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  Bart reached out for him. “Careful—we don’t know if there are any more booby traps in here.”

  “You think we just triggered one?” Lense asked. She sounded small in the chamber.

  Bart heard something other than their breathing and held up his hand. “Listen.” The sound came from somewhere to their immediate right. He turned to see a door a meter away and moved quickly to it.

  Jolen was right on his heels, as was Corsi. A quick study of the door and the inset symbols and Bart recognized the same code that opened the Second Chamber, where the shutoff for the dampening field had been. He relayed this to the others.

  With a glance at Jolen, Bart depressed the keys. The doors opened with an old, grinding noise, as if the mechanism hadn’t been used in centuries.

  And from the looks of things, it hadn’t.

  Yet there was still power—and loads of it.

  The room’s interior lit when Bart stepped through the door. It was a sparse room, not covered in dust as was the larger cavern. He guessed it to be a control room. Waist-high to ceiling screens lit up with snow, one at a time around the room until they were all active. A central console the shape of a boomerang sat in the center. Its controls lit up as Bart neared.

  Jolen came to stand beside him. “Do you recognize the symbols?”

  Bart nodded. “So do you—so don’t even pretend with me that you don’t.” He examined the console and noticed a line of moving symbols. Frowning, he pointed to it. “I’m no computer expert, Jolen, but does that look like a countdown to you?”

  The Asarion moved closer to the console. He rubbed his hands together and started pressing keys. After a few seconds he looked up at one of the center viewscreens.

  Bart looked up as well as Carol, Corsi, and Lense entered the room as the moving symbols showed on the screen.

  “Is that a countdown?” Corsi asked.

  “I’m afraid so.” Jolen continued to depress keys.

  Bart watched him, amazed at his skill. Jewlan’s skill. A skill they could have used when all this began.

  “Oh, no,” Jolen said softly. “This ship—and it’s definitely a ship—this ship’s counting down to what I can only compare to a warp core breach.”

  “A what?” Corsi took several steps toward them. “This ship’s warp core is still active?”

  “Well, the power to send out that dampening field came from somewhere. It’s my guess that we triggered a self-destruct.” Bart looked at the console. “So if it’s a self-destruct, then there has to be a way to shut it off.”

  “Where?” Jolen glanced around the panel. “I don’t see one.”

  “How long?” Corsi asked.

  “How long?” Bart looked at the counting symbols. “Oh, ten minutes, give or take a second or two.”

  “The dampening field is also up and running again,” Jolen said. He pressed a few keys. “Apparently this command area isn’t affected by the field, which I might add, now has a range that could reach your ship.”

  “Captain would’ve gotten the da Vinci out of range in that case,” Corsi said. “What exactly is going to happen once that counter hits zero?”

  Jolen looked up at the security chief through a furrowed brow. “Boom?”

  “Great.” Bart continued studying the console. “Jolen, I can read this stuff but I can’t make heads or tails of the mechanics of it. There has to be a command switch—some sort of failsafe.”

  “Bart, I can’t start to—”

  “Come off it!” the linguist exploded. “Just help me here. Your social morals be damned. You can read this language as well as read the science. You worked with me to open that damned door in the first place. Now make a choice and stick with it. Be both Jewlan and Jolen. Dammit man, be who you are!”

  “Bart,” Carol said in a warning tone. “You can’t force him to do things that are against his culture.”

  “Don’t tell me you of all people are spouting Prime Directive rhetoric at me when we’re about to explode.” Bart rubbed at his chin. “Don’t you want to see Vance again? And what about Elizabeth and her baby?”

  She looked injured at that moment and Bart made a mental note to buy her something nice when this was all over with. Maybe whatever it was she’d wanted to get Vance for his birthday.

  “Wait,” Jolen said. “I’ll do it. I will—only I’m not really sure what the code is.”

  “Code?” Bart looked back to the engineer.

  He punched a few buttons and the flying numbers were replaced by a set of six dashes. Jolen pointed at them. “As far as I can tell that is the stop code. The abort sequence. But I have no idea what it would be.”

  “You can’t shut down the reaction without it?”

  “Nope. I’m locked out unless this single barrier is knocked out of the way. And I don’t care how good a linguist or cryptographer I am, male or female, I don’t know what it would be.”

  “I might,” Bart ran his fingers through his hair. “Let’s try the six symbols. The ones that opened that door.”

  “Hell, why not? How much worse can it get?”

  Bart held up a finger. “Never—ever—say that. Now, I think we triggered something when you opened it manually. Just from the little we’ve learned of this ship and the chambers outside. We have four of them, each representing what looks like a period of time. It’s evolution, Jolen. This culture was a conquering people, but they did so with the reason of technological dangers.” Bart wasn’t sure where this sudden insight came from. Maybe it was the effect of the Poplin. Maybe he was just so damned tired. But the pieces seemed to be falling into place.

  “Carol, think of it. Classes. This ship was built on the classes of their society. They start out primitive and then become stagnant, unified as having no characteristics. But then there’s the chamber filled with so many things. So many accomplishments as pieces of all times. We start in the beginning as earth, which is the first. The second is air, then fire and then water. The fifth is spirit, or love. Which is where they wanted the conquered races to stop in their growth.”

  Carol took up the analysis. “But like most species, they go beyond. They fall backward.”

  “Into death,” Jolen said finally. “And by using death, they start over again as earth.”

  “Precisely.” Bart pointed to the console. “I’m thinking this isn’t a ship that came to conquer, I’m thinking this is a ship this world built to conquer. Conquer other worlds. Only their own technological advances destroyed them. Notice how we’ve only seen these ruins. These cultural clues?”

  Carol nodded. “They zapped themselves.”

  “Yes, and it was here they met death. They never went to war, which is why this ship is still full of the weapons. It was buried for all time.”

  “Until we found it, and activated it.” Jolen smiled. “It makes so much more sense now.”

  “Look, this is great and all, but we have five minutes left,” Corsi said. “Would one of you just stop it?”

  “Oh. Right.” Bart looked at Jolen. “You want to enter the code? Go backward. Start with death. It is technically still an engineering problem.”

  Jolen nodded. “Just remember the last time I did this—what happened?”

  “Stop. Don’t think of that.” Bart reached out and touched Jolen’s shoulder. “Just do it.”

  After taking a deep breath and holding it, Jolen entered the symbols in order.

  Death, love, water, fire, air, and then earth.

  This time there was a loud cranking noise and the ground shook beneath them.

  “Oh, this isn’t good. Did it not work?” Carol yelled over the heaving metal.

  “Just the opposite. I think it worked fine,” Bart said and reached out to support himself against the console. “But I think the ship isn’t going to survive.”

  “Damn.” Corsi yelled, “All of you! Back to the chamber! Let’s hope those doors are open now.”

  Just as Jolen turned to move a heavy vent fell from above and struck his
upper torso. He slumped forward against the console and then fell to the ground.

  “Jolen!” Bart called out. When the man didn’t move, he knelt beside him and checked for a pulse. There was one. He was only unconscious. With a grunt he bent down and moved Jolen around.

  Corsi appeared next to him and heaved Jolen over her shoulder in a firefighter’s carry. Once he was secured, the two moved together through the control room’s door.

  Great tanks shook in their moorings and began to collapse onto themselves as the ship shook in its death throes. They ran out of the Sixth Chamber, through the Fifth and to the door of the Fourth. All the doors were open.

  Bart ran as fast as he could. He was still weak, and was grateful that Corsi came back to carry Jolen’s weight—he could never have handled it. He was barely able to carry his own weight. As they made their way into the First Chamber, he stumbled. Something painful jabbed at his left ankle and he yelled out as he fell.

  Hands grabbed at Bart’s shoulders and pulled him out of the way. As he was dragged out of the First Chamber and into the cool, dark Asarion night, he cried, “Jolen!” before the ancient ship collapsed.

  Chapter

  11

  Bart took in a long, deep breath before setting his mostly healed ankle and foot onto the floor of his room in the Asarion hospital. It hurt, but not too terribly. He didn’t plan on staying on it too much. His plans were to speak at the Conclave with Captain Gold on Jolen’s behalf and then spend a nice quiet rest in his quarters aboard the da Vinci.

  After walking around the room—reassured he wasn’t somehow permanently impaired—Bart returned to the edge of the bed and sat back down.

  A knock at the door brought his gaze up from his foot.

  Jolen stood just outside, his forehead marred by an ugly set of bruises and several sutures. He was dressed less formal in a pair of soft, beige-colored slacks and a white, button-down shirt with a high collar, the top of which just brushed the edges of his dark hair.

  He was beautiful.

  “Are you okay?” Jolen’s voice was light.

  “Yes. I’m fine. Please, come on in.” Bart pushed himself back onto his bed and smiled at Jolen as he stepped in. The engineer held a thin box in his hand. “I’m going to call this my accident-prone assignment. Seems I spent a lot of time on my back—and not in the fun way.”

  Hmm. Oversharing.

  But Jolen only smiled. “I’m sorry so much happened to you. Especially the Poplin.”

  “No, that was the stimulant that disagreed with me, and I’m not sure I’m sorry anything happened to me at all. It’s been a growing experience for me.” He chuckled. “Even at my age.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Bart nodded to the box. “What’s that?”

  Jolen held it out to Bart. “A thank-you. From me to you. For all you’ve done. And for being a friend to me.”

  Bart held the box in his hands. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Say nothing. Just open it. Please.” Jolen sat on the bed beside Bart. Their shoulders touched.

  He pulled at the twine ribbon and opened the box carefully. Inside was a ream of perhaps two-hundred and fifty sheets of soft, clothlike paper. Bart pressed his hands against it and felt of the texture. So much like silk.

  “It’s Poplin paper, made from the same tree the drink is made from.” He smiled. “It won’t have the same effect, so don’t worry. But before my world was destroyed, the Poplin was the tree of friendship. And the tree of attraction. As the drink was used to relax inhibitions, the paper was used to write letters of endearment to the one you care most for.” He shrugged. “I figured you might want to write Anthony letters on this paper.”

  Bart wasn’t sure what to say. He turned his head and looked deep into Jolen’s beautiful, bright eyes. This close, he could see what made them appear so bright. It was the dark pupils that almost retained their full round shape even in the light.

  “Thank you.”

  Jolen smiled. “Have you ever considered shaving your beard?”

  “No.”

  Jolen nodded and continued to stare.

  Bart knew what Jolen intended to do.

  And this time he allowed himself to enjoy the kiss.

  The ship was under way from Asario and on to the nearest starbase for a diagnostic. The coolant system still wasn’t working up to “before-blast-from-planet standards” in engineering and Gomez and Conlon both insisted on the side trip.

  Bart was given a few days leave for convalescence and he intended on maximizing it to its fullest.

  He stared at the round puddle of white cream in his left hand. It had the consistency of whipped cream. He brought it up to his nose and inhaled the pungent, minty aroma. With a look at his reflection in the mirror, Bart carefully smeared the cream over the lower half of his face.

  Rinsing his hands, the linguist took up the razor he’d carefully replicated. He placed it firmly but gently against the top of his beard over the right cheek, and with a firm even stroke, pulled it down and under his chin. The crackle of his beard hairs falling like tiny soldiers in battle resounded in his ear. At first, he hesitated, but then plowed on, so to speak.

  Once he was finished, Bart rinsed his face in cold water and studied his reflection. He’d never worried about looking older. Not even now was that the catalyst for shaving. He’d intended to take a picture of himself without the beard and send it to Jolen before growing it back again. But as he turned his face to the left, and then the right, Bart considered leaving it bare and smooth for a while.

  He could just see the gaping face of Fabian later in the day when his roommate got off shift.

  After toweling his face, Bart lightly limped over to his desk and retrieved his finest nibbed pen from the sonic cleaner. As he set the pen in its stand, Bart looked at the stack of eight pages he’d written Anthony that morning. He’d told him everything, from his sister’s death, to his life, and then of Kyle’s death. He told Anthony exactly why he feared marriage, that in the back of his mind he felt he didn’t deserve to be happy, and that he knew it was stupid. Ridiculous. Still, it was how he felt.

  They sat in their stack, these pages, unread into the recorder. Flat. Untouched.

  Would he send them?

  Bart picked them up and limped to the recycler. With a sigh, he held them just over the top. These pages hold the words to me. And somehow, if I destroy them, will I be destroying a part of myself? Maybe. With a sigh, he deactivated the recycler and neatly folded the pages in half and then in half again. He slid them into an envelope and sealed it, and then tucked the package away.

  Maybe one day he’d send them to Anthony. No preamble. No subspace recording.

  One day. But not today.

  He then pulled a single sheet of the new Poplin paper from the wooden box and wrote the first words, My dearest…

  The scent of jasmine filled the small cabin and he paused, his thoughts returning to Jewlan. To Jolen. And the kiss.

  “My dearest Jolen, just a brief note…”

  About the Author

  PHAEDRA M. WELDON is a writer whose meager beginning started with a chance meeting with Dean Wesley Smith in 1997, where she first learned about the upcoming Star Trek anthology, Strange New Worlds. After writing no less than six stories and finally only submitting two of them, her story “The Lights in the Sky” got the third-place prize in the initial volume. Her other short fiction includes “Who Cries for Prometheus?” in Strange New Worlds V, “By the Rules” in Gateways, “The Light of Ra” in Hags, Witches, and Other Bad Girls, and three Classic BattleTech universe stories, “En Passant,” “Personal Best,” and “Be Not Afraid of Greatness,” all published on the BattleCorps Web site. She also created and is writing the cannon-character-based BattleCorps serial, The Moral Law. Currently, she is working on a two-book fantasy-noir-mystery for Penguin/Ace. Phaedra lives with her geneticist husband and precocious daughter in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia. She can be found online most mornings
at 4 A.M. writing her daily pages on original work, and at night pounding the keyboards for other universes. If there is one thing she’s learned, it’s that there are three constants in the universe: Death, Taxes, and Star Trek.

  Coming Next Month:

  Star Trek™: S.C.E. #60

  The Cleanup

  by Robert T. Jeschonek

  During the Dominion War, the Miradorn—ninety percent of whom are telepathically linked twins—allied themselves with the Dominion. Now, in the wake of the Federation’s victory in that war, the Miradorn are eager to improve their relationship with the Federation, especially in light of the numerous dangerous devices the Dominion left behind.

  One of those devices has killed a Miradorn scientist named Or-Lin. Now, the S.C.E. team on the U.S.S. da Vinci must deactivate the devices before they become responsible for wiping out the entire Miradorn species—but the only one who can help them is Or-Lin’s twin, Em-Lin, who is still devastated by the death of her sister…

  COMING IN JANUARY 2006 FROM POCKET BOOKS!