The Lost Era: Well of Souls: Star Trek (38 page)

“Don’t touch it!” Jase cried. Instinctively, he knew:
danger.
“Leave it alone!”

“Why?” Pahl continued to caress the mask. His movements were slow, languid. “It’s harmless. It’s ...” Without warning, Pahl plucked the mask from the corpse’s face.

“No!” Jase cried, too late.

Suddenly, the room was suffused with a soft, silver light. There was a hum, a sense of expectancy.
No, no, what now, what’s happening?
Jase jerked open his tricorder.

“Pahl’s, something switched on. Another power source. Somewhere, outside this room, I don’t know, and now there’s an energy surge.” Jase jerked his head up. “Pahl, Pahl, let’s just go now. We’ve seen enough, we’ve seen ...”

His voice died in his throat. He felt the same thick congestion in the air, only more now than before.
Like the bodies of people all pressed together in a small room, all breathing the same air. The energy surge
—Jase stared at his readings—
like a door opening somewhere, letting something out, and it started when Pahl touched the mask, when he took the
mask. Jase stared wildly into the silvery glow. The air was thick, and as he stared, the air changed colors. The air trembled and writhed, and then the air uncoiled, coalescing into shapes, things that lashed the air like dragons. Like snakes.

“Pahl!” Jase’s voice came in a thin, high whisper. “Pahl, Pahl, do you see them? Do you see?”

“Yes.” But not a word: more like the hiss of some serpent. Pahl’s ice-blue eyes started from his skull, but he wasn’t looking at Jase. He was staring into the roiling air. “Yessss,
yesssss
.”

And then, before Jase could move, Pahl placed the mask over his own features.

“No!”
Jase cried, starting forward. “Pahl, stop!”

Pahl opened his mouth and let out a long, loud wail. Jase couldn’t help it; he was so frightened, a cry jerked from his throat, too. Pahl’s scream echoed like the cry of a bat flinging itself from one dark corner to the next. His scream was inarticulate, formless: a never-ending wave of sound that went on and on, crashing through the darkness.

Jase’s mind gabbled in panic:
no, no,
no! He had to get that mask off Pahl’s face; he had to get them
out
of there!

“Pahl!” Lunging forward, Jase clawed at Pahl’s face. His fingers grazed the silvery metal, and it was like he’d touched a live circuit. A sudden, hard shock rippled down his hand and shivered through his arm. He flew back, his body twisting through the crowded, thick air. He crashed against the wooden stand, and the ancient wood, rotted with age and time, erupted, exploded from within, rising in a cloud of dust and debris. Jase felt the patter of wood against his skin, heard it rain upon the rock like hail. A brackish taste filled his mouth, and he spat out a gob of saliva and blood. He groaned. Every nerve ending of his body felt on fire. He tried moving, and electric shocks tingled through his limbs.

He shouldn’t have left the biosphere; he should have listened to his dad.
Dad, help us, please help us!

“Pahl,” he moaned. His fingers scrabbled uselessly over cool red stone and bits of decayed wood. “Pahl.”

But Pahl was quiet now. Shuddering, Jase lay with his cheek pressed against rock, felt the bite of grit against his skin. He saw that Pahl was shaking; his friend’s hands were twisted, claw-like. No. Jase felt the weight of the air heavy along his body, pressing him into the stone until he couldn’t breathe. No,
no, nonononono
...

And now, in the gathering darkness, he heard them: their voices shrill and greedy:
Ours, our time, our time, ours,
ours!

“Pahl,” he said, his voice a dry croak. “Pahl, help me!”

Slowly, Pahl turned, and then Jase saw Pahl’s eyes shining and luminous, glowing with all the hard, cold beauty of two blue stars. Fear gripped Jase by the throat. His voice came out in a strangled squeak of a whisper. “Pahl?”

“No.” Pahl’s voice was stony, the tone flat. Alien. “I’m not Pahl. Not now.”

Horror washed through Jase and left him weak. “Please,” he said, “please.” And in his mind:
Dad, Dad, help us!

“Are you afraid?” Pahl—
It
—took a step then two toward Jase. The air coiled around Pahl—
It
. The air gathered, bunched. “
Are
you?”

“Yes,” Jase wailed.
Dad, Dad!
“Yes, yes, yesyesyes!”

“Yes,” It said, an echo, that serpent’s hiss. “Yesssyesss-yesss.” A pause. “You should be.”

And, a second later, Jase Garrett began to scream.

“An
alarm?”
Chen-Mai asked. “Are you
sure?”

“Positive,” said Leahru-Mar, disliking the way the other man crowded him. “I missed it on standard scans. You’d just never think to look.” “Why did
you?”

“There was a faint distortion of the magnetic field localized to an area around that old lake, and after I saw the power emanations, I tried to figure out what
that
meant. I read that there’s a power source that’s been switched on, and an alarm that’s gone off. The alarm’s weak, on a very narrow band. In fact, it’s much closer to old infrared or laser-propagation waves than subspace channels.”

“Infrared?”
Chen-Mai scowled. “That’s not old, that’s ancient.”

“Well, whatever it is, someone’s tripped an alarm. Either that, or someone’s broadcasting a signal, probably automated.”

“A signal. To whom?”

Mar’s frills canted at a right angle to his nose before settling back down. “I’m not a communications expert; I just pilot ships. If that
is
a signal, I’m not sure it will pierce the magnetic interference blanketing the planet. Probably not.”

“But if it does get through, then the Cardassians will know we’re here,” Chen-Mai fumed. “The Cardassians will be all
over
this planet!”

Mar waited him out. Privately, he thought the alarm wasn’t a huge concern. Likely the Cardassian patrols wouldn’t pick up a thing until they swung back through the system. If the Cardassians stuck to their schedule, they were a little under a day away. By then, they—he, Pahl, and Chen-Mai (the Betazoid and his boy were on their own)—planned to be very gone.

“Well, how long has the power signature been there?” asked Chen-Mai.

“An hour, maybe a little longer. The sensor grid showed red about two hours ago, but when I tried to reconfirm, the signal vanished. I didn’t think any more about it. Besides, it read a little like a magma disturbance, about two kilometers down.”

“Except this planet’s dead, Mar. It hasn’t been geologically active for centuries.”

“There’s always some residua,” said Mar, defensively. “Even with dead moons, there are subterranean shifts.”

The cast of Chen-Mai’s skin was always sallow, but now the blood rushed to his face, mottling his skin with ugly splotches, like bruises on a yellow pear. “But that doesn’t explain how you could miss a signal that indicates periodicity, and a power source!”

Indignant, frills twitching, Mar drew himself up. He might be a Leahru, clan of the Weaker Brother, but he wasn’t an Efram, or
anyone’s
Naxeran punching bag. “You try sitting here, hour after hour and day after day, sifting through sensor
garbage!
I don’t know how I missed it. You can bully me all you want, but the simple fact remains that I found it now, and we’ve got to decide what to do!”

“What to do?” Chen-Mai’s jaws clamped down so hard, Mar heard the click of his teeth. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” He pushed his way forward again and jabbed his finger square upon a pulsating green blip on the sensor display. “
That
is a power signature. It means that Kaldarren’s found the portal!”

“Well,” said Mar, slightly mollified now that Chen-Mai was concentrating his wrath on the Betazoid, “that would explain the alarm, certainly. Except for something reportedly so invaluable, to arm it with an alarm that’s essentially a laser-propagation wave doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s old. It’s ancient. We’re talking thousands of years. Maybe this passed as state of the art back then. Or maybe the Cardassians didn’t have anything better, or don’t know about it,” said Chen-Mai. “
I
don’t know. But I do know this. There’s a source powering something, and now there’s a signal that might be strong enough to pierce the magnetic blanket that’s all over the wretched planet, and to think that it’s been there, right there, under our noses the whole time!”

“Well,” said Mar, trying to temporize, “not exactly under our
noses
...”

“Shut up, Mar. You puling Naxerans are all alike. Just shut up and let me think.”

Mar lapsed into silence. He didn’t distrust Ven Kaldarren the way Chen-Mai did. The xenoarchaeologist was just naïve. Well, actually, he was
stupid.
Kaldarren trusted Chen-Mai to keep his part of the bargain: share and share alike. Stupid. Well, the Betazoid had no one to blame but himself.
He
certainly wasn’t going to charge to Kaldarren’s rescue. Mar wasn’t the kind of man who would voluntarily jump into the fray. But, puling Naxeran, eh? True, he
was
Leahru; G’Doks had all the power. As Leahru, Mar knew all about the fine art of treading lightly around people in power. The equation was simple. Chen-Mai had the power; Mar did not. All right, so maybe that made him puling in Chen-Mai’s calculus.

And Kaldarren? If he’d been Naxeran, Kaldarren would’ve been Efram: a member of the servant class. If Kaldarren were stupid enough to trust Chen-Mai, he’d have probably wound up getting himself killed sooner or later—if not by Chen-Mai then by someone equally vile. Briefly, Mar debated about whether or not he might be able to do something for Kaldarren’s son, and then decided he couldn’t. Actually,
shouldn’t:
It wasn’t as if the boy could be counted on to keep his mouth shut, and what would they do with him afterward anyway?

Which left him with another problem. Mar’s sulfurous eyes slid sideways. Chen-Mai was pacing and muttering. If Chen-Mai had always intended to eliminate Kaldarren, he’d most certainly have decided that sharing whatever booty there was with
him
wasn’t very desirable either. Chen-Mai was a good enough pilot; he’d be able to get the shuttle off this rock. Maneuvering around Cardassians was another matter, and maybe Chen-Mai wouldn’t want to take that much of a risk. On the other hand, he
might—
if the rewards were big enough. Now that an alarm had sounded, Mar thought the rewards would be very big indeed. Otherwise, why bother with an alarm? So his problem: Who would get to whom first?

Chen-Mai broke into Mar’s thoughts. “All right. Here’s what we do. We’re going to assume the Cardassians will pick up that signal sooner rather than later. Now, Kaldarren took one skimmer, right? Well, we’ll take the other. If Kaldarren’s found the portal—and I’ll just bet he has—we assume he’s found a tomb, too. There’ll be so much treasure we’ll need two skimmers. And don’t forget a tricorder. We want to make sure to download the specs on the portal, assuming Kaldarren hasn’t already done us the favor. Phasers, too.”

“Phasers are a given. And if Kaldarren objects?”

“Two skimmers, two pilots. Two phasers. Do the math, Mar.”

“All right, then. Let’s talk math.” Mar tapped the sensor display. “There’re
three
life signs down there. What about the boys? No.” He put a finger to his lips and felt the fine tips of his frills brush his skin. “I misspoke. There’s no question about Pahl. So about the other boy?”

Chen-Mai shrugged. “What about him?”

Kaldarren’s fingers were shaking so badly he had trouble keying in the correct sequence to reverse polarity on his tricorder. After that first wrenching mind-scream, Kaldarren had been so disoriented he hadn’t known which way to go. Finally, he remembered his tricorder and then he’d seen them: two life-forms beneath the surface.
The boys.
Then he’d seen the power signature, and Kaldarren knew. The boys had found the portal—or something.

But the mind-scream—Kaldarren had stumbled over rock until he found the tunnel—how had Jase managed that? The echoes were still there, and there was something else, too, something that was neither Jase, nor Pahl. Something alien.

Oh, Jase.
Kaldarren’s pulse throbbed in his temples. His mind was still bruised from the assault, and he willed a partial shield, knowing he’d be of little help to his son if he were incapacitated.
Jase, Jase, Jase, where are you?

Getting down the tunnel was difficult; Kaldarren didn’t have a light, and so he let his tricorder, the boys’ flare-markers, and his mind lead the way. Now, standing in front of the metal panel, Kaldarren felt rivers of sweat running down his back. His breath fogged against his faceplate and he forced himself to slow down, try to stay calm, and he found himself wishing, fervently and for the first time in years, that Rachel were there.

She’d know what to do.
Kaldarren’s fingers slipped over the tricorder controls; the indicators went red, and his tricorder blatted an error message. Oh, how stupid! He wanted to scream, smash the instrument against the rocks.
Damn her, damn her, I’ve seen her about as frightened as a person can be and still live, and she’d know how to handle this, what to do, Rachel, Rachel
...

Stop.
Kaldarren clamped his shaking lips together. He couldn’t panic. If he did, he couldn’t help his son. Steeling himself, Kaldarren tried again.

The tricorder went red ... red ... red ... double green. The panel slid to one side. Another room. Small. Dark.

Go. Kaldarren hesitated, all his senses screaming in protest. If there was nothing on the other side, if the panel didn’t open, he’d be trapped in there and Jase, he wouldn’t be able to get to Jase. But, no: His eyes scoured the readings on his tricorder, and he adjusted its range and gain. Beyond that second panel, there was air, warmth. Jase.

Go. Kaldarren squared his shoulders.
Go!

Kaldarren stepped into the darkness.

“I see it,” said Talma. They had moved to within sensor range of the planet, and now she found that she wanted to break something. But Halak was standing right beside her, so she couldn’t. Instead, she drew a deep breath.
Appearances.

“Sivek?” She almost said
Vaavek.
“Are you absolutely sure?”

The Vulcan threw her a glance that, on a human, might have been describing as withering. “There is no mistake. Granted, the magnetic interference coupled with ionized plasma contrails makes sensor readings difficult. But difficult is not a synonym for impossible, and I had rerouted auxiliary power to my sensors to compensate. Therefore,
that
,” he nodded at one grid upon his sensor display, “is a signature consistent with a landskimmer. And that,” the Vulcan enhanced another area of his scans, “or should I say
those
are life-forms, humanoid, three. Two are in close proximity, perhaps in a room. The third is heading in their general direction.”

“And that?” Halak reached past the Vulcan to point out a pulsating resonance signature deep in the planet’s surface. “That’s much further down. It’s not geological?”

The Vulcan pursed his lips. “I had considered that as a possibility and discarded it. The signature has periodicity; it appears to be artificial and is likely an energy source. There is also a secondary energy signature that I have never seen before.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“I believe I just said, I’ve never seen it before. Therefore, I can only describe, not tell you what it is. It is neuromagnetic.”

Halak frowned. “Brain waves? Sivek, you’ve got to be wrong. How ... ?”

“Commander, I just said ...”

“All right, boys,” Talma intervened. “Zip ’em away for now. And no,” she said before the Vulcan could ask, “I’m not explaining that.”

“All right.” Halak folded his arms over his chest. “We’ve got a power source and some archaic laser-propagation wave, and now we’ve got a location, the place this portal of yours most likely is. As I recall, the plan was
not
to have a run-in with whomever Qadir’s got down there, and you can bet that propagation wave’s going to be picked up by someone soon, and that someone’s likely to be a Cardassian, and probably more than one.”

“Not necessarily. You heard Sivek. It’s so weak we’re lucky to have seen it, and we’re still fairly far out, not even in orbit yet. Right?” Talma addressed this to the Vulcan. “It looked like a magnetic burst, right?”

“Correct. Most ships would pass it off as being inconsequential.” Vaavek paused. “Unless it happens again.”

“See?” said Talma to Halak. “Nothing to worry about on that score. That thing’s so weak, it would take a miracle for anyone to see it.”

“What if it’s a distress call?”

Talma shifted impatiently. “If it is, then that’s all the more reason to get down there. Now I’m certain those energy fluctuations come from that portal. We can’t beam down because of all that radiation and stellar wind. Better you and Sivek go down in a pod.”

“So Sivek can keep an eye on me,” said Halak, his tone sour. Talma suppressed a tight smile. She’d produced the orders with assurances about rescuing Arava he’d requested, so there was no question now that he’d follow through. “As if I’ll get very far in a pod. What’s it make, Sivek? Warp one?”

“One-point-five. Under optimal conditions.”

“Uh-huh.” Halak turned to Talma/Burke. “And what about you?”

“I will stay onboard the
T’Pol
and nudge her into lunar stationary orbit on the far side of the planet’s larger moon, out of sight. From there I can monitor the space immediately around the planet. Don’t worry,” she said, reading Halak’s expression. “I’ll let you know the instant any Cardassian scouts arrive. Remember, Starfleet has no more interest in the Cardassians finding us than you do.”

“With that signal, they’ll be in this sector ...”

“They
won’t,
but the longer we stand around arguing, the greater the likelihood they will. Now you know what to do?”