Orphans

by Kevin Killiany

  Abramowitz confirmed Kairn’s assessment. “Carbon dioxide two point four percent, oxygen only eighteen percent—don’t try any heavy exertions—and various trace elements, some radioactive, but nothing immediately dangerous.”

  “That merely confirms our external readings,” Tev said.

  “Always a good idea,” Abramowitz answered with a smirk.

  Kairn grunted with apparent amusement, and Tev chose not to answer.

  “Ambient radiation is high but manageable.” Abramowitz continued to read off the tricroder’s display. “However, heavy metal levels in the vegetation are lethal to Tellarites and humans, toxic for everyone else. And the water…” She made a sour face and snapped the tricorder shut. “Drink only in an emergency and only from a swift-flowing source. It won’t kill quickly, but the uranium and plutonium content is cumulative. Looks like we’ll have to carry those ration packs after all.”

  “The math is beautiful,” Soloman said suddenly.

  “Oh, yes,” Pattie agreed.

  The two were standing at the edge of the ledge, looking out over the forest and farmland.

  “What math?” Stevens asked.

  “Don’t you see it?” Soloman asked. “There. And there.”

  He pointed to a rocky ridge that ran perpendicular to their apparent mountain range, then a densely wooded bowl-like valley. Both looked completely unremarkable to Stevens.

  “He is speaking of the geometric balance,” Tev said.

  “The distribution of materials.”

  “The use of apparently random natural features to create the illusion of a real world while maintaining symmetry,” Pattie agreed. “It’s really quite elegant.”

  “Hmmm,” said Stevens, still not sure what they were seeing. He guessed he wasn’t seeing past the “apparent” randomness of the design.

  “Here,” Abramowitz handed each of them an oblong case about twelve centimeters by twenty-four.

  “What’s this?”

  “Generic emergency radiation kits, complements of Dr. Lense,” Abramowitz said as she handed a blue case to Pattie and a red one to Soloman. “For your self-medication pleasure we offer hypo ampoules of hyronalin—daalisan for Pattie—triox compound, and species-specific cocktails of vitamins, nutrients, and appropriate goodies for hemoglobin production, tissue regeneration, and general damage control.”

  Stevens turned the kit over until he found the clip and attached it to his belt. He noticed Kairn had attached his to a loop high on his vest and wondered what normally went there. The hanging kit covered the hilt of the dagger that Pattie liked so much.

  “Is the darker vegetation along rivers?” Abramowitz asked, looking out over the view as the others attached the kits to their utility belts.

  “Usually,” Tev replied.

  “Then why are all the rivers parallel?” she asked.

  These Stevens did see. Remarkably regular strips of blue-green vegetation running across their field of view which seemed to start and stop at random intervals.

  “Ship’s rotation.” Tev didn’t actually say “obviously,” but it was in his voice. “Inertia and angular acceleration would dictate any sizable volumes of water flow against the ship’s spin. Prevailing winds will do the same.”

  “We will learn nothing more up here,” Kairn said.

  He stepped off down what might have been the merest trace of a trail without a backward glance.

  * * *

  Not my idea of sitting this one out,Faulwell thought as he set the anchors on the Klingon pattern enhancer pylon. Of course it was bigger and more massive and more awkward than the Federation model. But they got here first, so we use their equipment.

  The Qaw’qay’ had hard-landed two dozen locator beacons on the colony ship’s hull during its first survey while the da Vinci was still orbiting. When the repair phase began, they used the beacons as transporter targets, beaming their first wave of engineers directly to the spinning surface. (“Must have felt like a near-warp transport,” Conlon had said.) Those pioneers had then set up pattern enhancers that allowed others to beam over with much less drama.

  The problem was, there were nearly three thousand square kilometers of outer hull and far too many trouble spots to keep using the “shoot and jump” method. Pattern enhancers had to be preset in strategic locations. This meant personnel not essential to the nuts-and-bolts repairs lugging enhancer grids across the surface of the ship and setting them up while the engineers worked. Since the mysterious power drain seemed limited to the leading face of the ship, the enhancers could be set up to await remote activation whenever a team needed to use them.

  “Why not just beam the enhancers where you need them to be?” Faulwell had asked when his new job was explained to him.

  Gomez had just given him that weary smile engineers reserved for particularly naive questions from soft scientists and handed him his itinerary.

  It was probably a perfectly good suggestion.Faulwell tightened the straps on the Klingon null-grav sled. They just didn’t want to admit they hadn’t thought of it.

  Fortunately, the Klingon beacons were positioned so that every point on the surface could be triangulated. And moving from place to place consisted primarily of lifting clear of the ship, but not out of range for the gravimetrics, and letting it rotate beneath you. Hardly difficult, but definitely monotonous. He strapped himself into the driver’s seat and double-checked the next destination against the Klingon beacon grid. Muttering an Algonquin curse, he punched the actuator and the sled leapt free of the surface.

  CHAPTER

  12

  “What do you think?” Tev asked, eyeing the lace-work of ceiling cracks emanating from the pile of rubble blocking the stone corridor.

  Pattie measured the wall’s lean with an improvised plumb line. “If this were a planet, I’d say quake damage. As it is…”

  “Could the exterior bombardment have been responsible?” Soloman asked.

  “There’s nearly a kilometer of metal and rock between the surface and this tunnel,” Pattie said.

  “It’s doubtful even quantum torpedoes would have done this level of damage.” She backed toward the opening of the artificial cave, taking in every detail.“No, something inside this mountain shifted.”

  “An explosion?” Kairn asked.

  “Or a structural failure.”

  Stevens looked out over the rolling countryside below them. The cave opening was perhaps a hundred meters above the valley floor, and at this level the curvature of the ship’s interior was not apparent. The ersatz sun had moved a considerable distance during their climb down, and the shadows of trees and ridges stretched toward them across meadows of heather.

  “Hard to imagine a structural failure with this level of craftsmanship,” he said.

  “An explosion,” Kairn said.

  “Perhaps.” Pattie sounded unconvinced.

  “A damaged area near the front of an out-of-control vessel,” Stevens said. “If it weren’t so easy, I’d guess we found the control room first try.”

  “How human of you,” Tev said dryly.

  “Huh?”

  “Humans expose their bridge atop the leading section of their vessels,” Tev said, then added without looking toward Kairn, “as do a number of other cultures. But the great majority of spacefaring peoples follow the Tellarite example, placing it sensibly at the center of mass.” He gestured out over the valley. “We can’t pretend to understand the logic of a people who would spend a century building this. The control center could be anywhere.”

  “Anywhere including the very front of the ship,” Stevens countered. “We need to check this out.”

  “We need to check out every possibility,” Pattie said.

  Kairn cut off Tev’s reply. “P8 Blue and Soloman, you will explore the tunnel beyond the rubble.”

  “Why them?” Tev asked. “As a generalist—”

  “You are less qualified than a structural specialist and a computer specialist to assess damage and
evaluate control systems,” Kairn finished. “Also, they can fit through the opening without further excavation.”

  Stevens braced himself for pyrotechnics, but to his surprise Tev remained silent. He wondered whether the Tellarite’s restraint meant he recognized Kairn’s wisdom or he remembered that the traditional Klingon response to insubordination was lethal.

  Without further ado, two hundred meters of monofilament was affixed to each of the explorers. Lauoc presented them with torches made from stout branches he had flayed with a wicked-looking knife Stevens knew wasn’t Starfleet issue. Tev surprised him again by producing a chemical lighter.

  “We knew we were entering a primitive environment,” Tev said in response to Stevens’s startled expression.

  Stevens bet himself that Lauoc and Kairn carried flint and steel. If he ever needed a fire, he’d have to find two dry sticks and trust to racial memory.

  Pattie went first, without a torch, so all hands would be free as she explored the far side of the rubble pile with only the light of the opening. Stevens held her safety line, letting it play out over his palms as she explored. As it went slack, he pulled it slowly in, hand over hand, so she wouldn’t get tangled on her way back. At last she reappeared and pronounced the climb safe and the floor on the far side solid.

  “The air is a little dense,” she added. “A lot of dust. Musty but breathable.”

  She took two torches, securing one to her harness, before scurrying down to give Soloman room to follow. He was decidedly less sure of himself as he picked his way up the pile of rocks. Stevens guessed spelunking was not a popular pastime on Bynaus.

  “How do you work this lighter?” Pattie called from the other side.

  “Grip the safety,” Tev called back. “Depress the gas release with your thumb, then trigger the ignition with your—”

  He paused as Pattie’s crystalline laughter cut him off.

  “In my case, use more than two hands,” she said. “Back up a second, Soloman. I need the daylight to find a place to prop my torch.”

  Soloman backed out of the opening, Lauoc reeling in his line deftly.

  “Okay,” Pattie called out. “Got it.”

  A great hand swatted Stevens backward.

  He staggered, barely keeping his footing as the ground rose and fell. Something slammed into his temple; pain brought him to his knees. He tried to rise, but a second shockwave of choking dust knocked him to the ground. He had a vague impression of Soloman blown out over their heads like a kite on a string as his vision faded from red to gray.

  For an instant he was leaning over the hatch above a narrow access ladder, his eyes locked with Eddy’s as the da Vinci died around them. Below her a gush of molten hydrogen from Galvan VI’s atmosphere filled the shaft, melting Lipinski and boiling upward. Before he could move, before he could shout, Eddy calmly shut the emergency bulkhead between them; saving him and dooming herself.

  No!He fought up out of the blackness, his body thrashing to action before his mind was clear. Not this time!

  Desperately Stevens hauled on Pattie’s safety line still clutched in his hands. The hot polymer burned his flesh, he could smell it, but he ignored the pain, ignored the weightlessness of the line, trying to get her out before the corridor collapsed completely. He grabbed empty air before he realized the polymer had melted through.

  Kairn violated his own order, scanning the cave-in from where he lay.

  “Solid for at least twenty meters,” he reported.

  “Beyond that…”

  He stood and adjusted his settings, then scanned again. At last he shook his head, shutting down the tricorder.

  The sound of Eddy’s body thudding hollowly against the bulkhead echoed in Stevens’s ears.

  CHAPTER

  13

  “I’m not a doctor,” Abramowitz said for the third time, “but I think that should hold until we get back.”

  Lauoc’s grip on the safety line had prevented Soloman from flying over the ledge and down the mountainside, but the Bynar had landed hard. He’d fractured a set of bones analogous to a human’s collarbone—a quick fix with an osteostimulator, if they’d had one. Instead Abramowitz had made do with a spray cast from the medkit, immobilizing his neck, right shoulder, and upper arm.

  Stevens suspected getting Soloman back in his environmental suit would present a problem, but decided not to say anything until he had worked out a couple of possible solutions. Instead he focused on redistributing the supplies from Soloman’s and Carol’s packs among the other four.

  Lauoc joined him and began transferring items from Pattie’s smaller pack. He nodded in grateful acknowledgment; he wasn’t quite up to dealing with Pattie’s pack yet.

  “We cannot effect rescue with our current resources,” Tev said, “even if—”

  Kairn cut him off. “Agreed.”

  Stevens wondered for a moment if he’d just seen proof Klingons were more sensitive than Tellarites. More likely Kairn was just heading off another of Tev’s expositions on the obvious.

  “Natives will be here soon to investigate the explosion,” Kairn added. “We need to move before they arrive.”

  “Natives are arriving now,” Lauoc said quietly.

  “What?” Tev demanded.

  Lauoc tapped an ear. “Iron-shod animals on a stone road.”

  “ Khest’ncarbon dioxide stench,” Kairn said. He sniffed the air for a moment, then pointed. “Sixteen individuals, perhaps a hundred meters distant.”

  Without a word the four men slipped into their packs as Abramowitz helped Soloman to his feet.

  Stevens noted Tev had found time to fashion a quarterstaff. Kairn’s hand rested on the hilt of the d’k tahg at his belt; no doubt he did not consider the engineer’s stiletto at his breast to be a weapon. Lauoc’s hands were empty, but Stevens knew the Bajoran had that wicked knife concealed somewhere.

  Unarmed, he moved closer to Abramowitz and Soloman, ready to assist in any rapid retreat.

  “Left the road,” Lauoc said.

  Kairn grunted as eight riders cleared a copse of trees below and split into two groups, moving to surround them.

  Their clothing was a mixture of quilted fabric, leather, and metal, enough alike to suggest uniforms, and they were variously armed with swords and lances. Narrow shields hung from every saddle, and two riders had crossbows slung across their backs. The animals were enough like horses to pass for distant cousins.

  “A fourteenth-century Europe analog?” Stevens estimated, gauging the sophistication and fit of the weapons.

  “Twelfth to eighteenth,” Abramowitz countered. “Don’t get too narrow until you’ve seen how they live.”

  Stevens wondered for a moment where the others were, then realized eight riders on eight mounts made sixteen. Once Kairn learned to tell the smells apart…

  His thought broke off as the newcomers came level and their size registered. The stirruped boots were at his eye level and he could not have touched the smallest animal’s withers without jumping. It was more difficult to judge the riders while they were mounted, but he estimated that their heavy belt buckles would be even with his shoulder.

  If the mismatched sizes bothered Lauoc, Tev, and Kairn, they did not show it. Stevens did his best to emulate them, standing tall between Abramowitz and Soloman and the newcomers.

  For their part, the two groups of riders pulled up, perhaps twenty meters distant and stared. Better than simply killing them outright, Stevens reflected, which would have been more in keeping with the European model.

  “What’s the temperature?” Abramowitz asked abruptly.

  “Twenty-two, twenty-three,” Stevens guessed. “Why?”

  “Heavy clothes indicate cold weather,” Abramowitz said. “Could be part of the breakdown.”

  “Why no gloves, I wonder?”

  “Their hands will be webbed,” Tev answered over his shoulder. “Ill adapted to wearing gloves.”

  “Webbed?” Abramowitz asked. “How can you be su
re?”

  “Note the facial features are in the top third of their heads.” Tev did not turn his own face from the natives. “The eyes and nostrils aligned just below the brow line.”

  He paused a moment, evidently expecting the light to dawn. When Abramowitz and Stevens continued to remain silent, he snorted in disgust.

  “Surely you’re familiar with McCoy’s Comparative Alien Physiology ?” he demanded. “Low profile above the waterline.”

  Abramowitz shrugged, which Tev must have sensed.

  “These mammals are semi-aquatic,” he explained. “In Earth-specific terms: Your ancestors were lemurs, theirs were otters.”

  At this point the natives, whom Stevens resolved not to think of as “otters,” evidently decided they’d learned all they could from a distance. Without apparent signal, the riders moved forward.

  As they drew close, the two groups rejoined to form a semicircle, not so close as to be immediately threatening, but too close for casual escape. Though the swords were sheathed and the lances pointed skyward, Stevens had no doubt their weapons could be brought to bear instantly.

  Without haste, Tev activated his combadge. Kairn nodded, but made no move toward his own. Stevens understood. One combadge’s universal translator was sufficient to decode the native’s language. As its power failed, another could be activated and the language downloaded. Depending on the energy drain, they should be able to communicate for days.

  This close Stevens could see that their forearms and the backs of their hands were covered with sleek fur. Even their faces had short, down-like growth. Their eyes and nose were indeed high on their heads, but any ears they might have had were covered by leather helmets.

  One native—perhaps the leader, though Stevens could see no sign of rank—spoke. His voice was a beautiful, operatic baritone and—though it was always dangerous to guess the significance of voice tone in an alien culture—he seemed more curious than threatening.

  “I am Kairn, engineer in service to the Klingon Empire.” Kairn answered the most likely question. Then, pointing to each of the others in turn, he gave their name, occupation, and planet of origin.