He stood looking down at her, and for an instant she sensed a wave of regret so deep it was worse than pain. Then he drew up a chair, sat facing her in silence. "It is very bad, Saavikam," he said with utter calm. "That object shattered under the scan at Headquarters. Everyone in the main building. is dead."
Saavik closed her eyes and tried to stop the roaring in her ears. People had died. A piece of her world killed them. And she remembered it was Spock who told that doctor to.
"Many lives are already lost," he was saying. "If we do not act quickly, others could die as well. You recognized that object, Saavik. And you thought it was a dream?"
"Yes," she nodded miserably. "I've always dreamed it. I tried not to-but it kept coming back. I know Vulcans should not-"
"Saavik. You must tell me of this dream."
"I would tell you anything-" To her everlasting disgrace she began to tremble; with his everlasting kindness Spock ignored it. "-but I know nothing else!"
"You may know more than you realize, Saavikam, but you have no means of discerning what is important and what is not. I must have your help. I must know what you know, even what is beyond your ability to recall. I have only one way to do that."
"I understand." She clenched her fingers together in her lap.
"I must be certain that you do. We have practiced mental disciplines. At times I imparted knowledge, abstract concepts-but I have never looked beyond what you wished to show me. I must ask to do that now. It is necessary, Saavikam. I am sorry."
She nodded. Her fingers were freezing.
Spock leaned closer, speaking softly. "I am with you. You are safe on board the Enterprise. Nothing can harm you here."
Saavik wanted to believe him. His face was so close to hers that she could feel him breathing. She tried to take courage from that warmth and life, but everything inside her had gone cold. "What must I do?" she asked in a whisper.
Spock's voice whispered back, gentle and warm in her ear. "For once in your life, Saavikam, try to do nothing. Think of the dream. Think only of the dream."
The room was dim. The air was dry and still. It was deathly quiet. Saavik watched long fingers moving toward her face. She shut her eyes, felt the heat from Spock's hand before a touch so light it almost wasn't there.
Then she was falling back into the past, back into fear and hunger and pain. Terrified, she fought to stop it, but a relentless power drew her down that dark, dangerous path. Old instincts stirred: the taste for blood, the thirst for swift revenge. An overwhelming urge possessed her to follow where they led, to see, to know, to kill.
Time spun backward. Guarded secrets, hidden doors flew open in her mind. Buried thoughts and feelings, sights and sounds and smells rose like living ghosts to batter down the barriers of the past. Do not resist me, Saavikam. I need you. need you. need.
Thin coverings of civilization ripped and tore, sheared away. The walls of her own will, the foundations of her very soul broke apart and crumbled in scalding sunlight, blinding rage. Fragments of existence-hunting, killing, hatred-shattered into shame. and fell. and some enormous gentleness caught all the falling pieces, sifted, reconstructed them, and inexorably moved on.
There was night and sky and stars. And underneath the stars were dust and death, wind and mountains. And underneath the mountains, underneath the mountains. that place. of dreams and evil, nowhere to hide, death in those walls of strange, twisting light, where It was always waiting for her in the dark. Running and pain, running and blood. and someone was always screaming.
It was over. Dizzy, shuddering, Saavik felt herself sitting in a chair, icy fingers resting on her face. And when they pulled away they left behind a distance in her mind, distance from the fear and pain-and something new: a clarity, a knowing.
She opened her eyes to a glimpse of Spock's face she'd never seen before: pale, shocked, in agonizing pain. His breathing was shallow and rasping; his hand trembled as it drew away, and there was a look behind his eyes she didn't understand-but it wasn't blame. Some moments passed before he spoke.
"I did not know."
Saavik looked away; the gentleness in his voice brought tears to her eyes, but she refused to let them run down her cheeks. Never, not once, had she let Spock see her cry-and she would rather die than do that insult to him now. "I didn't want you to know! I didn't want anyone to know! I am so. ashamed."
"There is no logic in that," he said quietly. "Admiral Nogura may wish to speak with you. You must answer his questions as best you can. I have only one. Could you find that place again?"
Go back there? Saavik experienced a horrible reversal taking place, a sense of time disintegrating. Her surroundings seemed insubstantial; reality was dissolving, her present becoming the dream. Only Hellguard was real. Go back there? Spock was silent, waiting for an answer. She forced the words from her throat.
". yes. I could find it."
Spock nodded and rose to his feet. He stood looking down at her, as if he wanted to say something more but couldn't find the words. "You were only a child, Saavikam," he said at last. "You are not the cause of this. Stay here. Prepare yourself for questions." The door closed behind him.
And the tears came. Furious, helpless tears of grief and rage-for the deaths of people who deserved to live, for this generous, beautiful world that offered her such opportunity. And for Spock. For reasons of his own, which she would never understand, he had given her everything and asked nothing from her in return.
Until now. Saavik began to shiver in the warmth of the cabin. Tears dried on her face. Even rage deserted her and left behind a crushing, thudding dread. Only a child. not the cause.
But she learned something new when that mindlink dissolved and her own horror and shame looked out at her from Spock's face. His soft words faded like an echo, and she could not believe in them. People had died. And Saavik had caused something; she knew that now. Because back there, all those years ago, back in that cave on Hellguard-she had done something terrible.
If only she could remember what it was.
"A blank, Admiral. No memory of the circumstances or events preceding them. She was terrified and badly injured at the time."
"Can she be made to remember?"
"I. tried, Admiral. It is beyond my skill. I do not think a further attempt is advisable or likely to succeed. Sir, there is no doubt about what she saw."
"Weapons." Nogura's face hardened dangerously.
"Yes. Transparent boxes, filled with patterns of light-rows of them, stockpiled underground on the fifth planet of system 872 Trianguli, well within the perimeter of the Romulan Empire."
"And you believe this was planned."
"I am convinced of it. Consider this, Admiral: an apparently aborted attack, an apparently disabled ship locked on course for Starbase Ten, with an advance we do not possess-and, given its nature, one we could not resist. We would take precautions, be alert for possible dangers, but we would also take the ship-to our most secure command base for study. And on board, arranged as ordinary, perhaps useful items, are the boxes. Interesting, but incidental in light of the military discovery. Even the evidence of sabotage-and that was unintentional-would not reveal the purpose of that mission. The real danger lay where we would least suspect. It was well-planned, Admiral, and for a very long time."
"And we swallowed the bait? They took a big chance."
"Did they, sir? Consider also the Romulan mind: wheels within wheels, an attack within an attack. You said yourself that if I had not investigated the object, someone else would have done so. I agree. We behaved predictably at every turn, Admiral-we were curious. And the Romulans were counting on it."
"If you're right, Spock, you know what this means."
"Yes, Admiral. Among other things, it means that Earth has come under attack."
"And all we know about these things-besides the fact that they kill people-is that a child remembers them? In a dream?"
"An eyewitness account. The only one we have."
"Bu
t what was a Vulcan child doing on a planet in-"
"Ask her, sir. I think you will believe us."
"All right, Spock. But I hope to God you're wrong."
The main screen went blank. Spock opened a private file he hadn't reviewed in years. The Hellguard scans recorded that damping field; perhaps they held some other clue he'd missed at the time. Kirk was briefing the data team now. His life-and a great deal else-would depend upon their expertise and judgment.
". they're all dead!" Kinski was on his feet, several shades paler than before. "And their faces! What's the matter with their-"
"Hush, Kinski," Renn whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the screen.
"And sit down, Mr. Kinski. Dr. Renn, I'm sorry," Kirk said gently, switching off the tape. "Friends of yours?"
"The best," she nodded, fighting to keep back her shock and tears, "the very best. Thank you, sir. Kinski!" she snapped. "Sit down before you fall down!"
"I'm-I'm okay," he muttered, but clearly was not. He sank back into his seat. ". I-I trained for this, but..."
"I know, Kinski. It's different when it's the real thing." Kirk was having serious doubts about this ensign, but there was nothing he could do now, except give the kid time to pull himself together. "Doctor Renn, you call the transporter room over at Life Sciences. They're waiting to beam in probes. Get linked up with them, you'll be evaluating the data. And Doctor, information on a need-to-know basis only. Admiral's orders."
Renn shook her head. "I want to go on record as objecting to that, sir. It's extremely dangerous. It's going to slow us up and create a potential hazard. Everyone right down the line needs to know what we're dealing with."
"Duly noted, Doctor. You can take it up with Admiral Nogura, once we know ourselves." Kirk let her glare. When she began a furious attack on the keys of the comm, he turned his attention to the other half of the team. "Mr. Kinski, I understand you're an expert with computers."
"Oh, sure-I mean, yes, sir." Kinski was still badly shaken, but breathing easier and looking painfully embarrassed. He ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm sorry, Admiral. It's just. I've never seen anything like that..."
"I understand. But you'll be looking at computers from now on. Your file says you're the man for the job-are you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Fine. Now, here's what we need." Kirk began to tell him.
* * *
". no, Spock, no doubt at all," Nogura said unhappily. His brief talk with Saavik had killed any hope that this might be some schoolgirl fantasy. That self-possessed young lady probably never fantasized about anything-and would accurately report it if she did. "I believe her, but she's just a child. Command won't accept this on telepathic testimony. You know that."
"Which is why I urge you to act on my recommendation, sir, while it still falls within the scope of your personal powers."
"It's already out of my hands, Spock. The station's on alert. Nothing leaves Dock without verified orders. I'm accountable now to Council and to chain of command. The best I can do is make sure this gets before the Council."
"That will take time, Admiral This weapon is very effective, even if we find the means to neutralize it. And Earth will not be the only target. The Empire has an arsenal, and we know where-"
"If they're still there, Spock. And that's a big if I can't commit Enterprise to some fact-finding mission."
"Forgive me, Admiral. I should be more explicit. Facts would be welcome, but that was not what I-"
"Sirs." Uhura's voice cut in, "Captain Kirk says his team is ready with the probes. You asked to be notified."
"One moment. What are you suggesting, Spock?"
"Some sabotage of our own, Admiral. Without delay."
"Inside the Romulan Empire? That's suicide. I won't commit Enterprise to that either. We need to know what we're dealing with. Commander Uhura, put us through."
Ayla Renn stared at the row of monitors and keyboards that faced the clear, windowed wall and ran the entire length of the room. Outside it was still raining; fog was so thick she could barely see HQ's shadowy tower just across the Plaza-and a faint blur of light from the corner of the 18th floor. Inside Room 2103 the lights were bright; the status screen read 21:58, and Kirk, Spock, and Nogura stared out at her from separate screens. Three more displays glowed with the test patterns and serial numbers of the probes, and the next four terminals were set up for analysis and data retrieval.
"Let's get on with it, Doctor." Nogura frowned impatiently.
Renn could almost hear him tapping his foot. She gritted her teeth, held her tongue, and spoke to the transport officer waiting at Life Sciences. "All right, one at a time. And get it right. One to the eighteenth floor-center of the Exo lab. Then one to the first, then one to the sixty-ninth. Admiral, these med probes do basic analysis and scan for known contaminants and organisms. We're using them first, because they're on hand and-"
"Let's make it snappy, Doctor. I've got a briefing in ten minutes. I need to know what killed our people."
Renn bit back a sharp retort. "We're getting telemetry now, sir."
One after another, the displays in front of her came to life. Lines of data began to fill the screens.
Renn stared at probe one's monitor in disbelief. Kinski, peering over her shoulder, saw it too.
"That's wrong," he said, pointing at the screen. "We've got a glitch."
"No, we don't," Renn muttered. She froze incoming data on all three probes and checked the readout from the first floor. Same thing. And the 69th.
"Malfunction, Dr. Renn?" asked Spock quietly.
She shook her head, unable to believe what she was seeing. "No, sir, they're all reading-"
"What, Doctor?" demanded Nogura. "What killed those people?"
Renn's mouth had gone dry. She stared at the numbers and tried to find her voice. "Sir, it doesn't make any sense, but. there's no oxygen in the air!"
Chapter Six
THE SILENCE STRETCHED ON.
"Gentlemen, Doctor," Nogura finally said, "I'm due in a briefing. I'll get back to you. Spock. "With a slight motion of his head, he indicated a wish for privacy. Spock cut out audio on the other channels. ". ever heard of anything like this?"
"No, Admiral. I have not."
"Make sure nobody else does."
"Is that desirable, Admiral? The time factor-"
"That building's completely secured?"
"As far as we know, sir, but-"
"And I take it this isn't some nerve gas we could neutralize and vent in the next half-hour?"
"No, Admiral."
"Then except to Kirk or to Enterprise, no information leaves that room. Understood?"
"There will be speculation, sir, from the scientists waiting to begin work. And Commander Dorish has requested-"
"The necessary people are being informed, Spock, and Dorish is one of them. For the moment just learn what you can and sit tight. I'll need a report."
The transmission ended before Spock could object further. He picked up on comm and studied the incoming telemetry. Kirk gave him a what-was-that-all-about look, but said nothing; Kinski was less restrained.
"Spock, I've got this idea. I was just thinking-"
"Mr. Kinski, one moment, please."
". not a microorganism, Mr. Spock," Renn was shaking her head, "and it's not radiation. I'm cross-referencing Klingon and Romulan weapons' data for known chemical compounds. This is oxygen depletion on a scale I've never seen. Even decompression in space leaves some residual."
As Kirk monitored the data descrambling on his screen, he blessed the architects and engineers who, despite the expense, had designed HQ's independent, closed-system air supply and given the Vault its own. At the time it was an experiment; now it was mandatory for structures housing off-world or hazardous materials and standard for anyone requiring a controlled environment.
The normal breathing mixture in Starfleet Headquarters was manufactured, recycled, humidified, charged with negative ions and containe
d 22.76% oxygen, slightly higher than atmospheric levels. Double-door, "airlock" entry systems compensated for any exchange (with what was, after all, a compatible atmosphere) and accommodated security procedures as well. The design reflected and made use of what Starfleet knew best: starships. No sweet scent of flowers wafted through open windows, no weather changes or seasonal charms-and no dust, pollens, molds, or other outdoor irritants to cause downtime for computers, discomfort to many humans, and more severe reactions in off-worlders. Starfleet air was good for equipment and kept duty personnel alert. At least it used to.
Now the air inside those solid, transparent aluminum walls was 22.76% something else. Exactly 22.76%. And the probes hovering over the devastation in the officers' lounge, above the information desk in the lobby, and beside the scan in the lab all read the same level of available oxygen: zero. Not 2% or 1% or.001%. Zero.
Star Trek - Pandora Principle Page 12