DOOMSDAY WORLD

by CARMEN CARTER, PETER DAVID, MICHAEL JAN FRIEDMAN

  But his sense of relief was shattered by the security report.

  “Long-range sensors have picked up a K’Vin warship, class-D combat unit. Course heading indicates they are also bound for Kirlos.” Burke broke off, his eyes tracking the panel readout. “Correction. They’ve changed course for an intercept with the Enterprise.”

  “Raise shields,” ordered Picard immediately. Some races would interpret the raising of shields as a provocation; they would assume aggression where none was intended. However, according to Ambassador Stephaleh, the K’Vin saw a lack of defense as a positive invitation to attack.

  “The ship is now within communications range.” A shapeless bright dot appeared in the center of the viewscreen.

  “Establish contact.” Picard sucked in a lungful of air, preparing for the high-volume bluster that the K’Vin expected in a standard greeting.

  “Hailing frequencies open, sir. But they are not responding.”

  He let loose his breath. As one, he and Riker turned to each other and exchanged a silent question. Was this typical K’Vin posturing or an attack approach?

  “Ten minutes to intercept. . . . Sensors indicate weapons system activity.”

  “So they’re going to attack,” said Riker. Picard heard a mixture of anger and surprise in the younger man’s voice.

  “Yes, it certainly looks that way.” His mind raced through the few options open to him. If he ordered a change of course, the K’Vin would give chase. And a class-D warship could match, possibly even exceed, the Enterprise’s warp speed, with sufficient power left over to unleash a few photon torpedoes. There was no time to curse Ambassador Stephaleh for the absence of his chief engineer and his best weapons officer.

  However, even if escape was possible, such a retreat would leave the warship free to resume its journey to Kirlos. Which meant the K’Vin would arrive at that planet with thwarted blood lust and a heightened suspicion of the Federation.

  So there was really only one course of action. Picard would have to call their bluff. If it was a bluff.

  “Red alert. Battle stations.”

  Flashing red lights and a brief flurry of activity marked the change in status. When all movement was stilled, a tension remained. The crew members’ attention was riveted on their panels, but Picard and Riker studied the main viewer. The outlines of the warship sharpened; the image filled more and more of the screen.

  “Ten minutes to intercept.”

  “I owe you an apology,” said Riker softly. Only the captain could hear him. “The trouble on Kirlos is escalating. If you hadn’t ordered a return, the Federation sector would have been left defenseless.”

  “I don’t see it that way, Number One.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Without opposition, the K’Vin might have been content simply to flaunt their superior military power. However, this confrontation will probably destroy any opportunity for a diplomatic reconciliation. As a direct result of my decision to leave Tehuán, I’ve endangered my ship and the colonists on it, and possibly triggered an interstellar war.”

  He had been wrong after all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  GEORDI PUT DOWN the narrow tool and slowly, almost fearfully, replaced his VISOR.

  The first thing he thought was Oh, God, it’s still broken. But then he realized he was seeing something—the wall of the cell. It was just that there wasn’t much to look at.

  Tentatively he swung his gaze in the direction of Thul—and let out a yelp of joy. There was a comforting agglomeration of colors, although not the usual spectrum of heat suffusions that came from, for example, a human. That was natural—different species had different readings. Nevertheless, Thul was most certainly there, and Geordi felt relief sweep through him.

  “I knew it!” he said. “All I had to do was get the proper alignment on the connector and—”

  Suddenly he turned, for he had been at work on the damaged VISOR for so long that he had almost forgotten. “Data!” he said, and sure enough, there was the still insensate android.

  Geordi pulled open the front of Data’s uniform and went to work. Thul watched in open amazement. He had never seen anything even remotely like Data in all his years, and was quite certain that he never would again.

  Geordi moved swiftly and surely, his confidence restored along with his sight. He tried to push the bleakness of those hours away from him. He had only the here, the now, and the future to worry about and . . .

  And what the hell was Data lying on?

  The engineer stopped working, and Thul said in confusion, “Is something wrong? What’s happening? Can he not be repaired?”

  “What? Oh . . . sure,” said Geordi. “I’m almost finished, but . . . look at that,” and he pointed at the floor.

  “At what?” asked Thul.

  “Oh. Right, I’m sorry,” Geordi said. His hands started to move again through Data’s circuitry. “You can’t see it. There’s a variance in the heat emission in the floor, in an area about, oh, I’d say about twenty feet square.”

  “What does that mean?” Thul said, genuinely confused.

  “It means there’s something that’s a different temperature underneath the floor, which basically means there’s some sort of entrance to a passageway. And as soon as I have Data up and running—there!”

  And on that word, as if on cue, Data’s eyes snapped open.

  His eyes promptly adjusted to the darkness, and Data said slowly, “Are we in danger?”

  “Of course,” said Geordi affably. “But we have a way out.”

  “That is to be preferred.”

  Within moments Geordi had closed Data up and he was indicating to the android officer the approximate perimeter of the area he had sighted. It was directly in the middle of the floor. “What do you think is under there?” Geordi asked. “And why hasn’t it been noticed earlier?”

  “What might be there, I do not know,” said Data. “Remember, Geordi, that this embassy was built on the site of Ariantu ruins. Since this area was chosen as the embassy site, naturally no digs were permitted here.”

  “Well, we start digging now,” said Geordi. “How long do you think it will take to get through?”

  Data was kneeling over the floor, considering it. Then he abruptly drew back his fist and smashed it straight down. The rock crumbled beneath the impact and his fist and arm went straight through, sinking all the way up to his shoulder.

  “Not long,” he said.

  Within half an hour they had cleared away the stone that had covered over the passage entrance. It was hot work. Geordi was starting to feel the dehydration that Dr. Crusher had warned them about.

  He stared down into the hole, and his VISOR told him that there was a floor about six feet straight down. He certainly hoped that his VISOR was in proper working order and wasn’t failing to inform him that the floor was actually sixty feet away.

  “Perhaps I should go first?” offered Thul.

  “This one’s mine,” replied Geordi.

  The android took him by the hands and lowered him into the passageway. Once Geordi’s extended foot touched the ground, he told Data to release him.

  The air was thick and musty, barely breathable. The floor was covered with dust that seemed inches thick. But all of that was of secondary importance to Geordi.

  What caught his attention was a gleaming metal door.

  Immediately Geordi’s mental alarm went off. Last time he’d encountered a gleaming metal door in a strange place, he’d almost been turned into a puddle of goo. Nevertheless, he approached it—very slowly, very carefully, ready to leap back at the slightest hint of trouble.

  The doors slid open without a sound, and what was inside was unmistakable.

  “Data!” he called back.

  “What have you found, Geordi?”

  Geordi shook his head. “You gotta see this.”

  Within moments Data had dropped down, and so had Thul. The only light was that provided by the torches in their dank cel
l overhead, but it was more than enough.

  Data cocked his head in fascination. “A turbolift.”

  “So it would seem. Do we take it? You’re in charge, Data.”

  “Yes, I am,” said Data. “Although very little is required in the way of decision-making. I do not see any alternative.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

  They stepped into the turbolift. It was quite different from the ones on the Enterprise. Much larger, and covered with ornate symbols and unreadable glyphs—unreadable to Geordi, at least; Data was already busy studying them.

  The doors slid shut, and the turbolift started to move at a remarkable speed—sideways.

  Geordi, having a brief flashback to the time the Enterprise turbolift had gone berserk during the computer virus, gripped the handrails. Data and Thul did likewise.

  The turbolift sped along on its course and then came to a stop.

  “That was easy,” said Geordi.

  Suddenly it dropped.

  Geordi and Thul gasped in shock; Data merely cocked his head curiously as the turbolift seemed to fall like a stone. But instinctively Geordi knew that the car was being cushioned through whatever was powering it, that it was not plummeting out of control, and that they were not going to wind up like pancakes.

  At least he hoped not.

  The car fell for what seemed a mind-bogglingly long time, the air hissing past them; then it slowed to a stop. Geordi braced himself, certain that it was going to leap off diagonally or in some other equally hideous direction.

  Instead, the doors slid open, and the turbolift discharged its passengers.

  The three of them walked slowly through the wonderment of what would eventually—should there be an eventually—come to be known as the omega level.

  Ahead were rows and rows of gleaming consoles with huge curved screens and gleaming black touch-activated panels. And all of it was covered with more of the elaborate glyphs that had decorated the inside of the turbolift. The ceiling seemed to stretch upward forever, like the roof of a cathedral.

  Geordi realized that he’d forgotten to breathe. “What is this place?”

  Something tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and jumped back several feet.

  Data was standing there with a gun strapped to him—a gun that was almost as big as he was.

  “I believe,” he said, “this is the weapons level.”

  Thul, meantime, was staggering around as if in ecstasy. He ran his fingers over the lettering, and he was muttering in reverential, prayerful tones. Looking around, Geordi said, “Thul . . . does any of this mean anything to you?”

  “It’s the nerve center,” he was gasping. “It’s what I . . . I and Dr. Coleridge were looking for. The center of Ariantu technology.”

  As Thul spoke he seemed to have more power, more urgency, in his voice. “The Ariantu were a proud warrior race,” he said. “Weaponry, power—that was what they worshiped, what they cherished above all else.”

  Geordi, hardly listening, ran his fingers across one panel. A screen just above it lit up, and he realized that diagrams were flashing past him, a new one every few seconds. Incredible. Diagrams of what? Engines, he thought. But they weren’t based on warp drive. “Data, take a look at this.”

  Data shifted his gun around to his back and stood next to Geordi. The speed at which the diagrams appeared did not intimidate Data, who could have assimilated the information at ten times that rate. “Intriguing,” he said. “Shunt drive.”

  From behind him, Thul said, “What?”

  “Shunt drive instead of propulsion. These designs are based on the concept of transporting yourself from one point to another point to another repeatedly.”

  “Of course!” shouted Geordi. “That’s how they did it! Don’t you get it, Data? That’s how they accessed the delta level! The space-port level! They didn’t need doors because they just transported right through. From outside to inside in an eye blink.”

  “Pity,” said Data. “I thought your wormhole theory was rather interesting.”

  “Maybe they have that, too. Who knows? But fight now we’ve got to get topside and out of here.”

  “Yes, but the elevator will only take us back to the dungeon of the K’Vin embassy,” said Data reasonably. “I don’t see how our situation is improved.”

  “I do.” And Geordi smiled.

  Data looked down at his gun. “Oh. Of course. We’re armed.”

  “Heavily. I’m gonna find one of those for me. You figure out if it has a stun setting. I’d really rather not disintegrate a platoon of guards if we can help it.”

  The turbolift returned them to the hole beneath their cell, and the three of them clambered up into it. Geordi could not help but notice that a change had come over Thul. He moved with new certainty of purpose, with new strength. Could he really have shared Nassa Coleridge’s dreams so intensely? How long had he known her, anyway? Something was strange, but Geordi did not have the time or the inclination to find out what it was.

  The moment the others were behind him, Geordi said, “Ready? Okay. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  He swung the gun around, aimed at the door and fired.

  A burst of light leaped from the gun and smashed through the door, splintering it into a thousand pieces.

  Quickly he powered it down a bit, because at that intensity it would demolish sentient beings, and Geordi did not want to be a murderer. He braced himself, Data behind him, and waited for the running feet, the response from the guards who were stationed just outside the door.

  Nothing.

  A trick? Were they hiding just outside the door?

  “Data,” he whispered. “Do you hear any breathing?”

  Data paused. “Aside from the people within this cell?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, I do not.”

  Geordi frowned at that, and at that moment his communicator beeped. He tapped it. “La Forge here.”

  “Where have you been?” Worf’s deep voice demanded. “I’ve been trying to contact you.”

  Now that was interesting. Whatever was down there, it was interfering with communications. “Preparing our jailbreak,” said Geordi. “But nobody’s here to challenge us.”

  “Of course not,” said Worf. “They’re all running about and squawking like headless chickens.”

  “I do not think that is possible,” Data put forward. “If chickens are headless, squawking would not be—”

  “Not now, Data,” sighed Geordi. “Worf, what’s happening?”

  “All of the planetary alarms went off at once,” said Worf. “And sensors have run amok. Something huge is heading our way, a fleet of unknown origin. Speculation is running rampant. Everything from a Romulan attack to the Borg.”

  Data was the picture of calm. “Lieutenant Worf,” he said into his own communicator, “you are with Ambassador Gregach now?”

  “I have access, yes.”

  “Stay with him. If everyone is as distracted as you say, our departure from captivity should be simplified. We will return to the Federation embassy and will remain in touch with you.”

  There was a pause. “A good plan,” came Worf’s reluctant admission.

  “I know,” said Data evenly. “Data out.”

  “Data out” was right. Within minutes, the android and Geordi had blasted a hole in the outer wall of the K’Vin embassy. They had encountered no resistance whatsoever, for the K’Vin soldiers had been deployed somewhere else. In the immediate vicinity, there were only K’Vin citizens, gripped by an air of desperation, as if they believed the end of the world was rapidly approaching and the only thing left to do was mark time.

  It was, thought Data, a singularly human way to think.

  “We must get to Ambassador Stephaleh and obtain more information on this mysterious fleet,” said Data. Geordi nodded briskly. “Thul,” said Data, “I want you to . . .”

  He stopped, looked around. Everywhere people were running around, pretty much as Wo
rf had described them. Nowhere did they see Thul.

  Geordi was looking around, too. “I know he came out with us.”

  “Perhaps he has returned to his family,” suggested Data.

  “Sure. That’s probably it. Who can blame the guy? If the end of the world was coming, I’d want to be with my family.”

  “Really? I would want to be stopping it.”

  “Good point.” He clapped Data on the shoulder and said, “Let’s go.”

  Thul rushed through the winding back streets, breathless, his legs aching with fatigue. He had never been so excited in all his life.

  No, that was not quite true. He had been equally excited the first time he laid eyes on the Ariantu.

  He would never forget. There had been four of them—tall and proud and bearing themselves like the hunters they were. Dressed in robes that tended to obscure their appearance, but Thul had seen through their disguises. And no wonder—had he not been waiting for them all his life, like his fathers before him, nurturing the slim hope that their patience and faith would someday be rewarded?

  And suddenly, wonderfully and inexplicably, there they were. In his house, beneath his roof, coming to see him.

  It had been like a dream, a waking fantasy. So numbed had he been by their presence, by their reality, that he could not find words to greet them. It was only after they had spoken a greeting themselves—in a tongue that was at once strange and comfortingly familiar—that he had remembered his manners and asked them to sit.

  His furniture had been a bit too small for them, a source of embarrassment to him. But then, they were true Ariantu, and Thul—like the other Sullurh, the ones who had remained here after their kinsmen withdrew from Kirlos—had declined somewhat in stature over the millennia. They did not need the measuring stick of their ancestors’ physiques to know that; it was plain even from one generation to the next, a result of the acute inbreeding that had likewise diminished the length of their tails, rendering them mere stumps. And even the stumps were removed during the enio’lo ceremony, so that the Sullurh would not be identified with the Ariantu who had once ruled here.