Whatever the mysterious life-form was that had massacred the research team and the starship’s landing party, there was more than enough evidence to suggest that it was somehow connected to the artifacts and meta-genome fragments found on Erilon, Ravanar IV, and other planets in the Taurus Reach. The aspects of the devastating attack both on Erilon’s surface and against the Endeavourin orbit allowed for precious few other logical explanations.
Lieutenant Xiong had explained his theory with unbridled passion during the otherwise downbeat post-mission briefing. In addition, the A&A officer was certain that the full potential of Erilon as a piece of the massive Taurus Reach puzzle still was waiting to be realized. Reyes had seen the determination in the young officer’s eyes, the drive to prove his theory, not just because it was his mission but also as a means of making sure that the losses suffered to this point—the Bombay,the engineering team, as well as Captain Zhao and members of his crew—were not in vain.
Reyes was anxious to give Xiong that chance, as a means for the lieutenant to exorcise not only his own demons but perhaps those carried by the commodore as well.
“I want the research station on Erilon restored to full operation,” Reyes said after a moment. “The Endeavourwill be responsible for providing security. No holds barred this time. Your first mission will be to figure out what’s behind the planetary defense system and get control of it. I don’t want a repeat of what happened to the Endeavourbrought down on your fellow Corps engineers, but it goes deeper than that. If there’s more to this than a single planet, then we could be facing alien weapons technology that’s way out of our league.”
Okagawa nodded. “In other words, one more thing we have to keep from the Klingons and Tholians.”
Already feeling the first hints of a dull ache behind his eyes, he offered a tired smile. “Welcome to my world, Captain.”
26
Morqla’s eyes snapped open and he sat up on the hard shelf that served as his bed. Every muscle tensed and every sense strained to detect the presence of whatever it was that had disturbed his already fitful slumber.
“What?” he blurted, though of course there was no one in the room to answer the question.
The low rumbling seemed to reverberate through everything around him, emanating from the stone floor and continuing up along the coarse, dark walls that formed the simple, unassuming chamber he had chosen as his private quarters. It was only a slight vibration, and had he not been a habitual light sleeper Morqla might well not have noticed it at all. Had he been aboard ship, the governor would almost certainly have dismissed the subdued murmur as the characteristic drone of powerful warp engines.
Here, however, where the native inhabitants were still centuries away from developing even the most primitive forms of mechanization, the odd thrumming sound was as alien to this planet as he was.
Rising to his feet, Morqla paused long enough to retrieve his disruptor pistol and his d’k tahgknife from the small bureau situated next to his sleeping platform. He stepped into the hall, having to duck in order to pass through the doorway designed with the shorter Palgrenai physiology in mind. The low rumble was somewhat louder here, and more evident in the cold stone floor beneath his bare feet. He was satisfied to see that in addition to the sentries posted at each end of the narrow corridor, other officers under his command had exited their own rooms, and he noted his own expression mirrored on the other eight faces, each of his men regarding him and one another with puzzlement.
“Where is that coming from?” Morqla snapped as he tucked the d’k tahginto the waistband of the loose-fitting trousers he wore. Securing the knife at the small of his back and tucking the tail of his rough-hewn shirt behind the weapon’s handle, he ensured he could reach it without having to fumble with his own clothing.
His second-in-command, Kertral, emerged from his own room with disruptor in hand, shirtless and with his dark, long hair flying wildly about his head and shoulders as he turned to face him. “It feels as though it comes from underneath us,” he said. “Has Terath finally succeeded in activating that ancient power generator?”
“At this hour of the night?” Morqla asked, doubt coating every word. While he knew Dr. Terath was dedicated to her pursuit of science, he also had seen her during the evening meal and knew from her own comments that the scientist had planned to retire soon after eating. Her intention had been to rise before dawn so that she and her team could journey some three thousand qelI’qamsto the far side of the continent in order to explore another recently discovered storehouse of centuries-old artifacts, which appeared to be of the same type as those she had been studying these past weeks.
Still, the governor realized, the activation of some ancient power source far beneath the surface of the village made the most sense. All that remained now was to discover who was responsible. Common sense told Morqla it had to be a member of Terath’s science contingent. They had tended to work at all hours of the day or night, never bothering to observe the curfew rules enacted for the village. Their casual dismissal of that and other directives he had enacted since the garrison’s arrival here had given Morqla cause for annoyance more than once.
“Find Terath,” he snapped at Kertral. “Bring her to me.” Now fully awake with no hope of returning to sleep before the new day began, Morqla grunted in resignation. The desk in his office was littered with incomplete status reports, supply requisitions, and other administrative detritus that defined the role and life of a planetary governor, the majority of which he had ignored for days already. There seemed to be no compelling reason to put it off any longer now that he had an unexpected window of opportunity to make an attempt at gaining back some of that ground. “And send me K’voq,” he added as he turned on his heel and lumbered down the narrow, low-ceilinged passageway. “I’m going to need rakta-jino.”
It likely was going to be one of thosedays.
Running footsteps echoing in the stone stairwell preceded the arrival of his aide, K’voq, even his trim form seeming to fill the narrow archway leading to the steps as he dashed into the corridor. He pulled up short at the sudden sight of his superior officer, his eyes wide with unease.
“Governor,” he said, holding up a communicator, “we’re starting to receive reports of disturbances from several of the neighboring villages.”
His brow furrowing in confusion, Morqla’s reply was more growl than spoken word. “What?”
“Fires have been set in many buildings that our forces have occupied,” the aide continued. “The jeghpu’wI’are employing catapults to launch balls of lead coated in a flaming oil. Lieutenant Vekpa reports that the supply depot we established at the Grap’hwuprovince has been destroyed.”
Despite the alarming nature of K’voq’s report, Morqla actually smiled. “So, it seems the jeghpu’wI’have gained a new measure of courage.” Taking the proffered communicator from his assistant, he made his way down the stairs and outside the building that had been commandeered for use as officers’ billeting. He noted that even at this early hour, the air was still thick and humid in keeping with this hemisphere’s near-oppressive summer season.