Chapter Fifteen

ONCE MELORA WAS SETTLED into the pilot’s seat of the shuttlecraft, she put on the artificial gravity, much to Reg’s relief. Captain Picard sat beside her, relegating Barclay to the stern, but he didn’t care. With artificial gravity and lots of room, he stretched out on the seats and tried to doze while they soared through the azure skies of Gemworld.

Reg was jolted awake by loud thuds and a sudden swerve. He rolled off his chair onto the deck and looked up in time to see Melora feverishly working her console. The window was filled with smoky shards and clouds of mutant crystal, exploding against the shields. They seemed to be flying through an ocean of broken chunks. Pazlar put the tiny craft through evasive maneuvers, trying to avoid the worst of it.

“Hang on!” she cautioned. “We’re almost through.”

“Shields are holding,” said Picard, studying his console.

Just as suddenly as it began, it was over, and they blasted through the noxious cloud into clear blue skies. Only these skies seemed to shimmer and bend. Reg rubbed his eyes and peered out the window at the shifting heavens.

“What’s wrong with the sky?”

“It’s not just the sky,” answered Melora with a smile. “You were asleep when we entered, but this is a stand of sky crystals. Named that because of their color. It’s hard to differentiate the crystals from the sky, but you can if you look closely.”

Reg did look closely, following the bow spit as Melora steered them between the mighty monoliths. From the way one gleaming facet blended into another, he was reminded of the house of mirrors at the amusement park he used to love as a kid. As they descended, the vivid blue facets folded over onto themselves, making the walls look like an undulating prism. It was so beautiful down here, Reg tried not to think how deadly these crystals would be if Pazlar took a wrong turn into them.

The captain never took his eyes off his instruments as he performed the copilot duties. “We’re only about five minutes from the coordinates,” he said.

“Good,” answered Pazlar. “I can taste that home cooking now.”

Barclay had no sense of perspective as they zoomed deeper into the cluster of crystals. It was like descending into a canyon made of glass. Finally he caught a glimpse of dark spots ahead of them, and he feared they might be more mutant crystal.

“What’s that?” he asked worriedly.

“Home,” Melora answered wistfully.

As they plunged deeper, the distance between the prisms narrowed, and the facets converged into a central crux. Reg could see that the dark areas were really nets strung across the crux, and he remembered the nets he had seen before. Melora slowed down, and they passed a handful of Elaysians hovering around crevices and crannies in the old-growth crystal. Seen at close range, the aged monolith was more weathered and beaten than Reg would have imagined. He could also see the telltale signs of black crystal: ominous clouds and broken shards floating in the air like a stain.

“Normally those people would be farming,” grumbled Melora. “Now it looks like they’re removing the mutant growth. I wonder if the crops have been destroyed.”

Reg gulped, feeling bad for Melora. Normally a person wanted to bring guests home when they could see the place at its best, not when it was threatened by disaster. The Elaysians they passed looked up from their labors with curiosity, but they looked desultory and despondent. Some of them were just going through the motions.

As the shuttlecraft glided closer to the center of the great cluster, Reg got a good look at the commune. Nets were stretched across the triangular openings in the crux, arranged in layers, broken into small compartments, like bundles within bundles. Barclay found it strange that even though there was no gravity or planetary surface on Gemworld, there was always a feeling of descending deeper, going beneath the layers.

Melora gently applied thrusters and brought the shuttle to a complete stop. A few Elaysians gathered around and tethered the craft, while others peered curiously into the window.

“Oh, there’s Bozwani!” said Pazlar with delight. “And my teacher for agriculture . . . I forget his name.”

“Why don’t you go ahead,” said Picard, motioning to the hatch. “I’ll make sure the shuttlecraft forwards all hails to us.”

“Could I? Thank you, sir.” Eagerly Melora pressed her console and opened the hatch. “I’m shutting off gravity now.”

Reg braced himself, although that was hardly necessary after he began to float harmlessly off his seat . . . until he bumped his head on the bulkhead. With Pazlar dashing ahead of him, followed by the captain, Barclay had to haul himself out.

He finally made it through the hatch only to find a mob of people fluttering around Melora. In their haste, two of the Elaysians brushed past Picard, spinning him around, and for once Reg was there to steady someone instead of the other way around. The two humans moved back toward the shuttlecraft and hovered silently over the reunion.

Melora was treated like a returning hero, which seemed to surprise her, but it made perfect sense to Reg. She called many of the Elaysians by name, and they bombarded her with questions about Starfleet and her life. If anyone had a question about the rift or the smoky crystal, they kept it to themselves. This was the time to welcome home a prodigal daughter, who also happened to be famous for her unusual path in life. In fact, many of them called her “daughter,” and one child called her “mother.”

These were gentle people, as Melora had insisted they were, not driven types like Tangre Bertoran. The reunion was all very heartwarming, and Reg couldn’t help but feel a little teary eyed.

Finally Pazlar managed to shift the attention to the visitors. “And this is Captain Picard, master of the Enterprise, and Lieutenant Barclay, who’s an engineer aboard the Enterprise. He’s also our engineer—Acting Senior Engineer for the shell . . . since the death of Zuka Juno.”

This was a double dose of bad news, thought Reg, judging by the stunned reaction from the crowd of Elaysians. They looked at each other with alarm, then turned toward him with amazement, jealousy, and just plain surprise. Reg felt like a carpetbagger, an outsider who had come in to usurp the power of the locals.

He reminded himself that normal forms of communication were down on Gemworld. These people would be shocked to hear about Zuka Juno’s death even without his involvement. However, they proba bly never thought that a midlevel Starfleet engineer would become one of their most revered dignitaries.

“All the more reason to welcome them to our homes!” declared one woman, crawling upside down across an expanse of netting. “Hello, Daughter!” she called.

“Hello, Dupanza!” called Melora excitedly. She looked as if she wanted to rush to this trusted older woman, but she stayed beside her shipmates. The Elaysians hovering in front of them backed away as Dupanza came closer. She bounced off the runners of the shuttlecraft, soared upward, and grabbed Melora in a warm hug. “My daughter, how you’ve grown! It’s so good to see you!”

Although others had called her “daughter,” Reg began to think Dupanza really was Melora’s mother. At least there was a clear bond of affection between them.

Melora looked at the humans’ puzzled expressions and burst out laughing. She motioned expansively at the Elaysians gathered around them. “They are all my parents! We are all each others’ parents and children. No one knows who their real biological parents are because we time the Great Birthing for the same day, using herbs. The babies are shared, and everyone takes care of them. After you grow up, you can guess sometimes who your biological parents are by coloring and such, but no one knows for sure. As for romantic relationships, we’re mostly monogamous.”

She looked slyly at Reg. “Just like humans.”

Dupanza broke in. “All of the races on Gemworld observe some sort of communal child rearing. It’s a tradition that unites us. So we call each other ‘mother’ and ‘daughter’ even across species. If you’re still around here in two months, you can come to the next Great Birthing.”

“It’s quite a party,” added Melora, flashing Reg those vibrant blue eyes, which were the same color as the crystal which surrounded them.

“Yes,” he said quickly. “I’d love to!”

The others laughed at his eagerness, and he could tell that it had been a long time since they had much reason for joy. These Elaysians were being brave in the face of crushing disaster, but somehow the appearance of their prodigal daughter and her comical shipmates had lifted their spirits.

“A feast!” shouted one of the Elaysians. Others took up the cry. “A feast! A feast!”

“Oh, do we have enough food for a feast?” asked Dupanza worriedly.

“We’re entertaining the Senior Engineer of the Sacred Protector!” cried a woman. “We must have a feast!”

“It’s traditional!” shouted someone else.

As the clamor mounted, Picard held up his hands. “We may not be here very long, and we don’t want you to plan anything special on our account. We’re trying very hard to solve the problem with the rift, so we may be called away at any minute.”

The Elaysians stared at him somberly for a moment. Then one of them held up his fist and shouted, “A feast!”

As the cry thundered around the commune, Dupanza looked at the visitors and shrugged. “I suppose there will be a feast, although we may not be serving quite as much food as usual for these occasions. I hope you don’t mind, Captain Picard.”

“We don’t want to waste your food stores,” insisted the captain.

“Thank you, but sometimes good morale is more important than a full belly,” answered the Elaysian with a smile. “Come on, let me show you around.”

While the energized Elaysians rushed to and fro, preparing for their feast, Dupanza linked hands with the captain, and Melora took Reg’s hand. Pushing off from the shuttlecraft, Dupanza led the visitors toward the nearest net, in which there was a small slit for a door. The netting functioned not only as walls, creating rooms and homes, but as gravity, preventing the inhabitants’ belongings from drifting away. Once Barclay caught hold of the net, he found that he could pull himself along rather easily, and he didn’t feel so disoriented.

They moved from room to room, slipping through almost invisible slits in the walls as they worked their way deeper into the layers of the compound. From what Reg could see, the Elaysians didn’t own much except for bundles of clothing and a few personal items. Their homes were simple, and they slept wherever they floated. The group passed a room full of children, who stared curiously at them, while the yellow-garbed teacher glared at them for interrupting her class.

The netting also partially blocked the light, making it darker the deeper they went into the cluster. Reg didn’t care much for that, but his uneasiness was tempered by the fact that Melora held his hand and often gave it a warm squeeze. Several inhabitants greeted the only Elaysian in Starfleet, and the younger ones called her “mother.”

She shook her head in amazement and whispered to Reg, “I can’t get used to the children calling me ‘mother.’ I was young when I grew up here and when I left, but I’ve come back an adult.”

“A famous one,” added Reg with a proud smile.

“Thanks,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “We’d better catch up.”

They had fallen behind Picard and Dupanza, but the way the passage between the prisms was narrowing, they had no problem catching their guide. The four of them finally emerged in a pyramid-shaped room at the very crux of the massive cluster. Here there were pantries built into the living crystal and tubes to access water from the nutrient strands. Scattered crops sprouted from troughs in the crystal, and a phosphorescent coating on the nets gave the room a dim, lavender glow. Barclay was dismayed to see a work party removing a cluster of misshapen black crystal.

“Even down here,” said Dupanza sadly, “there’s no escape from the unsound crystal. This is our communal room, which we use for everything from dining to the Great Birthing. We’ll have our feast here, although I’m sure it will spill into the other rooms as well.”

She motioned to the water tubes. “May I offer you some water? Our supply is quite pure.”

“Thank you, that would be welcome,” answered Picard. Barclay nodded in agreement.

While they waited, a few more well-wishers came up to Melora and welcomed her home. It seemed as if everyone knew her, or knew of her, and Reg began to think that it must have given her a great sense of security to grow up in a place where everyone considered her immediate family. The open netting made it clear that this was an open society with people who held no secrets from each other. It was a true commune, with everyone sharing the work, sharing Melora, and sharing the unfolding tragedy as their unique ecosystem fell apart.

“Quite a place,” said Picard thoughtfully. “I hope we can keep it intact.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Reg, lowering his head. “What if we can’t? How can we save them all?”

The captain’s lips thinned. “We’ll do the best we can. Whatever happens to them will happen to us, too.”

“But the ship would survive shutting down the shell.” He pointed at the happy clutch of Elaysians hovering around Melora. “They know that we’re not at risk the same way they are.”

“I don’t intend to watch them all die,” said Picard gravely. He looked up and smiled as their hostess returned with two small canteens with sip tubes.

“We don’t need much water,” said Dupanza, “but I know that other humanoids are not so fortunate. Please drink.”

“Thank you,” said the two humans at once. Barclay took a few gulps, surprised at how thirsty he was. The water had a slight sulfuric smell, although maybe that was his imagination. He hoped it wasn’t contaminated by the dark crystal.

“So where are you staying?” asked Dupanza.

“On our ship,” answered the captain.

“Such a great distance to travel,” said the Elaysian, shaking her head. “Especially now, when travel is so difficult. Why don’t you stay here a while and make this your base of operations. We’re much closer to all the enclaves than your ship is, way up there along the shell. You have gravity on your shuttlecraft, so you’ll be comfortable.”

“We might consider it,” agreed Picard.

Reg saw more Elaysians surrounding Melora, bombarding her with questions and greetings, and she was beaming in the glow of their attention. “You just want to keep Melora around longer,” said the lieutenant.

Dupanza nodded wistfully as she watched her prodigal daughter. “That’s true. She really has blossomed while she’s been in Starfleet. I knew she would mature to be beautiful and confident, but this is beyond even what I envisioned. She was home once before, but I was working on the shell and didn’t see her then.”

“What did you do there?” asked Reg.

Dupanza gazed into the distance, and her eyes grew misty. “I was an assistant to your predecessor, Zuka Juno. It’s painful to hear about his death. He wasn’t ill, was he? Can you tell me anything?”

“We were the ones who found him,” answered Picard. He told her briefly what had happened, adding that they wouldn’t really know anything until the Jeptah had finished their investigation.

“Then I don’t think you’ll know anything,” whispered Dupanza. “The Jeptah are very secretive, and they like to control things. They’re honest and hardworking, but they don’t really trust anyone but each other.” She smiled at Reg. “They must be apoplectic over your having that gem.”

Barclay gulped and touched the violet crystal. “That’s true, they weren’t very happy. I really don’t know what to do with this thing.”

“You wield tremendous power with that crystal,” answered the elder Elaysian. “Be honest and true to your ideals. I think we could use a jolt of fresh thinking here on Gemworld. We’ve never faced a crisis like this before, but I imagine you have faced many crises during your exploration of the stars.”

“We have,” answered Reg, lifting his chin proudly. “We’ll do the best we can for you.”

“That’s all we could ask.” Dupanza gazed fondly at Melora, who was engaged in animated conversation with a large group of Elaysians. The younger ones regarded her with rapt attention. “You’ve brought our daughter back to us, for which I am very grateful.”

Picard’s combadge chirped, interrupting their idyllic respite. “Excuse me.” He tapped his badge. “Picard here.”

“Captain,” said the unmistakable voice of Com mander Data, “we are almost ready to perform the procedure. I advise you to return as soon as possible.”

“We’re on our way,” said the captain. “Picard out.” He gave his hostess an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but it appears that we have to be going.”

“So soon? Before the feast?” she asked with disappointment. “Do you promise to return to us?”

“If circumstances permit,” answered the captain. “Would you please inform Lieutenant Pazlar that we have to be going?”

“I will. Thank you for all you’re doing to help us.” Dupanza used the netting to work her way to the crowd gathered around Melora, and the two women conferred for a moment. After a quick hug, Melora joined her shipmates.

“Are we ready to shut down the dimensional rift?” she asked confidently.

“I hope so,” answered Picard, concern etched into his furrowed brow. “I sincerely hope so.”

 

Picard, Barclay, and Pazlar were met by Data at the Ninth Processing Gate, and Barclay was amused to see that the android had procured himself a hoverplatform.

“You must rank,” said Reg, pointing to the self-propelled disk.

Data cocked his head puzzledly. “I do not ‘rank.’ Infact, with your temporary title, you outrank me. The hover-platform makes transportation much more efficient, and we have a considerable distance to travel within the shell.”

“Are they still on schedule?” asked Picard.

“Yes. The Alpusta are in final preparations for their space walk. Although I am unfamiliar with the actual procedure they will use to tap into the collectors, the theory is sound. If they can pass one variable to the program, the dark-matter collectors will switch to collecting hydrogen.”

“Is there a backup plan?” asked Reg.

“No,” answered the android. “We have studied every feasible option, and nothing else will correct the problem without disrupting the operation of the shell. Short of finding the engineer who actually corrupted the program, this is our only option.”

“It will work,” insisted Melora.

Captain Picard nodded grimly. “I hope you’re right. Lead on, Data.”

“Link hands,” said the android.

By this time, they were accustomed to linking up, and Barclay smiled as he held out his hand to Melora. This part of being weightless he was beginning to like. Data gripped the hover-platform with one hand and Captain Picard’s hand with the other, and they were soon moving steadily through the tubular corridors of the shell. As they plunged deeper, Reg noticed fewer workers than before, and he saw no Alpusta at all. He had the feeling that everyone and everything was in a holding pattern as they waited for the plan to take effect.

Eventually they entered a large, oval-shaped corridor that was packed with yellow-garbed Jeptah hovering in front of a panoramic window. The Elaysians parted to allow the visitors to enter, and Tangre Bertoran pushed off the wall and glided toward them.

The Peer of the Jeptah was grinning confidently. “Ah, Captain Picard, Lieutenant Pazlar, and our esteemed Acting Senior Engineer—welcome. We’ve missed you, Captain, where have you been?”

“I took them to see my enclave,” said Melora, “and meet my parents.”

Bertoran clapped his hands together, looking delighted at that news. “Wonderful! I’m so happy that you’re taking time to see our beautiful planet. After we’re done here, you’ll be able to travel anywhere on Gemworld and see all of our attractions. Perhaps you’d like to visit my enclave.”

“I certainly hope so,” said Picard with a polite smile. “May I ask, have you discovered the cause of Zuka Juno’s death?”

Bertoran scowled. “I’ve been rather busy, Captain. When we’re done here, I’ll get an update.”

“Even after we solve this problem,” said Picard, “we still have to find out who corrupted the program in the first place.”

The Jeptah shook his head. “We’ll have plenty of time to solve that little mystery after life gets back to normal. Trust me, this will never happen again—the dark-matter collectors will stay off-line indefinitely.”

“That is wise,” concluded Data.

Tangre Bertoran motioned to the window and its expansive view of the star-sprinkled void beyond. “We’ll give you the best vantage point in the house. In brief, here’s what you’ll see: the Alpusta engineers are going to use portable devices to tap directly into the collectors. At the exact same moment, we’ll pass a variable to every collector and end all of this madness. Then we’ll have time to play detective, for as long as you wish, Captain.”

“I only wish to see the crisis over,” said Picard.

“It will be. Don’t go anywhere—we’ll be starting soon. Excuse me.” Tangre Bertoran flew off to confer with his fellow engineers, leaving the four crewmembers gathered at the window, surrounded by milling Jeptah.

Data lowered his voice to say, “Although I am satisfied with their plan, I am not as confident as they are.”

“They have to be confident,” said Barclay. “They haven’t got much choice.” Nobody argued with him.

The four visitors gazed out the window at a vast array of scoops and dishes aimed toward space. The rows of collectors stretched into infinity, and Reg realized why there were no Alpusta at their regular posts—they were all needed for this procedure. It was hard to imagine that the peaceful starscape outside the shell harbored a deadly singularity, but the proof was all around him in hushed conversations and concerned looks. Only Tangre Bertoran, in his role as head cheerleader, seemed totally confident.

They floated in front of the window for several minutes, as the crowd of Elaysians increased in number. Melora gripped Reg’s hand and gave him a brave smile, which he returned as best he could. There wasn’t really anything any of them could say—the fate of billions of beings depended on what happened in the next few minutes.

Finally a chime sounded, and the conversation dropped to an expectant murmur as Tangre Bertoran rose above the crowd.

“It is time!” he announced. “May we please have quiet. Extend the forcefields!” He nodded to an assistant stationed at the only console in the room.

Although nothing looked different outside the shell, Barclay could well imagine the forcefield extending several meters into space. Both he and Melora pressed closer to the window to get a better look, and her grip on his hand tightened.

“Signal the Alpusta!” ordered Bertoran.

Hatches opened on the space side of the shell, and an army of spidery Alpusta swarmed out, bouncing across the pitted surface of the shell. Reg had seen environmental suits on humanoids, but he had never seen suits on such oddly shaped creatures. Their long, spindly legs were covered in white material with metallic boots, and their spiny, headless bodies were encased in breathing tubes. The way they labored across the shell, Reg assumed their boots must be magnetic. Under normal circumstances, they would use their weblike extensions, but they couldn’t risk that with such a shallow forcefield. The rift would do to them what it had almost done to the Enterprise.

As he looked closer, Barclay realized that each Alpusta had an electronic device strapped to one leg. Each was apparently assigned to a single scoop, and they fanned out across the vast field of collectors. Tangre Bertoran issued orders as he hovered over his chief technician, but everyone else who was gathered around the window fell silent. It was unlikely, thought Reg, that any of them had ever seen a sight like this before—thousands of Alpusta scrambling across the space side of the ancient shell.

Picard whispered to Data, “How long can they stay out there before being adversely affected?”

“The forcefields block ninety-four percent of the thoron radiation,” answered the android. “Even so, our best estimate is that they can remain in space no longer than fourteen minutes before suffering irreversible cell damage.”

Barclay gazed out the window, now realizing why the Alpusta were hurrying to reach their assigned positions. Unfortunately, they had to tap into the system in unison, so they had to wait until every technician was in place. Although it only took a few minutes, the time seemed interminable before the technician at the console announced they were all in position.

Tangre Bertoran hovered close to the terminal, and his amplified voice rang out across the room. “All stations reporting ready. Stand by for countdown!”

While Bertoran methodically counted down, Reg watched in amazement as the agile Alpusta manipulated the wires on their portable devices. Such maneuvers were easy for them, he decided, because they were used to low gravity.

“Connect!” ordered Bertoran. Like machines, the Alpusta moved in unison to jack into the collectors. “Transmit!”

There was no explosion, no sparks, no fireworks—but Reg knew something dreadful had happened. The Alpusta closest to the window suddenly went limp and slumped over—only their magnetic boots kept them from floating away. All across the forest of dishes and scoops, the Alpusta collapsed. A few managed to unplug and scurry away in time, but hundreds of them weren’t so lucky.

“Feed-coil overload!” shouted Bertoran in alarm. “Disconnect! Disconnect!”

The Elaysians began to shout and mill around in panic. Barclay was jostled and knocked away from the window, but he saw Data soaring toward the console. The android pushed the stunned technican out of the way and took over the board, his fingers flying across the controls.

In the chaos, Reg crawled his way through Elaysians to get back to the window, hoping the scene outside had somehow changed for the better. But not a single Alpusta was moving, except for a handful of limp beings whose magnetic boots had failed them. They bobbed slowly in space, tethered by the wires on their portable devices.

Reg heard weeping, and he turned to see Melora staring out the window. Tears seeped from her reddened eyes and floated in the air like slow-motion raindrops.

“This is the end,” she murmured. “It’s the end of everything.”