“I think we’re going have to perform an emergency transport to get Ensign T’rb out of there,” Roness said with a chuckle, referring to one of the ship’s science officers. Then, evidently realizing that she was speaking to her commanding officer, she straightened, dropped her smile, and added a hasty, “Sir.”
“At ease, Ensign,” Vaughn said.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “Thank you, sir.”
Vaughn suppressed his own smile. So young,he thought. Roness had shown herself to be an able crewperson, with a good attitude and solid piloting skills, but she could stand to lose some of her earnestness. In time,he thought, although he suspected that continued exposure to Lieutenant Bowers might speed that process for her. “I assume you two are headed back to the ship?” Vaughn asked.
While Roness issued a sober and immediate “Yes, sir,” Bowers had something else in mind. “Actually, sir, we were hoping we might stay on the surface a bit longer.” Smart,Vaughn thought, for Bowers to ask in person rather than over a comm channel; let the commanding officer know that you are prepared to perform your duties as needed, show him the respect of a face-to-face request, but also let him see how much you want something.
Vaughn looked to Ventu and asked whether he had any objections to some of the crew spending more time on the planet. “We welcome your people at any time,” came his interpreted response. Vaughn turned back to Bowers and Roness.
“Check the duty roster with Lieutenant Dax. If she can spare you, then you can stay,” Vaughn told them, and then added lightly, “whichever of you two actually want to stay, that is.” Clearly, both Bowers and Roness had come seeking permission to remain on the planet longer, but the young ensign had lost her nerve. “No matter what, though, I want everybody back aboard ship in two hours.” He had scheduled Defiantto depart the Vahni world and resume their exploration of the Gamma Quadrant four hours from now.
According to Dax, quite a few of the crew had expressed a desire to stay with the Vahni, not just a few more hours, but a few more days.Vaughn could certainly understand that; the Vahni Vahltupali were a lovely people, inquisitive and friendly, with an impressive civilization. And Defiant’s itinerary did allow for some flexibility in the amount of time the crew spent at whatever stops they made along the way. For Vaughn, though, the encounter with the Vahni had merely whetted his appetite for exploration, and he was anxious to resume their mission. More time spent here, he thought, might not leave them enough time to make some other discovery farther along their course.
“Thank you, sir,” Bowers said, his translated words careering brightly across the front of his uniform. “We’ll contact Lieutenant Dax right away.”
“Thank you, sir,” Roness echoed. Vaughn nodded, and the two officers headed back through the archway and down the stairs, accompanied by their Vahni companion.
Vaughn regarded Ventu once more. He held up the compressed picture. “Thank you again for this,” he said. “I hope to see you again someday.”
“Again, you are welcome,” came the slightly stilted response. Vaughn wondered about the degree of accuracy to which the translators functioned. They were obviously sufficient to their task, but he also suspected that the awkward sentences they produced might imply room for improvement. Perhaps when the Federation established formal contact with the Vahni, even better translators could be developed.
“Farewell,” Vaughn said, and he tapped his combadge. “Vaughn to—”
Suddenly, the floor heaved to the right, throwing Vaughn and Ventu off their feet in the other direction. The compressed picture flew from Vaughn’s grasp as he thrust his hands out to break his fall. He caught himself in time to cushion his impact, but his head struck the stone floor just above his left eye. A tremendous boom split the air, as though thunder had rumbled from a cloud directly above them. Vaughn had enough time to recall that the sky had been clear, before his instincts told him that the city was being rocked by seismic activity. The violent shaking of the tower went on and on, as did the almost deafening roar—and now Vaughn thought he could hear those roars not just here at the tower, but in the distance as well. Yes,he thought again, a quake.
Vaughn lifted his head and pushed his upper body up off the floor. He searched for Ventu, and saw him lying on his back a couple of meters away. Empty, white whorls erupted on his flesh, the Vahni equivalent, Vaughn guessed, of screaming in terror.
Vaughn struggled to his knees and then to his feet, the tower still shuddering dramatically beneath him. He staggered his way across to Ventu and reached down to try to help him up, but the Vahni would not move, his tentacles wrapped tightly about his body. Vaughn reached up and slapped at his combadge, but found that it was no longer there. He looked back toward where he had fallen, but the shaking made it impossible to focus his eyes on one spot.
The floor thrust to the side again, sending Vaughn off balance. As his feet shifted, he spread his legs and lowered his center of gravity, preventing himself from going down. He moved back to Ventu and stood over him, making sure the translator patch on his chest faced the Vahni. “You have to get up,” Vaughn shouted, barely able to hear his own voice above the cacophony. Ventu did not move, though his flesh continued to flash brilliant white eddies. Vaughn felt at his hip to make sure the translator hardware was still there; it was. “We have to get out of here,” he yelled, and he moved around to Ventu’s head, crouched, and shoved his hands beneath his tentacles. He hoisted the Vahni onto his feet, surprised to find the alien heavier than he had expected. Ventu looked at Vaughn—at least Vaughn thought he did, because the pale swirls diminished—and Vaughn pointed to the archway. “Come on,” he yelled. “We have to get down.” Ventu wrapped his tentacle around Vaughn’s arm. The two leaned on each other in order to keep their balance in the still-moving tower, and they took two steps toward the archway.
That was when the tower collapsed.
Vaughn had no idea whether or not he had lost consciousness, but in his next moment of awareness, the shaking and booming had ceased. He opened his eyes and found his vision blocked by something just centimeters from his head, a brownish gray object he could not identify. The stale smell of dust clogged his nose, and small sounds—pops and cracks, almost like wood burning—reached his ears.
Slowly, he began flexing his arms and legs, testing his spine, attempting to take stock of his body. He lay facedown atop a hard, irregular surface, and every part of him ached, though everything at least seemed intact. Cautiously he began to push himself up. Something moved beneath him and he stopped, waiting to see what would happen. When nothing did, he raised up all the way and looked around.
Below him sat only rubble, he saw, the obvious remnants of the tower. Vaughn had landed on top of the pile of crushed mortar and stones; one of the stones had been in front of his face when he had opened his eyes. The four-story edifice had disintegrated into a mound maybe four meters high. He got to his knees, perching precariously on the loose stones, and looked around for Ventu, but he did not see him.
“Bowers,” he called. “Roness.” He waited a few seconds, then called the names again. Neither officer responded. He hoped that they and their Vahni companion had made it out of the tower before it had crumbled.
Vaughn looked beyond the rubble beneath him and out at the city. Vahni packed the pedestrian thoroughfares now, some running, but most just milling about. He saw a lot of bone-white flesh among the crowds, the residue, he assumed, of fear. Smoke rose from the city in three or four places, though the ebon plumes were narrow, suggesting that they had not spread and might be brought under control quickly. He also saw several laserlike beacons, their light dazzlingly purple, shooting up into the sky from separate locations, a Vahni method, Vaughn surmised, of signaling an emergency.