“I guess so,” answered Crusher with her best air of harried superiority. She moved toward the door. “Besides, the only person who can figure out what happened is you. Nobody else was there. But relax—don’t rack your brain. It’s more important that you get better. If you need anything, just call. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“What would you like to eat?” asked Nurse Ogawa pleasantly.
Troi slumped back in her bed, weary and confused, while Beverly kept walking away. Crusher tried not to glance over her shoulder at her troubled patient. If she reported this incident in any detail, it would likely get Deanna relieved of duty for an extended psychological evaluation. Of course, that was in the event that they survived this mission.
The doctor didn’t like things she didn’t understand, and she didn’t understand what had happened to Deanna. Stuck down in sickbay, Beverly hadn’t seen much of the vaunted beauty of Gemworld, but she didn’t care about its beauty. It was dangerous here. She had a bad feeling about Gemworld. She was ready to leave.
Following the directional markings on the curved walls of the shell, Melora Pazlar led Captain Picard and Reg Barclay to another circular door. The few Alpusta and Elaysians they passed gave them a wide berth, and there was no one around to tell them what to do next. Melora knocked on the door, and Barclay lifted his violet shard and waved it about. But nothing happened.
“What’s this?” asked Picard, pushing himself lower. Beneath the door, recessed into the wall itself, was a drawer similar to the ones in the programming room. Picard opened the drawer and searched for a receptacle.
“The crystal,” he said, holding up his hand.
“Yes, sir.” Barclay removed the lanyard from his neck and handed the crystal to Picard, who shoved it into the waiting slot.
A moment later, the doorway opened, revealing not a crowded office but a smooth facet of yellow crystal. Deep within the crystal, bubbles and glints of light danced in the slowly moving marrow. Melora and the two men peered into the topazlike depths, and she wondered whether the Lipul was even present.
The bubbles slowly increased in volume, shifting downward. Nobody moved or said a word. Finally a vague mushroom shape floated upward and drifted in front of them, opening and closing like a miniature bellows. Melora had never been so close to a Lipul, not even in her first encounter as a child, and she stared in wonder at the filmy creature. It looked fragile and helpless, although it might have lived for centuries, even millennia.
This Lipul was a dignitary, thought Melora. For all she knew, it could be the oldest living creature on Gemworld. Perhaps it had sailed on the dreamships that contacted the humans over two hundred years ago.
Still, the Lipul looked tired as it bobbed up and down in the yellow marrow, as if the effort to maintain this position was very taxing. Certainly, these were difficult days for everyone on Gemworld, perhaps more so for the oldest beings among them. They had seen so much, lived through so much, yet they faced a threat they had never seen before.
“Greetings!” said Reg cheerfully.
“Greetings,” answered an artificial voice. “You are the newest.”
“I guess so,” answered Reg with a nervous chuckle. “Do you know . . . how it happened?”
The Lipul fluttered with agitation for a moment, then it settled down in the slow stream of bubbles. “Zuka Juno is dead. An able colleague, I will miss him. But we have you.”
“Well, I don’t know if I make up for losing him,” said Reg sheepishly.
Melora was surprised at this vote of confidence on behalf of the Lipul, but perhaps it knew how instrumental Reg had been during the crisis. What else did the Lipul know?
Captain Picard pressed forward, looking impatient, and Barclay said, “May my captain speak with you?”
“Yes, if his questions are pertinent.”
“They’re pertinent,” replied Picard. “Our ship is also endangered by the rift. Are you aware that one of the senior engineers corrupted the fractal computer program? It’s in an endless loop, drawing dark matter from the rift to feed the mutant crystal. This disaster is the result of sabotage.”
“So you have said,” answered the Lipul, sounding doubtful. “Death and change are natural. To all events, there is a purpose.”
“The purpose of the sabotage is to destroy Gemworld!” blurted Pazlar.
“Or to make Gemworld stronger,” said the disembodied voice. “We do not recognize evil intentions.”
“Do you know that the program is encrypted?” said Melora. “There’s no way to stop it . . . no way to end the growth of the black crystal!”
“Untrue,” answered the Lipul. “The end is death.”
“The death of everyone!” snapped Melora, who was stunned at the Lipul’s cavalier attitude. She had heard that they sometimes acted as if they were above the fray, but this was ridiculous.
“Death is the end. Also the beginning,” replied the scratchy artificial voice. “The Sacred Protector is the key.”
“We know that,” said Melora, getting angry and frustrated. She felt someone grab her arm, and she thought it was Reg, until she saw Captain Picard shaking his head at her.
“He’s right.”
“What do you mean?”
“If the shell died, the crisis would be over,” said the captain with cool understatement.
“But we’d lose our air!” protested Pazlar. “We wouldn’t survive!”
“Uh . . . actually I think the Lipuls would survive,” said Reg. “They would probably adjust to increased gravity better than the rest of you, too.”
“Of course, everyone on the Enterprise would survive, too,” grumbled Pazlar. “Just you and the Lipuls.”
Picard narrowed his eyes at her, but his tone stayed friendly. “I think the senior engineer is saying that shutting down the shell would more than likely shut down the rift as well. This is a hypothetical, worstcase scenario, but it would end the crisis.”
In shock over this devastating idea, Melora turned to see the Lipul bobbing serenely in its yellow gel. The Lipuls thought in vast increments of time, where generations of Elaysians were but seconds on a lengthy timeline. They cared about their neighbors, but they were also inclined to take a long-range view of things.
More than anyone, they could probably envision a great die-off of life on Gemworld because they had spent so much time trying to delay that inevitable scenario. But not now, thought Melora, not during my lifetime.
It would be worse for her, because she would have to witness the extinction of her people from aboard the Enterprise.Then she and her crewmates would fly off, unscathed. Maybe they could save a few hundred Elaysians, but which ones? Who would choose?
Trying to control her emotions, Melora turned to consider Captain Picard. He wasn’t here to save them, she realized, but to protect the interests of the entire Federation. Those interests lay in shutting down the rift in the most expedient manner possible. The needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few, and all that.
She could agree with him on one matter, however. The real target of this attack might not be Gemworld; it could be the Sacred Protector and the oxygen breathers. The planet, the Enterprise, the Federation, and the Lipuls would go on after the shell had been shut down.
If anyone is going to save the day, it will have to be me. Melora’s heart raced unpleasantly at the thought of doing something that would get her thrown out of Starfleet, maybe even arrested and charged. But she couldn’t let them destroy billions of Elaysians, Alpusta, Frills, Yiltern, and Gendlii.
She took a deep breath and blurted out, “Father, do you know who corrupted the program?”
“As you have said, one of the senior engineers,” answered the Lipul. “This knowledge would not serve any purpose, even if you possessed it. Do what you must to kill the Sacred Protecter, and be swift.”
The Lipul drifted upward, as if too weak to fight the slow, sparkling current. The artificial voice continued softly, “To the new one, ha
ve marrow in your bones. The crystal responds to you.”
“Uh, sir? Mr. Engineer!” Barclay peered upward at the departed Lipul and motioned him back, but the amorphous creature was gone. Captain Picard removed the shard from the receptacle and hung it back around Reg’s neck.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” said Pazlar, gnawing her lip, “I don’t know what came over me. I was out of line correcting you and the senior engineer. But I couldn’t stand to hear that we had to shut down the shell! That might save Gemworld in some fashion—as a museum piece—but it would kill most of the life here.”
“Which is why I view it as the very last resort, Lieutenant. Let’s see if we have any other options.” The captain scowled and gazed down the tubular corridor, as if dreading having to navigate another weightless corridor. He tapped his combadge. “Picard to Data.”
“Data here,” answered an efficient voice.
“What’s your status?”
“As expected, we have failed to break the encryption. However, the Jeptah engineers have suggested a promising method of fooling the dark-matter collectors into collecting hydrogen, or some other harmless material. By invading the subsystems that control the collectors, we can pass a variable to the program that will effect this change. The invasion will have to take place on the space-side exterior of the shell, but the Jeptah assure me that there are Alpusta trained for this work.”
“Won’t the rift affect them?”
“No, they feel they can extend the forcefield enough to afford the workers protection for a short time,” answered Data. “I have no firsthand experience with these systems, but the plan appears feasible.”
“What a relief,” said Melora with a huge grin. She gripped Reg’s arm and shook him. “Isn’t that great?”
“Yes,” he answered with a shaky voice.
Picard gave Data a brief account of their activities, but no specifics about what the Lipul had said. With any luck, thought Melora, the idea of turning off the shell will never be mentioned again.
“It will take several hours to finalize these plans,” said Data. “I will stay on duty.”
“So there haven’t been any conflicts with the Jeptah?” asked Picard.
“None so far. They have utilized my talents well.”
“Well done, Data. Picard out.”
Pazlar floated closer to Picard and gave him a conciliatory bow. “Captain, please . . . why don’t I show you the one thing nobody has shown you since you’ve been here. Hospitality.”
“Hospitality,” said Picard with a wan smile. “It’s true, we haven’t seen much of that. But all of us have been so distracted.”
“The commune of my parents is reachable in about an hour by shuttlecraft,” said Melora. “I’ve sent them messages through the people here because our communications are down. But I wasn’t sure I would have a chance to actually visit them. It’s really important to me, and I would like you to meet our people outside of this place where tensions are running so high.”
“I would love to go!” exclaimed Barclay. He glanced sheepishly at Picard. “If that’s okay with you, sir.”
The captain nodded warmly. “It sounds like an excellent idea. Thank you for the invitation.”
Anything it takes, thought Melora, to keep you from shutting down the shell.
Chapter Fifteen
ONCE MELORA WAS SETTLED into the pilot’s seat of the shuttlecraft, she put on the artificial gravity, much to Reg’s relief. Captain Picard sat beside her, relegating Barclay to the stern, but he didn’t care. With artificial gravity and lots of room, he stretched out on the seats and tried to doze while they soared through the azure skies of Gemworld.
Reg was jolted awake by loud thuds and a sudden swerve. He rolled off his chair onto the deck and looked up in time to see Melora feverishly working her console. The window was filled with smoky shards and clouds of mutant crystal, exploding against the shields. They seemed to be flying through an ocean of broken chunks. Pazlar put the tiny craft through evasive maneuvers, trying to avoid the worst of it.
“Hang on!” she cautioned. “We’re almost through.”
“Shields are holding,” said Picard, studying his console.
Just as suddenly as it began, it was over, and they blasted through the noxious cloud into clear blue skies. Only these skies seemed to shimmer and bend. Reg rubbed his eyes and peered out the window at the shifting heavens.
“What’s wrong with the sky?”
“It’s not just the sky,” answered Melora with a smile. “You were asleep when we entered, but this is a stand of sky crystals. Named that because of their color. It’s hard to differentiate the crystals from the sky, but you can if you look closely.”
Reg did look closely, following the bow spit as Melora steered them between the mighty monoliths. From the way one gleaming facet blended into another, he was reminded of the house of mirrors at the amusement park he used to love as a kid. As they descended, the vivid blue facets folded over onto themselves, making the walls look like an undulating prism. It was so beautiful down here, Reg tried not to think how deadly these crystals would be if Pazlar took a wrong turn into them.
The captain never took his eyes off his instruments as he performed the copilot duties. “We’re only about five minutes from the coordinates,” he said.
“Good,” answered Pazlar. “I can taste that home cooking now.”
Barclay had no sense of perspective as they zoomed deeper into the cluster of crystals. It was like descending into a canyon made of glass. Finally he caught a glimpse of dark spots ahead of them, and he feared they might be more mutant crystal.
“What’s that?” he asked worriedly.
“Home,” Melora answered wistfully.
As they plunged deeper, the distance between the prisms narrowed, and the facets converged into a central crux. Reg could see that the dark areas were really nets strung across the crux, and he remembered the nets he had seen before. Melora slowed down, and they passed a handful of Elaysians hovering around crevices and crannies in the old-growth crystal. Seen at close range, the aged monolith was more weathered and beaten than Reg would have imagined. He could also see the telltale signs of black crystal: ominous clouds and broken shards floating in the air like a stain.
“Normally those people would be farming,” grumbled Melora. “Now it looks like they’re removing the mutant growth. I wonder if the crops have been destroyed.”
Reg gulped, feeling bad for Melora. Normally a person wanted to bring guests home when they could see the place at its best, not when it was threatened by disaster. The Elaysians they passed looked up from their labors with curiosity, but they looked desultory and despondent. Some of them were just going through the motions.
As the shuttlecraft glided closer to the center of the great cluster, Reg got a good look at the commune. Nets were stretched across the triangular openings in the crux, arranged in layers, broken into small compartments, like bundles within bundles. Barclay found it strange that even though there was no gravity or planetary surface on Gemworld, there was always a feeling of descending deeper, going beneath the layers.
Melora gently applied thrusters and brought the shuttle to a complete stop. A few Elaysians gathered around and tethered the craft, while others peered curiously into the window.
“Oh, there’s Bozwani!” said Pazlar with delight. “And my teacher for agriculture . . . I forget his name.”
“Why don’t you go ahead,” said Picard, motioning to the hatch. “I’ll make sure the shuttlecraft forwards all hails to us.”
“Could I? Thank you, sir.” Eagerly Melora pressed her console and opened the hatch. “I’m shutting off gravity now.”
Reg braced himself, although that was hardly necessary after he began to float harmlessly off his seat . . . until he bumped his head on the bulkhead. With Pazlar dashing ahead of him, followed by the captain, Barclay had to haul himself out.
He finally made it through the hatch only to find a mob of people fl
uttering around Melora. In their haste, two of the Elaysians brushed past Picard, spinning him around, and for once Reg was there to steady someone instead of the other way around. The two humans moved back toward the shuttlecraft and hovered silently over the reunion.
Melora was treated like a returning hero, which seemed to surprise her, but it made perfect sense to Reg. She called many of the Elaysians by name, and they bombarded her with questions about Starfleet and her life. If anyone had a question about the rift or the smoky crystal, they kept it to themselves. This was the time to welcome home a prodigal daughter, who also happened to be famous for her unusual path in life. In fact, many of them called her “daughter,” and one child called her “mother.”
These were gentle people, as Melora had insisted they were, not driven types like Tangre Bertoran. The reunion was all very heartwarming, and Reg couldn’t help but feel a little teary eyed.
Finally Pazlar managed to shift the attention to the visitors. “And this is Captain Picard, master of the Enterprise, and Lieutenant Barclay, who’s an engineer aboard the Enterprise. He’s also our engineer—Acting Senior Engineer for the shell . . . since the death of Zuka Juno.”
This was a double dose of bad news, thought Reg, judging by the stunned reaction from the crowd of Elaysians. They looked at each other with alarm, then turned toward him with amazement, jealousy, and just plain surprise. Reg felt like a carpetbagger, an outsider who had come in to usurp the power of the locals.
He reminded himself that normal forms of communication were down on Gemworld. These people would be shocked to hear about Zuka Juno’s death even without his involvement. However, they proba bly never thought that a midlevel Starfleet engineer would become one of their most revered dignitaries.
“All the more reason to welcome them to our homes!” declared one woman, crawling upside down across an expanse of netting. “Hello, Daughter!” she called.
“Hello, Dupanza!” called Melora excitedly. She looked as if she wanted to rush to this trusted older woman, but she stayed beside her shipmates. The Elaysians hovering in front of them backed away as Dupanza came closer. She bounced off the runners of the shuttlecraft, soared upward, and grabbed Melora in a warm hug. “My daughter, how you’ve grown! It’s so good to see you!”
GEMWORLD: BOOK ONE OF TWO Page 17