Star Trek: That Which Divides (15 page)

“This appears to be the door’s control mechanism,” he said, “though if these readings are correct, the door itself is not locked.” With no obvious option presenting itself, Spock chose the most logical action and reached out to touch the panel. For his efforts, a low mechanical whine echoed in the corridor as the hatch began to slide upward, disappearing into a slot in the wall above the door’s threshold. Spock noted the door’s thickness; locked or not, the hatch was intended to act as a protective barrier, but against what, he had no idea.

“It’s the simplest approaches that always work the best,” Boma said, nodding toward the door panel. Then, stepping forward so that he could see into the room, he paused at the entry. “Wow.”

“Hardly a scientific observation, Mister Boma,” Spock said as he got his first look at the chamber beyond the door. “However, it is understandable.”

Rather than being a natural formation beneath the
surface of the planetoid, the room looked to have been carved from the rock. The walls and floor, constructed from a metallic compound, were smooth and possessed a polished gray finish not all that different from the interior bulkheads of a starship. Octagonal in shape, the room was, Spock estimated, perhaps twenty-five meters in diameter. Six of the room’s eight walls contained mechanisms or consoles, while the remaining two featured doorways leading to what appeared to be anterooms. The rows of control banks and consoles were composed of dark, polished glass or some other transparent material, and while some of the stations were inert, others were active. Glyphs and text were visible on many of the console surfaces, displayed in a language Spock was surprised to realize he recognized.

“Fascinating.”

Stepping into the room, he motioned for Johnson and Minecci to remain at the entrance. As the two security officers took up stations near the door, Spock looked up to see that panels that looked to be of similar material to that of the walls were set into the ceiling, which otherwise retained the only visible characteristics of carved rock. Some of the panels featured indirect lighting fixtures that cast a pale lavender tinge across the room. Others supported various apparatus whose functions Spock could not discern, but it was the object hanging from the ceiling at the center of the room that commanded his attention.

“Spock,” McCoy said as the doctor moved to stand next to him, “is that what I think it is?”

A large cube, mounted in a manner that would allow it to preside over everything in the room, was lit from within, and emanated a low, monotonous hum accompanied by a continuous swirling pattern of multicolored lights. As he
regarded the cube, Spock realized the light pattern bore more than a slight resemblance to the effect of the energy field surrounding Gralafi.

“If you believe it to be the same type of mechanism that you and Captain Kirk found on the Kalandan outpost planet, Doctor,” Spock said, “then you would be correct.”

Frowning, Boma asked, “You mean you’ve seen something like this before?”

“Seen it?” McCoy snapped. “More like almost killed by it.”

Spock saw the confused expression on the
Huang Zhong
science officer’s face, and added, “Several months ago, we encountered an artificial planet, thousands of years old and constructed by a race of beings who called themselves the Kalandans. The planet was an outpost, designed as a colony.” He moved toward one of the banks of control consoles, scanning them with his tricorder. “Those who created it were long dead, having fallen victim to a disease they inadvertently created while building the planet.”

“By the time we found it,” McCoy added, “the colony they’d built had been standing there empty for thousands of years, with a defense system left on automatic; a kind of holographic projection that could literally kill you just by touching you.” He shook his head as though recalling the events. “Before we even knew what was happening, we’d lost three people, including two on the ship.”

Boma made no attempt to mask his disbelief. “Some kind of machine sent a hologram to the
Enterprise
to kill people?”

“It was not quite that simple, Mister Boma,” Spock replied as he continued his tricorder scans, “though the Kalandan defenses were quite formidable. They were even
responsible for transporting the
Enterprise
hundreds of light-years from the planet.”

“What?” Boma asked, incredulous as he looked around the room. “And that same kind of technology might be
here
?”

Looking up from his tricorder, Spock said, “I cannot be certain, Lieutenant. However, this equipment appears to be much older than the technology we found on the Kalandan outpost. Nearly one thousand years older, according to my tricorder scans.”

“So,” McCoy said, “you’re saying it’s not as advanced?”

Spock nodded. “In some respects, Doctor, though it is still impressive, particularly if we are to believe that the Kalandans are somehow responsible for the energy field surrounding this planetoid.” He paused, noting one of the status readings on his tricorder. “I believe I have found a means of interfacing with this equipment.”

“I take it you were able to learn something about their language?” Boma asked.

“To a point, Lieutenant, thanks to our survey mission to the Kalandan outpost.” Spock had spent some time working with the computer systems on that world, but it was Lieutenant Uhura who had conducted the most research into the ancient technology. Still, he had managed to acquire a working knowledge of the Kalandan computer systems and had some ability to interface with them. Monitoring the control console with his tricorder, he reached for the smooth, black panel and pressed several of its embedded controls. Each touch to the panel brought with it a mechanical tone that Spock likened to musical notes. As he pressed the last control in the sequence prescribed by his scans, he heard a high-pitched warbling sound coming from behind him.

“Spock!” McCoy exclaimed. “Look!”

Turning from the panel, Spock saw that the control cube hanging from the center of the room’s ceiling had become more active, its interior illumination having accelerated. A beam of light shone forth from the cube’s base to the floor, and within it was a female humanoid shape. She wore a jade-colored long-sleeved robe, which covered her entire body. Her silver hair was short, leaving her neck bare. Spock estimated her age to be comparable to that of a middle-aged human.

“Unbelievable,” Boma said.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” McCoy added.

Having now coalesced into solid form, the projection of the woman seemed to smile at them, though her blue-green eyes seemed flat and unseeing. “
My fellow Kalandans, I offer you greetings. I am Meyeliri, caretaker of this facility. We have created what is now the preeminent repository of Kalandan knowledge ever assembled by our civilization. In the event our homeworld continues to deteriorate to the point where it can no longer sustain our civilization, this world will serve as the first step in reestablishing our society
.”

“This is incredible,” Boma said, his voice barely a whisper.

Meyeliri continued, “
Despite its proximity to an inhabited planet, it is ideally suited for our people in terms of environment and natural resources. Therefore, we designed the energy field encompassing this world to protect this facility from the curious. The field will open for short durations at regular intervals in order to receive updated information from our homeworld. As residents of this repository, you have the means to make contact with the homeworld as necessary. Otherwise, you will live in solitude, overseeing the facility’s
operation until such time as replacement caretakers arrive. Again, welcome, and I wish you well
.”

“I wonder if any Kalandans ever heard that message,” McCoy said after Meyeliri’s image faded.

Boma said, “It sounds like this whole planet is nothing but one giant contingency plan. They send people here to man it, make sure everything keeps running, but then what?”

“Perhaps they were afflicted by the same disease that eventually destroyed the rest of the Kalandan race,” Spock replied. From what he and Lieutenant Uhura had learned on the other outpost, Kalandans dispatched to other planets throughout this part of the galaxy had been called back to their homeworld. That happened when the disease was beginning its deadly campaign, and before it was known that it would prove lethal to their civilization. “The answer may well be here, along with the rest of the information the Kalandans were able to amass.”

Moving to look about the room, Boma said, “The complete history and knowledge of an entire civilization, right here at our fingertips? This is amazing. You could make a career out of studying something like this.”

McCoy cleared his throat. “What I don’t understand is, if this planetoid was supposed to be protected from the Dolysians, or anyone else for that matter, then why does the energy field open at all? If the Kalandans thought it needed to open from time to time, then why stay open so long? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It may well be that the systems overseeing the rift are malfunctioning,” Spock said. “After all, they have been in continuous operation for thousands of years. Even the most robust mechanisms require periodic maintenance.
It’s logical to assume that some form of automated repair work takes place as required, but even those devices may be suffering the effects of age. It would be interesting to investigate that possibility.”

“You have to wonder how the Dolysians are going to handle this,” McCoy said. “I mean, they had to at least consider the possibility that the field around this planet was an artificial creation, but to have it confirmed? And then be faced with all of this?” He shook his head. “They’re going to have their hands full, that’s for sure.”

“Indeed,” Spock conceded. How would the Dolysians react to the knowledge that fate and circumstance had seen fit to appoint them custodians for the amassed knowledge of an extinct alien civilization? How would the information stored here affect their society, and what was the potential for disaster if access to that knowledge was left unchecked?

The situation, Spock decided, had just become a great deal more complicated.

Standing in the middle of the
Enterprise
’s hangar bay, Montgomery Scott watched as two of his junior engineering assistants maneuvered a container loaded with tools and other equipment into the cargo shuttlecraft
Caroline Herschel
. Each of the crewmen held an antigravity loader attached to one side of the container, simplifying the process of moving the heavy crate into the proper position to be put aboard the compact craft.

“Aye, that’s it, lads,” Scott said, nodding in approval as he held up the data slate he had been carrying with him all afternoon and used the device’s stylus to mark the container on his inventory list as having been loaded. Double-checking the slate’s information, he added, “Now, we just load the equipment we need aboard the
Copernicus
, and that’ll do it.”

One of the crewmen pushing the container through the shuttle’s open hatch, a young, muscled fellow named Miles McLoughlin, shook his head. “I can’t wait for the day when transporters are good enough to beam cargo from point to point around a ship.”

Scott could not help smiling upon overhearing the remark. “What’s the matter? You’re not afraid of a little hard work, are you? Imagine having to do all of this without the antigravs. That’d make your day a wee bit pleasant, no?”

“Don’t give him any ideas,” said McLoughlin’s companion, Crewman Scott Hertzog, offering the other man a playful smack on the arm. “We’re almost done.”

“That we are,” Scott confirmed, using his data slate to point to the lone remaining container sitting on the hangar deck. “Let’s get that loaded, and the first team will be ready to head out.” With all of the necessary equipment now prepared for transport, he knew that the real work was only just beginning. “Grab a hearty meal while you can, lads, as you’ll likely be getting your fill of field rations over the next few days.”

“All the reconstituted beef stew you can eat,” Hertzog said, offering a wide grin. “If that’s not fancy living, I don’t know what is.”

McLoughlin’s expression was one of mock derision. “How can you stand that stuff? It’ll melt your stomach lining if you eat enough of it. Now, the chicken loaf? That’s actually not too bad.”

“I prefer that my meats be presented in non-loaf form, thank you very much,” Hertzog replied. Turning his attention to Scott, the crewman asked, “So, all we have are three days, sir?”

Nodding, the chief engineer said, “Aye, that’s it. We’ll have to be working at warp speed to get it all done in time.”

Under other circumstances, Scott would have been content to call it a day and have his people get a good night’s rest before setting out in the morning to begin the salvage operation. However, time was a driving factor in his team’s activities. The task given him by Captain Kirk to strip the wrecked
Huang Zhong
of all sensitive equipment and other components would, by the engineer’s estimation, require almost continuous effort over the next seventy or so hours.

“Three days is an awfully tight window, sir,” McLoughlin said. “Do you think we can get it all done?”

Scott shrugged. “We’re certainly going to give it our best shot.” While he would have preferred a longer period of time to carry out the assignment, the deadline was necessary in order to meet the goal of having all
Enterprise
personnel as well as the
Huang Zhong
survivors away from the Gralafi planetoid well ahead of the rift’s projected time of closure. He had three days to remove and ferry away everything that could be salvaged from the crashed science vessel—weapons and defense systems, sensors, computer core, various components of the propulsion system, and whatever else could be crammed into the various
Enterprise
shuttlecraft that had been dedicated to the detail. Once that was accomplished, whatever remained of the ship at the end of the time allotted to Scott and his people would have to be destroyed.