She said nothing. The look she gave him spoke volumes, however. Quickly, he grabbed a bone knitter off the well-stocked cart next to the bed and began working. “What happened?” he asked, his mind in two places at once, as he continued to contemplate the coma patients. As his eyes followed the curve of the patient’s ribs, his ears listened for Chapel’s response.
“Inertial dampers failed in most sections on this deck and a few others,” she answered. “Most of the ship was fine. I was in the corridor, coming back from the lab.” McCoy remembered that he’d sent her to give a brain tissue sample to Harrison, the med tech who was working in the medical lab. “When I got back here, Brent had been knocked out.”
At the worst possible time. McCoy could only hope that the situation didn’t deteriorate any further. He didn’t dare think about what would happen if they received additional patients without being able to discharge at least as many.
Haines moaned loudly, startling them both. McCoy quickly checked her vitals, discovering that Chapel had already given her the maximum dose of painkillers. She shouldn’t be feeling any pain—certainly not enough to make her react this way. “It’s a good thing we’re almost done. Christine, I trust you can finish her up?” he said, flipping off the knitter. With the woman’s ribs mended, he had time to update his triage list. He checked off Haines. Next up was Lieutenant Lewis, with a spinal injury.
When he put the slate back onto the cart, he couldn’t help but glance down at his uniform shirt to study the abstract pattern of red, black, and brown that almost resembled a Neoanarchist surrealistic painting. He’d forgotten to change into his medical smock. When working in sickbay, he much preferred the short-sleeved surgical uniform made of nonabsorbent nanoweave, but he hadn’t worn it today, expecting to be doing nothing more than counting supplies. Eager to feel clean again, he hurried into his office, pulled his soiled shirt off, and began looking for his surgical one.
Can you actually handle surgery today? Sure, you can seal up a broken bone, so what? Even Nurse Chapel can do that. Hell, even Leslie. But what about those two men in comas, almost dying?
Pushing the niggling voice aside, he headed back into sickbay. It was time to get to work.
As he worked on Lewis’s spine, Leslie returned with a couple of other security officers, bearing the injured Saurian and the female officer suffering from internal bleeding. McCoy grabbed Leslie and asked him to take his fellows and continue to bring people in from the other areas of the ship. With his medical training, he’d be a good man to have out there as the sickbay staff worked its hardest.
McCoy just hoped it would be enough.
Chekov stared at the semicircular surface set into the cavern all. They’d seen many of them on the buildings above, but so far, they’d been unable to find a way to open them. The problem was that they weren’t made of any ordinary metal.
“The molecular bonds have been enhanced, sir—a phaser cannot break them,” he said to Kirk. “Some kind of hyperbonded matter.”
The captain had been pacing the periphery of the chamber, as if that would somehow help find Yüksel, and had just made his way back to Chekov’s position. “What about a phaser rifle?” asked Kirk.
Chekov shook his head. “Even its power would be insufficient.” He looked at the readings on his tricorder, which showed the energy level of the bonds. The material was very cleverly made. “With some tinkering, I might be able to disrupt the bonds somehow—”
“Try it, Mister Chekov.” Kirk walked off to talk to Seven Deers, who was trying to open the doors mechanically. Chekov looked at the tricorder display screen and wondered if he would ever see the botanist again. He’d tossed off the idea somewhat unthinkingly, just to have something to say so the captain wouldn’t think he’d lost Yüksel and couldn’t help get him back. It was possible to loosen the molecular bonds, but all the ways he could think of required resources from the Enterprise.
Footsteps signaled that Giotto had walked over to join Chekov. “What about a phaser on overload?” the security chief asked. “Would that have the power?”
“We did not come all this way to this planet to sack it,” Chekov said. “We are not Cossacks.”
“Mister Chekov, once we lost a crew member—” Giotto didn’t say because of you, but Chekov felt it was understood. “—this stopped being a survey mission and turned into a rescue mission.”
Feeling his face grow hot, Chekov lowered his gaze and inspected his tricorder screen. “It might do the job,” he admitted, returning to the security chief’s previous question, “but the damage could be catastrophic. Too much power.”
“I was afraid of that,” said Giotto. He looked over at the captain, who was listening to Seven Deers explain that she could not find a release mechanism for the doors. “But I’m sure we could improvise something.”
Unfortunately, without the Enterprise their options were limited. They’d brought no photon grenades or other explosives, and they could not dig their way into the tunnels from above because they had no excavation equipment.
“Everyone over here!” Kirk ordered. Chekov looked up to see that the captain was now talking to Crewman Tra, the security guard, by the base of the large tree that dominated the chamber. Rawlins and Tra had joined Chekov and Seven Deers after being recalled by the captain, and they’d made their way to this place together.
Chekov and Giotto scrambled through the darkness to where Kirk, Rawlins, and Tra were staring at a tricorder. Chekov noticed Seven Deers shoot the captain a questioning look; he shook his head, and she continued to work on the door.
“Share your report with everyone, Mister Tra,” ordered the captain.
The Arkenite man nodded, holding his tricorder out so that everyone could see its screen, showing strange squiggles and swirls on the sides of buildings. “We found a large amount of what we think is graffiti on the surface. Most of it seemed to be incoherent scrawls—”
“No underlying linguistic patterns,” chimed in Rawlins.
“Exactly. When we were called back here, we took quick scans of everything we could see, and I’ve been sifting through it, and I found this.” Tra pressed a button, and an image of a group of creatures standing under a curved black line appeared. They resembled furry octopi as drawn by a preschooler, and each one was labeled with some kind of alien text. “It’s the only thing we’ve found that clearly represents something.”
“Are these the inhabitants of Mu Arigulon?” asked Giotto. “Could they have taken Yüksel?”
Even though the wall graffiti wasn’t very detailed, it at least gave the landing party an idea of what the inhabitants of Mu Ari V might have looked like. An elongated body with a large “head”—actually not so much a separate body part as a bulbous top, crowned with what could be horns, ears, or eyestalks—formed the center of the creature, and five differently proportioned limbs extended from it in all directions, making it difficult to get an exact idea of the aliens’ anatomy. The color was washed out from decades of being exposed to the elements and covered in dirt.
Assuming this was an accurate depiction of a typical native sapient, it could be extrapolated that the planet had been inhabited by sentient invertebrates.
“Mister Tra,” Kirk said, “forward these scans to the Hofstadter. I’m sure Mister Spock will be fascinated. I want Mister Saloniemi to work on this also.”
“Aye, sir.” The text was the first instance of the alien language they’d encountered, too.
There was just one thing that troubled Chekov. “How do we know these are the aliens, sir?” he asked. “I used to draw dinosaurs on my bedroom wall.” He’d hate for them to get all excited over what might well turn out to be a made-up creature.
“Good point, Mister Chekov. We’ll keep that in mind.”
“They’re inside a dome or building,” said Rawlins. “And the writing looks like dialogue to me. I mean, I’m not an art expert, but—”
“Anthropomorphic animals,” Chekov pointed out. “They might sim
ply be figures of—”
“Captain!” Seven Deers’s voice interrupted them as she ran up to the group.
“What is it, Ensign?” asked Kirk, the graffiti apparently forgotten.
“I think I found a way to open these things up.”
FOUR
Stardate 4757.6 (1309 hours)
An emotional being might say that he “disliked” the rain. But for Spock, it was a matter of efficiency: a dry, still environment presented fewer obstacles than one where vision was limited, and even his sensitive hearing was impaired by constant noise. The landing party pressed forward in the pouring rain, into the alien town.
Spock had landed the Hofstadter next to a large, flat building, interposing the structure between the shuttle and the source of the wind. He left Ensign Saloniemi to work on analyzing the graffiti sent over by the captain’s team, and assigned Petty Officer Emalra’ehn to stay with him for protection. Spock had then set out into the rain with Commander Scott, Lieutenant Jaeger, Doctor M’Benga, and Lieutenant Kologwe.
Their destination was a tall, spindly structure 310 meters ahead, not as impressive as the needle-like towers the Columbus had discovered in the other city. Scans revealed it to be 55.7 meters high and 20.6 meters wide at its base, tapering to 3.1 meters at the top. Its façade lacked the rough surface of the other buildings. Instead, it was covered in tiles of a reflective and slightly translucent material that looked like glass, even through the rain.
Once the landing party gained access, they would attempt to locate the source of the energy reading. This was the only sign of active technology they had thus far encountered. Could it have something to do with Yüksel’s disappearance? Unknown, but even a single dormant computer with an active information store could prove invaluable.
The group moved along an extensive, straight stretch of road, made from a concrete-like substance that was covered in cracks with plants growing out of them. The conspicuous absence of vehicles on the roadways led Spock to theorize that the worldwide disappearance of the Mu Arigulon sentients had occurred in a relatively ordered fashion. Had the circumstances been chaotic, there would be abandoned vehicles.
The buildings were widely spaced, and the wind buffeted the landing party as it swept across the flat surface. Engineer Scott reeled, his poncho protecting him from the water but not the wind, but he managed to draw even with Spock.
“Mister Spock!” he shouted to make himself heard above the howl of the wind. “I want to know how come we havna seen any bodies? The sensors dinna pick up anything, there’s no trace of remains anywhere.” Wiping the rain from his eyes, Scott continued. “If there had been a planetwide catastrophe at some point, surely there’d be bodies still lying where they dropped.”
“Indeed, Mister Scott. I have been considering the same questions. So far, I am not able to offer any theories.”
“I just hope that whatever took them didna take Yüksel.” The engineer fell silent and continued to walk beside Spock.
“What happened to the population depends on how fast the atmosphere became toxic,” Lieutenant Jaeger explained. “It takes time for anything to spread over an entire planet. If they had enough time to think of measures to save themselves, that could explain why they’re gone.”
“What caused the toxicity?” Lieutenant Kologwe asked.
“There are a number of possibilities, but I think the natives did it to themselves,” Lieutenant Jaeger answered.
As they had seen during their orbital survey, the inhabitants had spread out across the face of the planet. Even though the native flora had begun to reclaim what had been taken from it, the scars left by extensive deforestation were still plainly visible. However, Spock could not rule out natural disasters such as volcanic gases, solar flares, or asteroid impacts.
“It must’ve been very bad,” M’Benga said. “We can consider ourselves lucky that the air’s breathable now.”
Jaeger nodded. “For us, it is. There’s no telling if the same would be true for the natives.” He wiped a hand over his face, futilely. “For all we know, they’d have to wait another two or three centuries before they could live here again.”
“Idle speculation will not help us in our search for answers, Lieutenant,” Spock said, needing to curb the geophysicist’s imagination, “especially since we have very little reliable information.”
“Aye, ’tis true.” Scott had stopped under an unusually shaped building that jutted out and provided some shelter. “I canna wait to get my hands on whatever’s making that reading.”
Spock stopped to let the others regain some energy. He remained in the open, surveying the area with his tricorder. Thanks to the pervasive growing interference, he had not yet been able to lock down any data on the energy reading. “You will soon have the opportunity to do so, Mister Scott,” he said. In Spock’s estimation, they would have to walk for seven minutes to reach their destination if they continued at their current pace. “I am aware that we are operating on a considerable number of untested assumptions. However, I trust our situation will soon change. If Ensign Saloniemi succeeds in interpreting the visuals discovered by the captain, we will be able to gain access to a wealth of information.”
Scott looked at him with an uncertain expression. “I just hope that doodles help us find our man.”
“All information is valuable, Mister Scott.”
Deciding that the brief respite had been enough, Spock gave the order to resume moving. Ahead of them stood the spindly tower, barely visible in the sheets of rain that continued to pour from above.
“It’s very interesting, Captain,” Seven Deers said, motioning at the now-open semicircle. It revealed a smooth and featureless tunnel, curving as it progressed. “It looks like there’s no way in, but it’s just camouflaged. I discovered it accidentally—I leaned against the wall.”
Kirk had to smile at that. “Good work nevertheless. How does it work?”
Seven Deers pointed at a dark blotch on the wall, at hip height and very inconspicuous, next to the semicircle. “This is a touch-sensitive button, sir. Press this, and the section of the wall retracts.”
Kirk wondered if it was subtle for aesthetics, or for another reason. The captain peered into the depths of the tunnel. The walls seemed to be made of the same hyperbonded material as the doors. They were unlit, but his flashlight revealed only a continuous surface.
They would have to go in one of these tunnels if they wanted to find Yüksel. Lacking any better option, Kirk decided to try this tunnel, the one he’d found the botanist’s flashlight in front of. He ordered Tra to relay their discovery about the doors to Spock’s team.
“Let’s go.” Kirk pulled his phaser out, and Chekov followed behind him, waving his tricorder in every possible direction. Giotto assumed the rear.
Every footstep the group took sent echoes up and down the tunnel, and Kirk had trouble differentiating them from noises that might genuinely be coming from the end.
Once they were out of sight of the original chamber, they came across another door, which was easily opened. This led into a smaller chamber, unlike anything Kirk had seen before. During his time in Starfleet, he’d visited many alien planets and seen many strange civilizations, but this was something else. The small room’s walls—all rounded—were dotted with holes leading into small tunnels.
“Be careful,” said Kirk. “We still don’t know what happened to Yüksel.”
With Chekov’s tricorder to guide them, they began to crawl into one of the tunnels. Kirk went first, his phaser in one hand and Yüksel’s flashlight in the other. The only noise was a low hissing sound. “Is that some kind of machinery, Mister Chekov? Pneumatics?”
Chekov fiddled with his tricorder for a moment before admitting, “Unclear, sir.”
Suddenly, Kirk lost his footing and tumbled forward onto the ground. His elbows and lower back ached slightly where he’d landed, but he ignored them and came up into a crouch. Cautiously, he waved his phaser back and forth, but there w
as nothing. He’d fallen into a small room. The hissing noise was a little louder, but there was nothing else in there.
A moment later, Chekov and the others entered the room behind him. They quickly ascertained that it had four more tunnels leading off in various directions—including one that was a straight vertical ascent.
“Whoever built this,” said Kirk, shining his light up the hole, “must have been very limber.”
Chekov nodded but said nothing, focusing on his tricorder. The captain realized that he was trying to make a good impression, trying his best to find their missing crew member.
“What way now, Chekov?”
Chekov shrugged. “I can find no life signs, Captain.”
Kirk considered for a moment. If they wanted to explore this place efficiently, they’d have to split up. The buddy system would be safest, even if it was a risk. “Tra and Rawlins, you take that one.” He pointed to the leftmost tunnel. “Seven Deers and Giotto, up the right one. Chekov, you’re with me.” He looked at the vertical tunnel above their heads. “We’ll have to wait for a champion rock climber to handle that one,” he said with a smile. “I want everyone to maintain a constant lock on each other’s life signs, and above all,” he added, “stay together.” The groups headed off.
Continuing through the tunnel, Kirk and Chekov soon realized that there was no smooth surface; instead it appeared as though they’d entered a large sponge. Holes and tunnels dotted this subterranean lair, some large enough for Kirk to step into without having to duck, while others were barely big enough for a child to crawl through. There were no flat surfaces anywhere, no angles, no hard edges.
Kirk moved into each new section of the tunnel with his phaser drawn, but there was never anything but that omnipresent hissing noise, not even lights. Finally they entered a room that was slightly larger than normal, with hollow bowl shapes set into the floor.
“What is this place?” Chekov asked. “It reminds me of the old government buildings in Moscow. Laid out to be as confusing as possible.”
Star Trek®: A Choice of Catastrophes Page 7