by Various
"How do we know where to look?"
"That, Chanik, is an excellent question," Picard replied, as he watched the boy build an expert campfire. It seemed the youth possessed some skill at survival and was more than happy to contribute to the expedition. The question was on his mind long before the boy asked. Aimless wandering would mean the Resonator might be days away from discovery. He doubted the Alpha Quadrant would wait for days. As it was, he feared the days here already meant suns had gone nova. The worst part was, he had no way of knowing.
The pair ate in silence as Picard let his mind sort through possible ways to find the Resonator. It couldn't be too large but had to fit the equipment, he suspected. But that could mean something as small as a data chip or as large as his fist. And where would a tool like that be maintained? With no power emanations, he couldn't begin to suspect which building might have housed the gateway ... or were there multiple gateways in something this large?
Chanik kept silent, working on the tough strips of meat. His only comment had been about it being so bland compared with what he was used to.
Picard withdrew the tricorder from his pocket and studied reports from previous gateway encounters. He was looking for some kind of clue. Maybe something in the placement of the device, or the architecture or ornamentation ... He struggled with the small screen, enhancing every image until his eyes hurt with the strain. Giving up for the night, he pocketed the device and finished a piece of fruit.
"I like the stars," Chanik said idly.
"Me too," Picard agreed.
"I like that they're there when I go to sleep. I think about what they are, what's between them, and if anyone lives up there."
"People have wondered that since the beginning of time, I think," Picard said warmly.
They sat in companionable silence for a little while and Chanik scanned the skies with concentration. Picard, look to the left. See those four stars going up and down in a straight line? It's like a staff."
"Yes, it might be. We call clusters of stars that make a picture constellations."
Chanik tried out the word and smiled. "Who's holding the staff?"
Picard scanned the night sky and tried to connect random stars to complete the picture but finally shook his head. "I'm not sure."
"So it's not your home? I thought Young Gods came from the sky."
"Just a story," Picard said, wary of any answer. "People make up stories when they're not sure of the truth. Sometimes it gives them comfort."
"Like my sky pictures?"
"Exactly. You should try to sleep now. I need to push on early tomorrow."
Once again, he had an uneasy night's sleep, worried about time lost, worried about natural predators, worried about the world Chanik would grow up in.
Dawn's light woke Picard and he marveled at the beauty of unfettered nature replacing what had been a superior technology. He felt rested although his mind immediately turned to the problem at hand. He had to find the Master Resonator today and return home.
Chanik was still asleep and their fire had died out, but there was little chill in the air.
Picard took a sip from a water skin and noted the intricate swirling pattern that had been etched onto one side. Staring at it, he let his mind wander for a moment, and he thought about the odd-pointed end of the device nearly used on the accused woman the day before. Its oval nature was similar to the pattern on the skin and it occurred to Picard that the domed structure on the new Iconian world was more oval than circular. Could the oval shape be significant?
If so, then what?
Picard concentrated on the shape of architecture on Iccobar and Dewan, two of the other worlds that traced their lineage to the Iconians. Sure enough, ovals played a part of the overall design, but how could he use the knowledge to find the device?
He once more turned on the tricorder and studied the interior design of the Iconian building where he first encountered a gateway. The room was more rectangular than oval so that did not help, but he read over the description of the control pattern of the machinery itself that Data had provided. He wished he had an actual image of the room, but Picard himself had ordered the tricorder that had recorded the room destroyed both to avoid the sabotage of the Iconians' invasive computer probe and to keep the information out of Romulan hands.
The layout of the controls offered no clue but he read over the description again. There was something he was missing and it nagged at him.
He switched the controls to the exterior of the domed home to the Iconians. There, the captain studied the colors and shapes, but merely glanced at the filigree work. That is, until his mind wandered for a second and his eyes lost their sharp focus and suddenly, all he saw were the spikes at different points to the design. Picard hastily reran the analysis and quickly grabbed a stick and sketched on the ground. He copied the points only of the oval sphere's profile. With a smile, he noted that it was an exact match on the reverse profile.
He drew grid lines in the dirt, seeing how the points matched and there was the missing pattern. Quickly, Picard sketched further, completing the oval from a bird's-eye view, repeating the grid lines and spikes. A picture emerged, the points leading the eye to a specific section of the grid, which could be the location of the City's gateway. From memory, Picard estimated where he and Chanik entered the City and their approximate location. With a silent curse, he realized they were far from the building but at least had an idea of direction. Using the tricorder, he scanned the image and would use it as a crude map.
While he wanted to let the boy sleep more, he felt an urgent need to get moving. Gently, he woke Chanik and gave him fruit for breakfast. Within twenty minutes, they were moving again, this time in a direction that Picard hoped would bring a resolution to the problem.
"There were multiple moves between Petraw ships," Taleen reported to Riker. "Just as Doral moved among many ships to elude you, a single transport crossed a dozen ships before stopping at the Deltan vessel. And from there, crossed seven more ships to return."
"Which one?" Riker demanded, angry at being duped.
"It's one of the older vessels," she said, tapping at an image screen behind her, identifying a single vessel in bottom right portion of the screen. "Data, who do we have watching that ship?"
The android turned and replied, "Subcommander Rivel of the Glory."
"Riker to Chargh."
"Grekor here."
"Captain, can you maneuver toward the vessel identified on our screens?"
"Can't I just blow them up and solve the problem? "
Riker shook his head in frustration, because he felt the temptation as well.
"Sorry, I don't think that's wise at this time. I do intend to do something about this. After all, I promised Captain Oliv."
"Very well. Chargh out."
"Thank you, Taleen. I owe you one. Riker out."
Riker stood and walked over to Data's station, standing to the android's side. He was tired and annoyed and worried. If one saboteur could get out and cause such damage, could more? How was he to protect the entire fleet? He doubted the ships could generate enough of a dampening field to stop the entire Petraw fleet. As it was, he had people stationed on every ship, so bringing them back to their home ships would be problematic. And how much longer should he wait for Picard to return before acting on his own?
"You are preoccupied."
"Very much so, Data," Riker admitted. "The captain was not specific about his return and how long I need to wait. I can't endanger all the ships. I want you and Geordi to theorize a way to stop these transports from happening again."
"Understood, sir. I will be in engineering if you need me."
"Good. Lieutenant Vale, take a detachment to the saboteur's current ship and let's get a hold of him ... or them. Meantime, I need to have a word with Commander Desan about her staff's efficiency."
"How did you figure out a direction?"
Chanik had asked variations of this question since they headed out an
d each time, Picard tried to explain without giving away too much information. The boy was inquisitive and bright, so he couldn't say too much.
"It's like the stars we saw last night. If you let your mind wander, you find patterns in the shapes. I did that with things I have seen in my journeys and suddenly I saw a pattern that I took to form a map. I could be right or I could be wasting precious time."
Chanik grinned at the captain as he struggled to keep up with the older man's long strides. "You'll be right. You were right every time we had to choose yesterday. You taught the farmer, stopped the highwaymen, saved the baby. Young Gods know how to do things better than people."
"I am people, Chanik. Call me Picard or Young God, I still breathe and eat and walk like you do," Picard said. He knew he was skirting theological issues and wanted to keep the boy focused on the walk. He quickened his pace and forced the boy to trot to catch up, stopping the questioning for now.
They had been moving from street to street for three hours now with just one break. The boy was resilient and his endurance was a marvel. Together, they cut through overgrown passageways and hefted fallen branches from trees that had taken up residence in plazas. Using the sun as a guide, Picard continued to | refine his estimates of where they were headed, correcting their path time and again.
With luck, they would reach the building in question just after lunch. That would provide him with plenty of daylight to thoroughly search the area to find if his guess was correct. If it wasn't, then he could easily have passed it earlier and would never know.
"We must hurry," Picard said over his shoulder. "I think we're on the right path and I'm eager to see if I'm right."
"I'm right behind you," he said, puffing just a little.
He was wrong. They arrived at the targeted building much after lunch and he saw the sun was already starting toward the horizon. With the taller buildings surrounding them, it would be dark within a few hours.
Compared with the rest of the City, the building was nondescript. If it truly housed a gateway, one could not tell by design or ornamentation. The outside was reds and oranges with two windows missing. It stretched maybe ten stories tall, dwarfed by some of the surrounding structures. If there was anything to differentiate it from the other structures, it was the how wide the street grew around it. Picard speculated that might have to do with the volume of people arriving to access the gateway. He admitted that might be stretching the facts to make his point, but it was all he had to go on.
"Should we go in?" Chanik asked.
"Oh, of course," Picard said, realizing just then how he had stared at the building for a while. He certainly didn't feel nervous about it, but he had proceeded cautiously around it. Perhaps he was trying to avoid disappointment or apprehension about what he might find within.
The entranceway was rusted in spots and Picard had to grip the door with both hands, gaining a hold between door and frame. He gave it a test pull and felt how tight it was. Planting his feet firmly on the ground, he tensed his muscles and pulled against the door. He maintained the pressure for longer than he was used to, letting the lighter gravity once more help him.
Finally, after a minute of exertion, the door began to give. Picard stopped, catching his breath and looking at his sore fingers. Once more, he gripped the door and gave it one hard pull, feeling the muscular strain down his legs. And once more, the door gave in to his exertions and swung open. The captain nearly lost his footing as the door was freed but Chanik steadied him. He grinned at the boy and stepped inside the building.
The first floor was filled with pillars supporting the entire building, but also had a series of rooms that seemed uniform in size and shape. Some had desks, others tall cabinets made from something akin to marble. Whatever papers might have been were long gone, and weeds crept through the open windows and spilled out across the floors. Mold and mildew were also in evidence, producing an unpleasant, but by now familiar odor. Chanik wrinkled his nose in disgust.
Unlike most buildings, though, this had a very wide staircase, spiraling down below ground level. It had polished wooden railings that time had done little to. The stair coverings were eaten through and some weeds had snaked down ahead of them. It was also dark since the natural light could not penetrate far. Picard would need something and returned to the main level and looked about.
"Chanik, we need to build torches so we can explore below. Most other buildings do not seem to have basements, but this one does. I believe our goal is down there. Can you find two very sturdy, heavy wood poles, branches, or sticks?"
"Sure can," the boy said. Despite being tired from all the walking, he fairly sprinted from the building out to the streets in search of supplies. Picard had already decided he was correct and was willing to use his phaser to ignite the torches rather than the more laborious natural method of starting a fire.
It took him a few minutes, but Chanik came back, dragging two branches. One was longer than he was tall, and Picard sighed since he would have to reduce it in size. The other was more manageable but the captain was convinced he would be better with two light sources - just in case.
Within five minutes, the torches were cut to size and ignited. The boy marveled at the phaser's effective use, which sadly served to reinforce the notion of Picard being a god. To the captain, it was mild contamination since Chanik could tell what he saw and not be believed. And when he grew up and tried to replicate the tools he had witnessed, he would discover no way to refine the metal or create the duotronic circuits required. Not ideal, but it would pass Starfleet scrutiny. It certainly was better than the legendary story of an officer who left a communicator behind on a world and helped change an entire society.
Once more they descended the stairs, and with the improved light, Picard saw that the basement extended some thirty meters down. A gateway would be very well protected so deep, he mused.
As they reached bottom, he saw illustrations of landscapes that were unfamiliar. They certainly did not match anything he had seen on this world. The artwork had been inlaid along the walls, part of the construction. There were snowscapes, oceans, mountain views, and cities. None looked familiar and the city's buildings were a far cry from the architecture above. Colored circles in the walls seemed to form directional patterns, most leading to his left.
They moved slowly, listening and hearing nothing. The pictures stopped after a bit and instead, tablets with alien script appeared. Picard took out the tricorder and recorded them for later analysis although he suspected there would be matches for other cultures. Turquoise, violet, olive, and cinnamon-colored circles all converged down one hallway so Picard chose to follow them. He was rewarded with the hall opening up to a large chamber.
In the center was a familiar control panel, one he first saw on a world countless light-years away.
This was the gateway control room.
It seemed large enough to open quite a number of gateways and it suddenly occurred to Picard that the pictures outside were recommended locales. The Iconians had stayed here long enough to send their people on vacations^ forcing him to revise his notion that they were chased here by whatever race firebombed their home-world. Still, everything was open to interpretation and he realized now was not the time for it.
"What does that do, Picard?"
"When it worked, Chanik, it could help people find their way to other locations. It's very old equipment and I doubt it functions anymore." In reality, he knew it would have to work to send him home and there was little doubt that the equipment still functioned. Compared with the gateway on Iconia, this was a much newer model, so if the original worked, so too would this one.
Picard studied the chamber carefully, looking for some place the Master Resonator might be housed. The walls seemed smooth and there were no other halls leading to the space. With the torch held high, Picard checked every inch of the walls, taking his time to watch shadows play against joints where floor and ceiling met wall.
He then meticulously
studied the console itself, but found no hidden panels or hatches. It grew frustrating, as Picard knew he had found his goal but the ultimate object eluded his grasp.
Chanik, growing bored standing in the same space, had been wandering in and out of the chamber, using the hallway as a place to run. At one point, Picard watched him with a sad smile. So full of energy and eager to help, but everything was beyond his grasp. However, Picard watched a little more and saw something catch the youth's eye. Chanik walked along the hallway with his torch and looked closely at a section, just before the hall opened into the chamber. He placed his tiny hand on a section of wall and pushed, revealing a doorway mostly hidden in the shadows.
Picard quickly stepped over to him, and together, their torches dancing together above them, they peered into the newly discovered room. The air was stale and musty to Picard but that wasn't important. What was vital, though, was the rack set against the far wall. On it was the Master Resonator - he was sure of it.