Текст книги "Over a Torrent Sea "

Автор книги: Christopher Bennett

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The columns were arranged in a precise pattern, forming a complex maze. Using their keen sonar as well as firsthand memory, and with Aili clinging to Eres’s back, the squales navigated the maze, finding the spaces wide enough to admit them but taking care to avoid the deceptively clear-looking paths which would lead to dead ends. Aili realized that a maze made of broomsticks was far more treacherous than one made of walls; at least in the latter there was no ambiguity about what was an opening and what was not. But here, openings abounded, and the constantly shifting parallax made it devilishly difficult to tell which ones were really the clearest. As the pod wound through the perimeter, they passed a few small animals that struck Aili as being quite at the end of their ropes.

Aili wondered how they got larger organisms into this facility if need be. But before she could ask, they cleared the maze into a zone of clear, still water, shielded from wave action by the surrounding lattice. At the heart of the clear zone, she saw what it was that the squales were protecting so carefully.

The core mass of the organism, floating in the center of the lattice, was easily the size of Earth’s largest extinct whales. From that mass extruded over two dozen stems, or trunks, or limbs, each of which led to a bluish oval pod. Some of the pods were irised open at one end like the petals of a flower. They came in various sizes; the smallest, of which there were several, were about a meter long, while the largest one could accommodate a small humpback whale. The majority of the pods seemed to be just right for the squales, though. The stems were complex, with numerous veins of various sizes and tints weaving among each other.

The core mass itself pulsed with life. Its structure was startlingly complex, a mélange of colors, textures, and contours, seeming as dazzlingly sophisticated in an organic way as Titan’s control consoles. Multiple valves pulsed and peristalted, taking in water, expelling bubbles of gas; while at least one orifice was hungrily sucking in a supply of food being shoveled like coal by a small, dextrous helper species. It made sense that the organism would need a rich and steady fuel supply. It certainly seemed busy enough, pulsing and throbbing and exhaling vapors unknown.

But most of all, it was singing. And its squale tenders sang back to it. It was an interspecies chorus, liturgy and antiphon, builder and tool conversing in a common tongue. Rich, complex chords, elaborate phrases recurring, being repeated back and forth, sometimes changing from one statement to the next. The mathematical perfection of Bach or T’Lenye meeting the improvisational energy of Riker’s beloved jazz musicians.

Aili took some time to make sense of what she’d seen, seasoning her analysis with the occasional answer from the squales. It was a machine, she reasoned. It took in a living sample and analyzed its genome, probably using enzymes like those that zipped, unzipped, and assembled nucleic acids. Somehow, that information was converted into sound, a melody with the notes A, C, G, and T, the four component bases of the genetic code. What the lifesmiths sang back were instructions, modifications to the genes and protein structures; those changes were probably made through the action of further enzymes. This could be used for healing, and indeed many of the attached oval pods held squales who were being treated for injuries inflicted by the other frenzied species of this world. Eres led her to one pod and sang a tone that caused it to iris open partway, far enough for her to see a squale inside. After a moment, she recognized it as Grabby, the defender squale who had lost a tentacle days before. Now that tentacle was almost fully regrown!

Aili remembered the perception of a womblike environment that both she and Riker had experienced after the asteroid strike, and realized that they must have been placed in these “lifepods” (as she mentally dubbed them) for treatment of their injuries. But as Grabby’s rapid regeneration showed, the lifepods were capable of far more than that. Eres confirmed this, singing that the lifepods could also be used to make more fundamental changes, transforming creatures at the cellular or even genetic level.

Now she understood what the lifesmiths were proposing. Using this remarkable technology, they could modify Aili’s and Riker’s biochemistry to be compatible with Dropletian life, able to survive with fewer minerals in their diet. Even if Titannever found them, they would be able to live out their lives here on this world.

But there was a danger, as Eres explained. A transformation this drastic would alter their bodies on the cellular level. This would include the neurons in their brains. Their memories would be affected as a result—not so much lost as blurred. They would still retain their identities and knowledge, but certain details of their former life would be hazier, as if more distant in time.

But if they underwent the change a second time, Eres warned, the effect on their memories would be exacerbated. They would lose too much memory of their past, their identities. If Aili and Riker underwent this change, they could never go back.

Aili knew that Riker would never accept that. His conviction that he would be reunited with his wife and child was unwavering. And in the wake of their recent argument, given what he thought about her intentions toward him, he would not be receptive to the suggestion coming from her.

But what about me?She found the lifesmiths’ proposal did not instill fright or despair in her. On the contrary, she felt more at home here on Droplet than she ever had anywhere else. And she couldn’t share Riker’s certainty that there would be any rescue from Titan. For that mat ter, after her fight with the captain, she wasn’t sure how welcome she would be aboard Titan—or how willing she would be to continue serving under a commander who didn’t respect her.

Or was it really her own lack of self-respect she was feeling? The argument had dredged up memories she wasn’t proud of. Maybe losing some of those memories wouldn’t be so bad,she thought. It would be like…being reborn. Starting over with a clean slate.

Maybe the song of my life is out of tune,she reflected. And not just biologically. Maybe getting “transposed” is just what I need.

But thinking in terms of the squales’ Song of Life brought her a different perspective. To them, everything that happened in life was a part of the flow and rhythm of the Song. Every event was a note in a greater symphony, progressing from what had come before. True, there could be dissonance, but that was a part of music too, tension leading to an inevitable resolution.

What if everything that’s happened in my life was part of a bigger purpose?she wondered. The way she had rejected her family’s example and become self-indulgent and irresponsible, which had led her to seduce countless visitors from space and alienate her from her own people, which had pushed her to leave Pacifica, which had brought her to Starfleet Academy on a quest to become responsible at last, which had put her aboard Titanand led her here to Droplet…maybe all of these events were notes in the cosmic song, the requirements of harmony arranging the melody of her life, inexorably guiding her to this point. Maybe this is where I’m meant to be.

But what about the captain?she asked herself. He would never believe that for himself.

But the bottom line was, they might very well have no choice. Whether or not Riker could be happy with that, Aili knew that she could.

And if it came to that…maybe she could help bring him around.

CHAPTER F

OURTEEN

LUMBU

By the time Tuvok’s team arrived in the UFC 86659 system, Ree and his captives had been on the surface of Lumbu for nearly twenty-one hours, evidently besieged within a local hospital in the nation-state of Lirht. Once Ellec Krotine had tapped into the signal leakage from the city’s land-line audio communications system to listen in on the local authorities, Tuvok reflected that it was fortunate the Lumbuans were a people predisposed to philosophy and discussion above action. Even now, more than a local day into the crisis, the police commander on the scene, her chief, and their mayor were still locked into an involved debate over the best way to negotiate with an alien monster—with sidebar discussions about whether Ree’s origin was extraplanetary or paranormal, and what either possibility might reveal about the nature of existence. If anything, the mayor seemed more interested in capturing Ree and the women in order to interrogate them on the meaning of life and the truth of the cosmos than in ending the immediate threat Ree posed to the hospital staff. As for the siege commander, she seemed content to try out new negotiation tactics indefinitely so long as no imminent mortal threat to the hostages arose, and if anything seemed to be quite stimulated by the intellectual challenge. Admirable in principle,Tuvok thought, but somewhat paralyzing in a crisis. Luckily, that works in our favor.

On the negative side, the police chief was rather eloquently arguing the position that this incident was too ontologically important for city officials to handle and that federal assistance should be sought. While news of the incident had been reported by wire to the national news services, it was apparently not being taken seriously in the absence of concrete evidence. The Lirhten military was monitoring the reports in case they were proven legitimate, but was currently on alert due to tensions with a neighboring nation-state and had not assigned the situation a high priority. Had this world been a generation more advanced, with the capacity for live video broadcasting, the situation would have been rather worse. However, the police chief was proposing that photographic evidence and eyewitnesses be flown by propeller-driven aircraft to the regional capital in order to persuade the government to supply soldiers, diplomats, and philosophers to address the crisis. If that happened, it would worsen the Prime Directive violation. If Tuvok could end this situation while it remained isolated and leave no physical evidence behind, the incident would likely become a local legend and have no global effect. But if a major government gained proof of alien life, the contamination would be far worse. Moreover, given the current tensions between Lirht and its neighbor, dividing the attention of the Lirhten military could weaken their position and lead to the conquest of their nation. It would probably not be a very bloody conquest, but it would be a major political change caused by a Starfleet presence on the planet, and that was unacceptable.

The police chief was close to winning the debate, leaving Tuvok no choice but to act. “Rig the warp core to emit a magneton pulse,” he ordered Krotine, whose years aboard an S.C.E. vessel had given her more engineering experience than the others on his team. “It should be sufficient to knock out the power systems citywide and prevent them from summoning outside help.”

“But what about the hospital?” Ensign Hriss asked. “What if Counselor Troi needs that power?”

“The hospital should have an emergency generator,” he told her. “Failing that, Starfleet equipment should be unaffected.”

“And if the hospital does shut down,” Chief Dennisar opined in his deep voice, “maybe that will make Ree abandon the place, come out in the open.”

“Unlikely,” Tuvok told the hulking Orion. “Doctor Ree is a resourceful individual, and he clearly feels the hospital is the safest place for his patient. He will adapt rather than retreat.”

“Predators don’t like taking unnecessary risks,” Hriss observed; as a predator herself, the Caitian spoke from experience. “They tend to retreat when faced with unexpected opposition.”

“As a rule, yes. But I believe Ree is in the paternal guardian mode of a Pahkwa-thanh male. In that mode, the survival of the child overrides individual safety. His instinct will be to stand his ground.”

Just as Elieth stood his ground to protect the people of Deneva,he thought. Just as I would have stood my ground to protect him…if only I could have.He understood very well how Ree thought right now. And he would be just as ruthless in protecting Counselor Troi and her child, if Ree forced him to.

“Emitting the pulse,” Krotine announced. Outside the viewport, Tuvok saw the city lights flare and go dark. Moments later, faint lights returned at a few key facilities with emergency power, including the hospital below.

“Take us down,” Tuvok said. “Can we get a transporter lock on any of our personnel?”

Krotine shook her cherry-tressed head. “No, sir. There’s a jamming field being generated by the heavy shuttle. We can’t beam in either.”

“Very well. Douse all external lights and bring us in as stealthily as possible. We shall make our way on foot.”

TITAN

“The situation is worse than we thought,” Melora told Vale and the others in the observation lounge.

“Naturally,” Vale said. “Because things have just been going sowell this week.”

Melora waited, but rather than saying more, Vale nodded, signaling her to continue. “It turns out the barophilic life Cethente discovered in the saltwater dynamo layer has more influence on the life up above than we initially thought,” the science officer went on. “In two ways. First, it turns out that a lot of the subtle patterns we read in the dynamo layer’s field were actually generated by the barophiles’ communication. It’s the disruption to the barophiles’ life cycle, caused by the exotic radiation in the infalling asteroid dust, that’s altering the planetary magnetic field, and that’s what’s stirring up the surface life.” It was odd to start referring to the oceangoing life of this planet, even that living in the deeps kilometers down, as “surface life.” But a world like this forced one to redefine one’s parameters.

“Symbiosis,” Keru observed with a touch of Trill irony. “The life up above is feeling the pain of the life below.”

“You’re more right than you know, Ranul. There’s a deeper symbiosis as well.” She moved to the wall screen and called up an image of several tiny arthropod forms, magnified thousands of times. “These are bathyplankton—the deep-sea zooplankton that Cethente sampled in the intermediate layers of the ocean, even deeper than we’d sampled them before. As you’ll recall, we were wondering why they would exist at such depths when there’s no sunlight or food to sustain them. Well, Eviku and Chamish figured that out.”

She altered the display to show the creatures alternating between two modes. “It turns out the bathyplankton have a dual biochemistry. Their life functions are based on two distinct types of organic molecules. One is the ordinary type found in the surface life and most carbon-based life forms. The other is the type found in the barophiles. At low pressures, normal life processes operate and the barophile molecules are inert, just part of their structural bracing, which is why we didn’t register the bathyplankton’s dual life cycle before. Near the surface, they consume organic nutrients and use photosynthesis to store solar energy—making them as much phytoplankton as zooplankton.

“But eventually, if they don’t get eaten, gravity and convection currents pull them into the depths. As they sink further, their normal enzymes stop working, and they fall dormant. But then, when they get down to the dynamo layer, the pressure and temperature become great enough for their barophile biochemistry to become active.”

“But how do they stand the pressure down there?” Ra-Havreii asked.

It was practically the first thing he’d said to her since the shuttle. Fortunately, Melora didn’t have to respond directly to him. She called up a cross-section graphic, pointing to an array of small, glassy spindle shapes within them, and addressed the group. “They have an internal skeleton of silicate spicules. Up top, the spicules are loosely distributed, giving them some additional structural strength but leaving them fairly flexible. As they descend, they’re compressed further and further, the spicules coming together into a tight, geometric array that braces them against the pressure. As with the pure barophiles, the silicate framework contains and directs their molecular machinery the way cell walls do in our kind of life.”

“That’s fascinating, Commander,” Vale said, “but how does it connect the barophiles to the surface life?”

“Sorry,” Melora said. It was easy to get caught up in the wonder of this. “The critical thing is what the bathyplankton do once they’re down there. They feed on the metals and heavy elements that are part of the saline layer’s biosphere, the residue given off by the barophiles.”

“Which they in turn consumed from the clathrates in the mantle,” Onnta said.

“Exactly. And once they’ve stockpiled on metals, they swim upward until they reach the interface with the normal ocean. Then they spread fins that let them catch convection currents that carry them back up to the surface. The barophile life functions fall dormant, they drift upward, and finally their normal life functions engage again.”

Vale’s eyes widened. “And once they’re up there, being plankton, most of them end up getting eaten by bigger critters.”

Melora nodded. “Except enough of them survive to reproduce and start the cycle over again.”

“But they’re how the metals get back up from the mantle to the upper ocean. They’re what makes it possible for life to exist on the surface.”

The Elaysian couldn’t help grinning, despite the gravity of the situation. “An entire biosphere, a whole sentient civilization—it wouldn’t exist without these tiny, invisible creatures. Chamish suspects the barophile biosphere evolved first, driven by the energy of the magnetic dynamo, and that these bathyplankton somehow developed the ability to spread up to the ocean surface and take advantage of a new energy source, sunlight. Maybe they initially relied on some kind of organic molecules that could function well at intermediate pressures and marginally at surface pressures, and eventually replaced them with molecules better suited to surface life. Finally some of them evolved into forms that lived permanently on the surface and lost their extraneous barophile compounds, and the rest of the surface biosphere evolved from those.”

“But what matters,” Vale said, “is that the surface life depends on the barophile life for its survival.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And the barophile life is dying.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Because we thought shooting an asteroid would be a helpful thing to do.”

“Well…we did mean well.”

Vale sighed. “What exactly will happen if we don’t fix this?”

“Gradually, more and more of the barophiles will die. They’ll sink to the mantle, and there won’t be enough surviving barophiles to bring up enough clathrates. That’ll lead to a crash in the bathyplankton population, and that’ll leave the surface life with progressively worsening metal deficiencies. Meanwhile, with the magnetic field patterns permanently disrupted, the surface life will continue to behave erratically or have difficulty performing necessary tasks. Remember how on Earth, many cetaceans would beach themselves and die because the noise from human ocean vessels confused and blinded their echolocation sense?” Vale nodded, looking embarrassed. “It’s a similar principle. There’s no telling how much the Dropletians’ navigation, mating cycles, and so on could be thrown off by this. It could endanger whole species even without the excess violence this is producing among the sea life.

“In time, the contamination will dissipate; the dust will either use up its exotic charges in the dynamo layer or will sink to the mantle, get locked in clathrates, and dissipate its charge into the ice. The surviving barophile life will recover, and there will probably be enough dormant bathyplankton left to resume the nutrient exchange with the surface. But not before there’s major loss of life on the surface, possibly even a mass extinction.”

Vale shook her head. “So with a few phaser shots and two torpedoes, we kill a whole biosphere. That’s efficient.”

“Don’t forget the antimatter canisters,” Melora replied, earning a glare.

“What about the squales?” Xin asked. “Could their biotechnology protect them?”

“If anything, I’d say it makes them more vulnerable,” she shot back. “They’re dependent on so many other species that I doubt they could weather an extinction event. Not without enormous loss of life, at any rate.”

There was a pause before Vale spoke. “Just for the sake of argument…if Riker and Lavena are still alive down there, somehow, what are their chances?”

Melora shook her head. “They’d succumb to metal deficiencies before this became an issue. If they managed to escape the crazed predators.”

Vale glared at her. “Somehow, that’s not very comforting.”

LUMBU

The landing was fairly rough, since Krotine brought the Armstrongin on antigravs for the last few hundred meters. They made a water landing in one of the city’s wide canals and secured the shuttle under a bridge; luckily, travel through this portion of the canal was blocked by two large ferries at either end, both unable to move with their electrical systems and lights burned out from the pulse. In all likelihood, the shuttle would remain undiscovered for a few hours, at least.

It took the team half an hour to reach the hospital on foot, using tricorders on proximity scan to avoid encountering any Lumbuan citizens. Fortunately, Ree’s jamming field did not prevent tricorder operation, enabling the team to scan the hospital’s structure and determine an optimal stealth entry route. It was difficult for a Vulcan, a Boslic, a Caitian, and an Orion, all giants by Lumbuan standards, to make their way through the police perimeter undetected; but Tuvok had decades of experience at stealth and his teammates were well-trained. Hriss in particular was able to move with the soundlessness of a felinoid predator, but the lithe Krotine was nearly as light on her feet. Dennisar had a harder time of it, particularly since it was difficult for him to squeeze his bulk through Lumbuan doorways. Had Tuvok known that this world would be Ree’s destination, he would not have picked Dennisar for the team. But it could not be helped now. As Dennisar attempted to squeeze through a narrow maintenance passage into the hospital, he inadvertently produced a noise that drew the attention of a police officer guarding the perimeter. But Tuvok was able to waylay her with a nerve pinch before she could catch a clear sight of them or raise the alarm.

Finally they reached the corridor outside the maternity ward, where three Lumbuan guards stood, one at each of the entrances. They all kept as far from the actual ward as possible while still keeping it in sight; no doubt Ree had demanded that they keep their distance. It made it easier to pick them off one by one; Tuvok took one down with a nerve pinch while Hriss ambushed another and injected him with a tranquilizer that would leave no traces detectable to Lumbuan science.

But Tuvok’s guard let out a moan before she fell to the floor, and that drew the attention of the third guard, who came running with his weapon drawn. “What have you done?” the guard asked, his voice trembling. “What are you?”

“Your colleagues are unharmed,” Tuvok told him. “The same will hold for you if you do not interfere with us.”

“You—you’re another giant. Another monster.”

Tuvok raised a brow. “What leads you to that conclusion, sir?”

“Why…your size. Your color. And…Great Anam, you have no clarfel!”

“So are these the qualities that define a Lumbuan?”

The guard thought it over. “Well…some of them.”

“But are they not mere appearances? And cannot outward appearance be deceptive?”

More thinking. “I suppose. My supervisor says I appear unintelligent. For that matter, so does my wife. And she appeared warm and loving when I married her,” the guard added, speaking more to himself now.

“Then, as an intelligent man, you must know better than to take outward perceptions at face value. What you see could be a dream or a hallucination.”

“Oh, no.” The guard shook his head. “I’m not falling for any Solipsist casuistry. That’s Kumpen talk, and I’m as loyal as they come.”

Tuvok realized he had overreached himself. “Very well. I will stipulate that I am objectively real. Even so, the standards you employ for defining me as not Lumbuan are still in question. Is it your external attributes that define your identity? Or is it your intellect? Your self-awareness? Your ability to communicate?”

“Well, that’s what I always say,” the guard replied slowly.

“Excellent.”

“Though come to think of it, I just say that because it’s what my wife thinks. And that’s appeal to authority, right? Which is a fallacy. Besides, she’s not here, is she?” The guard raised his gun again. “Me, I’ve always been a believer in the appeal to force.”

Luckily, Tuvok had distracted the guard long enough for Hriss to come up behind him and inject another dose of tranquilizer. “I thought you had him on the ropes for a moment there, sir,” the Caitian told him.

“Thank you, Ensign. Unfortunately, membership in a philosophically driven society does not guarantee an inquisitive spirit.” He sighed. “I believe I now understand the human saying that one should avoid entering into a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent. Especially one who is armed in a more literal sense.”

Tuvok made his way to the maternity ward doors, which were sealed off from within. His team came in behind him, phasers at the ready. “Doctor Ree!” he called. “This is Commander Tuvok. Please respond.”

“Tuvok!” The voice was Troi’s. But before she could say anything more, the doctor’s raspy, sibilant voice emerged.

“Welcome to Hvov Memorial, Commander,” Ree said. “I’m afraid I can’t invite you in. Counselor Troi’s contractions are arriving closer together. I believe first-stage labor is imminent, and I must keep my patients safe. I assume you and your companions have weapons, and that cannot be tolerated. If you’ll please wait outside? Outside the hospital, that is. I imagine the local constabulary would gladly extend their hospitality. They’ve been trying to get me to accept their invitation all day.”

“Doctor. I understand why you are doing this. You feel compelled to protect the baby. I can assure you we all share that priority. I give you my word as a Vulcan that I will allow no harm to come to the child.”

“Forgive me, Commander, but that offer would be more credible if your identity as a Vulcan were more stable.”

Tuvok suppressed a wince. “Then I give you my word as a father.”

“A father who cannot keep his own children safe?”

That was an even lower blow. Ree’s outward courtesy masked a vicious streak in more ways than one. And if he was trying to anger Tuvok, he was coming close to success. “Can you guarantee that you can keep the child safe?” Tuvok replied with some heat.

Something heavy slammed against the door. Tuvok could see the shape of Ree’s elongated head through the frosted glass, his rapid breaths fogging it further. “You doubt me too? That is my purpose!I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks—I will not let anything happen to this child! Not again!”

Tuvok’s eyes widened. Processing this new informa tion, he began to arrive at a deeper understanding of the situation. “Doctor Ree. I would like to speak to Counselor Troi.”

“You may not enter.”

“I believe she can hear me from here. I wish only to speak. You may listen.”

Ree gave an uncertain growl. “Very well. But briefly.”

“Tuvok? I’m here,” came Troi’s voice. “Alyssa and I are all right.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” he called. “Counselor, do you have an understanding of what has precipitated the current situation?”

After a moment, Troi said, “Yes. Ree’s in guardian mode. My fear for the baby triggered it.”

“Exacerbated, no doubt, by my own enduring grief. I apologize for my role in this.”

“It’s not your fault, Tuvok. I’m the catalyst here.”

“But does it not seem to you that the effect should have worn off by now?”

There was a pause. Tuvok could sense her uncertainty, her fear of saying the wrong thing with Ree listening. This close to term, her hormones were intensifying her empathic projections. “After all,” he went on, prompting her, “with the imminent threat to your child gone, should not the impetus for his…protectiveness have subsided as well?”

She responded slowly. “I…assumed it was my anxiety at being held hostage that was feeding back onto him.”

“Except that the one thing he has surely made quite clear to you is that he will not harm your child. Have you not, Doctor?”

“It is my highest priority. The counselor is aware of that.”

Troi gave a heavy sigh. “He’s talked about nothing else for days.”

“As though,” suggested Tuvok, “he has something to prove to you?”

Silence filled the ward for a time. Troi’s emotions were ambiguous. “Tuvok, what are you saying?” she finally asked.

“The fact is, Doctor Ree did not save your first child, did he?”

“It was a spontaneous miscarriage!” Ree cried. “There was nothing I could do. I had no warning.”

“But you did have warning, early in this child’s term. You determined that she would die and might kill the counselor in the process.”

“Yes.”

“Counselor Troi. I would like you to answer my next question. What did Doctor Ree suggest as the solution?”

He felt her anger at him for dredging this up. “He wanted to terminate the fetus.”

“Which you refused.”

“Yes!”

“You could not bear to lose another child.”

“Yes!”

“And you hated him for wanting to kill the child.”

“I—no. No, Ree, I understood.”

“Did you?” Tuvok demanded, letting his own emotions color his voice. “Could any parent truly accept such a suggestion with total equanimity?”

“But the baby’s fine now. The Caeliar saved her.”

“Despite Ree’s best efforts to ensure her termination.”

Ree’s growl sounded from the other side of the door, disquietingly close. Next to him, Tuvok could see Hriss’s fur standing on end. “Commander, you are agitating my patient. I advise you to end this.”