Rather than take their usual seats, which were spread around the large table intended to seat all thirty-one Speakers, the five of them bunched up at one end of the table, around the head, where Ansed traditionally sat.

Also present in the Hall was a heavily bandaged Undlar, who sat to Ansed’s right. He was no longer shaking, but Ansed thought the young man still seemed a bit out of it.

The first order of business was to discuss how Enforcement was dealing with the crisis—and, also, the investigation into the murder of the priests. Both were proceeding as well as could be expected. A clever Enforcement officer had found some old radios and they’d been issued, allowing communication; a top investigator had been assigned to the slaughter.

After that, they turned to the issue of Ganitriul.

“I’ve just come from the transportation center,” said Speaker Biral. “They’ve been doing tests with inanimate objects. Every attempt has failed—and it’s a different failure every time, too. Sometimes the object goes to the wrong place, sometimes it’s inside out, sometimes it never rematerializes, sometimes the console goes down, someti—”

“The point is,” Ansed put in—Biral had a tendency to babble—“that transporting to the moon is not an option.”

Speaker Miko said, “We can’t risk taking a ship, either. Even if some of them do work now, what if they fail en route?”

“And who do we send?” asked Speaker Torin. “Reger Undlar here is in no shape to travel.”

“I can make the journey,” Undlar said quietly. “And I believe there is also a way to get me there.”

Ansed whirled in surprise. “There is?”

“I believe so.”

Miko said angrily, “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“I’m sorry,” Undlar said, and the sardonic tone Ansed had noticed earlier returned. “But I’ve been a bit preoccupied with the brutal murder of my brothers.”

Softening, Miko said, “Of course, I’m sorry, Reger. These are troubling times, and I forgot myself.”

“That is all right, Speaker,” Undlar said, his voice getting more subdued again. “It’s just that—there is a Pevvni trading ship in Brioni Port that might be able to make the journey. It is an experimental ship that has circuitry independent of the Great One.”

Ansed’s already-wide eyes went wider. “What?”

Shock spread around the table as the other four Speakers expressed similar outrage. “Who approved this?” Biral asked.

Undlar straightened. “We did. The Pevvni came to the clergy with a special request to construct this prototype. They built it as an experiment, in case further dealings with the Federation led to more out-of-system travel beyond the Great One’s ability to control.”

Angry once again, Miko said, “That should never have been approved without consulting the Speakers!”

“I don’t see how that matters,” Undlar said indignantly. “ We are the Caretakers of the Great One, and so the Pevvni wisely came to us to gain approval for this prototype. We thought it was a worthwhile experiment, for precisely the reasons they gave.”

“And you didn’t think to consult us?” Biral asked, his face turning indigo with outrage.

“Reger,” Ansed said calmly, trying to keep this from turning into a shouting match, “perhaps you didn’t realize the political implications of what you were doing.”

“What political implications?” Undlar asked, now looking confused.

Ansed sighed. Priests are wonderful for spiritual matters, but they can be shockingly naïve. “One of the reasons why we have remained so stable over the millennia is because we are united under Ganitriul. We have had no war, no upheavals, and no strife for three thousand years.”

“The Pevvni colonization could safely be called an upheaval.”

Save me from youth , Ansed thought, trying not to groan. Undlar hadn’t been born when the ninth planet had been colonized by the Pevvni. “Not at all. It was an orderly process that was debated around this very table, and voted on by the people. Eventually, the Pevvni were granted permission, but the process by which they got there was orderly. To secretly grant the Pevvni the right to construct vessels independent of the system is not orderly.”

“It was never meant to be secret,” Undlar said defensively. “We simply did not see it as a concern.”

“Well, you should have,” Ansed said, trying— and failing—not to sound condescending. “There are those among the Pevvni who have expressed an interest in breaking off from Eerlik—and from Ganitriul. This is exactly the kind of thing they might use as a weapon against us.”

Before Undlar could respond to that, Speaker Talu said, “Ah, First Speaker, with all due respect, is this really the time to reprimand Reger Undlar for information that may well save us?”

Ansed was brought up short by Talu’s statement, which was delivered in the older woman’s usual measured tones. But then , she thought, Talu has always been the voice of reason among the Speakers. “You’re right, of course, Talu. If this ship does have circuitry that is independent of Ganitriul, then we must see if we can use it to fly to the moon immediately. If no one objects, we should adjourn to Brioni and see if this ship—”

“The Senbolma ,” Undlar said.

Ansed nodded. “If the Senbolma is truly space-worthy.”

“I’m not going out there,” Biral said. “It’s insane. And just walking from my home left me dehydrated. You’re not getting me to Brioni— that’s at least a couple hours’ walk.”

Every other Speaker chimed in with similar responses—even Talu, from whom Ansed had expected more (though she was quite elderly). Truth be told, Ansed felt the same way in her heart, but she had a duty to perform, and she would not shirk it, even if the others would.

“Then I will go myself,” she said, getting to her feet.

“As will I,” said Undlar, doing the same, albeit somewhat less steadily.

“That is unnecessary,” Ansed said, not relishing the idea of supporting the wounded priest throughout the walk. “It would be a waste, Reger, especially if it turns out that the Senbolma is not spaceworthy.” She put an encouraging hand on his shoulder, hoping he would forgive her earlier, patronizing tone. “I will send for you if and when it proves to be the case. We will, after all, need your guidance to fix Ganitriul.”

Undlar looked like he was about to argue, but then he cut himself off. “Of course, First Speaker. I will await word from you.”

“Excellent. You should hear from me soon.”

And if—no, when this is all over, Reger Undlar, we will have a long talk on the subject of appropriate behavior for the clergy. Undlar was the last of the priests left, and whatever new ones were ordained after this would look up to him as their leader, for better or for worse. Which meant that his naïveté would have to be dealt with, and quickly.

But first things first , Ansed thought, steeling herself against the ordeal of another endless hike and heading once more into the cold.

Sonya Gomez took one last look over the schematics that presently occupied the display on her tricorder. Thankfully, the Eerlikka had, several years back, allowed a team of Federation computer experts (including a group of eight Bynars) to inspect Ganitriul, so Starfleet had detailed specs on the installation.

Which was, in a word, huge . Fully twenty-five percent of Eerlik’s moon had been excavated in order to house the computer. In fact, most of that equipment had fallen into disuse as—typically, with advancing technology—the Eerlikka were able to miniaturize over time. Only about ten percent of the original installation was still active, though the autorepair components included small robots that could cannibalize the older equipment as need be.

All in all, a very efficient system.

She looked up to see that 110 still hadn’t arrived yet. She stood in the transporter room with Corsi and two other security people, Drew and Hawkins. Sonya had thought that three security people was a bit excessive to guard a two-person team, but she trusted Corsi’s judgment.

“Where the hell is he?” Corsi said, after inspecting her phaser rifle for the fortieth time.

“He’ll be here. Cut him a little slack, Commander. He’s been through a lot.”

“With respect, sir, if he’s too wrecked to even show up for a mission on time, then I have to question whether or not he can perform the mission.”

“And it’s a valid question, but I’d like to give him at least a chance to answer it.”

Corsi let out a breath. “Yes, sir.”

Just then, the doors parted and 110 entered, walking even faster than normal. “My apologies, Commander Gomez. I—I can offer no excuse.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Sonya said gently. “Let’s go.”

As she moved to step onto the platform, the doors opened again, and Carol Abramowitz entered. “Yes?” Sonya asked.

“Commander, I just wanted to let you know that speed is of the essence here. I’ve been reading up on the Eerlikka, and they have two major facets as a culture: they are fanatical about maintaining order, and they pride themselves on being well-informed. Both of these stem from Ganitriul. So it’s likely that conditions on Eerlik are deteriorating and going to get worse the more time passes. Don’t dawdle down there.”

Sonya smiled. “Wasn’t planning on it anyhow, but I appreciate the report. Thanks, Carol.”

“No problem.”

The five of them arranged themselves on the transporter pad. To the transporter chief, Sonya said, “Energize.”

They materialized into pitch-darkness. Oh, great , Sonya thought. She switched on her wristlamp, and the others did the same. Now the space they were in—which felt cold and stuffy—was illuminated by five light sources that cast odd shadows. Unfortunately, this did nothing but make it bright , cold, and stuffy. . . .

Drew played his light over one of the walls. “Rocks,” he deadpanned.

“Hello,” said a voice that seemed to come from everywhere. “Are you from Starfleet?” The voice was very pleasant—Sonya couldn’t place it, genderwise, but it set her at ease immediately.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m Commander Sonya Gomez of the Starfleet Corps of Engineers.”

“Excellent. I am glad you replied to my call. I am Ganitriul. Welcome.”

“Thank you.”

“And who are the others? I am registering five life-forms.”

Indicating the Bynar—though having no idea if Ganitriul could see the gesture—Sonya said, “This is 110, who is part of my engineering team. The others are Lieutenant Commander Domenica Corsi and two of her security team, Stephen Drew and Vance Hawkins.”

“I welcome all of you. I apologize for the darkness, but I cannot seem to get the lights working.”

“That’s all right.” She consulted her tricorder, which glowed quite brightly in the near-darkness. It showed that the main terminal was only a few meters away. “If you don’t mind, we’ll go to your main terminal and try to determine what’s wrong.” She started walking in the right direction, 110 on her heels, the security detail behind them.

“I hope you can, Commander Gomez. I am afraid that my own attempts to diagnose the problem have failed. I do not understand why I have been unable to function properly. I should also warn you that there are several security devices that are meant to prevent anyone from tampering with the system. My control over them is sporadic. Please be careful.”

The voice was almost pleading. Or maybe Sonya was projecting. Either way, she resolved to watch her step, and was suddenly grateful that Corsi had taken a team of three.

Corsi said, “Ganitriul, which security protocols don’t you have control over right now?”

“I am afraid it varies. Are you familiar with my security specifications?”

“Yes.”

“At the moment, I have complete control over everything in the immediate vicinity. If that changes—or if you move into an area that I do not have control over—I will inform you.”

“Thank you.”

Within moments, they turned a corner, and the walls were replaced by what appeared to be a giant, smooth slab of black marble. Corsi, Drew, and Hawkins also shone their wristlamps on it, giving Sonya a better view. The slab, she suspected, was a large viewscreen. In front of it, she could see a very comfortable-looking chair, which was also distressingly close to the ground. Various buttons dotted the wide arms of the chair.

“All right, I give up—what is it?” Corsi asked.

“The main terminal,” Sonya said. She pointed at the slab. “That’s the viewscreen. The operator sits in the chair, and operates it with those buttons.”

Hawkins looked dubiously at the chair. “They sit in that ?”

“The Eerlikka are fairly short,” Sonya said, “with small legs for their height, generally, so this is the right size for them. And the viewscreen can afford to be this large—they have wide eyes and a breadth of vision much greater than we do.”

As if on cue, the viewscreen lit up with several images. Some were views of parts of a city being subjected to bad weather—Sonya assumed it was a city on Eerlik. Others showed bits of data in a language Sonya recognized as Makaro, the most common language on Eerlik—she couldn’t read a word of it, of course, but she had seen similar writing in the mission profile. In addition, a small hole that looked like some kind of dataport opened in the smooth surface. Sonya could detect no seams. It was as if the hole just appeared, though that could have just been a function of the dim light.

“I must warn you not to sit in the chair,” said Ganitriul suddenly. “The chair is designed to allow only those whose DNA patterns match those of the presently ordained clergy to sit in it. I have been unable to disable that function.”

“That’s bad, isn’t it?” Drew said.

“There is an alternative. 110, you are a member of the Bynar race, are you not?”

“Yes, I am,” 110 said.

“In that case, you may interface directly with my dataport.”

110 hesitated. “Very well.” He moved toward the dataport.

As he did so, Corsi, who had been gazing at her tricorder, cried, “Wait!”

“What is it, Lieutenant Commander?”

“I’m reading a ton of electricity flowing through that port.”

“That is normal,” Ganitriul said.

“I really don’t think that 110 can handle it.”

“Bynar epidermis is able to conduct electrical charges, Lieutenant Commander,” 110 said.

“Not this much. We’re talking eighty thousand kilojoules.”

“That is not what my readings indicate. Please wait a moment.” A pause, then Ganitriul continued. “My apologies. It appears my readings were incorrect. Lieutenant Commander Corsi, please tell me what you are reading now.”

Corsi looked at her tricorder. “Two hundred kilojoules. That’s within 110’s tolerances.”

Nodding, 110 said, “Yes, it is.”

110 placed a small hand inside the dataport, which altered its size to accommodate the size and shape of the Bynar’s hand. A nimbus of electricity started to form around 110, further illuminating the chamber. Then the Bynar let out a rapid-fire burst in the binary language of his people, which the universal translator simply rendered as a highpitched whine. Bart had said, when Sonya first arrived on the da Vinci, that the translators could be modified to understand the Bynar tongue, but Sonya had never seen the need. Now she was sorry she hadn’t taken him up on it.

While this went on, Drew said, “Sir, I’ve got some weird readings here.”

“Define weird , Drew,” Corsi said.

“I’m getting occasional life-form readings—but then they just disappear. The tricorder thinks they’re Eerlikka.”

“My apologies,” Ganitriul said. “Those are sensor ghosts. That is a part of the tour that is given to visitors to these caverns. I provide a recreation of the excavation of the moon, and it includes representations of the workers. The simulation includes sensor readings of the workers. I will attempt to prevent that program from running, but I can make no assurances that I will be successful.”

“Do the best you can, Ganitriul,” Sonya said, trying to sound understanding.

Corsi walked up to her and said, in a low tone that only Sonya could hear, “It’s a computer, Commander, not a kid with a toy.”

Matching the security chief’s tone, Sonya said, “It’s an intelligent computer. I think treating it with respect is perfectly reasonable.”

Shrugging, Corsi said, “I guess.”

Sonya noticed the light in the cavern growing dimmer. She turned to see that 110 had removed his hand from the dataport. “I have found the problem,” he said as the glow faded from around him. “An invasive program has been introduced into Ganitriul’s system.”

“Sabotage,” Corsi said.

“Yes, Lieutenant Commander.”

“I do not doubt your diagnosis, 110, but I do not understand how it came to be. I have no record of any invasive programs being inserted into my system.”

“Once we have fixed the problem, I can show you how it was done, Ganitriul.”

“Can the program be safely removed?” Sonya asked.

“It is possible, yes. We will need—”

Sonya did not learn what 110 would need, as he was interrupted by some kind of blaster fire, which struck Hawkins in the left shoulder.

The security guard cried out in pain and fell to the cavern ground, grabbing his left shoulder with his right hand and dropping his phaser rifle.

As Corsi raised her own rifle to return fire, Ganitriul said, “A security measure has activated. No energy weapons will fire within the confines of the installation.”

Corsi pressed the firing button on her rifle anyhow, but nothing happened. “Dammit,” she muttered.

It was then that the lights came back up.

Sonya blinked the spots out of her eyes and found herself surrounded by twelve Eerlikka. Some of them were also blinking—with upper and lower eyelids—in response to the greater illumination. Some were holstering their blasters and unholstering large curved, bladed weapons.

“Death to the aliens!” one of them cried.

Several more repeated, “Death to the aliens!”

Then they charged.