Star Trek™: Corps of Engineers: Remembrance of Things Past Book Two

by Terri Osborne

  Looking around, Carol didn’t see anything resembling a placement point for the stones. “Okay, if this is the temple, where’s the obelisk?”

  “That’s where this race was brilliant. Watch this,” Inana said. She reached over, and ran her fingers over a few of the glyphs on the panel. Carol couldn’t see the specific glyphs, but it looked as though they slid down at her touch like buttons on a control panel.

  While Carol watched, a small portion of the temple mound slid inward with the sound of rock against rock, expanding until it revealed an interior hallway. The lush aroma of the forest that surrounded them was quickly filled with the dry, musty smell of a long-dead building. “Nice, huh?” Cunningham said.

  “Come on,” Inana said, aiming her palm beacon down the tunnel.

  As they all entered, Carol noted there was barely enough room for them to stand, but that situation seemed to improve as they walked. The ground crunched under their feet as they walked, years upon years of dust pressed into the dirt floor. Slowly, they turned corner after corner, until Carol realized that they were spiraling downward. “How far inside the mound are we?”

  “We’re probably twenty meters below the surface right now,” Inana said. “This ramp keeps going for another thirty meters.”

  And keep going they did, into a downward spiral. Carol tried to get a good look at the walls of the spiral as they walked. It looked as though the original builder had used a sort of plaster to cover the dirt, but some of it had fallen away to reveal the packed earth underneath. “Inana, have you done a structural integrity scan of this temple?”

  “Noticed the holes in plaster, did you?” she said. “We’re fine. We got a good look inside this place before the equipment went down. They actually used a plaster-reinforced wood frame, filled in with stonework that they quarried near a stream about ten kilometers from here.”

  That took Carol aback a bit. “Okay, then how’d they manage a field generator if that was the extent of their building technology?”

  “Wait for it,” Paul said, his voice full of anticipation. “Just wait for it.”

  “Remind me not to invite him to the next promotion party,” Bart softly said.

  “Something tells me Gomez will invite him herself,” Carol whispered back.

  Bart tried to stifle his laugh, but wasn’t so successful.

  “What’s so funny back there?” Gomez asked, turning her own palm beacon on them.

  Carol lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the light. She felt like a kid having been caught passing messages from padd to padd in class. “Nothing, Commander. Anthropologist humor. That’s all.”

  Great, just what I needed. Abramowitz and Faulwell doing a comedy routine. Sonya tried hard to ignore the chuckling behind her as they proceeded down into the darkness. When they reached the bottom of the ramp, it opened into what felt like an enormous cavern. With only their palm beacons to light the room, however, she couldn’t be certain.

  “Hang on,” Inana said. “Paul, give me a hand with the lamps, will you?”

  The two archaeologists worked portable light after portable light, until the room was illuminated to a point where few, if any, shadows fell. “Whoa,” Sonya said, unable to control her reaction. “They were hiding it, weren’t they?”

  “Yep,” Paul said, a definite smugness in his voice. “Look around. We found two skeletons that matched Gretharan physiology down here. Probably the last two left after the war. Took them back to the surface and gave them a proper burial. Before that, we think this was the central meeting place for the leadership. What do you think?”

  Carol stepped toward the obelisk, which served as the focal point for the room. It was an enormous piece of stone, as tall as Faulwell, with the same reddish hue that the Red Pyramid of Egypt had held. “Red granite?” she asked.

  “It scanned out as something close to granite, but there’s a beryllium component that we haven’t seen before,” Cunningham said. “That’s not the interesting part, though. Check those out.” He pointed toward at least a dozen notches in the wall, where what looked to be cables sank across the room into the ground outside.

  “They look almost like roots,” Carol said. “This can’t be a natural formation, though.”

  “It isn’t. The equipment went down before we could find out where they lead to, but they’re definitely connected to something within the walls. They have a slightly higher beryllium component to them than the obelisk.”

  Paul was right. The conduits seemed to run from the notches into the wall itself, but where they went to from there was impossible for Gomez to determine at that point. “So, if this is the Krialta, the field must be coming from here. Wait a minute,” she said, as Cunningham’s words finally registered in her mind. “There’s a beryllium component to the obelisk and the cables?”

  Inana and Paul both said, “Yes.”

  “Did you find any copper?”

  “A little bit, why?”

  Sonya couldn’t help but smile. “If there’s a beryllium-copper alloy here, it’s got to be what’s conducting the energy field. Let me get a better look at those fibers.” Sonya was comforted a bit by the fact that Paul followed her over to one of the circular holes in the wall. Cables lined the wall of the hole, and Sonya couldn’t shake the idea that she was looking at a bundle of cables from the inside. “This is weird.”

  “It’s like looking into the inside of an enormous growth of vines,” Carol added.

  “You’re not kidding,” Paul said. He aimed his palm beacon toward the center of the hole, which seemed to go on forever. “Definitely not natural.”

  “Unless these trees actually have beryllium in the sap,” Inana said. “But I’ve been all over the quadrant with Gabe, and I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  Sonya shook her head. “No, this formation definitely isn’t natural. It doesn’t just look like bundled cable, that’s exactly what it is. I’ll bet these cables feed out into whatever is setting the borders for the energy field.”

  “Not taking that bet for a minute,” Paul said.

  There was a pained tone to his voice, and when she looked over, his jaw was clenched and the corners of his eyes were tight. “Another headache?”

  He nodded very gently. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t. This can’t be good for any of us.”

  “But you’ll figure it out, right?”

  She didn’t get a chance to answer him, though. No sooner did the words leave his mouth than he fell over, unconscious.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Captain David Gold had seen many things during his tenure in the center seat of the da Vinci, but this had to be one of the craziest. Leaning back in his ready room chair, he contemplated just what Fabian Stevens was proposing. “You really think you know where this border is going to go next, Stevens?”

  “Yes, sir. Not only that, but I’ve been watching the expansion versus the field intensity. It’s maintaining a pretty even level when it grows, not getting stronger. I don’t think it extends much more than a thousand meters from the surface.”

  Gold stared at the engineer. “You know what you’re asking?”

  “Yes, sir. And I believe we can pull this off. We haven’t needed it, but we’re even more atmosphere-capable than we used to be. All we have to do is drop a bundle of instruments to test the theory.”

  Gold’s lips twisted as he thought. “If we can get in there safely, what about the transporters? Will it be enough for the transporters to work?”

  “If we can get a lock on their combadges, I believe so.”

  “That’s a mighty big ‘if’ there, son.”

  Stevens stared intently at him, almost as though he were trying to will the captain to come around to his line of thinking. “It’s better than sitting up here doing nothing while they might be dying down there. I know we haven’t tried entering an atmosphere since Galvan VI, but if we have a chance to help them, shouldn’t we try?”

  He had to admi
t, the kid had a point. Gold was even beginning to get antsy himself. His mind ran back over the repairs and upgrades the ship had been given after its near destruction. Starfleet had upgraded the hull strength as much as was possible on the little ship. Perhaps if they used the shields as a backup termination point for the field, it just might work. I’ve been working with engineers too long. I’m starting to think like them.

  “All right,” Gold finally said, “we’ll give it a shot. We may be atmosphere-capable, but remember we can’t land. This has to work from the air, or it won’t work at all.”

  Stevens shot out of his chair, the smile on his face going from ear to ear. “Thank you, Captain. We’ll make it work.”

  Sarjenka wiped another damp cloth across Captain Picard’s forehead. It was a palliative more than anything else. The cool moisture just made him feel better. Her long red fingers went to his neck, only to discover that his pulse was still as strong and steady as it had been all along. It had required a stronger sedative, but Picard was sleeping peacefully for what Data had said was the first time in days.

  “Sarjenka, how is your family?” Data asked, dropping his tone to account for their unconscious patient.

  “As good as can be expected.”

  “Ah,” Data said. “Yes. I remember the report of the mine collapse a few years ago. I understand that Dr. Pulaski was able to regenerate enough skin to cover your father’s burns.”

  “Yes,” she said, wariness creeping into her voice. Slowly, she turned her gaze from Picard to Data. “Where did you get that report? That was supposed to be an official and confidential part of our petition for protectorate status.”

  “I have had an interest in Drema IV ever since the Enterprise helped your world,” Data said. “I merely programmed the ship’s computer to alert me if any mentions of your world appeared in Federation records.”

  “You have access to protected records?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and was sure the look on her face conveyed that very message. “You were looking for me?”

  “In a fashion.”

  “Data,” she began, “that’s really…creepy. Why were you looking for me?”

  The android’s eyes widened at her use of the word creepy. “I was concerned for your well-being. You were, as Captain Picard said, my ‘pen pal.’ I valued your friendship for the short time I had it.”

  Sarjenka remembered some of the conversations they’d had. She told him about her family during one of their discussions, and her heart ached at the memory of her brother Senkare’s last words to her. “Take care of mother and father.”

  But here she was, in the middle of an alien planet, as far from her mother and father as she’d ever been. How was this fulfilling his last request?

  “How is your family?” Data asked once again, almost as though he could read her mind.

  “If you’ve been keeping an eye out for me, don’t you know?”

  Data stopped for a moment. If he’d been a living creature, she would have thought that he was trying to remember what he’d learned, but he didn’t need to be a living creature to have to access his memory. Finally, he said, “Your father was nearly killed in a dilithium mine explosion approximately eight years ago. He was treated by Dr. Katherine Pulaski on Drema Station, and returned to your home eight weeks later. At that time, you requested to go with Captain David Gold and take the Starfleet Academy entrance exam. Your record was exemplary.”

  Well, he had definitely read her record since joining Starfleet. Sarjenka decided it was time to test and see how far he’d really gotten. “What do you know about the Exiles?”

  “Very little is in the Federation database about them. We know that a small band took over Drema IV for a few months, but we have no information on where their attack originated. Your people rose up and defeated them almost a year after they arrived. From what your planet’s government filed with the Federation, the Exiles had superior weaponry, and were using the dilithium of Drema IV to power their equipment. How did your people defeat them?”

  Sarjenka couldn’t resist a bitter laugh. “We turned on the lights.” She could still remember the day her older brother had thought of that plan. “The Exiles had come from a planet where the natural light was very limited. In our buildings, under controlled artificial light, they were fine, but just to be outside on our planet they had to wear insulated clothing and darkened glasses. When stealing the clothing didn’t work, my brother got a group of the men together and tried stealing the glasses, then exposing the Exiles to light like they’d never seen before. The gas discharge lamps we had were few, but they were powerful. My brother blinded the Exile leader, but was killed before he could get away. We found out later that he’d also accidentally blinded himself in the process.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” Data said, his voice a perfect mimic of human sympathy.

  “Everyone says that. I wonder how many really mean it?”

  Data’s hand came down on her shoulder. “Humans are quite unusual in that respect, Sarjenka. The longer you spend with them, the more you will realize that. I believe that the humans you spoke to are quite capable of respecting your brother’s sacrifice.”

  “My brother was an idiot, Data. You don’t need to hide that from me.”

  “Did he not formulate the plan of attack?”

  Sarjenka raised an eyebrow. “You do have a point. One of the engineers on the da Vinci told me a saying that fits. ‘The law of averages had to work out in his favor eventually.’”

  Data smiled. “Yes, it did.”

  She could still hear the attempt at sympathy in his voice. “Data, please don’t patronize me. That was a long time ago, and on a planet that seems like an eternity away from this one. A lot has changed since then.”

  Data’s smile vanished. “You no longer require comfort for the loss?”

  Sarjenka shook her head. “Life goes on. The wheel turns. We mourn the dead and move on. We lost a lot of people during the Uprising. My brother may not have been the brightest of our people, but he was a fighter. Now, he’s just a memory and a name on the wall of the Uprising Memorial. And we’ve all seen how well memories work on this planet.”

  Her heart tightened in her chest. She hadn’t thought about Senkare for years, but now she could feel tears beginning to well in her eyes. Memories long buried, playing with Jenkara when the reeka had been a baby, Senkare helping with her geography homework—it had been his area of expertise, but not quite hers—even simple things like walking to school together in the mornings. I wish he could have been there for my graduation.

  Sarjenka mentally shook herself. The field must have been getting a stronger hold on them, as the memories were coming far more readily than they had been. They needed to get out of there, the sooner, the better.

  Domenica Corsi warily stepped into what appeared to be the village’s central gathering area. Christine Vale was right behind her, machete in hand as though she were expecting to be jumped at any microsecond. That was the moment when Corsi realized that she had, without even thinking about it, grabbed a machete from her belt herself. Good thinking. Now, where do we start?

  Boisterous laughter came from one building down the street. When Corsi took a closer look, she noticed the shaded windows, smoke—probably from less-than-legal sources if the aroma wafting her way was any indication—pouring from the front door, and the sound of clatter that bespoke dishware being washed.

  Before Corsi could get a word out, Vale walked past her and headed toward the very same building. “The bartender owes me a favor,” she said. “If anyone would know what’s going on, it’s him.”

  Corsi watched Vale move, and realized that the kid had learned more than she would have given her credit. She is the security chief on the Enterprise, Corsi reminded herself. They don’t give that position to just anybody. Following Vale through the door, Corsi took up a vantage point at the end of the bar—near the door, of course—and tried to both hear what Vale was saying and monitor
the clientele.

  On the seedy scale of one to ten, she’d have given the place about a six. Not exactly a place she’d take someone she cared about to, but not a place she’d altogether avoid on her own. The place was full of the lower class of patrons, with at least two couples in shiny “going out” clothes that were at least two years beyond the last time their wearers had been that size. Seven tables were all that the place had room for, and the décor wasn’t anything worth writing home about.

  The place reeked of bad food, bad alcohol, and body odor. It looked as though a Pakled with a grimy plant fetish had decorated the place. Brown vines grew across the wooden walls, almost as though they were a part of the building’s framework. The lights were small wall sconces, and Corsi couldn’t tell whether they were lit by gas lamps, or were actual candles. She would have laid money that these people hadn’t seen electricity or even electronics until Collins and his team had shown up.

  So why aren’t first-contact protocols in place? Corsi tried to tell the little voice in the back of her mind to shut the hell up, but—as usual—it wouldn’t listen. What’s so different about this place that the Federation can send archaeological teams here, but that’s it?

  Corsi took a step closer to Vale, who was chatting up the bartender.

  “Come on, Aegris,” Vale said. “You know who did it, I know you do. Everyone talks to you.”

  Aegris, as Vale called him, was a hefty male. He looked human, but Corsi had long since learned that you could never take your first impression of someone as a given. Everyone had something to hide, and nobody was ever as they seemed. His voice, when she finally heard it, sounded like the voice of a man who’d smoked all his life, and then gargled a few razor blades on top of it for good measure.

  “Not this time, Christine,” he said. With a head jerk in Corsi’s direction, he added, “Who’s your friend?”