Текст книги "Open Secrets "

Автор книги: Dayton Ward

Соавторы: Kevin Dilmore
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

16

After much careful deliberation, most of which had been carried out while consuming a sizable portion of his personal, private supply of bloodwine, Captain Komoraq decided that he truly was beginning to hate this planet.

Standing on a plateau, the highest point on the small island that was the focal point of Klingon presence on this world since the M’ahtagh’s arrival, he surveyed the lush landscape around him. At first glance, the island seemed nothing more than a tranquil haven, one among a vast archipelago far from the shores of the nearest continent and surrounded by brilliant azure water. Yes, Lerais II, as the Earthers called it, had much to offer, if one were interested in such pursuits as farming or fishing. The world teemed with vast untapped natural resources, a temperate climate, and numerous plant and animal species never before encountered. Were he a colonist, Komoraq could see the allure of making a home on a world such as this. As a scientist, he would appreciate the unparalleled opportunities the planet presented.

However, he was not a farmer or a fisherman or a scientist. Indeed, he despised farmers and fishermen, and the only reason he tolerated scientists at all was that he happened to call one his wife. Still, there were days, such as today, when she and those like her made Komoraq give more than a passing thought to destroying the entire planet and them along with it.

Releasing a grunt of frustrated resignation, he turned and proceeded down the narrow trail that members of his crew had cut through the lush tropical undergrowth. Following the path as it descended from the plateau along the side of the hill, Komoraq made his way to the ravine, which was all but concealed from the air by the canopy of towering trees covering the island’s northern quadrant. It took several bends and turns in the trail before the Klingon captain found himself standing at the entrance to the structure that had no business here, in what poets—including his wife—would call unblemished paradise.

Seemingly carved from a single piece of what appeared to be obsidian glass but which Komoraq knew was a still-unidentified substance, the edifice was thousands of years old, if the sensor readings recorded by his wife and her cadre of science specialists were accurate. Rising only a handful of meters from the soil, the visible portion was but a fraction of what lay embedded in the ground beneath Komoraq’s feet. The entrance, as impressive as it was in its elegant simplicity, belied the wondrous contents to be found within. Scans had determined this to be the center of the planet’s collection of mysterious alien technology, much like what had been discovered on other worlds throughout the Gonmog Sector. According to the collected sensor data, nothing hidden beneath the surface at this location had been disturbed for millennia. It all lay untouched, waiting for its creators or anyone else fortunate to find it.

Now, all I need is for my wife and her gaggle of sniveling bookworms to figure out how to make any of it work.

After crossing the threshold and entering the structure’s foyer, Komoraq proceeded down a narrow corridor, which also appeared to have been cut with uncanny precision from whatever material had been used to build the place. Just as with the external façade, the passage showed no visible seams or any means of fastening together sections or components. Others might even view the corridor itself as a work of art, but Komoraq was not one to waste time on such useless observations.

“Someone, anyone, please tell me that you’ve discovered something of worth,” he called out, his voice echoing off the smooth, opaque walls as the passage opened into a larger chamber.

Present in the room were six Klingons, five males and one female. Komoraq knew the males only in passing, recognizing their faces from the crew’s personnel database. They were scientists rather than warriors, so he had never considered it necessary to bother learning their names. They were occupied with various tasks, huddled around a collection of portable computer workstations on field desks and equipment containers transported down from the M’ahtagh.Ignoring them and whatever they might be doing, he directed his attention to the lone female in the room. “Alleviate my doubts, my mate, and convince me that you’ve found the source for powerful new weapons that will make us rulers of the empire.”

From where she stood hunched over what he recognized as the control panel of a portable dynamic energy-mode conversion unit—the type normally used by engineering and repair crews when a situation required directing power on a level generated only by a vessel’s warp engines—his wife, Lorka, turned from her work toward him. As she straightened and rose to her full height, Komoraq noted that her dark hair, which she wore in a short, utilitarian style, and her face and uniform were lightened by a thin coat of fine dust. The scowl darkening her features told him that she was in no mood for any of the playful banter he was unable to resist employing whenever she was immersed in her work.

He smiled, baring his teeth. Her reactions never failed to excite him.

Shaking her head, Lorka directed an expression of disgust toward the dust covering her as though noticing it for the first time. Rivulets of sweat had drawn lines in the filmy grime, and Komoraq tensed as his nostrils caught her scent. He had always thought her at her most beautiful whenever she was ensconced in her element, her thoughts not at all on him and instead focused on the tasks before her.

“Maintain your bearing, my captain,” she said, obviously recognizing his expression. “We’ve no time for such distractions.” She pointed to what Komoraq recognized as a darkened control console, one of the room’s few notable features. “As for progress, there’s been precious little of that. This cursed machinery defies our every effort to understand it, much less activate it.”

It was the same report he had been hearing, with little variation, since they’d come to the planet more than two months ago, well before the arrival of the meddlesome Earther colonists. Since they had discovered the ancient chamber and its promise of unheralded secrets and potential, some type of energy generation source had been in operation, supplying minimal power to the equipment stored within the underground cache. Lorka and her teams had only just begun to study the amazing find when, without warning, all power routing ceased to function. All attempts to restore operations, or even to understand what had caused them to cease, had failed.

There were theories that this was related to the incredible disappearance of an entire star system deep within the Gonmog Sector, which might well be the center of power for the ancient race that supposedly had once ruled this region of space. It was a hypothesis supported by intelligence reports from spies within Starfleet, as well as the Federation’s own public media outlets, if one series of astonishing news reports was to be believed. Members of the mysterious civilization had already been encountered on other worlds, usually with alarming results and putting to rest any notions that they had ceased to exist long ago. Was their influence so far-reaching that they could command the destruction of entire planets and solar systems on a whim and channel energy to planets scattered across light-years of space? If they possessed even a fraction of that power, Komoraq knew that made them an enemy far more formidable than anything yet encountered by the Klingon Empire.

He frowned as he studied the panel, which had only a minimal array of features. No display screens or controls adorned the console, which instead was dominated by a collection of crystals of varying sizes, shapes, and colors. None of the crystals was illuminated or pulsed with anything indicating a power source, and no patterns or methods to the crystals’ arrangement presented themselves. “It’s a mechanism, is it not?” he asked, waving one hand toward the device. “We know that much from previous encounters with this technology.”

“Of course,” Lorka replied, making no effort to hide her disdain at having to discuss these concepts with someone who did not possess any appreciable degree of scientific or engineering knowledge. “But on those occasions, the crews who studied the finds also had at their disposal whatever energy source generated power to the equipment. Since the power source behind this technology stopped functioning, we no longer have that luxury.”

Grunting in irritation, Komoraq shook his head. “Surely, there must be a means of accessing its innards and providing our own power.”

“How fortunate that we have you here to provide such unrivaled insight,” Lorka replied, sneering so that he saw her rows of uneven, sharp teeth, “for certainly we would not have thought to consider that notion ourselves.” Before Komoraq could respond to the verbal jab, she cut him off, gesturing to indicate the chamber around them. “We’ve been unable to find anything resembling a power junction or an access conduit or even a door, as though this entire structure were one monstrous mountain of crystal or glass or whatever this substance is.”

The room was comparable in size to the M’ahtagh’s largest cargo hold, with a high, arched ceiling that, like the walls and even the floor, was made of the same damnable, forbidding substance. One of the landing parties under Lorka’s direction had positioned a series of six portable lighting columns around the chamber’s perimeter. While illumination allowed him to see the room’s contents, Komoraq could not help noticing yet again that the light caused absolutely no reflection in the walls, floor, or ceiling, as though whatever material used to construct them were absorbing the energy and leaving no trace.

Lorka paused a moment, drawing a deep breath as though to compose herself, before returning her attention to her husband and the inert console. “According to the scans I’ve made of everything we’ve found down here, this panel is the key. My readings suggest that it harbors a type of biometric or possibly even bioneural interface, embedded within a crystal lattice, which I assume forms a power-distribution network, though it’s not one I’ve encountered before.”

“Let us pretend I understood nothing you just said,” Komoraq said, his grin laced with an underlying menace. “What does all of that mean?”

Her hand moving as though of its own free will to the sheathed d’k taghknife she wore on her left hip, Lorka regarded him with smoldering annoyance. “If you were not my husband, I would have killed you long ago.” Despite her words and expression, Komoraq noted the way her eyes regarded him. Though she would never admit it while life still coursed through her body, she enjoyed their verbal jousts as much as he did, as they often served as a momentary respite from the demands of her duties.

None of that meant that Lorka would not later seek reprisal for his role in this discussion, of course, and Komoraq found himself rather looking forward to making good on that debt.

“It means that a form of direct energy transfer is required, through this console,” she said, moving to stand once again before the panel. “Without whatever piece of technology is missing to complete the connection as originally intended, we’ve been forced to experiment with alternative methods. None of our portable generators seems to possess the required output levels, so I’ve decided to attempt powering it via direct energy transfer from the ship.”

Komoraq was familiar with the notion, having seen a similar tactic employed to transmit power from an orbiting vessel to ground-based weapons emplacements such as crewed disruptor cannons and related armaments. Frowning, he asked, “Wouldn’t there be a risk of damaging or destroying the mechanism?”

Lorka nodded. “Possibly, but I find it unlikely. Based on everything I’ve learned from my sensor scans, the technology used to construct this equipment is quite robust. All indications are that it is more than capable of channeling even the maximum power we might direct at it. What is in question is compatibility. There may be frequency or other calibration issues to resolve, even if this console recognizes our power signature.”

Without waiting for permission to proceed, she reached to her belt for the communications device on a clip next to her d’k tagh.Pressing the control to activate the unit, she growled, “ M’ahtagh,this is Science Officer Lorka. Is that pathetic excuse for a chief engineer ready to transfer ship’s power?”

“Yes,”a deep voice replied through the communicator’s speaker grille, offering nothing else. After a moment, the voice added, “He has completed his adjustments to our deflector relay and is standing by for your order to proceed.”

“Very well,” Lorka said, stepping toward the portable energy converter. Komoraq watched as she reached for a control to activate the unit, at the same time verifying that she had properly aligned its transceiver assembly to direct the energy it would be converting toward the alien control panel. “Proceed.”

The room was abruptly filled with a high-pitched whine as the energy converter began receiving the power transmission from the M’ahtagh.The reaction by the alien technology was immediate, with the console’s array of crystals flaring to life, accompanied by a synchronized string of melodic tones echoing within the chamber. Then he noted a telltale vibration in the floor beneath his boots, along with a hum beginning to resonate throughout the chamber. Around him, recessed lighting panels began to brighten, very dim at first but growing in intensity with each passing moment.

Studying the readouts on her portable scanner, Lorka said, “I’m picking up power signatures from somewhere beneath us. It looks as if other systems are activating.”

“You’ve done it,” Komoraq said, watching the display with no small amount of excitement.

Wielding a portable scanner, Lorka shook her head. “I don’t think so. There are too many fluctuations in the power transfer to the console. The energy we’re providing isn’t truly compatible with this technology.” She looked over her shoulder, barking orders to one of her team members to adjust the settings on the energy converter’s control panel.

Komoraq watched as the illuminated console began to sputter and flicker. Several of the crystals went dark, followed almost as quickly by others, until all of them once again lay dormant. Along with the panel itself, the oddly enticing litany of almost musical tones faded. The overhead lighting was extinguished, and the reverberations in the floor beneath him quieted as well.

Lorka, uttering one of her preferred strings of colorful oaths, turned to the converter, pushing aside her subordinate and taking over the task of calibrating the unit. Her efforts yielded only fleeting results as the panel reactivated for a moment, a shorter version of the light show playing out across the console’s surface before it again went dark. When she made further adjustments to the converter, the alien equipment revived once more but only for a few seconds.

Holding out her scanner, Lorka stepped closer to the panel, shaking her head in disgust as she reviewed the readings. “It’s as though it shut down deliberately,” she said after a moment. “I don’t understand. Some kind of defense mechanism to prevent intrusion by unauthorized users?” With a final grunt of rage, she threw the scanner against one obsidian wall, and the unit exploded into dozens of pieces that scattered across the floor. She punctuated her angry display with another chorus of profanity.

“What?” Komoraq asked.

Shaking her head, Lorka replied, “I picked up no residual readings whatsoever. For whatever reason, the console decided the power I was sending to it wasn’t compatible with its systems and shut everything down.” She released another enraged growl. “Just as on the other planets where this technology has been discovered, without this key component being active, we won’t be able to access any of the structure’s lower levels.”

She did not have to complete her thought. Komoraq knew precisely what she had not put into words. The lower levels housed the truly remarkable examples of the ancient race’s wondrous technology. If this planet possessed a global defense system comparable to ones seen on other worlds in the Gonmog Sector, then it harbored a weapon capable of ensuring the Klingon Empire’s supremacy throughout the galaxy.

Assuming that those who created the weapon don’t decide to use it on us and the planet itself,he mused. There already had been examples of such power being unleashed even in the brief time that had passed since both Federation and Klingon ships had ventured into this region of space. Since learning of this technology and the potential it offered, Komoraq had spent many evenings imagining what he might accomplish with such weaponry under his direct control. There would be no limit to what he might achieve, but now he was sensing the enormous opportunity beginning to slip from his grasp.

“We need to find some way inside,” Komoraq said through gritted teeth as he bit back his mounting frustration. “If we’re unable to wrest control of this technology from the belly of this cursed planet, I’ll have destroyed a Federation freighter and forcibly evicted one of their colonies for nothing except my own amusement.”

He had been informed by his superiors that the High Council was not pleased with the methods he had employed to secure Lerais II in the aim of the empire. Though he had made the uncharacteristic gesture of sparing the Earther colonists and allowed them to evacuate the planet without incident, annihilating the freighter still had served to exacerbate the tense political situation with the Federation. Between his own actions and other incidents involving imperial and Starfleet ships in recent weeks, subspace communications were being choked with rumors of war with the empire’s longtime adversaries. While the Council seemed to welcome that possibility, they were proceeding with any planning toward that goal with a slowness that enraged Komoraq’s warrior blood. Still, there would be calls for increased vigilance to protect Klingon interests in the Gonmog Sector as more Federation ships came to the region. There would soon be other, more pressing duties to which he and his crew must attend. With that came the likelihood that another, less deserving commander of some other, less distinguished battle cruiser might seize for his own uses what Komoraq himself had failed to secure.

For the first time since he had entered the chamber, Komoraq felt his wife’s hand on his arm. “We will find a way, my husband,” Lorka said, “but you know that I cannot make any reliable estimates. These types of mysteries are not typically solved on any discernible timetable.”

Pausing, she added, “The artifacts we found on Mirdonyae V are in better condition. The planet is also more isolated than this one. We should continue our research there.”

Komoraq emitted a dissatisfied grunt. “Unfortunately, my wife, even your best efforts may not be good enough.” No, he decided, they needed something more, something that had been unavailable to them. Offering his beloved wife a leering grin, he felt a small rush of anticipation as he considered how best to proceed. “What we need just now is a fresh perspective.”

17

INTERLUDE

Pain and exhaustion gripped the Shedai Wanderer, threatening to crush the withering vestiges of life to which she clung as she all but fell to the dead world that was her destination.

Without the Conduit to guide and support her, it had taken nearly all of the energy she had been able to gather during her exile on the distant moon even to reach this far. By the standards of travel to which she long ago had become accustomed, journeying to this planet should have been simple. She knew it to be on par with the sort of exercise a mentor might give to a child just learning to control the great powers commanded by the Shedai. Instead, the voyage had drained most of her strength, nearly leaving her stranded without corporeal existence and dispersed to the void between stars.

She took in her surroundings, searching her memories for information on the world she would now call home, at least until she regained enough strength to make another attempt at travel. Like the moon she had left behind, this planet also was lifeless, though for much different reasons. All around her, the Wanderer saw remnants of the civilization that once had thrived here. The ruins of a great city stretched to the horizon in all directions, the artificial structures and other technological constructs lying abandoned and crumbling for aeons, if her memory served her. Far above, the sky was black and brilliant, though it and the stars that filled her vision carried a crimson tinge, owing to the large red sun dominating the spectacular scene. The planet’s atmosphere had been burned away, a casualty of the nearby star having gone nova, an event that likely had snuffed out this world’s population in an instant.

It took a moment, but in short order, the stories came forth from her memory. A great empire—Tkon, the Wanderer now recalled—had once owned this planet. Now all but extinct, its influence had covered a vast segment of space, nearly rivaling that of the Shedai. The Tkon, according to the legends, were but one of the very few peoples to resist any effort at conquest, including submitting to the will of the Shedai. Tales and folklore regarded them as a more than worthy adversary. Had they survived the disaster that had befallen their homeworld, they might well have unseated the Shedai as the dominant power in this area of the galaxy. While legends suggested that some paltry shadows of the once-mighty Tkon people might still remain scattered through space, their empire would never rise again.

Unlike the Tkon, the Wanderer knew, the Shedai would return. When that might happen remained uncertain, of course, as did the nature of their resurgence, but that they would emerge once again to stake claim to their place as rightful rulers was not in doubt.

Whether the Shedai would be worthy of that authority was also a question demanding resolution. After all, the galaxy had changed, evolved, while the Shedai had lain dormant. Would the civilizations that had emerged and advanced during that time willingly subjugate themselves to such rule? Based on what she had seen just since her own awakening, the Wanderer found this unlikely. Despite her unwavering loyalty to the Enumerated Ones, she also had learned to doubt the inherent assumption that all others existed simply to serve the Shedai. Such thinking was dangerous, she knew, and would not endear her to the Serrataalwhen they finally returned. That did nothing to keep the thoughts from taking hold in her mind, commanding her focus and requiring answers.

Dishonorable notions and other ephemera were pushed aside without warning as the Wanderer realized that something else was drawing her attention. Another presence, distant and faint but still detectable, called out across the Void.

The Apostate. As I roam free, so, too, does my enemy.

Directing a few precious strands of the depleted energy she had strived so untiringly to gather, the Wanderer reached out, pushing past faraway stars in search of her adversary. Her mind tingled with the fleeting contact, and in that instant, she knew that the Apostate had done as she had feared and as the Maker had warned them all. Deception and treachery were the ways of the Apostate, and he had exercised them with utmost effectiveness. He had removed the Enumerated Ones and the key to their power from this spatial plane under the pretense of forcing the Shedai to an evolving galaxy. Now he was free to pursue his true agenda, whatever that might be.

The Wanderer had known fear only on rare occasions throughout her long life, but nothing she ever had experienced could compare to the terror she felt at the thought of facing the Apostate again. She knew that their next meeting, wherever and whenever it took place, would likely be her end. Her only hope was the return of the Enumerated Ones from whatever distant realm they now inhabited.

Where are you?