“That is odd,” said Data, seated in his usual post at the ops console. “A Starfleet vessel has just come out of warp twenty thousand kilometers from here—”
“Why is that odd?” asked Riker, glancing at a viewscreen that was full of Starfleet, Klingon, and Romulan vessels. They were lined up in orbit like hover-taxis waiting at a spaceport.
“It is the Neptune, Defiant-class. She is part of Task Force Javelin, which has been reported missing.”
Now Captain Picard whirled around in his seat and stared at the android. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, Sir. Warp signature matches. Here is the ship on visual.” The viewscreen overheard switched from a view of ships in orbit to a single, squat starship floating in space. Its running lights blinked oddly, as if shorted out, and there were scorch marks along its hull.
“Hail them.” Picard jumped to his feet and peered at the image on the screen. “Tactical, get me Admiral Nechayev.”
“She’s already on the comlink, Sir.”
Picard nodded and pointed to the screen, where Nechayev’s dour face appeared. “Hello, Admiral,” he said. “Did you see who just arrived?”
“The Neptune,” she answered. “You had better take a closer look, Captain.”
Picard turned curiously to Data, who shook his head. “They do not answer our hails. Sensors show no lifesigns onboard. Their shields are up, which may be affecting our sensor readings.”
“A ghost ship?” asked Riker in amazement. “How did they know to come out of warp right here? Who set the course?”
A troubled scowl on his face, the captain turned back to the admiral. “Did you get that, Sir?”
“Our sensors show the same thing,” answered Nechayev. “We can get the override codes and turn off the shields from here, but I’d like the Enterprise to investigate. If the Neptune is spaceworthy—and she just came out of warp—we have to fly her out of here. You know what will happen if we leave her behind. If she can be saved, assign a skeleton crew and tell them to await orders.”
“Yes, Sir,” answered Picard. “What about possible survivors? The other missing ships from the task force?”
“All hell is going to break loose here in seventeen hours,” answered Nechayev grimly. “We can’t worry about anything else but Myrmidon. I’ll inform our allies, although they have their hands full. That reminds me, Captain—I’m going down to the planet now . . . for the duration. It’s time to muster support among the populace. Contact the Sovereign if you need me, and they can patch you through.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Nechayev glanced at the readouts on her terminal. “We’ve already got two volunteers from the Enterprise, so you’re off the hook. That would be Commander La Forge and Dolores Linton, who are already on site.”
“Geordi La Forge?” asked Riker with surprise. “He volunteered?”
The admiral nodded. “I’m sorry if the request wasn’t put through officially, but Commander La Forge volunteered personally to my face. I couldn’t say no. It was very brave of him, and it’s gone a long way to calming fears down there. Give me a report on the Neptune as soon as you can. Nechayev out.”
The captain took a deep breath and let out a sigh, while Riker stomped across the bridge. “What was La Forge thinking? Did anybody—” He stopped and rubbed his forehead, realizing there was nothing anybody could do.
“Number One, you and Data are on the away team,” said Picard, getting back to business. “You’d better take Dr. Crusher, too. Tell her, it’s likely the crew is dead, but she should be prepared for casualties.”
Riker nodded. “I’ll put Krygore in charge of engineering.”
“Good choice,” said the captain.
Data bounded out of his seat and started for the turbolift, with Riker following. At the turbolift door, the first officer stopped and turned around. “Captain, if the Neptune is shipshape, Dr. Crusher would be a good choice to command her. I’ll put together a decent crew for her.”
The captain scratched his chin thoughtfully. Riker figured he might appreciate an excuse to get the doctor out of harm’s way. Deanna would also be a good choice, but she was already occupied on the planet’s surface.
“I’ll consider it,” answered the captain. “Let’s find out what happened to the ship first. Conn, set a course for the Neptune, half-impulse, and take us within five kilometers.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Riker’s eyes drifted to the viewscreen, where a scorched starship floated in the blackness of space, its shields and running lights flickering eerily.
Pulling the strap of her medkit over her shoulder, Dr. Beverly Crusher charged down the corridor on her way to transporter room two. She was relieved that she could still move freely in the corridors, since the Enterprise had been spared from picking up evacuees on Myrmidon. Although most of the populace was supposed to stay on and brave the Genesis Wave, many thousands were being evacuated on the support ships. But the Enterprise had been held in reserve for other jobs, such as this investigation of a deserted ship. After abandoning whole worlds right and left, it almost seemed quaint to be worried about one little ship.
When she reached the transporter room, she found Riker and Data already waiting for her. “Hello, Doctor,” said the first officer, checking his tricorder. “Ready for a little jaunt off the ship?”
“Just when I finally get sickbay empty,” said Crusher in mock anger, “and you give me something else to do. Did we run out of security officers?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” said Riker. “They’re all down on the surface.”
“What’s the story with this ship?” asked Crusher.
“The Neptune has been missing for almost thirty hours,” replied Data. “It was part of Task Force Javelin, and its last known where-abouts were near Seran, the first planet stricken by the wave.”
“So what is it doing here?”
“Exactly,” answered Riker. “We’re not picking up any lifesigns, but you never know. It’s a small ship, so it shouldn’t take much time to explore.”
“Which is good,” added Beverly, “since we don’t have much time.”
Riker led the way onto the transporter platform. “If it’s spaceworthy, we have to fly it out. You may end up in the captain’s chair before the end of the day.”
Crusher said nothing, but the prospect of having her own ship in the middle of this crisis wasn’t all that unappealing. She was feeling a little frustrated in sickbay, where the action had fallen off considerably since they had unloaded all of their evacuees. So far, her review of the biological data collected on Persephone V hadn’t borne any fruit, and it felt as if she would need weeks to understand what was happening to these planets.
Riker motioned to the tall Andorian on the transporter console. “Have you got the coordinates, Chief?”
“Yes, Sir,” answered Rhofistan. “I’m putting you on their bridge.”
“That’s fine. Are their shields down yet?”
“Just went down.”
Crusher looked puzzledly at the first officer. “There’s nobody on this ship, but it has shields up?”
“Just one of many mysteries,” answered the commander. He motioned to the transporter chief. “Energize.”
A few seconds later, their swirling molecules coalesced on the bridge of the Neptune, which was deserted as expected. Beverly looked around, thinking that it reminded her of a smaller version of the bridge on the old Enterprise-D. Although no one was here, most of the consoles blinked and beeped as if they were functioning, and the viewscreen showed a disconcerting view of the Enterprise-E, sitting just off port.
While Data consulted his tricorder, Riker strode to the ops console and checked the readouts. “I want to see if there’s any record of someone setting a warp course and then beaming off just before it engaged.”
“Is there?” asked Beverly.
Riker pressed the membrane keypad several times and shook his head. “No. All the logs for the last two days ha
ve been wiped.”
Data peered intently at his tricorder. “There are still no signs of life, but there is inert organic matter scattered throughout the ship.”
“Organic matter?” asked Riker.
“Vegetable matter,” answered the android. “Perhaps foodstuffs. There are only three main decks—this one, an upper deck for crew quarters, and the engine room below. I suggest we split up.”
“All right,” agreed Riker, “but let’s use the Jefferies tubes, in case there are malfunctions we don’t know about. Data, you take the engine room. While you’re down there, take a look at the warp and impulse engines and see if they’re in good shape.”
“Yes, Sir.” Data immediately strode toward an access panel at the rear of the bridge and opened it with an effortless tug. As if he were leaping down a manhole, the android took a single step and was gone.
“Doctor, why don’t you take the crew quarters?” said Riker. “You can check on sickbay, too, and see if it’s functional.”
“They have a sickbay on this little ship?” asked Crusher, impressed.
“I’m going to check out the shuttlebay,” said Riker, heading after Data. “I want to see if they’ve still got their shuttlepods. Let me know if you see anything unusual.”
“Yes, Sir.” A moment later, Beverly Crusher was alone on the deserted bridge of the Neptune, and her footsteps clacked as loudly as gunshots as she walked across the deck. It wouldn’t be a bad ship to command, she decided, although she would like to know what happened to the previous captain and crew.
Slinging her tricorder and medkit over her shoulder, the doctor descended into the Jefferies tube. After finding a junction that curved upward, she climbed for several meters until she reached an access panel, which she pushed open. A moment later, Crusher was standing in a nondescript corridor with doors lining only one side. Something smelled funny—like spoiled food.
Consulting her tricorder, Crusher homed in on the strange smell and found a mound of leaves rotting in an open doorway. At least it looked like leaves, or maybe the remains of an old Christmas tree. Tricorder readings couldn’t identify the pile any better than her eyes could, and Beverly stepped over it to enter the crew quarters.
There was nothing unusual in the simple stateroom, which was obviously meant to be shared by two crew members. She walked over to a desk and looked at the collection of framed pictures, depicting two human children and two elder adults. The adults in the pictures were no doubt the children’s grandparents, but where were the parents? The eerie quiet of the ghost ship was beginning to get on her nerves, and Crusher found herself talking aloud, just to hear a voice.
“Where did everyone go?” she asked the pictures on the desk, but their smiling faces divulged no secrets. Beverly opened a desk drawer and found a clean, pressed uniform inside.
“This is all wrong,” she muttered.
She was startled by a rustling sound—like leaves stirred by a breeze—and she whirled around to see a shadow pass the open doorway. Gripping her tricorder, Beverly dashed out of the room into the corridor, expecting to see the owner of the shadow.
But there was no one there.
“Now this is getting to me,” said Beverly, shaking her long, auburn tresses. “I’m imagining things.”
Deciding to concentrate on the job at hand, Dr. Crusher went swiftly from one door to another, opening each and peering inside the simple quarters. Five staterooms she checked in quick succession, discovering nothing except that the Neptune normally had a crew of about ten.
She made a left-hand turn in the corridor and strode down a long passageway with no doors. She skirted around another pile of dried leaves, but otherwise found nothing of distinction in the doorless passageway, which ran along the stern of the ship.
Rounding another corner, Beverly found a door marked “Sickbay” and another door marked “Replicator Room.” In between them was what looked like a small lounge with tables and chairs. Resting on the tables were glasses and plates, which contained halfdrunk liquids and half-eaten food.
“Whatever happened, they cleared out quickly,” she told herself.
Without warning, she heard the rustling again, and Crusher whirled around. Her hand crept to the butt of her phaser, and her senses were acutely on edge as she listened to the silence of the ghost ship. Only it wasn’t silent—she heard a voice whisper:
“Mother.”
Crusher charged into the hallway again, only this time she wasn’t certain that her senses had been reliable. Nobody on this dead ship was going to call her mother. Only one person could do that....
Her eyes lit on the door marked “Sickbay,” and she knew she had to check that out. In fact, she had an overpowering urge to go in there, at the same time that she had an overpowering dread. Crusher’s hand hovered over her combadge, ready to call Riker. But what would she tell him? That she was spooked and kept hearing voices?
“Get a hold of yourself,” grumbled Beverly. With determination, she slapped the panel on the bulkhead and opened the door to sickbay.
Once she stepped inside, all of her irrational fears seemed to vanish. Maybe it was the familiar surroundings. They had only two beds, but the biofunction monitors, diagnostic instruments, and operating equipment looked to be the latest design. But with a crew so small, they probably wouldn’t have a real doctor, just a medic and an Emergency Medical Hologram.
“Hi, Mom,” whispered a voice.
Beverly whirled around to see her son, Wesley Crusher, standing four meters away. She felt light-headed from the shock of seeing him and began to stumble. He rushed to catch her, and she swooned into his comforting arms.
“Wesley! Wesley!” she gasped, touching his face and tousling his hair. Tears filled her eyes, because he hardly looked any different from when she had last seen him. “I can’t believe it’s you!”
“I’ve come a long way to help out,” he said with a broad smile on his face.
“Jean-Luc will be so glad to see you. Everybody will—”
He lifted a finger and touched her lips. “No, Mom, this has to be our secret for a little while.”
“But . . . But why?”
Wesley looked at her as if he were the parent, explaining a difficult concept to a child. “Like I said, Mom, I came a long way, and I’m not supposed to be here. I can’t stay long, because my time with the Traveler is not over. Besides, the last thing we need now are more distractions. There will be time to make my presence known . . . after this crisis is over. In the meantime, I can help you. And you will need it.”
Beverly nodded, unable to think clearly. After years of being separated from her only child, she wasn’t going to do anything to drive him away. He’s not a mere human anymore, she told herself, he has godlike powers.
“How did you get here?” she muttered. “What happened to the crew?”
He wrapped her in his arms and gently stroked her hair, and all of her questions and concerns evaporated. She hadn’t remembered Wes being so affectionate before, but she wasn’t going to complain. It had been an awfully long time since her tiny family had been whole.
Her combadge beeped, and it was like a far-off alarm waking her from a dream. Wesley gave her a sly smile as he pulled away, and he held his fingers to his lips. Our secret, he seemed to say.
Her voice was a hoarse whisper when she answered, “Crusher here.”
“Are you all right, Doctor?” asked Riker.
“Yes, I’m just a little winded.”
“We haven’t found anything of interest, except for a bit of trash on the floor. How about you?”
She looked up, but Wesley was gone. Beverly felt a twinge of panic, fearing that his sudden appearance had been the delusions of a heartsick, overworked mother. Then Wes stuck his head in the door and waved, as if to say, I’m really here!
Beaming with happiness, she mustered her confidence and said, “I don’t see anything wrong with this craft. Tell Captain Picard that I’d be glad to be acting captain of the
Neptune.”
“That’s good,” answered Riker, “because Data reports that the ship is fully functional. But I would really like to know what happened to the crew.”
“I’m sure we’ll find out in time,” said Beverly. She was bursting to tell him—or anyone—that Wesley was back, but she had to respect her son’s wishes.
“Okay, you sit tight,” replied the first officer. “As soon as the captain signs off, I’ll muster a crew and send them over. I’ll try to find people with experience on this class of vessel.”
“Don’t worry, Will, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” It was the truth, because she had never felt more at ease in her entire life.
twenty-five
Mot sat on the porch of his parents’ small, cylindrical cottage overlooking the banks of the Mother Vein, Myrmidon’s largest river. The distinctive yellow-green river cane, which towered several meters into the air, waved gently in the breeze. The river was so wide that the bank on the other side wasn’t even visible. A distant sailboat plied the purple water, bouncing over choppy waves as it struggled against the current. Mot could identify with the sailboat, because that’s how he felt—struggling against the current in a river that was way too big and too deep.
He had delayed coming to his parents’ home in order to go to the nearest city, Genroh, with a contingent of Bolians from the ship in order to convince the authorities to back the Federation plan. Mainly, they wanted access to their factories and replicators, to make interphase generators. They hadn’t met with resistance exactly—it was more like a slowness to act. Bolians were a peaceful, spiritual, and optimistic people. Misfortune was something which only struck those who somehow deserved it, like the boisterous Tellarites. The people on Myrmidon clearly didn’t deserve it. Besides, this was their spiritual home—a holy place—and it couldn’t be destroyed without reason. Either the outsiders were mistaken about the Genesis Wave, or it was the will of the First Mother.
Unfortunately, there was no way Starfleet could demonstrate the horror of the Genesis Wave, and there was no way for the populace to get a taste of it before it actually hit. By the time they knew how bad it was, they would be dead.
The Genesis Wave: Book One Page 27