“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 thatmeant. 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 isa 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 overthis 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. “Youtry 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. “Thatis 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. “Idon’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. Hecertainly 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 wasLeahru; 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 himwasn’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 threelife 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.