Текст книги "What Judgments Come"
Автор книги: Dayton Ward
Соавторы: Kevin Dilmore
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The guard now eyed both Fisher and Reyes with no small amount of concern. “Body parts?”
Fisher nodded. “Yep. The small, fleshy parts are usually the first to go.” Reyes was forced to look away as the doctor made a point of glancing toward the wide belt encircling the sentry’s waist. “It’s not a pretty sight, let me tell you, but that’s Arcturian blood disease for you.”
“Arcturian blood disease?” Reyes repeated. He had heard of the rare disorder once or twice before, but that was the limit of his knowledge on the subject. Still, he sensed the need to help strengthen the obvious falsehood Fisher was attempting to feed the Orion. “You’re kidding.”
Continuing to play his role, Fisher said, “Wish I was. Somebody brought it aboard. Probably a freight hauler picked it up from one of the colony planets.”
“What is this Arcturian blood disease?” the sentry asked, his tone one of skepticism. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“That’s okay,” Fisher said, and Reyes said nothing more as the doctor turned back to the table and the equipment he had laid out atop its surface. “Not many people know about it.” Reaching for his medical kit, he picked up a hypospray and checked its setting. “It has a lot in common with Rigelian fever, and seems to favor humanoids of various species, including humans, Vulcans, and Orions. Tellarites seem immune, but then Tellarites are pretty much immune to almost everything.”
Watching Fisher ready the hypospray for use, Reyes silently commended Fisher on the ease with which he was playing this little game of misinformation. The strength of a good lie was in not overselling it, and the doctor’s delivery of all the technical-sounding medical mumbo jumbo was just as smooth and polished as when providing an actual, truthful diagnosis. Indeed, Reyes was starting to wonder if the Orion might run from the room in a panic, perhaps to summon a superior or even Ganz himself in order to weigh in on what the guard might well believe was a dangerous viral outbreak aboard the Omari-Ekon.
“I didn’t think there was a cure,” Reyes said, fueling the fires of deception, though still worried about not overdoing it.
Shaking his head, Fisher stepped closer to his friend, his right hand wielding the hypospray. “There wasn’t, at least not until six months or so ago. Starfleet Medical was able to synthesize a ryetalyn derivative that works well enough.”
“What is ryetalyn?” the Orion asked.
Fisher did not answer before pressing the hypospray to the left side of Reyes’s neck as though readying to inject the vaccine into his patient’s carotid artery. At the last instant, with his body blocking the guard’s view, Fisher changed the alignment of the hypo so that it now rested just below Reyes’s jaw before triggering the device’s injector mechanism. The tiny office was filled with the hypo’s pneumatic hiss as Fisher completed administering the vaccination, and Reyes could not help scowling in momentary irritation at the injection, which was more painful than he was used to feeling. The odd sensation continued for several seconds, and he had to force himself not to reach up to rub his jaw as Fisher turned back to the table.
“Ryetalyn is the only known antidote for Rigelian fever,” the doctor said as he returned the hypospray to his medical kit. “Given the similarities between the two strains of contagion, somebody at Starfleet Medical figured it made sense that their respective antidotes would also be related.” When he turned once more to face his escort, Fisher noted that the Orion’s expression was one of complete befuddlement. “Get all that, sport, or are you still worried about body parts falling off?”
That, coupled with the guard’s worried look, almost made Reyes laugh. Though he had not been privy to specifics, he had heard assorted scuttlebutt about Admiral Nogura ordering some kind of medical inspections for all Starfleet and civilian vessels moored at the station. According to the gossip mill running rampant through the Omari-Ekon’s bar and gaming deck, teams of Starbase 47 medical personnel were crawling in and through the six docked ships, looking for who only knew what. Reyes had suspected a ruse from the outset, and he was sure Ganz, if not Neera herself, would also doubt the sincerity of any such action on Nogura’s part. For the scheme to succeed, it meant Fisher and his people pushing a hard sell with inspections, examinations, and even vaccinations of supposedly “infected” people aboard any of the targeted vessels.
“Had to quarantine anyone yet?” Reyes asked.
Fisher nodded. “Two from one of those low-warp freighters. I’ve got them down in the hospital in an isolation ward. So far they’re not showing anything serious, but the regs state we observe them for forty-eight hours.” Casting a look in the guard’s direction, he added, “Nothing’s fallen off yet, but I suppose we’ll see.”
“Mister Reyes,” a voice, low and soft, echoed in Reyes’s mind, and he grunted in surprise at the unexpected intrusion. “This is Lieutenant T’Prynn.”
Studying him warily, Fisher asked, “You all right?”
In his head, Reyes heard T’Prynn’s voice say, “If you can hear me, tell Doctor Fisher that you have a cramp in your lower leg.”
Reyes reached down to rub his left calf. “Sorry. I guess I’ve been sitting here too long. Got a cramp.” He cleared his throat as he adjusted his position in the chair, using the opportunity to glance at the guard, who showed no apparent signs of suspecting that anything untoward was taking place.
“You need to watch those,” Fisher replied. “Probably not getting enough potassium in your diet. I’ll have the quartermaster send over a crate of bananas.”
“Doctor Fisher has implanted a subcutaneous, subaural transceiver along your jaw,” T’Prynn said. “It operates on an encrypted, low-power frequency well below the range of scanning equipment employed by Ganz’s people. We will now be able to communicate without detection.”
Reyes had already guessed that much, as well as figuring that Fisher must also be outfitted with a similar device. Since receiving the initial communication from his former intelligence officer and agreeing to assist her if and when she was able to call upon him, Reyes had been waiting for some sign or signal that she was ready to proceed. Were he able to do so without attracting undue attention from Fisher’s escort, he would have smiled in unabashed admiration at T’Prynn’s seemingly never-ending resourcefulness.
“I will ask you a series of questions,” T’Prynn continued. “At the same time, Doctor Fisher will also be asking you medical-related questions. The answers you provide to me should also be appropriate for his queries. If you understand, please tell Doctor Fisher that you’ve been having trouble sleeping.”
“Since you’re pumping me full of this and that,” Reyes said, “I don’t suppose you’ve got anything that might help me sleep?”
Fisher nodded. “I can probably help you with that. What’s the matter? All that craziness in the casino keeping you up nights?”
At the same time, T’Prynn said, “We require someone to access the Omari-Ekon’s navigational logs and extract information. I cannot elaborate as to the nature of the data, but I can tell you the matter is of extreme importance. Are you willing to make such an attempt?”
It took Reyes a moment to sort both questions in his head, during which he covered the lag with a small chuckle for the benefit of Fisher as well as the guard. Whatever T’Prynn was planning, he was certain she would not ask him to place himself at such extreme risk unless she believed it to be important. If he were caught while attempting to retrieve information of the sort T’Prynn was seeking, Reyes harbored no doubts that it would mean a death sentence at the hands of Ganz’s people.
Finally, he answered, “You could say that.”
“Excellent,” T’Prynn replied.
“I think I’ve got something here with me that will work,” Fisher said, as he appeared to inspect the contents of his medical kit. “According to your files, you have no allergies. Is that still true?”
On the heels of the doctor’s question, T’Prynn asked, “Do you think you will be able to access a computer terminal? I should be able to guide you through the process of locating and extracting any relevant data.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Reyes replied, nodding.
Extracting another vial of dark blue liquid from his medical kit, Fisher attached it to the receptor on the end of his hypospray before turning back to Reyes. “This is a vitamin supplement that should help regulate your melatonin levels. Might take a day or two to kick in fully, but you should notice a difference starting tonight.” He placed the hypo against Reyes’s left arm and once more triggered its injector.
Reyes felt the compound entering his bloodstream as T’Prynn said, “I will contact you later tonight to work out the details of our operation. I suspect your quarters are being monitored, so partake of your evening meal in a public venue, such as one of the restaurants on the gaming deck. I’ll be able to hear you even if you whisper.”
“I like the sound of that,” Reyes replied, to Fisher as well as T’Prynn.
The doctor nodded in apparent satisfaction. “In that case, I think we’re done here.” He said nothing else as he returned his equipment to the satchel he had brought with him. Slinging the bag over his left shoulder, he turned to regard Reyes. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Bring me some decent coffee?” Reyes answered. “The stuff they serve over here tastes like sweat running off a rhino’s ass.”
Pausing as though considering the image that description evoked, Fisher chuckled and shook his head. “Well, so much for my dinner plans.” He held out his right hand. “Good to see you again, Diego. Take care of yourself.”
Reyes gripped his friend’s hand an extra moment. He considered attempting to convey a message to the doctor or T’Prynn that might in turn be delivered to Rana Desai, wherever she might be. He had learned of her rather sudden departure from the station, but she had not attempted to contact him prior to her leaving. Though he was certain she must have had her reasons for this abrupt decision, Reyes could not help but feel a pang of regret that she had chosen not to share any such rationale with him. While he figured Admiral Nogura knew where she had gone, Reyes was worried that any attempt by him to pass on a message might be exploited by the guard or someone else in Ganz’s organization, such as whoever doubtless was monitoring the conversations right now taking place in this room. Deciding it was not worth the risk, Reyes offered only a simple reply. “You, too, Zeke.”
“Okay, sport,” Fisher said to his escort as he moved toward the door, “let’s get a move on. Still plenty of ship to inspect before my day’s over.”
The sentry scowled as he stepped aside to allow the doctor to exit the room. Looking back at Reyes, he said, “You can go now, human.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Reyes said, offering a mock salute. “I was worried I might miss my spa appointment.”
He waited until Fisher and the guard disappeared from sight before releasing a slow sigh, shaking his head in wonderment at what had just transpired. Had Fisher and T’Prynn truly managed to succeed where others before them—by all verifiable accounts—had failed, and embedded a spy aboard the Omari-Ekon? Reyes had to believe that other covert agents had operated at one time or another while working among the Orion vessel’s crew and passengers. Likewise, he was sure most if not all of those spies ultimately had been discovered and disposed of by Ganz or members of his organization.
Well, let’s hope we can buck that trend, shall we? The thought continued to rattle around in his head even as he left the room and made his way toward one of the turbolifts that would return him to the gaming deck. It was not until he emerged from the lift and was greeted by the raucous sounds and sights of the casino that T’Prynn’s voice returned.
“I will be in contact with you soon, Mister Reyes, but I will be monitoring this frequency in a passive scan mode, should you have need to call for assistance. On behalf of Admiral Nogura and Commander ch’Nayla, I wish to thank you for agreeing to help us in this endeavor.”
Glancing around to make sure no one was paying him any extra attention as he headed for the bar at the center of the gaming floor, Reyes could not help releasing a small chuckle as he considered his current situation.
“I just hope I don’t talk in my sleep.”
10
As he had every day for the past three weeks, Lieutenant Ming Xiong made a circuit of the containment chamber. Just as he had done on those prior occasions during the unit’s construction and installation, he studied every detail and allowed nothing to escape his notice. He inspected each setting on every control panel, eyed every joint and seam where duranium metal plates had come together to form the compartment’s outer shell. Even the conduits connecting the container to its source of power were subjected to his unflinching scrutiny. When he came abreast of the first control panel to be inspected during this latest assessment, Xiong without a moment’s hesitation began the process all over again, only this time, he turned and began to circle the container in the opposite direction.
“Well, would you look at that,” a male voice said from somewhere to his right. “I think he’s finally snapped.”
Another voice, also male though possessing a slightly higher pitch, replied, “What do you mean snapped? He seems perfectly normal to me.”
“Can’t you see?” the first man asked, his tone now clearly one of jest. “He’s walking the wrong way.” Then, his voice rising in volume, he said, “Lieutenant, if you keep that up, you’re going to wear through the deck plating.”
Unable to keep from smiling as he halted his inspection, Xiong turned to look at the two men standing at the entrance to the U.S.S. Lovell’s secondary cargo bay. “Mister Anderson. Mister O’Halloran. Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” replied Anderson as he and O’Halloran made their way into the cargo bay.
“Says you,” O’Halloran countered. “This was supposed to be my day off.”
Anderson shook his head. “You big baby.”
The verbal banter helped to ease Xiong’s mood as the engineers approached. Both wore Starfleet uniforms with red tunics bearing a lieutenant’s stripes, though neither officer appeared old enough to be more than a week out of the Academy. Xiong figured that their apparent youth in large part could be attributed to the jocular, almost irreverent manner in which they engaged nearly every conversation that was not directly related to their assigned duties. He was aware that such behavior was a hallmark of nearly every member of the Lovell’s crew, in particular the contingent of specialists assigned to the ship’s detachment from the Corps of Engineers. However, having seen the crew work on several occasions, Xiong knew from experience that any unconventional antics they might exhibit disappeared when duty or necessity called. In this regard, he likened the men and women assigned to the Lovell to Captain Adelard Nassir and his crew aboard the U.S.S. Sagittarius. That eclectic, tight-knit group also was rather unorthodox in its methods, but no one could argue the results they achieved.
The same could be said for the Lovell itself, being an all but ancient Daedalus-class vessel. A relic of the previous century, it and two sister ships had been pulled from deep storage at the Qualor II shipyards and refurbished for use by the Corps of Engineers, offering its crew of specialists and miracle workers ample opportunity to tinker with every onboard system to the point where the Lovell now performed almost as well as any ship built within the past three decades. Given the irregular nature of what Xiong and this vessel’s crew were about to attempt, “unorthodox” was just the sort of character trait that was needed here and now.
“Well,” Xiong said, offering a wry grin, “I appreciate you being here, even if you’re not supposed to be here today.”
“No problem, Lieutenant,” Anderson said. “Commander al-Khaled prefers to have us on hand when there’s a possibility of something blowing up, or ripping open the fabric of space-time.”
O’Halloran’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not going to happen today, though. Right?”
“I can’t predict what might result from this test,” Xiong replied, “but I’m fairly confident the space-time continuum is secure, at least for the moment.” Even as he spoke the words, Xiong considered his answer. If Operation Vanguard had taught him anything, it was to anticipate the unexpected, the unlikely, or even the impossible.
“Good,” Anderson said, making his way toward the row of workstations that had been installed in the cargo bay and configured to act as the center of operations for the forthcoming series of tests. “I hate to mess with that kind of stuff, at least before lunch.” Settling into one of the seats positioned before the consoles, he ran his hand along one set of controls and nodded. “Everything shows green.” Gesturing toward the container, he asked, “I take it our guest is behaving itself?”
Xiong replied, “So far.” Moving to stand next to where O’Halloran had seated himself at another of the consoles, he tapped a control, and one of the workstation’s monitors flickered to life before settling on the image of a now quite familiar crystalline polyhedron. Somewhat larger than a human head, the Mirdonyae Artifact—one of two currently held by Xiong and his team of researchers on Starbase 47—emitted a pulsing, violet glow, just as it had since he had used the mysterious crystal to capture the Shedai entity that had attacked the station months earlier. Whether the energy emitted by the crystal originated from the object itself or the mysterious being it now held within its confines, Xiong did not know. Weeks of intensive sensor scans of the artifact as well as its companion, which remained in its own secure containment facility within the Vault aboard the station, had yielded nothing in the way of tangible information.
“Is it me,” O’Halloran said, “or does that thing just look pissed off?”
Anderson leaned back in his chair. “I think you’d be feeling the same way if somebody stuffed you into a fishbowl.” Then, he asked Xiong, “We’re sure this thing is safe?”
“As safe as it’s going to be,” Xiong replied. Given the awesome power already demonstrated by the Shedai entities since his first encounter with them on the planet Erilon, the young archeology and anthropology officer had his doubts that there existed one place or containment system that would render the artifact and the being it held “safe.” The last attempt even to connect either of the artifacts to an external power source in order to affect sensor scans had evoked the wrath of a Shedai entity, presumably attracted by some signal or other energy emission from the mysterious crystals. That attack had been halted, but not before the entity had inflicted massive damage upon the station. Since that near-disastrous day, the artifacts had been held in isolation, first in the cargo hold of a Starfleet support craft while the station underwent repairs from the Shedai attack, and later within a special chamber installed in the Vault and constructed for the specific purpose of housing the alien objects. However, the protective measures had done nothing to ease the concerns of Admiral Nogura with respect to station safety, prompting this latest course of action. Even this isolation chamber—a twin of the one in the Vault devised by Xiong with the assistance of the Lovell’s Corps of Engineers team leader, Lieutenant Commander Mahmud al-Khaled—offered no guarantees.
“Once we activate the damping fields,” Xiong said, “the chamber will be completely self-contained.” Even the couplings connecting the unit to the Lovell’s power systems would be deactivated, and the chamber would rely on its own compact impulse generator, which al-Khaled and his team had taken from one of the ship’s shuttlecraft. “In theory, at least, the chamber can remain active for a year without interruption.”
“I should’ve taken bets,” Anderson said.
Xiong ignored the remark as he studied the status displays before him. All power readings were nominal. All that remained would be to activate the additional layer of damping force fields al-Khaled and his team had designed to act as a buffer for the series of sensor and communications scans to which the artifact would soon be subjected. If they were lucky, they would be able to examine the enigmatic object, and perhaps even the equally mystifying entity it contained, without threat of another attack.
And if we’re not lucky, Xiong mused, it could be a bad day for everyone.
The sound of the cargo bay’s hatch opening drew his attention, and Xiong turned to see al-Khaled entering the room. The commander was followed by Doctor Carol Marcus, the civilian supervisor of Starbase 47’s Operation Vanguard research team.
“Good morning, everyone,” Marcus said as she and al-Khaled approached. Exchanging smiles with Xiong, she added, “Lieutenant, I trust everything is ready here?”
Nodding, Xiong replied, “Just about, Doctor.” He paused, offering a small smile. “I just wish Nezrene was here.” Operation Vanguard’s Tholian benefactor, Nezrene, had defected and sought asylum aboard the station, and her knowledge and assistance had helped Xiong and the Vault research team to better understand the artifacts of Shedai technology they had encountered and acquired on a handful of planets throughout the Taurus Reach. Nezrene had also helped Xiong and his people to better comprehend the Shedai themselves, offering a much-needed yet terrifying perspective on the ancient race and the incredible power it commanded. Present at the time of the Shedai’s attack on Starbase 47, the Tholian had been killed when the powerful entity tore its way through the station and penetrated the Vault in search of the Mirdonyae Artifacts to which it had been drawn.
Marcus reached out to place a hand on Xiong’s shoulder. “Me, too, but I like to think she’s here, after a fashion.”
Comforted by her words, Xiong smiled before turning his attention to al-Khaled. “Are we in position?”
“Yes,” said the head of the Lovell’s Corps of Engineers detachment. “We’ve established orbit at the limits of Vanguard’s weapons range. If anything goes wrong, they’ll be ready.”
“Why don’t I find that comforting?” O’Halloran asked.
Marcus replied, “Relax, Lieutenant. We may not be the Corps of Engineers, but we have a few tricks up our sleeve.”
“Exactly,” Xiong replied. “The damping fields may not be able to fully block any signals or energy the artifact might emit, but they should at least weaken and scatter them, thereby preventing a repeat of the last time we tried this.” Eyeing Marcus, he added, “After all, I really don’t think we want another of those things coming after us.”
“I can certainly live without it,” the doctor said. “What about sensors and communications?”
Al-Khaled answered, “That’s where we’re still shooting a bit in the dark. Since we’ve had no apparent success contacting the Shedai entities within the artifacts, we’ve decided to go back and start from scratch. We’ll begin with low-intensity scans and work our way back to the levels that triggered your prior … incident. At each step, we’ll reexamine the findings and see how they measure up so far as this new setup is concerned, and make the appropriate adjustments before continuing.”
“Even after all of that,” Xiong said, “there’s still no guarantee we’ll learn anything new, much less make actual contact with the Shedai entity.”
“And we might just irritate it all over again,” Marcus added.
Nodding, Xiong said, “That is a possibility, Doctor.” It was this scenario, above everything else, that was behind the extraordinary lengths to which he, al-Khaled, and their teams had gone to prepare for this round of experiments. Despite all the precautions, Admiral Nogura had been reluctant to see the research continue, but had relented when offered the idea of using the Lovell as the test bed rather than the station itself. That the suggestion had been presented by the ship’s captain, Daniel Okagawa, after he had explained the situation to his crew and they all—to a person—had supported the plan, had convinced Nogura to allow the effort to proceed.
“Well,” Marcus said after a moment, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned from working with Starfleet, it’s that risk is part of the game. Let’s do this.”
As al-Khaled oversaw the chamber’s final preparations, Xiong moved to the console that had been configured for monitoring the artifact. On the workstation’s main monitor, the image of the crystalline artifact continued to emit its purple-white glow. Despite the physical distance and the very real barriers separating him from the object, Xiong could not help thinking he had still felt the odd tingle across his entire body when he had held the artifact in his bare hands. He tried to dismiss the strange sensation as a figment of his imagination, concentrating instead on the cold, precise data being fed to him by the container’s network of internal sensors.
“Baryonic array, chroniton gauges, and tachyon scanners are all online and standing by,” he said. “How are we looking?”
“All containment field readings are green, Ming,” al-Khaled replied from where he had taken up station at an adjacent console. “Disabling main power and switching to internal systems.”
Another of Xiong’s console screens indicated the transfer to the containment chamber’s independent power source. All of the other status indicators remained steady, and he nodded in approval. “Transfer complete. Everything looks good.” Turning in his seat, he regarded his companions. “Only one thing left to do.”
Al-Khaled nodded. “Initiating scans.”
“All systems reporting active,” Anderson noted, pointing to one of the screens at his console. “Internal sensors at optimum, and the telemetry’s already coming fast and furious. Look at it.”
Returning his attention to his workstation, Xiong glanced over the various status gauges and graphics as the chamber’s internal sensor feeds sprang to life. Three of his screens began to cascade data at a rate too fast for his eyes to follow, but the lieutenant knew everything they were seeing was being recorded and stored within the Lovell’s main computer. He would have plenty of time later to review the information they were collecting.
“Commander,” O’Halloran called out, “I’m getting some unusual readings here.”
“Prepare to power down,” Marcus said.
“Stand by to abort,” Xiong ordered, a split second after the doctor. As they exchanged knowing glances, the lieutenant wondered if the tension he felt mirrored whatever feelings of anxiety she might be experiencing. To her credit, Marcus appeared calm and controlled, though he noted the slight tightening of her jaw line as she kept her attention focused on the scene before her.
Shaking his head, O’Halloran said, “No, wait. This doesn’t look threatening. It’s just … unusual.”
“Feel free to elaborate,” al-Khaled said.
O’Halloran, already hunched over his console, frowned. “It’s just that … okay, now there’s nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?” Xiong asked. “You’re not receiving?”
“I am receiving,” O’Halloran replied, “but the artifact seems completely unresponsive to any external stimuli. There’s no signal wave response, no high-energy particles, no communications signal. Nothing.”
“Is it dead?” Marcus asked. “Could the intensity of the scans have killed the Shedai inside the crystal?”
“No, Doctor,” Anderson replied. “We’re at least getting that much. It’s still very much alive in there.”
“And the scans are reaching it?” al-Khaled asked, frowning in confusion.
Leaning forward in his seat, Xiong pressed a sequence of controls that allowed him to scroll through the data collected during the past few moments. He noted that the sensor arrays recorded the scans’ penetration of the artifact’s crystal surface, and even their examination of whatever it was that lurked inside. The Shedai was, in essence, noncorporeal energy even though it had demonstrated the ability to assume physical form, particularly when angered. It also had shown a propensity for occupying and controlling physical objects of massive size and power, such as the beings that Xiong had encountered more than once.
“According to this,” he said, “the scans are hitting it, as are the communications signals.”
“Maybe it doesn’t know how to respond?” Marcus said.
Reclining in his chair, Xiong released a small, tired sigh. “That, or maybe it just doesn’t give a damn.”
11
Something intruded upon the Shedai Wanderer’s slumber and she awoke with a start, confused and irritated at the disruption. How long had she been sleeping? It seemed to her as though time had ceased to have any meaning within this gulf of energy in which she languished.
What was it? Reaching out with her consciousness, she listened for whatever unidentified presence had sought to make itself known to her. She was convinced it was an attempt at communication, though she was unable to locate its source. The signal, if indeed that was what she had detected, was brief and weak, though still sufficient to upset the energy fields contained within her crystal prison. What was the signal’s origin, and what was its purpose? For a moment she considered offering some form of response, but restrained herself. The fields gripping her had sapped her strength, leaving her all but defenseless. Though the Wanderer loathed the very idea of refusing to stand before an enemy, the simple reality was that here, she held no power.
Her own anger and lack of discipline had brought her to this place, this pocket of existence fashioned specifically to contain those of her kind. There were tremendous energies in play here, and she knew they were not natural phenomena. It had not taken her long after becoming ensnared within these odd fields to discern the artificial nature of their ebbs and flows, a product of the crystal that contained such unbridled chaos. Who could possess the power to create such a construct? Could it possibly be a creation of some long-dead species of Telinaruul? She had, after some time and reflection, dismissed such an unlikely possibility, though she forced herself to admit that the particular parasites that she had confronted with increasing frequency prior to her capture had succeeded in surprising her during their past encounters. However, she attributed that more to their adaptability and innovation rather than any real power they might command. She might even find them amusing, if not for the nuisance and—yes—the threat they had become.