by Greg Cox
“ ‘Indistinguishable from magic.’ ” Seven recognized the quotation. “Arthur C. Clarke. Earth, twentieth century.”
Janeway nodded, looking pleased by Seven’s erudition. “You’re up on the classics. Good.”
Seven ignored the compliment. Her knowledge of human literature was not at issue here. “Your optimism may be premature. In my experience, imperfect species and cultures often have overactive imaginations.”
Unlike the Borg, she thought, who found such fancies irrelevant. She was no longer Borg, at least not entirely, yet she retained a healthy degree of skepticism where unconfirmed myths and legends were concerned. Wishful thinking was no substitute for an accurate assessment of probabilities.
“Guilty as charged,” Janeway admitted. “Still, it’s worth looking into. If nothing else, I want to find out the story behind that signal.” She looked over at the control console. “What’s our ETA, Lieutenant Torres?”
B’Elanna Torres had been too intent on her duties to take part in the conversation. Her ridged brow furrowed as she studied the readings on a display panel. The engineer’s volatile nature sometimes brought her into conflict with her crewmates, but Seven had confidence in her abilities.
“Coming within range now, Captain,” Torres reported. “I can’t pinpoint the signal’s precise point of origin, but I should be able to beam you down somewhere in its proximity.”
“Within walking distance, I hope.” Janeway glanced wryly at Seven. “Some of us haven’t regenerated lately.”
Seven took the quip in stride. “I shall do you the courtesy of assuming that was a joke.”
“Touché,” Janeway said, chuckling. She took her place on the transporter platform. “I guess we’re off to seek the wizard.”
Seven, Tuvok, and Neelix joined her on the platform. Torres operated the controls and Seven felt a familiar tingling sensation as the away team beamed down to the planetoid, which was obscure enough to lack a proper designation. Prior scans had indicated the presence of a breathable atmosphere upon the surface, so environment suits had been deemed unnecessary. A Starfleet tricorder, customized to Seven’s specifications, clung to her hip, along with a standard Type-2 phaser.
The away team members found themselves in a rocky canyon, hemmed in by high granite walls. Rough gray boulders punctuated the rocky floor of the canyon, whose steep walls provided a degree of shade from the hot noonday sun. Earth-normal gravity suggested that the planetoid’s core was unusually dense. Spotty vegetation provided the evidence of life. The air was dry, but sufficient.
Seven was unimpressed. Neelix stumbled slightly on the uneven surface but recovered his balance without assistance. Tuvok surveyed their surroundings, but, like Seven, discerned no obvious threats. This was to be expected; Voyager’s sensors had detected no life-forms on the planetoid, nor any evidence of habitation—aside from the anomalous Starfleet signal.
“Pretty rugged terrain,” Neelix commented, taking in the stark and barren scenery. “Reminds me of the Demon’s Crack back on Uglogla Prime. I was almost ambushed by a band of Kazon renegades there several years back. Got away by the whiskers on my cheeks.”
“Perhaps you can regale us with the story later,” Tuvok said without enthusiasm. “At a more appropriate juncture.”
“If you insist,” Neelix replied. “You won’t be disappointed, I promise!”
Janeway took a moment to check in with the ship. She tapped her combadge.
“Janeway to Voyager. We’ve arrived on the surface. Please thank Lieutenant Torres for the smooth landing.”
“Will do, Captain,” Commander Chakotay replied via the comm link. Voyager’s first officer would have no doubt preferred to join the away team, but duty and prudence had dictated that he command the bridge instead. “Any answers to our mystery yet?”
“None that I can see,” Janeway said. Her keen eyes searched the desolate landscape. “But I’ll keep you posted. Janeway out.” The away team spread out to inspect their immediate surroundings. Nothing but unremarkable rock, dirt, and scrub presented itself. Given its remote location, Seven was not surprised that no species had apparently attempted to colonize or develop the planetoid. Sensors scans failed to detect any notable mineral resources as well.
“So what exactly are we looking for?” Neelix asked. “The wreckage of a crashed starship or shuttle?”
“Unlikely,” Seven said. “Long-range scans detected no evidence of debris. I suspect the signal is emanating from somewhere beneath the surface.” She consulted her tricorder and gestured north. “Readings indicate that we should proceed in that direction.”
“Very well,” Janeway said. “Lead the way.”
They hiked up the canyon, carefully traversing the arid wasteland on foot. Neelix kept up a steady stream of irrelevant chatter that Seven did her best to ignore. The sun climbed higher in the sky, causing the temperature to rise more than was comfortable and limiting the amount of available shade. Seven decided she preferred the controlled climate aboard Voyager. The signal grew stronger as they rounded a bend in the canyon. She wondered how long it had gone unanswered. Slight-but-detectible evidence of signal degradation suggested that it had been broadcasting continuously for at least a century.
“I believe we are nearing the source of the transmission, Captain,” she reported.
Janeway stopped and inhaled sharply. “I’m inclined to agree,” she said in a hushed tone. “Look ahead.”
Seven lifted her gaze from the tricorder. Her eyes widened at the sight of an enormous face, at least twenty meters in height, carved into the side of a cliff at the far end of the canyon. The immense countenance reminded her of the monumental sculptures on Earth’s Mount Rushmore, which she knew of from Voyager’s databanks, or perhaps the towering funerary busts of Species 9591. Either way, it was an ambitious work of both art and engineering.
“By the Great Forest!” Neelix exclaimed. “How did our sensors ever miss this?”
“It is carved from natural granite,” Seven pointed out. “It would not register as an artificial structure on our scans.”
“The craftsmanship is impressive,” Tuvok said, “as is the scale of the sculpture.”
Seven agreed with the Vulcan’s assessment. The colossal sculpture expertly captured the likeness of a humanoid male, possibly of Terran descent, with wavy hair, clean-shaven features, and a resolute expression. The visage struck her as vaguely familiar, but, shorn of context, it took her a moment to place it.
“Captain,” she said. “Unless I am mistaken, that is a portrait of—”
“James T. Kirk.” Janeway gazed up at the monument with a rapt, but distinctly bewildered, expression. “Captain of the Starship Enterprise.”
Four
Seven contemplated the looming granite sculpture. She was familiar with Captain Kirk’s colorful career and reputation. Her recent encounter with the Ares IV, lost in the Delta Quadrant three centuries ago, had inspired her to make a thorough study of the history of human space exploration. James T. Kirk and his illustrious crew figured prominently in that history, even if some of the accounts of his exploits defied credibility. Hadn’t Janeway once mentioned that Kirk claimed to have met Leonardo da Vinci—and not in a holodeck?
“I believe you are correct, Captain,” Tuvok said. “The resemblance to James Kirk is striking.”
Seven recalled that Kirk had been accompanied in his historic voyages by his Vulcan first officer, Spock. Her understanding was that Spock, who continued to serve the Federation as a roving ambassador and diplomat, was as respected by Vulcans as much as Kirk’s heroism was celebrated by the next generation of human explorers. Seven herself had found Spock to be at least as intriguing a figure as Kirk, and rather easier to empathize with. Like her, he had struggled to reconcile his semi-human heritage with a more detached, scientific perspective. She would be interested in meeting him, should Voyager return to the Alpha Quadrant before he reached the end of his considerable lifespan.
“It�
�s more than striking,” Janeway said. “It’s unmistakable. Kirk’s career was required reading back at the Academy. I’d know those dashing good looks anywhere.”
Seven conceded that the sculpture’s literally chiseled features matched the recorded images of Kirk. And the edifice was appropriately larger-than-life as well.
“But what’s a monument to Kirk doing on an uninhabited planetoid in the Delta Quadrant?” Janeway asked aloud. She sounded more intrigued than frustrated by the mystery. “This just keeps getting curiouser and curiouser.”
Lewis Carroll, also designated Charles Dodgson, Seven thought, identifying the reference. The “Alice” books had struck her as singularly lacking in narrative logic. She hoped their current mission would not prove equally baffling.
Neelix tilted his head back to take in the entire mammoth sculpture. “You don’t suppose this Kirk was the ‘wizard’ mentioned in the old stories?”
“Well, his opponents in battle sometimes accused him of being a sorcerer, but still . . .” Janeway sounded doubtful. “Kirk covered a lot of territory in his voyages, even venturing out past the Galactic Barrier, but there’s no record of him ever setting foot in the Delta Quadrant.”
Seven’s own memory confirmed Janeway’s recollections, but it raised a possible explanation.
“Was not Kirk’s body lost in space during an encounter with an unexplained stellar phenomenon?” she recalled. “During the maiden voyage of the Enterprise-B?”
“That’s right!” Janeway said. “Kirk is supposed to have died saving that ship from a strange, destructive ribbon of cosmic energy, but his remains were never recovered. It’s believed that he was carried away by the ribbon—”
“All the way to the Delta Quadrant?” Neelix supplied. He gazed up at the towering monument. “Do you think this could be his tomb?”
Janeway considered the sculpture. “Well, its proportions are heroic enough, but we probably shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.”
Seven agreed. Idle speculation was inefficient.
“In any event,” she stated, “the proximity of this monument to the source of an archaic Starfleet signal is unlikely to be a coincidence.” She advanced toward the sculpture. “I suggest we continue our investigation.”
Janeway chuckled. “Try and stop me.”
The away team approached the massive stone face. The canyon walls had helped to shield it from the elements, but it was clearly worn and weathered by the passage of time. The face dwarfed the party of explorers, rising high above their heads. Up close, Seven found herself at eye level with the sculpture’s gigantic chin. Her tricorder scanned the petrified face of the cliff.
“I am detecting chambers and passageways within the monument,” she reported. “The signal is definitely coming from somewhere inside the cliff.”
Janeway scrutinized the cliff face. Her hands explored the rough, rocky surface of the sheer walls framing the sculpture. “There must be an entrance to the interior. Perhaps a hidden doorway?”
“Wouldn’t it be easier just to have Voyager beam us directly inside?” Neelix asked.
“That would be unwise,” Seven replied. “Impurities in the stone, including trace elements of magnesite, make it difficult to get precise readings. I would not be able to guarantee the safety of any coordinates.”
Janeway nodded. “That explains why B’Elanna was unable to lock onto the exact origin of the signal.” Undaunted by the complication, she brushed the gritty dust from her hands. “I guess we’ll just have to do this the hard way. Keep looking around for a way in.”
“Affirmative, Captain,” Tuvok said.
“Too bad Jean-Luc Picard isn’t here,” Janeway mused, resting her chin on her knuckles as she considered the problem. “Amongst his other distinctions, he’s quite the amateur archaeologist. A challenge like this would be right up his alley.”
Picard.
The name provoked an involuntary flutter in Seven’s cortical implant. Among the Borg, Picard was better known as Locutus. He was the first drone to regain his humanity after being assimilated by the Collective, and this unprecedented reversal had led to the Borg’s momentous defeat at Wolf 359. Seven had likewise regained her individuality, some years later, but having been assimilated as a child, she’d had little in the way of humanity to return to. Picard’s difficult transformation to Locutus and back again held unsettling parallels to Seven’s own continuing evolution. . . .
“You all right, Seven?” Janeway asked with concern.
Seven experienced a flash of irritation at herself. Clearly, her momentary lack of composure had not gone unnoticed by the captain. Unwilling to admit to such a human imperfection, she chose to deny it.
“I am fine,” she insisted. “I am merely intent on our task.”
To her relief, Janeway did not press the issue. Erasing all thought of Picard from her mind, Seven redoubled her efforts to locate an entrance to the hidden caverns. While her companions employed their hands and eyes to scour the face of the cliff for seams or signs of entry, Seven chose to take a more efficient approach. Slowly and meticulously, she used her tricorder to scan one segment of stone after another. She watched carefully for any anomalies along the electromagnetic spectrum—until her diligent efforts yielded a provocative result.
“Captain,” she said. “Over here.”
Janeway turned away from her own visual inspection of the site. She hurried to join Seven to one side of the immense sculpture. Tuvok and Neelix followed her.
“What is it?” she asked. “Do you have something?”
“Perhaps.” Seven double-checked her readings. “There appears to be a pattern of chroniton particles embedded in this segment of stone . . . and only here.”
Janeway reacted with surprise. “Chronitons? Here?”
The subatomic particles were associated with time travel and other varieties of temporal distortions. There was no obvious explanation for their presence at this site.
“The chronitons are concentrated here,” Seven explained, indicating a small expanse approximately the size of her palm. “Almost like a marker.”
Neelix squinted at the coarse gray stone. “I don’t see anything.”
“The marker is slightly out of phase with these temporal coordinates,” Seven stated. “Your eyes are not designed to detect such phenomenon. My ocular implant, however, possesses no such limitation.”
She lowered her tricorder and applied her own cybernetically enhanced vision to the marker. Concentration was required to adjust her focus to the proper temporal wavelength, but she soon discerned a pattern shimmering just beneath the surface of the stone. Its precise configuration took her by surprise.
“Curiouser and curiouser indeed,” she said.
“What is it?” Janeway asked urgently. “What do you see?”
“Allow me to show you,” Seven volunteered. Bending over, she plucked a random stone from the rubble at their feet and used it to scratch the outline of the pattern on the wall of the cliff. The familiar arrowhead shape of the Starfleet insignia drew gasps from both the captain and Neelix.
“Oh, my,” Janeway said.
Tuvok arched an eyebrow. “Fascinating.”
Seven discarded the stone she’d used to trace the insignia. She employed her tricorder to scan the marked area. “I believe there may be a passageway directly behind the symbol.”
Tuvok drew his phaser. “It might be possible to carve an entrance to the passage.”
“Not so fast.” Janeway winced at the idea. “I’m reluctant to vandalize this site if we don’t have to, especially when we have no clear idea of what’s on the other side. But that insignia feels like an invitation to me.”
Neelix compared the etched symbol to the combadge on his chest. “Maybe Kirk—or somebody else from your end of the galaxy—was just staking his claim on this site?”
“Possibly,” Janeway said. “Or maybe it’s a test.” Her finger traced the outline of the insignia. “Seven, do you still have the old Starf
leet response code to that signal?”
“Affirmative,” she replied. “It is saved in my tricorder.”
Voyager had transmitted the response code earlier, when it had first detected the anachronistic distress signal, but without apparent results. The planetoid had simply continued to transmit the original signal.
But perhaps now that they had located the site . . . ?
“Go ahead,” Janeway instructed. “Ring the doorbell.”
Seven took her meaning. Calling up the ancient response code and frequency from the tricorder’s memory, she transmitted the code directly at the chroniton marker.
At first nothing happened, but then a hidden mechanism could be heard rumbling to life deep within the cliff. The accumulated dust and sediment of unknown years, decades, or centuries was shaken loose from the monument. The away team stepped back cautiously, wary of falling debris.
“I think you woke it up,” Neelix said.
Imperfect beings also tended to state the obvious, Seven recalled. “That much is evident.”
A slab of stone containing the chroniton marker sank into the ground, exposing a tunnel leading deeper into the cliff. Artificial lights flared to life inside the tunnel, which sloped upward into the monument.
“Open Sesame,” Janeway murmured.
Seven’s knowledge of human literature was getting a workout on this expedition. “Ali Baba,” she acknowledged.
“Minus the forty thieves, I hope.” Janeway eyed the beckoning tunnel with obvious excitement and curiosity. “I don’t know about you, but I’m dying to find out what’s at the other end of that tunnel.”
“I recommend caution,” Tuvok advised. “We do not know what risks that might entail.”
“ ‘Risk is our business,’ ” Janeway replied. “That’s what Captain Kirk always said.” She smiled confidently. “I think we know what Kirk would do in these circumstances.”
“Kirk was famously reckless,” Tuvok reminded her. “I am not entirely certain that his is an example we should wish to emulate.” He regarded the open mouth of the tunnel warily. “At the very least, we should notify Voyager before proceeding further.”