Star Trek (7 page)

“I
t looks like a lava lamp,” said Fabian, gazing appreciatively into the transparent, red-tinted tank in the heart of the vast chamber under the shrine. “Only a lot bigger.”

The tank was several meters in diameter and extended high overhead, almost to the ceiling. It fattened as it descended toward a bulge at the base, resembling a laboratory flask.

A ring of instrumentation encircled the base, complete with control panels, monitors, and sensor prods extending into the tank itself. Clumps of some kind of protoplasmic substance were suspended in the liquid inside the tank, constantly oozing together and flowing apart to form new configurations.

“What's a lava lamp?” said Gomez.

“A late-twentieth-century tabletop lighting device,” said Fabian, “as you would know if you ever accepted the invitation to join me in my
Disco Kung Fu Superstar '76
holo-program.”

“What's disco?” said Pattie.

“Never mind,” Fabian said with an exasperated wave. Something told him that instead of trying to explain disco to a Nasat, he should quit while he was ahead. “So what's it supposed to do?”

Soloman sat at one of the control terminals mounted at the base of the giant tank. “Unknown at this time,” he said, a trace of annoyance in his voice. “The morphic systems down here are incredibly robust. They are resisting my efforts to crack the programming or database.”

“Guesses, anyone?” said Gomez, slowly walking around the base of the tank.

“No guess yet, but I have information,” said Pattie, standing up on her hind legs and aiming her tricorder at the tank. “The clumps in the tank are similar in composition to Em-Lin's changeling multitool, which in turn bears a strong resemblance to Founder physiology.”

“Could it be a Founder nursery, maybe?” said Fabian, reaching out to touch the surface of the tank. A jot of static electricity snapped the tip of his finger as he made contact. The tank's surface felt warm and surprisingly rough to the touch, like gritty sandpaper.

“There's biochemical activity,” said Lense, scanning the tank with a tricorder on the opposite side from Pattie. “I'm reading neuroelectric activity as well, but no cellular mitosis. No cell division. The organic clusters could be fetal life-forms in some sort of cryogenic suspension, but they're not growing and developing right now.”

“Maybe it's some kind of supercomputer,” said Fabian, “utilizing cultured changeling material to process information the way we use bioneural gel-packs.”

“Whatever it is,” said Gomez, “I think it might be a prototype. An experimental construct. I've never seen or read about anything quite like it being used by the Dominion.”

“There we go.” Soloman lifted his hands away from the keyboard that they had been battering. “I think I just about have it. I should be inside the secure shell in a matter of minutes.”

“Great,” said Gomez, and then she turned to Em-Lin, who was standing off to one side with Vance. As usual, Em-Lin looked thoroughly distracted, staring off into space with a troubled frown knotting her features. “Em-Lin.” Gomez raised her voice to cut through whatever vision was holding the Miradorn's attention. “Em-Lin. You've had experience with changeling technology. Any thoughts on this device?”

When Em-Lin did not respond, Vance gently elbowed her in the side. Em-Lin's focus swung back to everyone else's shared reality instead of whatever was going on in her head, though she was confused enough that Gomez had to repeat her question.

Back on track, Em-Lin stepped closer to the giant tank. She gazed up at it, the glow from within suffusing her pearly skin with a red tint.

“I don't have a clue,” she said, “but I'm not really qualified to judge. I was basically a menial laborer.”

Fabian shot Gomez a look, frowning at what he considered to be an obvious lie. Shutting down all those Jem'Hadar booby traps had not been the work of a menial laborer.

Gomez nodded in agreement. “A menial laborer who can manipulate sophisticated Dominion technology with ease. What exactly was the nature of this ‘menial labor,' anyway?”

Fabian watched Em-Lin for a reaction, but he was disappointed. Her attention had already drifted to whatever invisible distraction lay on the floor at her feet.

“Em-Lin?” said Gomez. “Hello?”

“Good timing on the zone-out,” said Fabian. “I'm starting to wonder if she really sees anything there after all.”

“Coincidentally, I was just wondering the same thing,” said Gomez, glowering at Em-Lin.

It was just then, after Gomez spoke, that four things happened in a row. They happened so close together that Fabian immediately decided they were connected.

The first thing that happened was that Soloman got up from his chair at the control panel and said, “I'm in. I'm through the shell.”

The second thing that happened was that the giant red tank suddenly changed color, shifting to bright yellow, and started to rotate. Inside the tank, the protoplasmic clumps began to spin, swirling in circles and accelerating the speed at which they merged and split apart.

The third thing that happened was that the Miradorn security personnel, Yet-Nu and Boz-Nu, started screaming hysterically. Yet-Nu dropped to the floor, and Boz-Nu bounced his head repeatedly against the side of the tank.

The fourth thing that happened was this: Em-Lin also screamed and fell to the floor. “Get away from me!” she said, throwing her hands protectively over her head and looking up in terror as if someone were standing over her. “
Leave me alone
!”

As Vance rushed to Em-Lin's side and Soloman leaped back into his chair and resumed attacking the keyboard, Fabian shrugged. “I'm pretty sure we're about to find out what this thing is supposed to do. What do you want to bet it's extremely dangerous and nearly unstoppable?”

“S
ince you have failed to meet our ransom demands,” said Zhik-Wu, “we must kill our first hostage. Which one will it be?”

Slowly, Zhik-Wu turned in a circle, pointing the tip of the long, jagged blade at Corsi, then continuing on to Rennan.

He stopped at Carol. “I choose this one,” he said, shaking the knife in Carol's direction. “No one can save her! She dies now, and her death will be on your head, Federation!”

As Zhik-Wu took a step toward her, Carol shook her head. “Too over the top. And since you insist on going with the line about the Federation's head, I'd at least make it ‘heads,' okay?”

“She's right!” said Mother Wu from upstairs. “Make it ‘heads'!”

“All right, all right.” Zhik-Wu looked sick and tired of being told what to do. He ruffled the heap of curly blond hair atop his head and shuffled over to Pre-Wu, who stood behind the camera.

“You know what I think? I think you're ready to go live.” Pre-Wu grinned and slapped Zhik-Wu on the back. “You're gonna make us rich, brother!”

Carol's heart beat faster as she realized that Zhik-Wu was done rehearsing his part. At her urging, he had practiced for the last hour or so, running through what he would say during each broadcast—from the initial demands to the killing of the hostages. She had done her best to drag things out, making as many suggestions as she dared and delaying the first broadcast to Starfleet—until now.

Any minute now, the Wu brothers would shoot images of their prisoners to Starfleet Command. Everyone would know that Carol had made a dumb mistake, and that Corsi and Rennan had been caught flat-footed in a bar fight.

At least it wouldn't matter for long, once the Wu brothers killed their hostages, which, inevitably, they would do when the cashless society of the Federation failed to pay the ransom.

So there was a silver lining to this whole mess after all, Carol supposed.

“Do I look okay?” Zhik-Wu asked his brother.

Pre-Wu brushed a stray curl back from Zhik-Wu's forehead and nodded proudly. “Just relax. Reach across the link to me if you get nervous.”

“What are you waiting for down there?” shouted Mother Wu. “Do you want me to call Starfleet myself?”

“No, Mother,” Zhik-Wu and Pre-Wu said at the same time.

“Then let's go!” said Mother Wu. “I'm getting bored!”

The brothers looked up at the ceiling and shook their heads, then smiled at each other.

“I've got a good feeling about this,” said Zhik-Wu, walking over to stand in front of the camera.

“You're going to knock 'em dead,” said Pre-Wu, giving his brother a big thumbs-up sign.

It was just then, at that exact moment, that the Wu brothers started screaming.

They fell to the floor at the same time, writhing and clutching at their heads. Zhik-Wu knocked over the camera, which crashed down on Pre-Wu, but Pre-Wu was so completely caught up in his own agony that he didn't seem to notice.

Whatever affected the brothers, however, did not seem to have touched Mother Wu. “What's going on down there? Boys? Are you all right?”

Carol watched the twins thrashing on the floor in front of her. Just moments ago, they had been talking about killing her and her teammates, but she still felt compelled to try to help them.

“They're in pain,” she said, shouting over the twins' screaming to reach Mother Wu. “It seemed to hit them both at the same time.”

“I'll be right down!” Mother Wu sounded intensely annoyed instead of deeply worried about her sons. “And I will warn you right now—I'm ready for you, Starfleetie!”

“What does she think you're going to do?” said Corsi. “Talk her into hurting herself?”

Surprised, Carol looked in the direction of her shackled teammates. Sure enough, Corsi's eyes were wide open and staring back at her.

“Domenica!” said Carol, glad that her friend was awake, if not especially mobile. “If you're about done hanging around over there, we could use a foolproof escape plan right about now.”

“Looks like we've already got a distraction,” said Corsi, nodding toward the screaming Miradorn twins on the floor. “Just throw me a phaser rifle, and I'll get us out of here in nothing flat.”

“It's a deal,” said Carol, “just as soon as you cut through my bonds and set me free.”

Corsi smirked. “I'll take care of that in a minute, just as soon as I figure out what story I'm going to write up in my mission report instead of the actual truth.”

At that moment, a shrill voice cut through the commotion. “What did you do to my boys?” Following the harsh sound of that voice, Carol looked over and up, spotting the voice's possessor as she cautiously descended a spiral stairway in a corner of the basement.

Carol immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Mother Wu. She did not, however, connect the real Mother Wu with the image of the ancient, wrinkled, hunchbacked hag that she had built up in her mind to go with that sharp voice. Mother Wu, as it turned out, was pretty, petite, and much younger than Carol had imagined. Her hair was long and black and glossy, without a trace of gray, and her skin was smooth as a peach. She looked too young, in fact, to have two grown sons like Zhik-Wu and Pre-Wu.

She did not look out of place, however, handling the double-barreled Jem'Hadar disruptor rifle that she was keeping trained on Carol.

“Do I
look
like I could do anything to your boys?” said Carol, straining against her bonds for emphasis. “I was hoping that
you
could tell
me
what happened. They both started screaming and dropped to the floor at the same time.”

As Mother Wu crossed the room, she narrowed her eyes at Carol, sizing her up. Without shifting the rifle's aim away from Carol, she swung her attention to Zhik-Wu and Pre-Wu on the floor.

As Zhik-Wu screamed and twisted at her feet, Mother Wu stared down at him. “What's wrong with you?” she said, loud enough to be heard over his cries. “Tell me what's wrong!”

Zhik-Wu kept screaming hysterically with eyes clamped shut and fingers clawing at his skull.

“Do these look like the symptoms of any Miradorn illness you know of?” Carol said to Mother Wu.

“Brain fever, maybe,” said Mother Wu, “but their skin hasn't turned orange yet.”

“Maybe you should get a doctor,” said Carol.

“I don't trust doctors,” said Mother Wu.

“Then maybe you should untie me and let me help,” said Carol.

“I'll call a doctor,” said Mother Wu, and then she went back upstairs.

Five minutes later, she returned to the basement. The expression on her face was equal parts mystified and highly irritated.

“What?” said Carol. “What is it?”

“I can't find a doctor,” said Mother Wu. “I can't find anyone to help.”

“Why?” said Carol.

“Everyone in the city has come down with the same thing that Zhik and Pre have,” said Mother Wu. “According to the news broadcasts, the whole world seems to be coming down with it.”