Genesis Force

by John Vornholt

  “That’s a Starfleet shuttlecraft!” she said with excitement.

  “Really?” asked Komplum, rising more slowly.

  The two of them approached the glistening craft just as the hatch popped open and the first Starfleet officer she had seen in days stepped out. From his broad shoulders and peculiar gait, Leah identified him as Commander Riker, and she waved. Then came Worf, wielding his bat’leth and looking around warily. The third officer to emerge was even more familiar, and she instantly recognized his dusky skin and bionic eyes.

  “Geordi!” she cried, rushing forward to meet him. There was no reserve or pretense as the two of them embraced awkwardly in their environmental suits. “It’s great to see you!” she exclaimed.

  “Hi, Leah!” he said, beaming. “I thought it would be ten months before I saw you again.” He looked around at the charred ground, twisted roots, and monstrous trees and added, “This isn’t exactly Paris, is it?”

  “No,” she admitted, “I’d almost rather be in a boring lecture than this.”

  The lights dimmed on the shuttlecraft, and Data stepped out, dressed as usual in nothing more than his normal uniform. He paused in the chill air to study a tricorder, while Riker lifted a nightscope to his eyes and studied the perimeter. Worf strode to a tiny encampment of Klingons, but Geordi did nothing but stare at Leah.

  “Oh,” she said with some embarrassment, “this is one of the local scientists, Komplum. We were just talking before you got here.”

  Geordi tried to shake the Aluwnan’s hand, but there were cultural differences as well as thick gloves getting in the way. “Pleased to meet you,” said the human engineer, finally giving up on the handshake.

  “Pleased as well,” answered Komplum. “You arrived after all the excitement—you should have seen the battle at this spot between the Klingons and those plant creatures. After that, they began to clear the land.”

  “No sign of the moss creatures lately?” asked Geordi.

  “Not for a few days,” answered Leah.

  “I am picking up only minute, airborne traces of the fungus,” said Data, joining their group. “In my opinion, humanoids could reside in this area without the environmental suits, but please do not tell Dr. Crusher I suggested that.”

  “I won’t,” promised Geordi with a smile. “So what is there to do for fun around here?”

  “Sitting by the campfire,” suggested Leah. “It’s not bad if you’ve got someone to snuggle with.”

  “Can we sing cowboy songs?” asked Data.

  Leah wasn’t sure if the android was serious or not, but Geordi laughed. “All we’ve been hearing about are the blue transporter booths,” he said. “Could I see one of them?”

  “You can see a thousand of them, if you walk far enough,” answered Leah. She waved and led them toward the perimeter, with Geordi and Data following.

  “I think I’ll sit by the fire,” said Komplum, staying behind. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” answered Geordi. As soon as they were out of earshot, the engineer asked, “He’s a scientist, but he’s just standing around down here, doing nothing?”

  “Aluwna is kind of a one-woman band,” answered Leah, “and Marla Karuw is the conductor, too. You’re not here long before you find that out. I don’t think there’s any reason for us to stay . . . beyond tonight.”

  She reached the nearest blue transporter enclosure, stopped, and pointed to it. “There it is. Every ship in orbit has been running replicators and making these for over a week, and they just put the last one in place a couple hours ago.”

  “This appears to be a very compact and efficient design,” remarked Data, opening his tricorder and taking some readings. “Solar power, plasma gel packs, autosequencing, receive function only—no matter-stream transmission. There is some unusual circuitry in the base which I cannot identify.”

  “Does it have quantum resolution or molecular resolution?” asked Geordi. “What about biofilters? Does it use the Doppler compensation sync?”

  “I’m no expert on transporters,” admitted Leah, reaching for the door handle. “But I’ve heard them say that it comes complete with everything, including a—” She opened the door of the booth and promptly screamed with shock and surprise, because slumped on the floor, mouth agape in a horrible manner and looking badly decomposed, was a dead naked body.

  “Complete with corpse,” said Data, finishing her sentence.

  Twenty-Two

  Alexander Rozhenko paced in the corridor outside the royal stateroom on the Darzor, eyeing the two Aluwnan constables angrily. He stopped and said through clenched teeth, “Please tell the seeress that it’s urgent I see her.”

  “We are sorry,” answered the Aluwnan, “but she left orders not to be disturbed.”

  The Klingon tried to control his rising anger as he answered, “Overseer Padrin put me in charge of the murder investigation of Overseer Tejharet. You both know that. Seeress Jenoset is a suspect, but I really don’t want to see her. I want to know where the seeress consort is—the youth called Farlo. He’s not in his cabin. Is he in there with her?”

  The two constables looked uncertainly at one another, and it was difficult to tell if they knew but refused to answer, or didn’t know. “I didn’t see him go in,” answered one. The other guard shook his head.

  “Ask her, will you?” demanded Alexander.

  “She left word not to be disturbed,” insisted the constable.

  “Arrgh!” groaned Alexander, rushing up and banging on the door himself. When the constables moved to stop him, he bashed one in the head with his elbow and dropped him to the deck, then he ducked the stun stick wielded by the other. Having been attacked with a weapon, Alexander went into full battle mode, smashing his two attackers with fists and elbows until he bought himself enough time to draw his disruptor. Then he blasted them both where they stood, and the Aluwnans were soon lying on the deck, unconscious.

  Growling, he banged on the door again. “Open up, Seeress!”

  The door slid open, and a sleepy-eyed but still fetching blonde dressed in filmy nightclothes answered the door. “What is all the commotion?” she demanded. When she saw the tall, young Klingon, still panting from his battle with her guards, her demeanor changed completely. “Hello, Alexander,” she said in a sultry voice. “Would you like to come in . . . for a while?”

  He gave her a leering smile. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes, I am,” she replied in a come-hither tone of voice, raising three eyebrows expectantly.

  “That’s all I needed to know,” answered Alexander, returning to a businesslike manner. “I’m looking for Farlo—he’s disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” she said in shock. “But I saw him, just a few units ago.”

  Alexander ticked off on his fingers as he answered, “He’s not with you, not with Padrin, not in his cabin, not in the mess hall or any of the places I’ve seen him.”

  “The ship’s computer can locate him,” she replied with concern. “Please come in.”

  This time, Alexander obeyed, and the two of them strode across her sumptuous stateroom to her terminal. “Computer,” said Jenoset, “where on the ship is Seeress Consort Farlo Fuzwik?”

  After a moment, the computer’s polite voice responded, “Farlo Fuzwik is not on the ship. His last known location was the shuttlebay.”

  “The shuttlebay?” asked Alexander curiously. “Has your shuttlecraft taken off recently?”

  “Not that I’m aware,” the seeress answered indignantly. “Listen, before you assume he’s left the ship—and I don’t know why he would—check the laboratory. He has a friend who’s been working there with Marla Karuw.”

  “I know who you mean,” said Alexander, “I will check there. Thank you, Seeress.”

  “Anytime,” she replied in a sultry voice, “and I mean it. By the way, I didn’t kill Tejharet.”

  “I never thought you did,” answered Alexander as he rushed out the door.

&nb
sp; A minute later, he reached the laboratory and found three armed constables waiting for him. Apparently, they had found out about the way he dealt with their comrades. “You are not welcome here,” warned the biggest of the Aluwnans. “You had better leave.”

  “I don’t want a confrontation,” said Alexander. “I’m looking for Farlo, the seeress consort.”

  “He’s not here,” answered the big Aluwnan, taking a threatening step toward the Klingon.

  “What about his friend, the girl named Candra?”

  The Aluwnans looked at one another with surprise, as if they hadn’t expected that question. “She left with the seeress consort,” answered one of the constables, “about one unit ago.”

  “Thank you,” said Alexander with relief. “You can stand down now.”

  He turned to leave, although he wasn’t sure where he was going from here, when the laboratory door suddenly opened. Out strode Marla Karuw, looking enraged, her white lab coat rustling stiffly. Vilo Garlet poked his head out of the laboratory and shouted, “Professor, you can’t go now!”

  “I have to confront them,” she replied. “You know what to do if you get my signal.”

  “Professor,” said a constable, stepping in front of her and brandishing his stun stick, “you aren’t allowed to leave without permission.”

  “Damn!” muttered Karuw. Realizing Alexander was there, she turned and pointed to him. “He can give me permission to leave.”

  “Yes, I can,” answered the Klingon. “Where do you want to go?”

  “To Aluwna,” she answered, crossing her arms.

  Alexander nodded and said, “One quick question—where are Candra and Farlo Fuzwik?”

  “I have no idea,” she answered. “They left and never came back.”

  “That’s enough for me,” said the Klingon, motioning her down the corridor. “I’ll go with you.”

  “I don’t need an escort!”

  “Perhaps not, but we’re both going to the same place.” A few moments later, they strode into the transporter room, which was now quiet after the frenetic activity of the last few days. There were only a few partially built transporter booths lying around and one weary operator, who lunged to his feet upon their approach.

  “Regent!” he said in shock. “I mean, Professor.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you call me,” snapped Karuw as she bounded onto the transporter platform. Alexander moved quickly to stay at her side. “Send us to Base Two on the surface.”

  “Yes, Professor,” responded the operator, entering the coordinates on his console. “You know, it’s the middle of the night down there.”

  “I’m aware what time it is.” Karuw scowled and crossed her arms, making it clear that she wanted to go now, without any further ado.

  “Wait a minute!” said Alexander with alarm. “Don’t we need environmental suits?”

  Karuw scoffed at him. “And they told me Klingons were brave.”

  “Brave, not stupid.”

  “They have plenty of suits down there,” she answered, “if you’re afraid.”

  Alexander crossed his arms stubbornly and said, “Energize.”

  The two of them vanished from the warm confines of the Darzor and materialized a moment later in the chilly wasteland of Aluwna, surrounded by campfires, temporary shelters, and a few scattered shuttlecraft. Alexander wanted to ask Marla Karuw what was so urgent, but he figured if he followed her, he would soon find out. She stalked across the burnt grass and gnarled roots of the crater, ignoring the few despondent Aluwnans who greeted her. Alexander had to run to keep up. Their destination was soon apparent, because several crouched figures were gathered around one of the blue transporter booths, looking at a body lying prone on the ground.

  Marla Karuw strode up to the figures, who were unrecognizable in their environmental suits, except for the android, Data. Alexander realized that this was the away team from the Enterprise, and he soon identified his father, Riker, and the others. They had apparently discovered a badly decomposed body, but it looked too old to have arrived on the planet since the Genesis Wave struck. Where had it come from? he wondered.

  Karuw took one look at the body and gasped, stepping back, her hand over her mouth. This was the strongest reaction Alexander had ever seen from the unflappable professor.

  “Curate Molafzon,” she said, looking as pale as if she had seen a ghost. “But how . . . here?”

  “Obviously, you can identify the body,” said Commander Riker. “You are Marla Karuw, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she answered, lifting her chin and mustering her composure. “The curate . . . he went missing before the wave struck. Where did you find him?”

  “In the transporter booth,” answered Leah Brahms. “Are you ready to let us help you?”

  Karuw’s back stiffened, and she glowered at the newly arrived visitors. “I think the Federation has done quite enough already. I know you mean well, but everything is under control.”

  “That’s not the impression we get,” said Geordi La Forge. “We’ve run scans on your satellites, and many of those pattern buffers are destabilizing at an alarming rate. If I were you—”

  “You aren’t me!” she snapped, again looking flustered, especially whenever she glanced at the wizened body on the ground. “Yes, I begged you for help, but that was weeks ago . . . when help would have done us some good. Now we’re ready to reclaim our planet . . . for Aluwnans, not the Federation.”

  She turned to Worf and said, “Ambassador, you sent me that story . . . about the ancient Terran named Noah. You didn’t think I would read it, but I did. You were right—it did give me inspiration, because it was about a lone person who listened to his inner voice, the Divine. That voice told him to build the ark, and he ignored everyone else on the planet, all those who thought he was a fool. Single-handedly, he brought his world through turmoil and saved all the species on the planet. One person! Yes, I could identify with Noah. Now we are finally at the end of the storm; the clouds are parting, and the flood waters are receding. I can’t believe that anything will stop me from my victory.”

  “Something might,” said Data, stepping forward. “The unusual circuitry you have in the base of your transporter booth is sapping the solar power cells. If you could explain to us the purpose of these emitters, perhaps we could find a way to increase energy efficiency. If not, I fear the power cells will fail under heavy usage.”

  A dark cloud passed over Marla Karuw’s weathered face, and she lifted her left wrist and squeezed her communications bracelet. It beeped, sending out a signal. “I’ll show you what those emitters do,” she said calmly, “because I can’t let you meddle in our lives anymore.”

  The transporter booth suddenly came alive, beeping, whirring, and glowing with an eerie amber light. When Marla Karuw ran at full speed away from the enclosure, the away team looked uneasily at one another, except for Data, who studied his tricorder intently.

  “There is a large buildup of kedion particles,” said the android, “I suggest vacating the area. Do not use transporters.”

  That was enough for Riker, Worf, La Forge, Brahms, and Alexander, who ran at full speed through the camp, waving at everyone. “Run!” they shouted. “Take cover! Get away from the transporter!”

  The warning came too late for most of the stunned refugees, because the transporter booth suddenly erupted with amber light, like a sun going nova, and a shock wave resonated outward in every direction. The ground shuddered, the trees rippled and wilted, and the oxygen was sucked out of the air. The shock wave knocked Alexander to the ground, and Worf landed with such force that his protective helmet flew off. They could do little more than grasp roots and rocks, while their lungs screamed for air. Alexander looked up and marveled at the way Data stood in the center of the maelstrom, light and strange energy ripples flowing all around him while he continued to take readings. The Klingon’s lungs were starting to burn when they abruptly filled with air that he could breathe.

 
“Where is Marla Karuw?” shouted his father, glaring over his shoulder into the misty darkness, which seemed to be shimmering from the passing of the energy beam. But neither one of them could see much of anything, because the campfires and lights on the shuttlecraft had all gone out. The transporter booth was dark again, too.

  A mighty tree from the edge of the jungle suddenly toppled over and fell to the ground with a resounding crash. Alexander hoped there was nobody under it. More trees began to fall, as if a thousand lumberjacks were working overtime. Without warning, the ground beneath him turned to mushy mud and then slimy quicksand, and he was sinking.

  “Help!” cried Alexander, reaching for his father.

  “Don’t struggle,” ordered Worf, gripping his hand. “Try to float on top!”

  That was easier said than done, because first he had to extricate his limbs from the muck. Alexander could hear frightened cries and screams in the darkness, and he wanted to help them—but he could barely help himself.

  “The ground is liquefying!” shouted Commander Riker somewhere in the blackness. “Try to float! Don’t struggle!”

  Others took up the chant, and the word quickly spread across the clearing. “Float on top! Float!”

  Floating was possible, Alexander discovered just as soon as he stopped panicking. Unfortunately, that was all he or anyone else was able to do, while the ground continued to shudder, and trees tumbled in the forest like grain under a scythe. His irrational mind almost thought it was the Genesis Wave again, but he was still alive—so that wasn’t it.

  “Marla Karuw!” his father yelled angrily. Even his great bellow was barely audible over the screams, shouts, and collapsing forest.

  He blames the right one, thought Alexander, because he remembered Karuw telling Vilo Garlet to wait for her signal. What have those crazy Aluwnans done?

  * * *

  Geordi La Forge and Leah Brahms held each other tightly as the liquefied ground quaked beneath them. They didn’t sink, because they had jumped upon a sheet of metal from a fallen shelter. They wanted to assure each other that this wasn’t the end, but neither one of them had any idea what it was. All they could hear were the faceless cries to “Float! Don’t struggle!” And the only struggling they did was to drop to their knees and grip each other as the undulating earth tried to drown them.