Reap the Whirlwind

Just after midnight, Reyes was drifting off to sleep with his arm around Rana’s waist when his door signal buzzed. He lifted his head and scowled, then slid out from under the sheets and grabbed his robe. Desai rolled over as he tied the dark blue robe shut. Seeing she was still asleep, he stole away softly.

The door signal buzzed again as he plodded out of the bedroom and across the living room to the door. He unlocked it, and it slid open to reveal Zeke Fisher.

Dark bags drooped under the elderly doctor’s eyes, which were heavy-lidded with the desire for sleep. He held up a data slate. “My forensic report on the Gamma Tauri attacks,” he drawled, sounding more exhausted than he looked.

“Come in,” Reyes said, stepping out of the doorway and ushering his old friend inside. Fisher’s gait was stiff and slow. “Zeke, have you slept since I asked for this report?”

As the door closed behind him, Fisher answered, “No, and if it wasn’t for the magic of espresso, there’s no way I’d still be awake after twenty-one hours in the lab.” He handed the data slate to Reyes. “I’ll sum up: the colonists were killed by the Shedai, no doubt about it.”

Skimming the report, Reyes found it to be exacting and comprehensive. Fisher had ruled out every alternative theory that might have cast doubt on his findings and had documented in painstaking detail the evidence supporting his conclusions. Guess he didn’t trust me to keep my word. He held up the report. “Good work.” Then he walked over to a wall companel and thumbed a comm switch for the operations center. “Reyes to ops.”

Lieutenant Commander Yael Dohan, the gamma-shift officer of the watch, answered the hail. “Go ahead, sir.”

“Get a scrambled comm to the Lovell, priority one: Storm warning confirmed for Gamma Tauri. Get those colonists off the surface—now. JAG will advise shortly. Message ends.”

“Aye, sir,” Dohan replied. “Transmitting now.”

“Reyes out.” He thumbed the comm switch back to its off position, then directed a glum look at Fisher. “So much for getting a decent night’s rest.”

Fisher rubbed his thumb against his forefinger and smirked. “See this, Diego? It’s the world’s smallest violin—”

“All right,” Reyes growled, cutting him off, “I get the point. Go get some sleep.” He escorted the doctor out of his quarters and locked the door behind him.

The commodore did not relish his next task: waking up Rana Desai. The only thing that would make her angrier than disrupting her sleep cycle would be asking her to violate Federation law by authorizing Starfleet to forcibly remove the colonists from Gamma Tauri IV. In the next ten minutes, he would have to commit both sins. Setting his course for the bedroom, he sighed and resigned himself to the fact that this day was off to a positively miserable start, and it held every promise of only getting worse as it went along.

21

A sudden stop and the dry scraping of sand on the outside of his helmet woke Xiong from his fitful, wave-tossed slumber. His eyes opened to darkness, and he remembered that he had lowered his helmet’s glare shield. Lifting it, he found only more darkness, but this time it was speckled with stars and streaked by clouds glowing with light from one of the planet’s three moons.

Reaching down, he felt the shifting grit of sand beneath him. He sat up and looked out upon the wide ocean; its low, languid breakers washed over his lap. Sinking slightly with the shift in his weight, he sat on the shore of a tiny island overgrown with towering trees and tangled foliage.

“If only I had a flag to plant,” he said, talking to himself as he awkwardly staggered to his feet. His legs were unsteady, wobbling with each step he took up the shallow slope of the beach. His broad boots sank and slid in the shifting sand. A check of the passive sensors on his suit’s forearm showed the external temperature was twenty-nine degrees Celsius, with humidity of just more than forty percent. “A warm and balmy island paradise,” he muttered as he disengaged the environmental seals on his suit. He released the clasps on his helmet and pulled it off. Moist air perfumed with floral scents flooded in, replacing the thrice-filtered air he had been breathing for more than twenty-four hours. Savoring a few deep breaths, he turned slowly to take in his surroundings. “Might be a nice place to put a hotel.”

Within a few minutes he was free of his environment suit, which he folded carefully and stored between some large boulders near the tree line, safely away from the beach. Might need this if the weather changes, he reasoned, thinking ahead to prepare for every eventuality. After all, I might be here awhile.

From the suit he retrieved the built-in tricorder. It was intact and undamaged. Though the device was not normally used for communications purposes, it possessed an emergency beacon. He pressed the beacon’s transmission switch and waited for a double tone that would confirm its signal had been received.

Several seconds passed without a response, then a minute. He tried again, five times in five minutes, then he set the tricorder’s emergency circuit to a receiving mode, in case the ship—or anyone else from Starfleet—tried to signal him.

“First priority,” he said aloud, organizing his thoughts. “Clean water. Second priority, edible food. Third, shelter. Fourth, rescue.” Lifting his tricorder, he set himself to work. He knew that shelter was not likely to be a problem; the environment suit would be hardy enough to protect him from the weather. As for rescue, he had a working beacon; it would be only a matter of time until help arrived. For all I know, I’m in better shape than the Sagittarius. Water and food, however, would be his responsibility until help arrived.

It took only seconds for the tricorder to lock on to clean water within a short distance of the tree line. Xiong walked the jungle’s perimeter until he found a less heavily overgrown area that he could penetrate. Under the intense glow of moonlight, the jungle forest was a study in contrast—a chiaroscuro of shimmering leaves and vines over a deep background of blackness. The coordinates on his tricorder led him to a thick vine; the readings indicated that clean water was inside. He slung his tricorder at his side, grabbed the vine with both hands, and snapped it open. Warm, clear water spilled over his hands, and he lifted the vine to his mouth and drank. A faintly sugary taste lingered after he had finished. Another scan with the tricorder confirmed that the plant was rich in sucrose. Good to know, he thought with a smile. If I’m stuck here long enough, maybe I’ll make syrup.

Now that he had learned where to get clean water, his only serious remaining challenge was finding something to eat. He changed the tricorder’s settings and began looking for anything that resembled fruits, vegetables, fungi, or animals. After several minutes he became convinced that he had set the device incorrectly—because nothing other than simple green plants, molds, and bacteria registered on its sensors.

“That can’t be right,” he mumbled as he verified that the tricorder’s settings were as they should be. Everything about the device checked out. He ran the scan again, searching the jungle, the beach, and the ocean…and he found nothing. No land-based animal forms. No birds, no fish, no insects—nothing that registered as an animal life-form of any kind. More distressing, there were flowering plants but no sign of any bearing fruit or vegetables.

“Well,” he said to his tricorder, “that limits my menu, doesn’t it? Guess I’d better get used to eating green salads.”

Xiong had visited young M-class planets before; he knew that some worlds, early in their development, boasted vegetation long in advance of animals. Why would such a primitive planet be so important to the Shedai? he wondered. Why would they go to such lengths to defend a star system whose only habitable planet has no higher-order life-forms? He shook his head and prepared a more encompassing scan. I’ve got to be missing something here.