The Tereshkova beamed us aboard on schedule. We were greeted in the transporter room by the captain and first officer of the ship, who, after showing us where we could store our equipment, led us directly to the briefing for the expedition. It was there that we met the Starfleet officers who would be with us, four human men. There were two scientists, Doctors Jaurez and Milton, a xenobiologist and an astrophysicist respectively; a security officer named Jon Chin; and a fleet captain, Christopher Pike, of Starbase 11. It seemed unusual that such an esteemed member of Starfleet would be leading a relatively minor scientific expedition, but it turned out that the comet had been discovered under Captain Pike’s command, during some kind of cadet training voyage.
Of all of them, Christopher Pike stands out most clearly in my memory. There was something about him ... He had the look of authority, silvering hair, rather piercing blue eyes, the shoulders-back carriage of a man used to command. But it was more than that; a kind of casual brilliance, I suppose, a flexibility of thought that only rarely exists in men of his age and position. I had been concerned that we would be led by some stiff and unimaginative military type, someone who wouldn’t allow us to do the kind of work we had planned. But after just a few moments of informal conversation, I decided that I was most pleased that he would be with us. If something were to go wrong, Womb forbid, Captain Pike would hold together.
The mission briefing was short and simple: Get in, collect data, get back out again. The probe had detected traces of kelbonite, a transporter inhibitor, so we’d be going down by shuttlecraft. There were a few questions from Doctor Jaurez about the bioreading, which Jayvin managed to answer without answering; the two hit it off, actually, spending several hours after the short meeting exchanging thoughts on various developments in multispecies pharmacology. Looking back, I’m glad that Jayvin’s last day was spent with a colleague, learning and sharing. It was what he loved.
I spent some time with our mission leader while Jayvin talked science with the others. Pike and I had an engaging conversation about the responsibilities of leadership, and he told me several interesting stories from his days as a starship commander. When I asked why a fleet captain had chosen to head the expedition, he said that it kept him young—not field work, but remembering that he was never too old to learn. At times, I had to remind myself that I wasn’t talking to a joined Trill; a very thoughtful man, for so short an experience.
When we reached the comet, it was the middle of the night for your father and me, but we pressed to begin the investigation immediately. There were no objections; all six of us were excited for the unlikely adventure. As we suited up and loaded the shuttle with our various tools, the exhilaration was a palpable thing. Even Mr. Chin, who would almost certainly have nothing to do outside of piloting the shuttle, was eager, joking about ice monsters in the dark mass. We all laughed.
We got our first good look at the comet from the shuttle, or at least I did; I’d been too busy gathering equipment aboard the Tereshkova to bother with a visual survey, and although I had read the stats, I was surprised by the barren immensity of it. Fifty-four kilometers in diameter, its gaseous tail stretching out over a hundred thousand kilometers behind it, ice and grit repelled by the system’s sun, a hazy path in the solar winds. Dr. Milton was intent on the computer reads as Chin took us down to the surface, the scientist frowning at what he called an “unknown agent” amid the hydroxyl radicals. At the time, it was just another anomaly to be catalogued.
Starfleet had been unable to pin the source of the life reading, but we quickly assessed that it was coming from somewhere deep inside; the comet was riddled with labyrinthine caves, the ice sculpted into yawning tunnels that twisted randomly throughout the massive body. We had expected as much; what we hadn’t expected was the faint, phosphorescent glow that appeared to emanate from the fissures in the comet’s surface, not visible until we were within a few kilometers of setting down.
Milton mumbled something about clouded ice formations, but it was obvious that he was as unnerved as the rest of us. There was nothing beautiful about the erratic glowing lines that scarred the comet, that crept into the darkness of the gaping caverns; it was a sickly light, the yellow-green of bruised flesh, the luminosity like that of some deep-sea creature that lives and dies in darkness. Jayvin and Doctor Jaurez checked readings, directing our pilot to where the biosignature was strongest, somewhere beyond the mouth of one of the larger caves.
We set down just outside of the cavern, the initial excitement of our party considerably muted by the sight of those unhealthily shining lines. It appeared that the probable life-form was only three or four kilometers past the opening, and Pike suggested that we could examine the strangely lit cracks on our way to the source. We loaded up, activated the Starfleet-issue environmental suits and gravity boots, and left the relative warmth of the shuttle for the sub-zero dark.
The nearest light-line was twenty meters or so from the shuttle, running up one side of the cavern’s opening. Each of us carrying our equipment and the Starfleet party armed with handheld phasers, we moved to the line and gathered around, leaning in for a closer look. It was perhaps half a meter wide, and according to Dr. Milton’s tricorder, not much deeper—and as he adjusted his sensors for composition, Jayvin got a flash of signal on our plisagraph. An electrical impulse, invisible, had traveled through the glowing matter. Jayvin handed the ’graph to me, keeping his face carefully neutral as Milton told us what we already knew; the opaque, luminescent stuff was liquid. Viscous, the consistency of dense mud and covered with a layer of ice, it was capable of conducting the electrical language of a symbiont-like being. Their tricorder hadn’t caught the split second of mild current, but we knew. We knew that somewhere inside of the comet, some as yet unknown relative of Dax or Vod, of Cyl—someone was there.
Unable to break down the composition, Milton took a scraping of the frozen top layer and we moved deeper into the cave, both Jayvin and I exchanging looks of renewed zeal. We had already discussed how to handle the possibility of actually finding a symbiont in front of the humans. Our explanation would be a half-truth, that the symbiont was a primitive life-form, one with a complex arrangement of RDNAL strands that some Trills had inherited. Our plisagraphs, designed specifically for the study of symbiont life, would give us precise readings; their tricorders wouldn’t, or so we hoped. That Milton hadn’t been able to pick up the faint pulse in the glowing liquid seemed a good indicator.
I know that you understand our excitement, the multitude of questions and hopes and theories that swept through us when we realized what we were facing. Was some ancient traveler from another world responsible for the beginning of life on Trill? Were the symbionts even indigenous to the homeworld? What if there was another homeworld, one that preceded Trill by hundreds, even thousands of centuries? I remember the bright intensity of Jayvin’s gaze behind his visor, the smile that he couldn’t seem to wipe away. I remember wondering at the implications for Trill ... and thinking that we shouldn’t assume anything, even as I assumed that we would find a race of beings like our own, a connection between ourselves and the universe that would bring us into a new era of self-awareness.
The cavern twisted and turned, always sloping down, randomly branching into intersections and tunnels that wound through the icy rock. If not for our various sensory devices, we would have been hopelessly lost. Pike led the way, Milton and Jaurez giving direction, Jon Chin bringing up the rear, and we passed many more of the communication lines, shining like dying fires and casting much of the rough cavern into deep shadow.
We walked for what seemed like days, each moment dragging. I was so eager to find the origin of the life sign, to communicate with it, that I could hardly keep from running. Several times we had to backtrack, led astray by curves and twists, which only made my anticipation greater. Jayvin felt the same; I could hear it in his tone, as he relayed distance and signal strength, as he and Jaurez made small talk about human ancestry. We were impatient and im
passioned, those feelings blocking out anything else we might have intuited about the situation.
Finally, Pike had us stop just outside of a rather large chamber lit with the slimy glow of the liquid conductor. We had reached our destination. A haze of sallow light spilled out into the passage, and as Pike and Mr. Chin drew their phasers—Pike setting his on stun and ordering Chin to set his for a higher intensity—Jayvin and I waited anxiously. I thought we had been discreet, but as Chin stepped ahead of us into the greenish light, Pike held back, fixing us with a searching gaze as he touched the communication control just below his helmet. The other two scientists followed Chin into the chamber, and I saw, with no real surprise, that Pike had cut his men out of the com-circuit; he meant to speak to us privately.
“You know what’s in there, don’t you?” he asked softly, but it wasn’t really a question. “You don’t have to explain, not now ... but you know. All I need to know is whether or not it’s dangerous.”
Jayvin looked to me to answer, and although I had our lie on my lips, I found that I couldn’t tell it. I doubt very much that he would have believed it, anyway, but I did the best I could—I told him that we knew nothing certain, but that we had hopes, and that we couldn’t speak any further on it until we had a chance to see for ourselves.
“And no,” Jayvin added, smiling a little, “it’s not dangerous.”
Pike studied both of us a moment longer, then nodded slowly, letting the matter drop. I found out later that he blamed himself in part for the events that followed, because he hadn’t pursued it any further. It’s almost funny, how we all rush to take responsibility when something goes wrong, when we feel that we should have acted differently. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that, trying to assign blame to whomever deserved it most—only to come to the painful realization that sometimes, things happen that no one can foresee. Things happen because they do.
Together, we went to join the three men who had already found the source of the biosignature, Jayvin and I fumbling with our plisagraphs and test kits and cursing our bulky gloves. I suppose I had expected something like the Mak’ala cave pools, even in the sub-zero temperature—but other than the fact we were in a cave, nothing was the same.
The reading came from a raised basin at the far side of the chamber, filled with the same luminescent sludge that ran through the comet like lifeblood. Jagged shards of murky ice crusted the sides and top of the raised vessel, which was only a meter across and hewn from the same composite rock as the rest of the chamber. Great trails of the sludge liquid crisscrossed the walls all around, making strange light patterns across the faces of the men standing in front of the chest-high basin, throwing shadows against the piles of broken rock on the uneven floor.
Jayvin aimed his ’graph at the pool and grinned, holding it up for me to see even as Jaurez began to report.
“There’s a life-form of some kind in there ... complex arrangement, carbon-based, it should be frozen, but ... I can’t get an exact size, it seems to be shifting—” The Starfleet xenobiologist shook his head. “Between eight and twelve centimeters long ... and according to this, it’s at least four thousand years old.”
Our readings were more definite—and it was closer to six thousand. The machine registered complex neural activity, and picked up more of the soft electrical pulses that we’d noted earlier in the glimmering organic fluid. It was not a symbiont, it was smaller and the shape was different, but it was so close at a genetic level that there was no doubt they were related. No doubt in my mind.
Jayvin was still grinning as he pointed to the gentle flux of numbers on the ’graph’s monitor; he didn’t need to speak. It was trying to communicate with us, we knew it, and I knew that nothing would ever be the same, that I could no longer think of our people as isolated, as alone. Tragically, I was right.
The Starfleet men put away their weapons and all of us moved closer to the basin, my heart pounding, my thoughts racing—when I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my head. It was like the onset of one of Emony’s headaches, but much more intense—the sensation of a raw knife sliding into soft tissue, horrible, killing pain—and then it was gone, just as suddenly. I faltered, putting my hand on Jayvin’s shoulder, speaking his name—but he shrugged it off and kept walking. I was surprised at Jayvin; it was unlike him to ignore me.
“Jayvin,” I called, and again, he didn’t respond. I think that’s when I first knew something was wrong.
Everything happened quickly after that.
The Starfleet scientists were studying their tricorders. Mr. Chin was looking down into the pool, perhaps trying to catch a glimpse of the creature beneath the sheet of gleaming ice. Pike took a step toward me, frowning, perhaps about to ask me if I was all right, but I was watching Jayvin, suddenly worried. Suddenly afraid.
At once, all of the alarms on his suit began to go off. A series of shrill bleats poured into my helmet, spurring my fear to panic. His heart rate, temperature, and blood pressure had all spiked dangerously high, and they continued to rise as he stepped toward the basin, as he dropped his equipment and bent down over it.
All of the men were talking at once, confused, Pike shouting for Jayvin to move away. I took a single step forward, my own suit’s distress alarm sounding, memories of fear joining my own—
—When something shot out of the pool, something small and dark, splinters of ice shattering—
—And Jayvin staggered back silently. His hands flew to his head and he stumbled, ice crystals falling around him like mist, the terrible, rotting light surrounding him like a wash of poison.
Mr. Chin was closest. He reached out and Jayvin clutched at him, pulling him off balance. I didn’t understand what was happening until Jayvin shoved Chin away, still silent, one hand still pressed to his faceplate—and Chin’s phaser in his other hand.
There was a blast of light and the security officer screamed, but only once. Jayvin spun, pointing the weapon at the two scientists as Chin collapsed to the floor, the rush of air from what was left of his suit expelling in a whoosh—
—And then Pike fired, hitting Jayvin in the chest—but to no effect. Jayvin was still standing, seemingly unaffected, and before Pike could change the setting on his phaser, Jayvin was firing at us. Pike jerked me away, pushing me back to the tunnel as rock exploded silently in flashes of blue-white. I struggled, screaming for Jayvin to stop as Pike fought to get me out of the chamber. If he hadn’t, I would have been as dead as Chin, as Jaurez and Milton. They didn’t even have time to drop their tricorders before the brilliant strobe of the deadly Starfleet weapon filled the vacuum, twice more.
I heard Jayvin shout, a single cry of what might have been terror—and Pike pushed me behind an outcropping of ice, slapping at the controls on both of our suits to turn off the blaring alarms. The chamber was clouded with frozen air, a billion reflectors for the diseased light of the yellow-green ooze.
Jayvin wasn’t Jayvin. It was the creature, the thing we had thought was a symbiont.
I started talking, fast, unable to keep the desperation from my voice. I begged and commanded, I swore and reasoned, telling Jayvin not to let it take hold, not to let it win. I pleaded for Vod to stop it. I said a lot of things, the words blurring together as Pike continued to dart glances back into the chamber, trying to shield me as he stabbed at the emergency call on his suit.
Jayvin didn’t answer; he said nothing at all, and when I risked a look back into the gangrenous light of the alien’s womb chamber, I saw him standing and shuddering, a smear of clouded ice across the bottom of his helmet. He still held the phaser, but seemed unaware of our presence.
Pike saw our chance, and took it. He motioned silently for me to stay put and stepped away from the wall. As quickly as he could, he crept back into the chamber, holding his phaser ready, obviously meaning to stop Jayvin without killing him. I kept talking, not knowing what else to do, but I don’t believe that Jayvin heard me. Already, he was past that.
Pike had almost re
ached him when the thing took hold again. I caught a glimpse of Jayvin’s eyes, all that was visible above the crackle of jaundiced ice that had resettled his helmet in the wake of the creature’s violent passage. His eyes were blank and unseeing, the slack gaze of a corpse—but it saw us. It snapped the phaser up, faster than should have been possible, and pointed it at Pike.
I remember screaming, and Pike kicked off of the ground, hurtling himself at the creature that wore Jayvin’s body. Pike crashed into him, losing his own phaser as the creature fired, the phaser’s beam turning another chunk of wall into powder—and then they were battling for control of the weapon, Pike gasping, Jayvin not seeming to breathe at all.
I watched in horror as the phaser went off again—and another rush of air blew into the chamber, new ice crystals forming and floating and bathing the two men in shining fog. Pike fell away, clutching at the massive tear in his suit, shouting for me to run as he worked desperately to hold together the scorched fabric across his side.
I knew that Pike could not defend himself against further attack, but I don’t pretend that I meant to lure the creature away from him. I ran because I was terrified, because I was in shock, because I was in danger. Because in some panicked recess of my mind, I connected the creature’s chamber with all that had happened, and wanted nothing more than to get away from that terrible place. I turned and stumbled into the tunnel, struggling with the grav boots, not knowing where to go except away.
The next moments were a blur of luminous shadows and panic. The environmental suit had a communicator, but I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to do anything with it—even if I had been, it wouldn’t have mattered. Pike had already transmitted a distress signal, but any rescue party would be a long time coming, the Tereshkova’s transporters useless. I had faint memories of control, of gathering myself and thinking calmly in crisis, but all I could see was the way Jayvin’s eyes had looked behind the faceshield. I was alone, Pike surely as dead as the others.
STAR TREK: DS9 - The Lives of Dax Page 15