Constellations (7 page)

“Mr. Sulu,” Kirk said, standing to the helm's side, “we'll beam three of you down and let you begin surveying. Sciences is all excited about some anomalous readings that turned up while surveying the asteroid belt. I've decided to give in to Mr. Spock and let them go take some samples and do the spectrographic analysis. We should be gone a total of twenty hours so you'll spend the night below. At that point, I'll expect an analysis and recommendations for how best to proceed studying this dead culture.”

“Aye, sir,” Sulu said with a smile. His body language told Spock how anxious he was to get started. The Vulcan privately expressed the desire for the lieutenant to contain his emotions, but had grown to know the man well enough to know that would be a fruitless conversation.

 

Spock had finished adjusting the controls, and on the left screen, he saw the recording taken by geologist Vanani Manprasad, with sociologist Christopher Lindstrom's playback on the center screen. Sulu's occupied the one to the far right.

Sulu's screen was filled with complex constructs, clearly some control panels for a facility. Spock took close-up readings and determined that the metallic composition of the technology included fairly ordinary composites seen on other worlds. That in itself might provide a clue to the culture's origins, but that was for another time. Turning his attention to Lindstrom's screen, he saw the readings indicating the size and shape of the facility. Adjusting his earpiece, Spock heard Lindstrom's observation that the scale indicated the people were larger than the human norm. Spock concluded the facility the party landed at was some form of engineering control center. Based on the conduits leading in and out of the building, and the centralized way the conduits converged many meters below, this was a substation linked to a larger facility some distance away.

Lindstrom's fieldwork was up to its usual high standards. Sulu's screen showed Manprasad, tinier than the two men, with jet-black hair pulled back in a ponytail, reaching out to take samples of the building itself.

Spock folded his arms, his eyes scanning the three screens as the routine examination of the dead planet continued. His mind, efficiently processing the information, was also looking for clues and ways to prevent what was sure to come.

 

Sulu didn't realize he had passed out again until he opened his eyes and saw McCoy waving a scanner over his face. He had only met the new CMO once before and they didn't really know one another, but the helmsman felt at ease under his gaze.

“Will I live?” he croaked.

“If you listen to your doctor, you'll be back on the bridge in a few days.”

“Days?” He heard the alarm in his voice. He worried that his absence would somehow hurt his reputation or future at the helm.

McCoy cocked an eyebrow at him and nodded. He checked the monitor above Sulu and then placed a reassuring hand on his patient's right shoulder, apparently the one part of him not sore. “Don't worry about it. It could have been much worse.”

Instantly, Sulu flashed back to what happened and realized it could have been him that was being autopsied. Finally, realizing McCoy wasn't leaving his side, Sulu gingerly propped himself up on his elbows, despite the discomfort of doing so.

“Worse? This was my first landing party, my first time in charge, and what happens? I lose a crewman! How much worse could it get?”

“Son, I've lost patients on the table and in the field,” McCoy said quietly. “It's part of the mission out here. Just when you think everything is safe and sound, something happens to pull the rug out from under you.”

“I guess you're right,” Sulu said uncertainly. “But what sort of commander will I make if I can't even survey a dead planet,” he continued, trying to keep a whine from his voice. He felt the strain of the past day catching up to him and wanted to keep in control of his feelings. Idly, he wondered how Spock managed.

“Commanders aren't decided based on one experience, you know,” McCoy said, adjusting a readout on the display. Dissatisfied with the number, he reached out and pulled at Sulu's lower left eyelid, peering in closely at the eye. “You know, there's more to being a commander than leading landing parties or steering starships. You want to know when we'll know if you're a good commander?” More satisfied, he stepped back.

“Yeah,” Sulu replied.

“When someone adds a braid to your sleeve, gives you a handshake, and sends you into the unknown, backed by a few hundred of your fellow officers all stuck in the same tin can.”

“Like that'll happen,” Sulu muttered and turned his head away from the doctor. McCoy knew enough to walk away without prolonging the conversation. The young man lay on the bed, uncomfortable and alone with his thoughts. He reviewed his conversation with Kirk once more, heard the enthusiasm in his own voice as he described how he desired new challenges, the kind he'd never find in the lab. Still, no one ever died reading sensor scans, running equations, or looking through a telescope.

Sulu lost track of time and had no idea how long McCoy had left him alone. Even Chapel and the rest of the staff gave him some distance. He craved another voice, maybe a friendly nonjudgmental one. A short while later, he heard the sickbay doors whoosh open, followed by the sound of boot heels.

“You awake, Sulu?”

His eyes snapped open, and involuntarily, he broke into a smile. Turning his head, he saw Janice Rand, the newly appointed captain's yeoman. The handsome blond woman had her hair done in the complicated style she had recently adopted. When she had received her new posting, all Rand would do was fuss over how to make herself more presentable, worthy of being a captain's personal assistant. Sulu recalled how merciless he was toward her as she fretted over hairstyles and even debated how much makeup was tolerable. She had worked herself up into knots trying to earn the captain's confidence and nearly was late for her very first shift.

And then, when he found himself upgraded right after her, it was Rand who was suddenly counseling Sulu on the habits of the alpha shift bridge staff. An already good friendship deepened as a result, and whenever possible, Rand and Sulu would commiserate on goings-on throughout the ship.

“How're you feeling?”

“Like hell,” he admitted.

“You going to live?”

“So the doc tells me.”

“Well, that's something, isn't it?”

Sulu was silent, then finally said, “I suppose.”

“I heard about what happened,” she said softly, her expression sad. “I'm so sorry, Hikaru.”

He just stared ahead, not meeting her eyes.

“Want to talk about it?”

He continued to stare ahead and refused to reply. She patiently waited him out, and Sulu finally realized she wasn't leaving. More than that, he needed to talk about it, relive it with someone so he could prepare for the inquest. He knew there'd be a hearing as soon as McCoy cleared him for duty. After asking for some water, he told her what happened.

 

The landing party materialized on the planet's surface and immediately began a more intensive local scan. The tricorders registered nothing unusual, and the atmospheric conditions matched their expectations. Sulu glanced at the grayish sky, filled with thick clouds, and was thankful the air was warm.

He studied the exterior of the structure they had selected as the target site. The building had a single, very large entranceway. The color scheme was monochromatic browns and beiges, with not much in the way of signage or decoration but plenty of vines creeping up the sides. In fact, he concluded, it looked fairly utilitarian. Taking point, he started for the doorway but paused to watch as Manprasad approached the exterior and ran a slender hand across the surface. Opening a compartment of the tricorder, she took some scrapings and stored them in one of the sample discs. She actually sniffed the wall, and Sulu was afraid she was going to taste it next, but realized she was just doing her job, using all her tactile senses.

“No energy signatures at all,” Sulu confirmed for the others. “What do you make of this?”

“I estimate it is at least five centuries old,” Manprasad said. “It's all metallic, with paint, or what's left of the paint. Can't say yet when it was abandoned.”

“That's fine, we have all day,” Sulu said cheerfully. “Set your tricorders for passive scans so we don't miss a thing.” He actually liked being on the surface, with a different feel to the ground beneath his boots, and a mystery to explore. As first-time landing parties go, this one was very promising. “Lindstrom, ready to go inside?”

Christopher Lindstrom, with his short blond hair and broad face, nodded once, also obviously pleased to be part of the team. Manprasad was already in motion without replying, her enthusiasm matching Sulu's own.

“I appreciate being a part of this,” Manprasad added as they walked toward the entrance. “When I heard we were orbiting, I was certain D'Amato would go as section chief.”

“Yeah, lucky they decided to send the junior guy so no one more senior should go to intimidate me,” Sulu said happily. “Besides, he's done this a dozen times. How often have you done this?”

“This makes three,” she replied. “After all, I'm pretty junior, too.”

“You two are making me feel old,” Lindstrom quipped. “I've done eight planetary surveys since Kirk took command.”

“Enjoy the fieldwork?” Manprasad asked.

“You bet,” he said. “Seeing a society up close is the only way to do it right. And the more I see for myself, the better my analysis gets.”

“Any guesses?” Sulu asked.

“You're getting way ahead of yourself. Ask me that again in the morning. Let's get inside.”

Sulu nodded in agreement. As they reached the threshold, he paused for a moment, using his own senses to make certain there were no signs, no visible booby traps, things too low-tech for the tricorders or ship sensors to detect. They had noted that the entranceway had no doors, just an open aperture to admit them. Dirt trailed inside, and weeds of varying sizes and shades of green and gray were growing haphazardly within. Seeing nothing more threatening than a vine, he took a big step through the entrance and walked inside the structure.

The others followed, pausing behind him and forming a triangular pattern as they made certain nothing had been triggered. All they heard was a breeze behind them, outside. With a gesture, Sulu indicated their equipment and personal belongings be left near the entrance. All three dropped their backpacks and stepped forward. Slowly and deliberately, he let his eyes pan the room.

The setting seemed familiar enough to draw a few preliminary conclusions: It was a control room of some sort. A high ring of elaborate consoles and viewscreens dominated the chamber's central space, the surfaces dull and thick with dust, loose dirt, dead leaves, and other detritus that had undoubtedly been blown in from outside over the course of centuries. It was clear that the place had been abandoned for some time. Tricorder scans revealed a series of smaller rooms beyond this chamber, accessible by corridors at left and right.

Lindstrom scanned the room. “I have one guess already,” he told Sulu.

“What's that?”

“They were larger than us. Over two meters, easy. Look at the scale.” Lindstrom gestured at the large chair in front of the controls.

“Good point.” Sulu took another step and heard Manprasad's tricorder at work to his left. In front of him was a main panel. He'd have to climb up the oversized chair to get a better look at it.

“Sulu!”

“What is it, Manprasad?”

“Some sort of energy buildup!”

All three looked at their tricorders, which stopped passive scanning when given a different command, and sure enough, there was a gradual increase of energy, the exact nature of which the device was unable to determine. With a twist of the controls, Sulu tried to figure out where the energy was coming from, but it was elusive, and he didn't like it one bit.

“Everybody out!”

As Lindstrom got to the door, though, he rebounded as a bright orange electric field crackled to life.

“What the hell is that?” Sulu demanded.

“Security barrier,” Lindstrom said, a touch of anger in his voice. “That's fairly obvious. I wonder how we missed that.”

“Wish we'd brought an engineer with us,” Sulu said, his eyes returning to his tricorder.

“What, and spoil this unique opportunity for a bunch of junior officers?”

“Shut it,” Sulu snapped. He reached behind his back and pulled his communicator off the utility belt he wore under his duty shirt. As it flipped open, all he heard was static. The energy buildup clearly was interfering with the communicator's signal, and with each passing moment, the starship was that much farther away. They were on their own.

Decisively, he stepped toward the main console, straining on tiptoe to get a look at the dust-covered controls. Nothing looked intuitive so he gambled, stabbing at one large, circular blue button. He felt it depress, but nothing occurred. Trying each button and control seemed like a waste of time since the panel's lights were out, its small screens dark.
Okay,
he thought,
time for something else.