. “But I can translate the Usildar’s language. Can you please use that so we can communicate?”
The cautious slug ignored her. Nearly two and a half meters tall, s/he was the largest Jatohr she had seen so far. Canary-yellow rings striped hir glistening orange head and foot. Bright scarlet orbs topped hir optical feelers. Hir segmented armor appeared more ornate than the average Jatohr’s. Lustrous pearls, embedded in the breastplate, formed an elaborate design that could have been a name, a number, a crest, or some other symbol. A particularly thick layer of mucous gave the slug a shinier, more impressive sheen than hir underlings. Perhaps a sign of health or vigor? S/he kept on gurgling as though Una hadn’t spoken at all.
Typical, she thought. She was getting used to that treatment from the Jatohr.
But the more inquisitive Jatohr surprised her by switching to Usildar.
“The specimen is right, Commander. We should do her the courtesy of speaking in a manner she can comprehend.”
Smaller and dryer than the big striped slug, this Jatohr was inky black in hue aside from some rust-colored markings around hir mouth that coincidentally resembled a mustache and beard. Hir comparatively desiccated and wrinkly appearance conveyed a general sense of age or infirmity.
A venerable elder, perhaps, or senior advisor?
The Jatohr commander gurgled in reply, apparently unconvinced.
“Never mind courtesy then,” the elder argued. “Let us consider efficiency and results instead. We will surely learn more from the specimen if we can actually converse with her.”
Una found the term specimen disquieting, but agreed with the elder otherwise.
“Very well, Professor,” the commander said. “But she is not just a specimen. She is an anomaly . . . and a likely threat to our security.”
“I’m no threat,” Una said, fudging the truth to a degree. “But I appreciate the courtesy. Thank you.”
The commander made a derisive noise. Una’s gratitude was clearly of no concern to hir.
“See, Commander,” the elder said. “Now we’re making progress.” S/he turned to address Una. “Introductions are in order. This is our esteemed leader, Commander Woryan, and I am Eljor, hir chief scientific advisor.”
Una was glad to have names for the players. That made things easier.
“You may call me Una,” she volunteered. “Which, for the record, I prefer to ‘creature’ or ‘specimen.’ ”
Woryan disregarded her remark. Instead s/he got right down to business.
“What are you and where do you come from?”
As before, Una was hesitant to reveal too much about the Enterprise or her presence on the planet, and all the more so now that the Jatohr had proved themselves to be both hostile and dangerous. The loss of the landing party ached like a fresh wound that might never heal.
“I’m more concerned with what happened to my companions back at your farming operation. I need to know: Are they dead?”
“They have been removed . . . permanently,” Woryan said. “As you will be if you fail to answer our questions fully.”
“Not so fast, Commander,” the scientist protested. “You may underestimate how valuable this specimen is. This is a unique opportunity that could teach us much about our strange new universe.”
Una’s eyes widened. “New universe? What do you mean by—”
“We will ask the questions, creature,” Woryan said, cutting her off. “All we require from you is answers. What are you and why are you here?”
“My name is Una,” she insisted. “And I’m only a visitor here. An explorer, who is also seeking to learn more about the universe. That’s all.”
“She could be telling the truth, Commander.” Eljor approached Una’s escorts. “I understand that some equipment was confiscated from the specimen?”
The guards presented Una’s backpack and gear to the scientist, who spread out the items atop the central command table. Una tried not to flinch as Eljor inspected her tricorder, laser pistol, and communicator. S/he seemed particularly interested in the latter, holding it up before hir eyestalks to examine it more closely.
“Intriguing,” s/he observed. “Most intriguing.”
Woryan appeared more interested in the laser pistol. “How so, Professor? Do these devices tell us anything useful about the alien?”
“Absolutely.” Eljor indicated the communicator. “She is most certainly not native to this world. Equipment such as this is manifestly the product of a highly advanced technological civilization, which could not have escaped discovery by our aerial survey. That such a civilization could evade our notice for nearly ten solar revolutions is inconceivable.” S/he addressed Una directly. “You are not from this planet, correct?”
Sighing, Una abandoned any thought of pretending to be an exotic breed of Usildar. She consoled herself with the knowledge that the Jatohr, being newcomers to Usilde as well, were obviously conversant with the notion of interplanetary travel. It wasn’t as though she was revealing the existence of alien life to a primitive, pre-warp society.
“No, I am not,” she admitted. “M
y companions and I were conducting our own survey of this planet when we noted your presence. Curiosity alone compelled us to investigate, nothing more.”
That was not entirely true, but it seemed politic not to mention the exploitation of the Usildar—or the possibility of the Enterprise intervening on their behalf. She was in no position to take an adversarial posture at the moment, not when Woryan already regarded her as a potential threat.
“I see,” Eljor said. “What is your planet of origin? Is it located in this system or much farther away?”
“My home is a planet called Illyria, hundreds of light-years from here.” She judged that a far distant location would sound less menacing than a possibly hostile neighbor. “It’s in another solar system altogether, on the other side of the galaxy.”
“Fascinating,” Eljor enthused. “Think of it, Commander. Worlds after worlds of new and different beings.”
“Alarming is more like it.” Woryan sounded displeased. “Do you not realize what this means? It is not just the primitive creatures on this world we have to contend with; it seems this entire realm is infested with such beings. We are outnumbered and coming under surveillance by an unknown number of alien creatures.”
Una did not like the way the discussion was heading.
“We mean you no harm,” she insisted. “If you are new to our . . . universe, we may be able to render assistance.”
Although she again neglected to mention her desire to liberate the Usildar, her offer was sincere. Perhaps the Federation could help relocate the Jatohr to a more suitable Class-M planet where they would pose no threat to the Usildar. Assisting the Jatohr and freeing the Usildar were not necessarily incompatible goals.
But Woryan didn’t seem to see it that way.
“You hear her?” the hostile commander said. “She calls it her universe. She regards us as interlopers.”
“No!” Una protested. “That’s not what I meant. I just—”
“Enough! No more polite dissembling.” Woryan threatened Una with her own pistol. “I gather this device is a weapon. Provide me with relevant tactical information, or it will be used against you. How many of you are there? What are your numbers and positions? How did you reach this planet?”
Una balked, unwilling to point the Jatohr toward the Enterprise. “We don’t want conflict. We’re a peaceful people.”
“Who come bearing weapons and infiltrating our installations,” Woryan said accusingly. “Who attacked an innocent Jatohr!”
“Only in self-defense,” Una said. “We were simply observing—”
Woryan fired the laser at Una’s feet, eliciting startled gasps from the other Jatohr. A brilliant red beam scorched the floor in front of her boots, far too close for comfort. She jumped back instinctively, only to be blocked by the Jatohr guards behind her.
“Careful,” she warned. “It looks like you switched the settings. It’s not just set on stun like before.”
“It is you who should take care, creature.” Raising the pistol, Woryan targeted her head. “Speak quickly or—”
“Patience, Commander!” Eljor slimed between Woryan and Una, shielding her with hir body. “No need to risk damaging the specimen. A closer examination of her equipment will certainly provide much of the information you require.”
Woryan kept the laser aimed at Una. “I’m listening, Professor.”
“Take this device, for instance.” Eljor flipped open the lid of Una’s communicator. “A cursory examination suggests that it is a two-way receiver/transmitter, as indicated by the built-in antenna.”
Curious digits toyed with the controls and were rewarded with an electronic chirp. Lieutenant Sanawey’s deep, sepulchral voice issued from the communicator:
“Enterprise to landing party, please respond. Repeat, Enterprise to landing party. . . .”
Una cringed inside. She had set the communicator on mute earlier, so that a stray beep would not betray her presence during the scouting mission, but Eljor had figured out its function with distressing ease. While the other Jatohr reacted in surprise, the intrigued scientist spoke into the device.
“Hello? Who is speaking?”
Una could just imagine the confusion on the bridge. They had to have been worried already by the long silence from the landing party. A strange voice at the other end of the hail was probably the last thing anyone had expected. She was not surprised when Captain April’s voice replaced the communication officer’s. The captain would want to handle this personally.
“Hello? This is Captain Robert April of the United Space Ship Enterprise. Whom am I addressing?”
“Greetings, Captain. I am Professor Eljor, first scientist of the Jatohr. I am pleased to make your acquaint—”
“Hold your tongue!” Woryan snatched the communicator from Eljor’s grasp and slammed shut its lid. “Reveal nothing until we know who and what we are dealing with. Do not let your reckless scientific curiosity endanger our security!”
“Have no fear, Commander. You may count on my discretion.” Eljor’s tentacles stretched longingly toward the communicator, but the scientist deferred to Woryan’s prudence. S/he turned toward Una. “But you can clear up some of these mysteries for us. This ‘Space Ship Enterprise’ . . . it is indeed a vessel for traveling through space? As opposed to between realities?”
The implications of the query staggered Una. “Wait. You mean you didn’t travel through space to reach Usilde? You’re actually from another universe?”
“Our history is not your concern!” Woryan said, shutting her down. Unsurprisingly, s/he seized on the tactical issues posed by the Enterprise’s existence. “Where is this ship? On the planet or in space above us?”
“Well,” Una hedged, “I can’t testify precisely as to its exact location, but—”
Eljor interrupted.
“Allow me time to trace the signal, Commander, and I believe I can answer that question conclusively. For now, however, the reference to a ‘landing party’ suggests that the Enterprise is most likely still in space, possibly in orbit around the planet.”
Woryan reacted decisively to the scientist’s theory. “Direct long-range sensors into space,” s/he ordered the operations staff. “Find that ship!”
The other Jatohr immediately went into action at their control panels and workstations. Unfamiliar with their equipment, Una couldn’t tell exactly what they were doing, but their brisk efficiency would have done a Starfleet bridge crew proud. It occurred to her that, not being space travelers, the Jatohr would have had little reason to be watching the skies—until now. A fresh pang of guilt stabbed her.
“I recommend that we concentrate our scans at approximately twenty thousand kilometers above the surface of the planet,” Eljor said. “Mathematically, that altitude would offer the most stable orbit.”
Correct, Una thought, impressed by the scientist’s intellect. There seemed little chance that Enterprise could evade detection now that the Jatohr knew what to look for and where. Cloaking fields, alas, were still only in the realm of theory.
“Commander,” a mottled technician called out from hir post. “We’ve located a sizable artificial satellite directly above us, precisely where the professor suggested. Approximately 290 meters in length, with a mass of nearly 190,000 tonnes.”
Eljor looked at Una. “A geosynchronous orbit, I assume?”
“Correct.” She saw no point in denying it. “While maintaining a discreet distance from the planet’s surface.”
“Show me,” Woryan demanded. “I want visual confirmation . . . now!”
“Complying,” the technician said. Prosthetic claspers manipulated the controls at hir station. “Visuals received.”
The Enterprise appeared on multiple viewscreens, including the tabletop display. Its familiar contours called out to Una, making her wish she was back on the bridge and not a potential hostage
or bargaining chip.
I’m sorry, Captain. This has all gone wrong.
Woryan wheeled toward Una. “Tell me more about that ship. What weapons does it possess? What defenses?”
“Sorry,” Una said. “You’re not getting that out of me. It’s a security issue. I’m sure you understand.”
This was not what Woryan wanted to hear. The Jatohr commander smacked Una across the face with hir metallic claspers. The blow rocked her, nearly knocking her off her feet. She tasted blood.
“Understand this!” the paranoid leader railed at her. “You are at our mercy, and you will provide whatever information we require.”
“Not a chance.” Una spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “I’m a Starfleet officer. You can kill me if you want, but I am never going to betray my ship. Are we clear on that?”
Woryan’s inhuman face twisted in rage, but Eljor hastened to intervene.
“Commander, please. This brutality is beneath you. There are surely other ways to ensure our safety.”
“We still possess the Transfer technology,” a technician said. “As long as we can remove our enemies at will, no one can oppose us.”
“True,” Woryan conceded, the reminder calming him to a degree. “As this creature’s companions learned too late.”
Una’s heart sank. She still didn’t know how exactly the Jatohr “unmade” their enemies, but could they really employ their mystery weapon against the Enterprise and its crew? What was the actual range of their “Transfer” weapon?
Woryan eyed the imposing spaceship on the screen. Una thought she was starting to get better at reading the Jatohr’s facial expressions, and it seemed to her that Woryan’s earlier alarm and agitation was giving way to something more calculating, perhaps even covetous. Hir claspers twitched, opening and closing repeatedly, as though the Jatohr wanted to reach out and snatch the Enterprise from the screen.