Barclay could see the captain’s resolve harden even as his expression softened to its most diplomatic. “Our fates are linked together. The Enterprise can’t leave Gemworld, and no other ships can come here as long as that rift is open. If you’re destroyed, we’re destroyed. To fight this thing, we have to be open and honest with each other. If we require access to the Sacred Protector, you will have to give it to us.”
Bertoran raised a finger with a triumphant smile.“And if we require your ship, you will give us access, right? Perhaps the best way to dispense with the rift is the most direct. Why don’t you apply some firepower, and decimate it with quantum torpedoes? Our scientists feel that might work.”
“That might work,” agreed Picard, “but without a doubt it would be a suicide mission.”
“We lose one ship and a volunteer skeleton crew,” said the white-haired Elaysian with a shrug. “That’s better than losing a planet of billions of souls.”
Suddenly one of the Alpusta sprang forward on a rapidly elongating web. The remarkable creature stopped directly in front of Bertoran and bobbed up and down, blocking his view and clearly interrupting him. The Alpusta extended another web into the cluster of crystals in the center, and the shards pulsed with earthier, duller colors for a moment.
A scratchy, metallic voice intoned, “Captain Picard, you will have access to any system you desire. Current needs override old traditions. The Jeptah are on many of the teams which serve the Sacred Protector, but they serve at the will of the Exalted Ones. We will meet you at the Ninth Processing Gate on the shell in one shadow mark.”
“Thank you,” answered Picard, not pushing for details.
Tangre Bertoran and several other Elaysians didn’t hesitate to show their displeasure by linking up and flying from the immense cavern. Melora looked concerned by this development, but she remained at the side of her shipmates, staring straight ahead.
Without warning, something moved high above them in the shadows of the crystal cavern. Reg looked up, as did Deanna, Pazlar, and the captain. What appeared to be a brown blanket, or maybe a carpet, fluttered slowly down, its fringed edges curling in the air. This flying creature, which seemed to have no front or back, head or tail, dropped down and undulated over the cluster in the center. The shards glowed more brightly than they had for any of the others, as if its life-force were double the others.
“Yiltern,” whispered Melora.
The amazing creature suddenly elongated into a thick rope and flew swiftly toward the exit. As it passed over the visitors’ heads, Reg gaped in astonishment—what appeared to have been one seamless creature was actually a flock of tiny bat-like things, flying so close together it was as if they were connected by a single mind. As they approached the narrow slit, the flock reformed into the flying carpet shape, did a ninety-degree turn, and slipped gracefully out.
The scratchy voice sounded again. “the debate is over. You are dismissed.”
The Lipuls in the walls faded into the murky gel in which they lived; in a moment, they were all gone. The Alpusta disconnected its web from the cluster of crystals and recoiled on its other web until it had rejoined its fellows. Hushed whispers and suspicious glares came from the remaining Elaysians. In the center of the vast cavern, the glowing cluster grew dark, and even the refracted sunlight in the cavern seemed to grow dim.
“Link hands,” said Melora softly.
The visitors wasted no time and followed her suggestion. They floated quietly from the heart of the aged crystal. Reg wasn’t sure if they were silenced more by Gemworld and its inhabitants or by the scope of the problem confronting them. Either way, it was hard not to fear that they were in over their heads.
Commander Will Riker stood on the bridge of the Enterprise, marveling at the unusual images on the newly repaired viewscreen. Scores of technicians worked on the hull of the Enterprise in bright sunlight and blue skies, unencumbered by spacesuits and lifelines. They worked quickly because no one knew when the next avalanche might come, but at least they worked with relative ease. A few of them used jetpacks to cover wide areas, and the others maneuvered to the open hatches with magnetic boots and exo-hull gear. Under these ideal conditions, thought Riker, their molecular patches on the outer hull would no doubt hold until they could reach a starbase.
This place would make a perfect starbase, Riker decided. It would be the only one in Starfleet where a full-size ship could hang in weightless suspension in a class-M atmosphere. It was a natural, although he could never see the reclusive inhabitants giving their permission. On the other hand, the whole planet seemed a bit unreal and impermanent, even if it had lasted for billions of years. The dimensional rift and the strange gravity spikes—these might be the beginning of the end for a planet that had outlasted its natural time.
Riker paced the bridge, avoiding the technicians who were replacing the entire conn station. Despite the progress of the work crews both inside and out, he would be glad when they could clear the area and put up the shields.
“Commander,” said the voice of the female Deltan on tactical. “Starfleet has finally acknowledged our message, version four-one-nine.”
Riker sighed and gave her an unabashed grin. “Good job, Lieutenant.” They had been trying since their arrival to get a brief message through the interference caused by the rift. The message wasn’t so much a call for help as a warning to stay away. Normal subspace channels hadn’t worked, but one of the obscure emergency frequencies finally had. He only hoped that Starfleet heeded the warning.
At that thought, the smile faded from Will’s clean-shaven face. If Starfleet did heed their warning, then they were all alone here. They either had to save Gemworld or fall to pieces with it.
Chapter Seven
AT THE CORE OF GEMWORLD, a tiny shuttlecraft drifted slowly among clusters of dark, misshapen crystals. The ship was dwarfed by twisted prisms and spires, growing in chaotic profusion. Every few seconds, chunks of the crystal broke off and floated outward, like cold embers from a dead fire. Only the shuttlecraft’s shields protected it from the deadly shards, which evaporated in colorful sparks along its hull. Clouds of black debris followed the shuttlecraft where the crystals had disintegrated.
Deanna Troi stared out the window and found it impossible to believe that these huge, black masses had not been here a few short weeks ago. Now they looked as if they were about to expand, crashing the old, bleached crystals which ringed the once hollow core of Gemworld.
It was crowded inside the shuttlecraft, with Data at the controls, Captain Picard on copilot, Reg Barclay, Melora Pazlar, and herself all craning forward from the rear seats. As beautiful and elegant as the structures above them were, these looked ugly, diseased, and weak. Yet they were growing at a tremendous rate, making the broken shards seem like casualties in a war of attrition.
Data studied his instrument panel intently, then he peered out the window. “I am very interested in the nutrient strands which are feeding the crystal. I wish we could get close enough to see exactly where they lead.”
“My people checked that out,” said Pazlar. “The strands are growing spontaneously from older irrigation systems that were supposed to be dormant. There’s no control from the programs that are supposed to regulate them—they’re taking the nutrients from the regular flow. It’s as if a plant that was dead came back to life, only mutated in some horrible fashion.”
“But where are the nutrients coming from?” asked the captain.
Melora looked down. “Ultimately, all nutrients come from the shell. All this unrestrained growth is causing the shell to overproduce nutrients to maintain these new strands.”
“Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” said Barclay thoughtfully.
Pazlar looked puzzledly at him. “I don’t understand that reference.”
Reg smiled sheepishly. “I mean . . . has the crystal growth caused the shell to go crazy? Or has the shell caused the crystals to go crazy?”
“The shell can’t ‘go cra
zy,’ ” snapped Melora brusquely. “The rift and the bombardment of dark matter . . . that’s what’s causing all of this.”
“We cannot make a determination at this time,” said Data. “The increased thoron radiation makes it dangerous to stay here for very long, and it is impossible to get any closer.”
“It’s hard to imagine this was once solid ore, like a conventional planet,” said Troi.
“I remember it as wide, open space . . . a place to learn to fly,” said Melora glumly. She still appeared to be in shock from the disfigurement of her fragile, jewel-like world. Until they had seen this obscene, unchecked growth, none of them had really appreciated how bad things were.
Picard glanced at the chronometer on his instrument panel. “If I’m not mistaken, one shadow mark is a bit less than an hour.”
“That’s right,” answered Pazlar.
“Then it’s time that we meet our hosts at the Ninth Processing Gate.”
“Perhaps I could navigate for Commander Data,” said Melora.
“By all means.” The captain rose from the co-pilot’s seat. Both he and Barclay needed to help Pazlar to her feet. Since the Elaysian had been flying freely most of the day, she no longer wore her anti-grav suit. Even the slightest movement was difficult for her with the shuttlecraft’s artificial gravity.
After Melora got situated in the copilot’s seat, she directed Data in a steady but cautious climb through the jungle of crystals. It was a relief to get away from the black cluster at the heart of the planet, but it was impossible to look at healthy crystal without seeing how deformed it could become. This aged planet had led many lives, thought Deanna, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it were on its last.
While they ascended to the upper levels, Captain Picard contacted the ship and received some good news. Their message had finally reached Starfleet, outlining their own dire situation and warning Starfleet off from any rescue attempts. Repairs were also going better than expected, and crews would soon be finished working on the hull. The Enterprise still didn’t have warp drive, but that hardly mattered at the moment. They weren’t going anywhere as long as that dimensional rift loomed just outside the planet’s protective shell.
“Data,” said the captain, “I know we told them it wouldn’t work, but would a brace of torpedoes have any effect on the rift?”
“Unknown,” answered the android. “We know very little about the anomaly. It is interesting that dark matter is spewing out rather than being sucked in. This would indicate that any destructive actions could backfire. It also indicates an equalization is taking place.”
“Equalization?” asked Troi.
The android nodded. “Just as air flows from one room to another if the air pressure is unequal, dark matter might be flowing into our dimension to equalize some sort of imbalance. Perhaps the imbalance was caused by the inhabitants collecting and converting dark matter for their own use.”
“I doubt it,” said Melora. “We’ve been doing that for centuries—why would it cause such problems now?”
“That is a good question,” said Data. “I have not had enough time to study Gemworld, but I can make one observation: it is unique. Gemworld is a singularity unto itself, unlike any other known body in space, and its long-term effects on the cosmos are unknown.”
Pazlar scoffed angrily. “Do you think we did this to ourselves?”
“Inhabitants have been known to do irreparable harm to their own planets, through accident or neglect.”
“Not us,” insisted the Elaysian. “We have a long history of preserving our planet. We’ve kept our culture simple, so there’s no pollution, and we have nurtured every form of life. Everything we’ve done has been to extend the life of Gemworld. The Exalted Ones would never allow anyone to harm it.”
“Nevertheless, harm is being done,” said Data bluntly.
As if ignoring him, Melora turned to her instrument panel. “You want to bear zero-mark-zero-two-nine.”
“Acknowledged,” said Data, making the course correction. He continued to deftly pilot the shuttlecraft upward through the intricate layers of crystal growth, avoiding every sweeping archway and mammoth pillar. It seemed darker now on this side of the planet, but just barely. It was a sort of twilight, with overlapping shadows caused by the great monoliths.
“Is there never any night here?” asked Troi.
“Not like there is on most planets,” said Melora. “Because Gemworld isn’t solid anymore, light filters through constantly, no matter where the sun is. When I first went to Starfleet Academy, the nights were almost harder to get used to than the gravity. At least the gravity was constant. The nights seemed to come so quickly and with such finality. I used to lay awake, worrying that the sunlight wouldn’t return.”
Deanna shook her head in amazement. “I don’t think I’ve met many people in Starfleet who have had to make as many adjustments as you. We have many non-humanoid species, but they have special ships outfitted just for them. But as the only Elaysian in Starfleet, you’re not going to get any special ships outfitted just for you.”
“I’ve noticed that,” answered Pazlar with a smile. She glanced at Reg Barclay. “People always want to know why I’m in Starfleet, and why I’ve stayed so long. I’ve seen some incredible places, but I think I’ve stayed mostly for the people. Had I stayed on Gemworld, I never would have met any of you . . . or the hundreds of other officers I’ve served with. I can always be an Elaysian, flying among the crystals, but I’ll only be young and footloose now.”
“Have you ever considered the diplomatic corps?” asked Data. “It would appear that we require more contact with your people.”
She smiled with amusement. “Unfortunately, I’ve never been very diplomatic. When I leave Starfleet, I always thought I would come home and teach my people about the Federation. We have a hunger for knowledge, even if we don’t like to leave home. But if we survive this crisis, maybe that will change. Maybe I won’t be the only Elaysian in Starfleet.”
“We are almost at our destination,” said Data. “Are there any security precautions I should know about?”
“No. The Ninth Processing Gate is a major entrance to the shell. Lots of supplies go in and out, as well as workers. I’m sure they’ll be expecting us.”
Troi sat forward to get a good look at the ancient machine she had heard so much about. As the shuttlecraft drew closer, what looked like gray clouds solidified into bands of metal traversing the planet like a wire mesh. As they drew closer yet, the metal bands became metal walls with odd portholes and kidney-shaped cutouts. Through the holes and gaps in the shell, she could see the shimmer of forcefields and the darkness of space beyond. It was disconcerting to see blue sky and black space so close together, with no blend between them. It felt like the shell was keeping them prisoner as much as it was protecting them.
There was considerable activity around one of the portholes. Flocks of Elaysians hovered about, and a nest of Alpusta bounced nervously on their webs. From this same opening, colorful tendrils snaked into a thick coil which descended to the surface. It looked like a giant vine, thought Deanna, and she couldn’t help but to think of Jack and the Beanstalk, a tale her father had told her. In a way, that’s what this was—a magical world floating on top of the real world.
As the shuttlecraft glided slowly toward the opening, Troi revised her opinion. Now that she clearly saw the bolts, pits, welds, and patches in the shell, she realized it was a machine—perhaps the grandest machine ever built, but a machine nevertheless. This made the playground of spires and prisms below them seem all the more unreal, like hothouse tomatoes growing in the winter. In a way, Gemworld was nothing but the galaxy’s biggest fishbowl, with air instead of water.
Data stopped the ship a safe distance from the gate. Once again, Elaysians encircled them and tethered the shuttlecraft, showing a lot of enthusiasm but very little efficiency. Troi could sense that all this special treatment was beginning to grate on the captain. He wanted to stride
briskly wherever he felt like going—not wait until it was safe for them to be escorted, floating and helpless.
“We seem to be secure,” reported Data uncertainly.
“Open the hatch,” said the captain impatiently. He was already on his feet, waiting to get out, then he stepped back and motioned to Lieutenant Pazlar. “After you.”
She tried to get up and groaned. “I could use a hand.”
Barclay and the captain came to her aid and helped the Elaysian to the door. She leaped for joy off the shuttlecraft and whirled around like a swimmer in midair. “In time, flying will come to you like second nature,” she assured them.
Deanna didn’t feel as if she were flying yet, but their exit from the shuttlcraft was more orderly than the first time. Even Barclay made it without a problem. One of the Alpusta broke off from its fellows and swooped toward them on its web, its legs pumping slowly. Troi almost ducked with alarm, but she maintained her friendly demeanor while she tried to float without pinwheeling her arms. She hoped the Alpusta knew how to control its flight.
It did, extending its leg to the shuttlecraft and stopping just in front of them. It was impossible for her to tell if this was the same Alpusta who had spoken to them at the gathering of the Exalted Ones, but it carried itself regally. She supposed it might be ten meters across if its legs were outstretched, although its spiny black torso was only a meter or so across. The Alpusta seemed to have as many eyes as legs; they were mounted on thin stalks which swiveled curiously as it regarded the visitors.
She noticed a green crystal hanging like a belt beneath the Alpusta’s torso and above its numerous legs. The crystal glimmered, and they heard the same metallic, synthesized voice they’d heard earlier in the chamber of the Exalted Ones.
“I am Jrojak of the Exalted. Hold my web and follow me into the Sacred Protector.”
From his thoracic region, a silky, glimmering web shot forward about three meters. Captain Picard grabbed it gamely and held out his other hand to Troi. She was glad for his strong, confident grasp. Melora pulled Reg over and took Troi’s hand, while Data took Barclay’s free hand and the rear position. Like a chain of paper dolls, they were soon trailing after the Alpusta in a jerky ride into the interior of the shell.
GEMWORLD: BOOK ONE OF TWO Page 8