Return to Part One
It was becoming an increasingly unnerving experience. No one on board the Lynx seemed to be aware of their presence. It wasn’t as though people and objects were somehow insubstantial. Everything was solid enough, no hands passed through bulkheads or instrumentation. But the crew seemed to instinctively veer away from the Drake party, avoiding their touch with the grace and ease of ballet dancers. And when a deliberate interaction occurred – when Sulu grabbed a crewman by the shoulders, or Lian Rendell tapped someone on the arm, or Tara Ryan got directly, challengingly in front of someone, the eyes of the target of their intent simply glazed over and they went perfectly motionless. The Drake crewmembers were ignored, regardless of what they did – slapping, shouting, shaking, there was no response from the Lynx crew at all. Del, of course, even tried kissing one particularly attractive young ensign, pulling back in shocked and wounded surprise when she didn’t react.
“She didn’t feel it, Del,” Dylan whispered to him.
“Yeah, I notice that, son,” DelMonde returned, his eyes narrowing. “She not t’inkin’ ‘bout it neither.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Sulu wondered out loud, his fists balled in frustration.
Lian Rendell looked up from the medical scanner she’d been passing over the Lynx people.
“All readouts show normal, Captain,” she said. “I don’t have an answer.”
They had made their way to the Bridge, where Captain Anika Dekleva was having perfectly normal conversations with her crew about the upcoming mission to DiCenta 4. She and they seemed to be completely unaware that the ship wasn’t moving toward the planet.
Sulu turned to his team. “Check the readings,” he told them. “I’m going to see if I can access the day’s log.”
Del moved to Engineering, Dylan to Communications, Rendell to Sciences, and Tara to Helm and Navigation. Sulu stepped up to the con. He had to reach for Dekleva’s arm to get her to move the hand that was resting on her controls, but when she did, and he pressed the log recorder button, nothing happened.
“Engines at station-keeping,” DelMonde called.
“Same here, Captain,” Tara reported. “A course is laid in, but not implemented.”
“The only information here is standard briefing material on DiCenta,” Lian said.
“Communications show normal ship monitoring,” Dylan added. “No reports of any malfunctions, or any record of our attempts at hailing.” He turned worried blue eyes to Sulu. “Captain, the log playback is running.”
Sulu looked startled. “Then why can’t we hear it?”
Del stepped down from Engineering, his tricorder again whirring. “I recordin’ it right enough,” he noted. He adjusted the dials. “It won’t play back neither.”
Tara too turned to face her captain. “The crew seems to think they’re all proceeding normally,” she said. “Why can’t they see what their instruments are showing?”
Helplessly, the captain turned to DelMonde.
“Can you get anything from them telepathically?” he asked.
Del frowned. “Not’ing other’an normal-type thoughts,” the engineer reported.
“Can you contact them, rouse them, something?”
“If his kiss didn’t, I don’t know what would,” Lian murmured
Del snorted an acknowledgment of the compliment, and after a lengthy pause, simply said, “Nope.”
Sulu sighed. “How about the Drake? Can you send word to Rivka to beam us back?”
Again Del concentrated, his lips thinning into almost a grimace. “I bein’ blocked,” he reported.
Dylan stepped up to him, his hand reaching up to Del’s hair.
“Try again,” the Ensign suggested, then added, as DelMonde flinched, “I’m only amplifying your abilities, Del.”
“I not need no damn amplification,” he began.
“Del, try it,” Sulu cut him off.
The engineer glared, but closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind.
Rian sat on the bed she shared with Eontril, her hands lightly clasped in his. Her large purple eyes were closed, but Eontril’s grey ones were fixed with warm intensity on her face. She was attempting to read through the Organian Influence to ascertain what was so important about DiCenta 4, and the addition of the Indiian’s tia gave a boost to her already formidable empathic talents. So far, she had sensed only an impenetrable wall – which confirmed that there was something being guarded, but gave no clue as to what that something was.
Then another mind – a Human mind – touched hers, and her eyes flew open. Through the link she shared with Eontril, he sensed it too.
“What in Roshi’s name…?” the Indiian rasped aloud.
Shh, let me concentrate, the Antari replied, then turned her thoughts to those that were questing around her. Who are you? she said, her voice a gentle demand.
The other mind startled almost as much as she had.
Who th’ hell are you? he demanded in return, for there was no question that the sentience was male.
Rian focused, searching through the chaotic mind.
An’ stop that! I not give you no permission to root ‘round in my head! came a bombastic reply, and the thoughts pushed at hers with enough force to again startle her.
Noel DelMonde? Rian questioned. ani Ramy’s Noel DelMonde?
Shee-it, jus’ what I need, another damn Antari, the Human grumbled.
Rian took a breath, regaining her composure. I am Rian ani Rina, on the HTE High Stakes, she said. What do you search for?
I not lookin’ fo’ you, that for damn sure, DelMonde returned harshly.
Next to Rian, Eontril bristled. “What’s his problem?” he muttered. Though he wasn’t able to hear the conversation, the Human’s emotions were all too evident.
Again Rian soothed her lover, then returned her attention to DelMonde. I didn’t think you were, as the Drake should have no reason to know we are here, she said calmly.
You the ones doin’ all this crazy shit then?
What ‘crazy shit’?
She picked up the situation directly from his mind, and shuddered. I assure you, Mr. DelMonde, we are not responsible.
What th’ hell is, then?
I think we had best have that conversation with your captain.
Who stoppin’ ya? the Human growled.
It would be rude to simply initiate telepathic contact without… the Antari began.
You got no problem doin’ it wit’ me, came the withering retort.
Your mind was open, you were seeking contact, Rian reminded. But if you would give me the frequency of your communicators…
We ghosts ‘round here, an’ our communicators not workin’. Which is why I was tryin’ to contact our people on the Drake.
Rian sighed. If you would be so kind to inform Captain Sulu that I wish to speak with him… she suggested patiently.
There was a pause in which Rian felt a second presence, one DelMonde growled at even more than he did her. She caught only a few fleeting words:
An Antari? Really?
Get your hand out my hair, boy, I gotta talk t’ the captain.
Then a wall descended between her and the Human’s thoughts.
Rian rose, not letting go of Eontril’s hands. We need to talk to Tharas and the captain, she said to the Indiian.
“See, I told you it was a trap!” Kila burst out as Rian attempted to explain the odd communications she had inadvertently intercepted.
“Yeah, right, the Drake let herself get caught just to draw us in,” Christy scoffed.
“Captain Racist was trained by Kirk,” the Klingon snarled, “and that bastard is known for suckering people into…”
“Shut the scab up, both of you,” Mok growled. “So Rian, His Majesty is stuck on the Lynx where nobody can see or hear him or his party, and he can’t communicate with his ship?”
“That is the gist of what I received from Mr. DelMonde’s mind,” Rian answered placidly.
“We could leave,” Kila suggested.
“That would not be wise,” Saran answered.
Kila shrugged.
“Despite your concerns, this does not appear to be a trap.”
“Not yet, maybe.”
“If anyone is entrapped, it would appear to be the Lynx, with the possibility of the Drake also being endangered.”
“Good reasons for us to leave then, hmm?”
The cargo bay of the High Stakes was currently mostly empty. Being the largest open space on the ship, it was the best place to assemble the entire crew. Tharas had set up some chairs, and had found a couple of cargo containers of various sizes to serve as temporary tables and additional seating.
Kila sprawled on the deck off against one wall, and was fiddling with a dagger, twirling it between her fingers, trying to look bored and disengaged even as she argued. Saran sat on a small box, his back straight, knees together, hands folded in his lap. Eontril and Rian sat close to each other, their chairs touching, holding hands. They’d told the others about the conversation they'd had with the Drake’s people on the Lynx, and then had fallen quiet while the others began debating what to do.
Mok lounged on the most comfortable chair in the room, one booted foot on a cargo container. Tharas sat across from him, dressed, as he usually was, in full body armor. As a rule, Andorians were smaller than the average Terran, but Tharas somehow always gave the impression of being a linebacker. He had his arms folded, and was silently listening. Christy kept almost saying something, but kept stopping herself.
The last two crewmembers, the two Caitians, sat on solid boxes against the wall opposite Kila. M’rray and M’raan, a mated pair of large and furry cats, looked like nothing so much as bipedal lions. They purred quietly to each other, sharing their comments in murmurs in their own language, not yet ready to say much to the others.
“It is vital,” Saran was saying, “to communicate our latest report to Captain Sulu as soon as we are able. And, as it would appear that whatever is going on here is related to our news, it would seem even more urgent—”
“I’m not sure why,” Mok broke in. Saran looked at him, questioningly. “Sulu’s a clever guy. He’s got clever people. They’ll figure this thing out, get themselves safely away, and we can talk to them then.”
Kila looked at him, surprised, and a grin momentarily flirted with her lips.
“Mok,” said Rian, “they may need our help.”
“But that’s not in our contract. We were told to learn stuff and report it, not to get involved in the problems of Feddies gone clumsy.”
Eontril scowled. “You have a problem with lending a hand?”
“I have a problem getting my ship into situations that look dangerous. It’s bad enough any profit I’m making has to be kept under the table. I don’t like taking risks with….” He paused.
“With your ship?” Eontril prompted. “What, you’d have to start your business over from scratch?” There was a note of contempt in his voice.
Mok shrugged. “Look, we’ve been at this already for scabbing years. I’ve almost given up any hope of getting back into business.” He sighed, and looked directly at Kila, his gaze lingering, then he looked away. When he went on, his voice was a little softer, but not enough that anyone who didn’t know him would have noticed. “You all are guests on my boat. That makes you my responsibility.” He paused once more. “Write this down, because it’s the only time you’ll hear me say it. It’s not the High Stakes I’m worried about.” He glanced again at Kila, but said nothing more.
Eontril visibly relented, but it was M’rray who spoke, his voice a deep growling purr. “You have warriors aboard,” he said, ruffling his mate’s fur, and gesturing toward Tharas. “Don’t worry about dangers to the others.” The Caitians had already let it be known they considered their role to be security and protection, particularly for Christy, Kila, and Saran, the youngest of the crew, whom M’rray and M’raan seemed to think of as mere kittens.
“If there was an army between us and the Drake,” Mok said, “I’d send you two and the merc there to take care of it. This isn’t an army, M’rray. We don’t know what it is.”
Kila almost giggled. “You really care, don’t you?” she asked.
Mok grimaced. “Don’t let that get out.”
“We do know,” Rian interrupted, gently contradicting him. “It’s the Organians. They are interfering somehow with the Lynx.”
“I get that. And that means weapons really aren’t gonna help.”
“It also means there’s unlikely to be any real danger. The Organians are extreme pacifists.”
“Which doesn’t mean they’re above making someone merely vanish. They’re not helpless, and they’re not wimps. The Organian Treaty does have teeth, you know.”
“But it doesn’t apply to us, Mok. We’re not the ones they’re restricting.”
“Do you think they’ll be happy about what we’re going to tell Captain Majesty?”
“Are they even paying any attention to us? Do they even know we’re here?”
“Do you think they won’t notice if we start tying to interfere?”
Tharas spoke up for the first time. “We’re not helpless wimps either,” he said.
“Yeah, but I already covered that,” Mok pointed out.
“I don’t just mean militarily. We do have a keheil aboard.”
“You got a lot of faith in Antari magic, don’t you?”
Tharas raised his eyebrows. “I shouldn’t?”
“It isn’t magic,” said Eontril, defensively. Rian squeezed his hand, and patted his arm.
“At any rate,” said Saran, “the sooner we convey the information we have, the sooner we can leave this area. If there is any danger, we can be away more quickly if we simply do what we came to do.”
Christy finally decided she couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Yeah, look, he’s right,” she said, her words hurried. “I’ll just beam over, give our report, and we can go. No one’s gonna see me as a threat, right? In, out, done.” She spread her hands. “Easy. Organians might not even notice.”
Kila narrowed her eyes. “Why you?”
“Because everyone else is arguing, and I’m volunteering. Stop talking, get it done.”
“You just want to bump up against Captain Bigot again, don’t you?”
Christy didn’t even blush. “I don’t see a downside there.”
“Yeah. Okay. Neither do I.” Kila looked up at Mok again. “You’re not busy the next few years, are you?”
He grinned. “I’m not getting between you two, as much as I’d like that.”
“Trust me,” Kila said, and she licked her lips. “That’s not gonna happen.”
Saran looked terribly confused.
M’rray’s growling purr sounded once more. “You’re not going alone,” he said, to Christy, sounding very protective.
Rian held up a hand. “Of course not. I should go. If there is any problem with the transporter or with communications, I should be able to bring us back safely.”
“Magic,” Mok muttered.
Eontril blinked. “I’m not sure…” he said.
She turned to him and smiled. “We need to both go. We have sensed more about this matter than perhaps anyone.” She looked up. “Not you, Saran. I’ll need you to stay here to maintain a telepathic connection with the High Stakes. Agreed?”
He nodded.
“Then we don’t have to send the, rrrrr, the youth,” M’rray argued.
“She’d be safer left behind,” M’raan agreed.
Tharas shook his head. “She should go,” he decided.
M’rray rumbled. “I would think, you, of all of us, Tharas, you would want to protect her.”
The Andorian frowned. “And I do. So I’ll go along, too.”
Mok shook his head. “Why? I mean, why her?” He waved at Rian and Eontril. “The Precious Metal Twins should be able to handle it on their own, yes?”
“Hey!” Christy objected. “It was my idea!”
“Groupie,” Kila spat.
“Chicken,” Christy shot back.
The Klingon’s eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a coward?”
“Then you go.”
Kila’s face lit with dark delight, and she twirled her dagger in her hands. “Now there’s a thought.”
“No,” said Tharas firmly. “If an armed Klingon were to board a Federation vessel, that is something the Organians might notice, no matter what we do.”
Kila feigned disappointment. “Damn.”
“Cluck, cluck,” said Christy.
Kila growled at her.
“We shouldn’t risk any more,” Tharas declared. “Rian, Eontril, Christy, and myself. We’ll beam over to the Lynx, talk with Captain Sulu, and if the transporters can’t bring us back, Rian will.”
Mok was frowning. “I still don’t see any reason for you to bring the girl,” he said.
“Awww,” said Christy. “That’s sweet.” She smiled at him. “I’ll come back to you. Promise.”
Kila cleared her throat. “Mok, remember what I asked a few minutes ago? Forget it.”
“I do see a reason for her to come along,” Tharas asserted.
“And what’s that?”
“I volunteered,” Christy insisted.
Tharas stood. “It’s decided,” he said, and to the other three, “get yourselves ready, please. There isn’t any reason to wait longer.” Without a word, he left the room.
Mok stared after him. “This used to be my boat, once upon a time.”
Eontril also stood, and spread his hands. “It still is. We’re just not your crew.”
Saran looked from the Indiian to the Antari, and back again. “There is a chance,” he said, “even Rian may be unable to return you here. You may be trapped aboard the Lynx. There are no assurances.”
Eontril smiled. “Your point is?”
Saran frowned. “You’d be trapped there,” he said, not understanding why that simple fact was not obviously ominous.
Eontril held a hand out to Rian, and kept his hold after she stood. “Together, yes. As Christy said, I don’t see a downside.”
Kila stuck two fingers deep into her mouth, and pretended to gag.
Mok shook his head. “I’m going to the bridge. Saran, get into a sensor pod.” He pointed toward the Caitians. “Be ready in case we have to send you somewhere fast.”
M’rray and M’raan gracefully rose to their feet, purring agreement.
Kila yawned. “I’ll take a nap, shall I?”
“Just so you’re naked when I jump on you after they get back,” Mok advised.
“You wish.”
Mok shrugged and left. Saran followed him out, shaking his head
“You made contact?” Sulu asked as soon as Del’s eyes began to focus on him normally again.
“With an Antari!” Dylan enthused, as the engineer disentangled the ensign’s fingers from his hair.
“Wow,” the captain said with a heavy dose of both surprise and irony, then put his hands on his hips. “That must have been some boost you gave him, Mr. Paine.”
“It not that Antari,” Del growled. “An' it not that much of a boost. Th' one we got in touch wit’ was that gal from High Stakes. You remember them, non?”
Sulu ignored this not-too-subtle jab for the secrets he’d decided to keep from his crew. “What did she want?”
“To talk wit’ you.”
“Can we do that?”
“Sure!” Paine interjected enthusiastically. “I can amplify you and we can channel through Del.”
The captain and the engineer exchanged a look. Neither had to explain to the other why this method of contact seemed like a bad idea on too many levels to enumerate.
“Just tell Rian that we’re going to beam back to the Drake,” Sulu ordered. “I’ll talk to her from there.”
“All right,” DelMonde agreed, then froze the hand reaching eagerly towards him with a glare. “I manage by myself this time.”
“Can we beam back to the Drake?” Lian Rendell asked as the engineer closed his eyes and the ensign backed away looking crestfallen.
“The automatic settings should get us there with no problem,” Sulu replied.
“What about the problem that let us beam in like this?” the Haven pointed out.
The captain was saved from having to answer by a noise of frustration from DelMonde.
“I gettin’ too much interference,” he admitted grudgingly.
Paine sprang to him like a spaniel.
“Don’t get your fuckin’ hands up all in my face like that,” the engineer growled. “You not jus’ touch my arm or somet’ing?”
“Sorry,” Paine said, unable to suppress his smile as he reached for DelMonde’s hair.
“No, you fuckin’ not,” Del snarled before closing his eyes.
“Captain,” Ryan said, “Is there time to try one more scan of the ship’s systems?”
“Do it on the move,” Sulu replied, as Del quickly came back out of his trance-like state and nodded that the message had been sent and received. “One last round of readings, everyone,” he ordered, signaling his party towards the transporter. “Anything you think might help us make sense of this when we get back to the Drake.”
“Assuming we can get back to the Drake,” Rendell muttered as a yeoman unthinkingly made way for her to board the ‘lift car.
“Wassa matter, girl?” DelMonde asked as pair of crewman parted to let him join her. “This more of an adventure than you signed up fo’?”
“Adventure, huh?” the Haven replied wryly. “Is that what this is supposed to be?”
“Yeah, sure,” Paine answered, grinning as the lift car descended like he was on nothing more dangerous or unexpected than a camping trip. “That’s the real reason why people join Starfleet, isn’t it?”
“For you Federation types, I suppose,” Rendell granted.
“Why did you join up then?”
“Because I lost a bet, Ensign,” the doctor answered in a tone that made it difficult to know whether or not she was joking.
When the lift doors opened, Sulu hung back a step and let the rest of the Drake party precede him down the corridor. As he anticipated might happen, DelMonde followed suit.
“So what did Rian tell you?” he asked quietly as he watched crewmen part like the Red Sea for his companions seconds before they should have collided.
“She not tell me not’ing,” the engineer replied, with a rather accusing look. “She not interested in talkin’ to me.”
“Not a fan of Who-the-Fuck-Are-You-and-What-the-Hell-Do-You-Want diplomacy, eh?” Sulu asked lightly instead of revealing anything he was withholding.
“I got the feelin’ she were real surprised to run across me,” Del said.
“Most people are.”
“She were lookin’ for someone… or somet’ing else,” the engineer replied, refusing to rise to the bait as he paused at the doorway to the Transporter Room. “Not human. Probably somet’ing or someone pretty ‘pathic, though.”
Looking into the Cajun’s black eyes, Sulu decided that if the engineer’s contact with the High Stake’s Antari gave him enough to frame the right questions, he’d earned access to the right answers about that ship’s secret mission – in as much as Sulu had right answers to give out. It would be a relief to have someone to share the knowledge with. Here and now, though, was neither the time nor the place for a discussion.
“I assume there’s no problem in setting a delay so you can transport with us?” he asked as Del stepped behind the transport console.
“I certain as hell woulda mentioned it if there was,” the Cajun drawled as he pushed a series of buttons and pushed a lever.
“Sure hope this works,” Lian Rendell said, mostly to herself as the engineer and the captain joined the rest of the party from the Drake on the transporter pads.
As he waited for the beam to take hold, Sulu distractedly watched the ship’s Transporter Chief order himself a cup of coffee, as oblivious to their departure as he had been to their arrival.
Suddenly, just as the familiar whine of the transporter began to swirl around him, an odd sensation made all the hairs on the back of the captain’s neck stand up. Before he had time to categorize the dreadful feeling, he found himself sailing out of the chamber, knocked flying by a powerful blow from behind. He landed in a heap beside someone with someone else on top of them both.
“Jesus, no!”
The sound of the transporter almost covered up Del’s voice. The engineer was the person on top of him and presumably the person who had knocked him out of the chamber.
“Tara! Dr. Rendell!” The person beside him was Dylan Paine. The boy scrambled to his feet and lurched towards the Transporter Console.
Del was staring at the empty chamber, his face a study in despair. “I.. I…” he gasped, as if in pain. “Somet’ing said “no!” … and I jus’ grabbed the people nearest to me…”
Sulu turned to Paine. “Ensign?” he asked, hoping against hope for good news.
The young man shook his head. “They’re gone, sir.”
“Not’ing wrong wit’ it,” Del pronounced after a few minutes of squatting next to the transporter’s inner mechanism. “They shoulda made it back to th’ Drake.”
Sulu was just closing his communicator. “But we still have no way to confirm that,” he answered grimly.
Del rose, wiping his hands. Sulu stepped closer to him.
“What was this ‘no’ thing you got?”
“That all,” the engineer responded, frowning. “Jus’ th’ urgent sense that we not try t’ transport.”
“Which doesn’t bode well for them ending up on the Drake,” Sulu returned.
DelMonde shrugged.
“Alright, contact Rian again and tell her…”
The captain’s voice was cut off by the whine of the transporter activating.
“Maybe, if there was a malfunction,” Dylan began hopefully
“There no damn malfunction,” Del reiterated crossly.
“…the automatic recall kicked in?” Paine finished.
When four figures began materializing, Sulu shook his head. “Not unless they were doubled,” he said. He and Del exchanged nervous glances, both remembering too well how such a thing had turned out before.
The pillars of shimmer resolved into an Antari, an Indiian, an Andorian and a Human. “Captain,” the Antari began, then stopped.
“What’s wrong?” the Indiian asked, his hand automatically reaching for the woman beside him.
Sulu sighed. “I wish I knew, Mr. Plad,” he replied. “Mr. Paine, Mr. DelMonde, this is Eontril Plad, Rian ani Rina, Tharas Badell and Christy Chas. They’re from the High Stakes.”
“You’re the telepath,” Rian said, her violet eyes fixed on Del. Del scowled.
“And you’re the catalyst?” Eontril questioned of Dylan. When the ensign blinked, the Indiian grinned. “I felt your tia in the communication with Rian.”
“Captain, it’s so good to see you again,” Christy put in, her voice shy even though her eyes were shining.
Sulu gave her a cursory smile. “And you, Miss Chas,” he said.
“What’s the problem here?” Tharas rumbled.
“Hell if I know,” Sulu replied. “What are you all doing here?”
“We have an urgent report to give you,” Christy responded.
“And it is very likely directly related to this situation,” Tharas rejoined.
The Lynx’s engineering officer moved toward the console, and Del said, “Watch this” and folded his arms, standing directly in the officer’s way. As the crew of the High Stakes stared, the Lynx officer simply stopped, his face going blank. Without glancing away from him, Del said to Rian, “You read any’ting from him? Any’ting at all?”
The Antari blinked. “Not a thing, Mr. DelMonde,” she replied, her voice full of worry. “It is as if he simply stopped existing.”
Next to her, Eontril shuddered. “His tia has vanished,” he managed.
“The Organian Influence?” Christy asked of Tharas.
The Andorian frowned. “What do you think?” he returned, but there was an edge to the question, as though it were not really rhetorical.
“That it’s the only thing that makes any sense,” the Human replied.
“But why it’s manifesting like this…”
“The Organian Influence?” Sulu repeated.
“It’s what we’ve been calling the psychic presence that allows the Organians to enforce their Treaty,” Eontril said.
“Our scans of DiCenta don’t show anything that would cause the Treaty to be…” the captain began.
“Telepathic scans show otherwise, Captain,” Rian interrupted.
Sulu glanced at Del. The engineer shrugged. Dylan closed his eyes, then they opened with wide, blue alarm.
“Oh shit,” he said.
“That real informative,” Del muttered, as Eontril stepped closer to the young Ensign.
“Fear,” the Indiian enunciated. “Excitement. Curiosity.”
“He is thinking ‘this cannot be real,’” Rian confirmed.
Dylan shook himself. “Stop that,” he said.
Del chuckled. “You not stand a taste o’ your own damn medicine, huh, chiot?”
Sulu scowled. “What did you sense, Ensign?” he asked.
“I don’t know, sir,” Paine replied. “It’s an intelligence – but unlike one I have ever…” His voice trailed off and his eyes went wide again. “…no, it’s exactly like – well – everyone else I’ve ever sensed."
It was Sulu’s turn to go wide-eyed. “No,” he said. “Oh no, you’re shittin’ me.”
“Sulu, what th’…?” Del began.
“A Silmaril,” the captain answered. “It’s got to be…”
“A Seeder.” It was Christy who used the more common term for the mythical First Beings.
“There’s a Seeder here?” Tharas rumbled. There was an incongruous snort from Eontril, and Tharas shot him a quick glance.
“Depending on your definition of ‘here,’ yeah,” Dylan rejoined. “That’s the only answer.”
“An’ your definition is…?” Del asked.
Dylan waved his hands in the air. “Here,” he said. “Everywhere and nowhere.”
The engineer frowned, then closed his eyes.
“I wouldn’t advise…” Eontril began, and Rian touched his arm, silencing him.
Let the young one try, my love, she said, and the Indiian subsided.
Del reached out with his mind, a tentative, cautious extension, very unlike his usual telepathic fortitude. He lowered his shields slowly, an inch at a time, and at the first thinning of his personal barriers, he felt it. It sent a rush of pain and shocked surprise through him and he hurriedly re-erected his suddenly too-weak shields.
Be at peace, my child.
The voice that filled his head was neither masculine nor feminine, but had the sense of both – and of a terrible, unfathomable, impossible-to-believe power.
It is too much for you, my son, the voice said gently. Retreat, and I will repair your shields.
You not touch my damn shields, Del protested with abrupt fury.
As you wish, the voice said, though it pains me to leave you with such an injury.
I not injured. It what I am.
A warm chuckle filled Del’s mind. Ah, of course. Then the voice receded, though the sense of presence did not.
“Holy shit,” Dylan was breathing as Del opened his eyes. “Holy fucking shit!”
Del became aware of Sulu’s hand on his arm, steadying him, and he whispered a hoarse "Merci" to his captain.
“Show yourself, Ara,” Rian murmured.
The air seemed to shimmer, a wave of cold expanding out over the transporter room, enough to make the breath of its eight occupants visible – though the Lynx’s officer noticed it as much as he noticed the others in the small chamber. Then the air itself seemed to thicken, taking on form and substance, a tall, incomparably beautiful woman with Indiian-pale skin and snowy-white hair.
She glanced at each of the beings before her, then smiled at Sulu.
Del blinked as the near-constant stream of Jilla Jilla Jilla from the captain’s mind was completely eclipsed.
“Ilne?” Sulu breathed softly.
“I remember you,” the Seeder said.
Sulu blinked, his throat dry, his heart racing. It had been over six years since the being known to be a Seeder had visited the Enterprise with her male companion, and despite his bond with Jilla, her appearance had the same effect on him as it had then. Blood rushed to his face – and other parts of his body – as his brain went numb. He knew she had addressed him, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Words simply wouldn’t form in his thoughts.
Shee-it, she make an Antari look like a hag.
Del’s voice invaded his mind, and Sulu was certain the engineer was totally unaware of how his thoughts were leaking.
“You have questions,” her melodic voice continued. “I will answer them as best as I am able.”
My god, my god! came Dylan’s voice in Sulu’s head. I can’t believe this! The Director will so want to…
“You so not gonna report this, chiot,” Del growled, his voice sounding hoarse and harsh when compared with Ilne’s dulcet tones.
“Report?” Tharas questioned sharply.
“It is of no consequence,” Ilne said. The casual wave of her hand seemed to dissipate all the growing tension between the Andorian and the young Human. She again turned to Sulu. “Your questions, Captain?”
Sulu cleared his throat. “Ah… are you responsible for what’s going on here?” He gestured around him.
“I keep the children safe from knowledge that would harm them, yes,” she returned.
“Why would it harm them, Ara?” Rian asked. Her tone was hesitant, as if reluctant to interrupt.
Ilne’s silver eyes turned to her. “For the same reason your information is of such crucial importance, my daughter,” was the soft response.
“Information, right,” Christy said, shaking herself. “Captain, we need to talk.”
“In a minute,” Sulu said. “Ilne, two of my officers used the transporter.”
Her beautiful face frowned. “Yes. I tried to warn you.”
“Are they all right?”
“For now.”
“On the Drake?” Dylan put in. His tone was as excited as his awe-filled blue eyes.
Ilne shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. But they are safe.” She paused. “As I said, for now.”
“What th’ hell goin’ on here?” Del interrupted. “Where th’ fuck you send ‘em?
The Seeder sighed, sending the pulse-rates of the Humans soaring. “The situation is complicated. I was not responsible for their transport.”
“Where are they?” Sulu wanted to know.
“On the surface of the world you call DiCenta,” was the quiet response.
“Ara,” Rian said again, “I do not sense them there.”
“Of course not,” Ilne told her with a gentle smile. “They are encased in a Slaver stasis field.”
“A stasis field…?” Sulu began.
“Sweet Jesus….” Del groaned.
“Slaver technology?” Dylan said. “Here? Really?”
“Oh, this is just great,” Eontril muttered.
“Can it,” Tharas ordered. When Ilne gazed at him, he shrugged.
“Is this why you’re here?” Sulu asked the Seeder.
“Yes,” she answered. “What the field contains is of grave consequence to…” Her voice trailed off, her corporeal form beginning to fade, as if shifting in and out of reality.
Rian, the Organian Influence is increasing. The words that were unvoiced but clearly audible seemed to reverberate in every mind. Dylan and Del stiffened. Eontril grasped Rian’s hand in sudden alarm. Tharas stared off into sudden distance.
Christy looked around her, then moved next to Sulu.
“What was that?” the captain asked her, his voice hushed, clearly more than concerned about what was taking place. It was tingling on the edge of his awareness, and was making the shoji boxes within him tremble like they were caught in a mild earthquake.
“Saran, on the High Stakes,” the young Racer replied. “He’s our telepathic link back.”
“A Vulcan?”
“Yeah. He’s monitoring the Organian Influence.”
“But what did he mean, it’s increasing?”
Christy ran a hand through her hair. “That’s what our report is all about,” she said. “Y’see, Captain, we’ve noticed that, in general, the Influence is weakening. Things are starting to slip. We don’t know why, but you can see why the Federation might want to know about it.”
“Sure can,” Sulu returned, his tone decidedly unhappy.
“Saran’s charted a pattern,” Christy continued. “It makes sense, up to a point. The farther away from Organia itself a system is, the weaker the Influence. And it’s been getting even less strong as time goes on. But here – it’s stronger. Way stronger.”
“And we’re nowhere near Organia,” was Sulu’s response.
“So the question is…”
“Why it’s strong – and increasing,” Sulu finished. He glanced uneasily at his officers and the remaining crewmembers of the High Stakes. “So what’s going on with Del and Dylan – and Eontril and Rian?”
Christy frowned. “I’m not sure… something with…” Her voice stopped and she gasped. She blinked, then stared into Sulu’s eyes.
“Scab, I know where it is,” she whispered.
“What?”
“The stasis box. I know where it is.”
Del was caught in the telepathic struggle, not actively involved, but too aware of the great mental battle going on between Ilne and – something else. He could sense Dylan caught with him, the Indiian and Antari as well. He was a fly on the wall, helpless, afraid to move lest he be noticed and swatted. It reminded him too strongly of hiding outside the living room of his childhood home, watching his mother and father fighting. The emotional pressure was building within him, gaining strength just as it had then. His head started pounding, his heart constricting, sweat beading on his forehead and at the back of his neck.
My sons, you do harm to our children! Ilne’s voice held all the power of the sea.
We seek to give them peace in their short lives, came the response. It seemed sad and tempered with compassion next to the Seeder’s fury.
Your way is mistaken, Ilne countered. You do not take the long view.
You seek only your own continuation, the Other answered. We would gladly perish to preserve their fragile existence.
It is your own fragile existence you seek to preserve, and it will be at their final expense.
Untruth! They have the capacity to destroy each other!
To survive, they must learn to face it themselves. Your policing of them stunts their growth.
It is your interference, your cultivation which has produced such weeds.
As our cultivation produced you, my sons?
Del, break away, break away! Dylan’s mental arm pulled at his, a bright cerulean blue engulfing him as the Ensign desperately tried to shield his mind.
The catalyst’s right, came Eontril’s harsh voice. You’re going into overload.
Let me help, Rian said. I know the pain it will cause you, but let me help you!
Non, you not touch me! Del rasped.
Del, break away, NOW!
The sudden sensation of a sharp yank at his scalp brought Del back to the physical. He growled, and Dylan pulled his hair again, harder than before.
“Fuck you, you motherfuckin’ jackass!” the engineer snarled, pushing the ensign away. Pain screamed through him as Dylan’s hand came away with more than a few strands of Del’s hair. Anger seethed within him and he started for the panting ensign.
“He did what was necessary!” Eontril snapped, getting between them. “Your heart would have exploded!”
“I not need…!” Del thundered.
“Yes, you do,” Rian put in, and her mental caress was both soothing and bitter agony. “If you were Antari, you would understand.”
Del glared at her, his chest heaving.
“I’m sorry, Del,” Dylan said contritely, “but it was the only way to break…”
“Overload,” Eontril nodded decisively.
“All y’all go fuck yourselves,” the engineer muttered.