Troi stopped and turned to look at an older Bolian woman standing in the doorway of the domed building. She was dressed in flowing blue robes, like some kind of cleric, and the counselor realized that she had stumbled upon a place of worship. A sign over the door said it was the “Sanctuary of the First Mother.”
The woman looked so kind and helpful that Deanna felt her reticence to speak slipping away. “Hello,” she said, “I’m with the fleet that’s orbiting the planet.”
“I assumed as much,” said the old Bolian with a smile. “You look particularly upset, when we’re the ones who should be upset.”
“But you’re smiling,” said Deanna in amazement.
“Yes, because I can gaze at the Crown of the First Mother whenever I want. I know this awful scourge will not destroy us.”
“But—” said Deanna helplessly.
“Come inside, Child, and cast off your bonds of worry.” The old woman took her hand and gently pulled her inside the beautiful dome. “What is your name?”
“Deanna Troi. I’m a counselor. . . . I help people.”
“That’s wonderful,” replied the old woman. “Then we’re in the same business.”
“And your name?”
“Just call me ‘Mother,’ ” she answered with a smile. They walked slowly through a vestibule which was lined with beautiful murals depicting an archeological dig and the discovery of Myrmidon’s most famous relic. Deanna saw the story unfold as they strolled through the vestibule—first the discovery, then the mass pilgrimage, ending with the construction of this great city and others. The last murals showed happy Bolians dancing and feasting under flowered garlands, with a blazing golden crown.
Instead of being consoled by these vivid images, Troi was only more distressed. Centuries of joyous work and progress were about to vanish in a matter of seconds, and there wasn’t anything any of them could do about it.
Pushing open a pair of gold-inlaid doors, Mother led the way into a vast sanctuary, which was filled with Bolians on their knees, muttering prayers aloud. All of them faced a small cabinet, which was lit by its own internal fires. Overhead, the inside of the dome seemed to sparkle with an unearthly light, and Deanna realized it was sunlight filtered through a clear ceiling. It seemed as if the entire room was suffused with a holy glow.
“Is that really the Crown of the First Mother?” asked Troi in a hushed voice.
The woman smiled wistfully. “I’d like to think it is, but I don’t know for sure. There are sanctuaries like this all over the planet, and one of them contains the genuine relic. The rest contain copies identical of the original. We did this to thwart thieves, but it has been a blessing in disguise, allowing every citizen to feel as if he has personal contact with the greatest of our treasures. Shall we move closer?”
Troi nodded, and Mother led her down an aisle of worshipers to stand at the side of the case, so they wouldn’t block anyone’s view. Deanna peered inside at an unexpectedly simple piece of golden jewelry, which had the same triangular motif she had seen in the Bolians’ architecture; each of the crowning points was an upsidedown triangle. Whoever had made the copy—if this was a copy—had done an excellent job, because the relic looked as old as the universe but undiminished in beauty.
“Now do you feel peace?” asked Mother.
Troi shook her head. “I wish I could say I did. But, Mother, I’ve seen the Genesis Wave. I know what it can do.”
“Faith can conquer mountains,” said the woman. “I heard a human say that once.”
The Genesis Wave can also conquer mountains, Deanna thought glumly. She looked around, realizing that the domed building was about the size of a standard starship; then she suddenly had an idea. “Tell me, is the sanctuary always as crowded as this?”
“Yes, and I expect it to get more crowded as the day goes on,” answered the holy woman. “No offense, Deanna Troi, but our people place more faith in the power of the Crown than in all the might of Starfleet.”
“Maybe they have the right idea,” said Troi, hope stirring in her heart for the first time. “Do you have the locations of all the sanctuaries like this on the planet?”
“Yes, in my office, on the computer.”
“I need that information right now,” said Troi.
Will Riker gazed with satisfaction at the platform in transporter room two. Every spot on the pad was occupied, not by a person but by a complex machine about two meters tall, with emitters, injectors, nozzles, and power taps all over it. In addition to those eight interphase generators, another dozen waited in the cargo area, and the transporter chief and cargo handlers were beaming them down to the surface as quickly as the replicators could produce them.
“Everything going as planned, Chief?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” answered the dour Andorian. “This is the last batch consigned to the planetary factories—all the rest are headed to the sanctuaries.”
“Great. Let me know when you’re done with the generators, and we’ll start sending down crates of gel-packs. Keep up the good work.”
Riker strode from the transporter room, headed to the forward torpedo module, which was being replaced with spare parts contributed by other ships in orbit. He didn’t think they would need quantum torpedoes, because they hadn’t done any good so far against the Genesis Wave, but he was determined to replace the module while they had the chance. Something told him this would not be the end of their battle with their unknown foe, and he wanted to be ready.
* * *
“The power source is going to be our biggest problem,” said Geordi La Forge, gazing at a field of gigantic vegetables that would serve as their testing ground. “I don’t know if the gel-packs can handle the surge.”
“Of course not,” sneered a senior Romulan engineer whose name was Duperik. “I could have told you that.”
“Then why didn’t you?” asked Leah Brahms impatiently.
“This was your idea,” said the Romulan. “Nobody consulted us until just now. These generators draw a lot of power, which is their biggest flaw. If we could erect your shelters near power stations—”
“We could,” answered Brahms, “but then we would have to protect the power stations as well, and we can’t protect all the underground cables and transformers. One breakdown along any of the lines would kill us.” She groaned with exasperation. “How many more hours?”
“Twenty,” answered Geordi, checking his chronometer. “We only have to maintain power for the first onslaught of the wave, about ten minutes. Let’s run the test, and see how long the gelpacks can power it.”
He waved to the dozen or so technicians who were assisting them, one of whom was Dolores Linton. “Start the monitoring equipment. Check the power couplers. Get the emitter and the dampening field ready.”
For several minutes, there was frantic activity in the field, as the technicians double-checked the various pieces of equipment. Their test was a larger version of the test they had run aboard the Enterprise in the chamber. Two interphase generators and their power packs had been set up in the center of the field, which was a bit less than one hectare in size. They assumed they could cram almost sixty thousand people in an area this size—and many more if they used buildings of multiple stories. Two generators were being used, with the second one intended as a backup in case the first one failed.
They would measure how far the protective phase-shifting field extended and how effective it would be in guarding the giant vegetables from the protomatter beam. Geordi knew it was awfully late in the process to see whether this plan would work, but this was the first chance they’d had to try it. If the test failed . . . He didn’t want to think about that, because they didn’t have a backup.
While the Romulan was checking one generator, La Forge was checking the other, when he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looked up, hoping it was Leah, but instead it was Dolores Linton, smiling at him. He felt a pang of guilt, because he’d been awfully cavalier about her feelings for him.
But he resented the fact that Leah thought the two of them were involved. Nevertheless, he reached up and squeezed her hand warmly.
“You know, you don’t have to be here,” he said.
“What?” said Dolores cheerfully. “Do you think I’d miss a chance to get off that ship onto solid ground?”
Geordi smiled. “Maybe if I ever gave you that tour of the ship, you’d appreciate it more.”
“Maybe.” Dolores glanced over at Leah Brahms, who was some distance away, tinkering with the protomatter emitter. “Leah told me that she’s leaving . . . and that I should take care of you.”
La Forge grumbled and turned back to his work. “Is that so?”
“It’s too soon for her, Geordi. Too much has happened. Besides, she doesn’t realize how you feel about her.”
“I know,” he said, grabbing a spanner from his tool belt and making a slight adjustment. “I’ve been a perfect gentleman.”
“Yes, and some of us are getting a little annoyed about that.”
He turned to look at her, and Dolores was gazing hard at him, having made a joke that wasn’t a joke.
“Okay,” he said boldly, “when this is all over, a tour of this ship it is. Starting with my quarters.”
“That’s more like it!” replied the geologist enthusiastically. “Now save the day, will you?” Dolores squeezed his shoulder one more time and walked away.
La Forge watched the muscular young woman’s easy stride, wondering what on Earth was wrong with him. It was a good thing Data wasn’t here to see how inept he was—he’d never hear the end of it. Yes, he was still carrying a torch for a traumatized widow who seemed to prefer the company of a grizzled old Klingon. But then, it was a torch he was used to carrying.
A few meters away from him, the Romulan finished his adjustments to the second interphase generator, and he stood and walked over to La Forge. “I’m still not sure it will work, but you might as well try it.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence.” Geordi was finished, too, having set the device to the optimal settings they had discovered in the lab. On the edge of the field, a transporter beam deposited half-a-dozen swirling columns of light, who formed into half-a-dozen Starfleet officers, one of whom was Admiral Nechayev.
“The brass is here,” said La Forge, motioning to Duperik to follow him. He and the Romulan walked up to the admiral and her aides, several of whom looked frightened to death.
“Is everything in readiness, Commander?” asked the admiral solemnly.
“Yes, we were just about to do our first test.”
The admiral frowned and looked at her chronometer. “You’re a bit behind schedule.”
La Forge didn’t argue with her, or mention that the schedule was absurd—along with this whole idea. Instead he clapped his hands loudly and yelled, “Come on, let’s do it! Everyone to their places!”
A ring of technicians formed around the estimated area of protection, and all of them were manning tricorders, monitors, or remote controllers. “Ready?” called Geordi.
All around the field, assistants acknowledged that they were ready, and La Forge nodded to the Romulan. “Activate generator number one.”
Duperik pressed his control device and reported, “Phase-shifting activated. Power levels holding steady.”
Nothing in the field looked any different to normal sight, but Geordi could see the oscillating ripple of wave after wave of energy pulsing outward. Some of the huge vegetables seemed to quiver, like asphalt in the summer sun.
He pointed to Leah on the emitter gun. “Give it the protomatter. Begin countdown. All monitors on!”
Brahms shot a narrow beam into the rows of giant vegetables, and it seemed to pass right through half-a-dozen of them before terminating in a dampening field on the other side. Geordi kept his eyes on his chronometer, because there wasn’t any doubt that the phase-shifting would cover the distance for a short period of time. The question was whether the gel-packs could power the generator long enough to brave the worst of the Genesis Wave’s effects.
La Forge saw a couple of the technicians in the circle move forward, as if the field were shrinking. He sidled over to the Romulan and asked in a whisper, “Is power holding steady?”
“No,” answered Duperik. “The power has dropped by twenty-two percent, but the generator is still working. We make good equipment, don’t we?”
“There are still five minutes left to go,” said Geordi worriedly. The last thing he wanted was for this test to be a failure—in front of the admiral. “Activate the backup generator.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The Romulan engineer did as he was ordered, and the test continued. “Are you planning to use two generators at each site?”
“I don’t know yet,” answered Geordi, his eyes on his timepiece. “Maybe backup gel-packs would be better. We’ll have an engineer at each site.”
“Not a Romulan engineer, you won’t,” said Duperik pointedly. “We’re not staying around for this fiasco.”
“Just keep that to yourself,” whispered Geordi.
The minutes seemed to drag by, but the giant, artichokelike vegetables were suffering no ill effect from the protomatter beam. Geordi barely breathed until he was finally able to shout, “Time! Stop protomatter!”
Leah Brahms turned the emitter off and stood at attention, gazing at the azure sky as if her mind were light-years away. Everyone else shouted with joy, congratulating each other with hugs and slaps on the back.
Admiral Nechayev actually cracked a smile as she walked over to La Forge. “Well done, Commander! This means we can approach the Bolians with confidence and go to the next stage. Our latest plan is to use their religious sanctuaries as shelters, because they seem to be flocking there anyway. Send your settings and results to the Sovereign, so that we can distribute them to all the teams.”
“Yes, Sir,” answered Geordi, wishing he felt more confident than he did. He stole a glance at Leah Brahms, who was slowly walking toward them. Her face was a stoic mask, but he could see the fear in her dark eyes.
Nechayev was still holding court. “This also allows me to put out a call for volunteers among Starfleet officers—to stand with us here on Myrmidon.”
“With us?” asked La Forge hesitantly.
“Yes,” answered the admiral. “My aides and I are staying here with the populace. This will reassure them of our faith in the plan.”
Now Geordi knew why her aides had looked so frightened when they first arrived. They were going to voluntarily remain on the planet and endure the Genesis Wave.
“Admiral,” said Leah Brahms, “I would like to leave immediately. My work is done—I can’t do anything else here.”
“Certainly, Doctor. You can return with us to the Sovereign right now.”
Geordi’s heart sank to the bottom of his heels upon hearing Leah say she was leaving. Now it was definite. Without thinking, except that he wanted to make her feel as badly as he felt, he blurted out, “Admiral, I’d like to volunteer to stay with you on Myrmidon.”
“Geordi!” said Leah, aghast. “Are you crazy?”
“Doctor, that will be enough,” snapped Nechayev. She turned to La Forge with gratitude and respect on her usually stern face. “That will mean a lot to everybody if you stay, Commander.”
“Then I’ll stay, too,” said Dolores Linton resolutely.
Now it was Geordi’s turn to look aghast, but he couldn’t very well berate her for doing what he was doing.
“Tell us your name.” Nechayev nodded to one of her aides, who had already entered La Forge’s name on his padd.
“Dolores Linton, mission specialist, geology.”
“Ah, yes. You should be on Itamish III. Hopefully, we can get you back there without delay when this is all over. Your bravery will not go unnoticed.”
Nechayev motioned to her entourage. “We’d better get back to the ship, because we have a lot to do. Dr. Brahms, you’re with us.” She tapped
her combadge. “Nechayev to Enterprise. Seven to beam up.”
Leah gave Geordi a final look, and it was hard to tell whether she was angry or mournful over his rash decision. She just shook her head and gazed solemnly down at the ground. In a swirl of glittering molecules, the admiral, her entourage, and the love of his life were gone.
Will I ever see her again? wondered Geordi. If he were a betting man, he wouldn’t have bet on it.
The engineer sighed and looked at Dolores, standing resolutely beside him. “You didn’t have to do that,” he whispered.
“Neither did you.” She mustered a brave smile. “I told you, I’d rather be on solid ground, even if it’s not so solid. Besides, the test went great! What could go wrong?”
“I’m going to make sure nothing goes wrong,” vowed La Forge. He tried not to look at the Romulan engineer, who was shaking his head as if the people in Starfleet were absolutely insane.
twenty-four
On the bridge of the Enterprise, the mood was somber as they listened to a fleet-wide message from Admiral Nechayev, calling for volunteers to stay on Myrmidon and tough it out. The admiral could be persuasive, thought Will Riker, but not persuasive enough to convince him. It helped that she had specifically asked for no more than one or two volunteers per ship.
When the message was over, he looked at Captain Picard and asked, “What do we do if we get volunteers?”
“We let them go,” answered Picard from his command chair. “One or two at the most. But I’m under orders not to volunteer, and I hope none of my senior staff do either.”
“You knew about this?”
“I’m afraid so,” said the captain grimly.
“At least it sounds like she wants to keep it to a small number,” said the first officer. “Do you think some of our Bolians will want to stay?”
“I don’t know,” answered the captain. “Although we haven’t been ordered to take any evacuees, I intend to make an exception for Mot’s parents and other family members of our crew.”
The Genesis Wave: Book One Page 26