STAR TREK - TNG - The Genesis Wave,Book 4 - Genesis Force

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Contents

PART ONE: ONSET.4

one.5

two.8

three.12

four15

five.20

six.23

seven.27

eight32

nine.36

ten.40

PART TWO: AFTERMATH..43

eleven.44

twelve.48

thirteen.53

fourteen.58

fifteen.62

sixteen.66

seventeen.70

eighteen.76

PART THREE: REVENGE.81

nineteen.82

twenty.88

twenty-one.92

twenty-two.98

twenty-three.102

twenty-four107

twenty-five.113

About the e-Book.119

PART ONE: ONSET

one

The screaming, the panic, the smell of blood—those he could handle.The roar of the shuttlecraft, the

rioting mob, the fires burning throughout the city, the rage of his men as they fired disrupters at the

populace—those he could understand. But the tingle on his brawny neck all the way to his forehead

ridges—thatterrified him. As he looked over his shoulder at the smoke blackening the skies, he could

sense that something monstrous was rushing this way, searing across the heavens, destroying all in its

path.

The ambassador didn’t even recall what planet he was standing on with his troop of so-called

peacekeepers. There had been so many doomed worlds, and every evacuation was more difficult as

word spread across the quadrant of the Genesis Wave. It truly bothered him that fewer would get off this

planet than should have, thanks to their unruly behavior, but he could accept their panic. What he could

not accept was dying in a stupid, mindless disaster like this. It was such a waste! And trying to save the

last few stragglers of a doomed race wasn’t a warrior’s death either. Their rescue fleet had saved over a

hundred[4] thousand on this planet alone—and a hundred million in total—but what was that, when

billions stood to die?

They looked so much like humans, too. Unarmored, they died swiftly under the fiery disintegration of the

disrupters.

Worried voices barked from the com medallion on his shoulder, warning him that their time was running

out. Less than six minutes remained before the destruction would overtake them. From his command

post on the park’s sledding hill, the ambassador surveyed a city recreation area that was swollen with

frightened citizens, all just realizing they were about to die. It was clear to him that the maddened and

ever-growing mob would not let any more Klingon shuttlecraft land. Their transporters were working

over capacity, snapping people from the crowd at random. Another two hundred or so could be saved if

they let the shuttlecraft land, but at this point who could select two hundred worthy citizens from this

berserk rabble? The planet’s own authority and civilization had broken down, or else this mob wouldn’t

have swamped their position.

A rock landed at his feet, and he realized that he and his security force were under increased attack.

“Take me with you!” and “Take my child!,” he heard them yell, even while they threw debris at him. It

was a good thing this was a peace-loving world with few weapons. Why his superiors thought a former

Starfleet officer would have better luck dealing with distraught people than a captain or an admiral, he

didn’t know. In the end, nothing of his experience aboard theEnterprisehad prepared him for this grim

work. Now the deadly wave had actually caught up with them, meaning that this ignominious retreat was

the last chance they had to save lives. With bitterness in his heart, Ambassador Worf concluded that it

was time to cut their losses and flee.

“batlhDaqawhu’taH!”he bellowed to those who were about to die. To the officers under his command,

he shouted, “Squadron, regroup for transporter operations! Form ranks!”

Worf waved them to the top of the hill, and his troopers[5]scurried to retreat, even while they fired into

the crowd to keep them at bay. Worf worried that once they saw his men transporting, they would

charge into the beams and disrupt the retreat. Why not? They had nothing to lose. He could see many of

the doomed people screaming to the blackened sky, begging the random transporters to take them.

He tapped his com medallion and said, “Worf to Mission Command.”

“Command here,” answered a female officer. “Ambassador, do you know we only have five minutes

before—”

“Yes,” he answered testily. “Lock on to the signal of myself and the security detail. We all need to go at

once, because our position will be overrun. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged.Then we must suspend rescue operations.”

“Yes,” answered Worf, ducking from an errant bottle thrown his way. “Recall the shuttlecraft.”

No sooner had the words escaped from his lips than one of the shuttlecraft swooped close into the

crowd, attempting to land. That should have sent the mob scurrying, but instead one of them in a uniform

knelt down and shot what looked like a phaser beam into the underbelly of the shuttlecraft. It exploded in

a rupture of power packs and fuel that blew out the impulse engines and sent the craft plunging into the

shrieking crowd. The vessel wasn’t more than five meters off the ground before it dove, so no one in the

path had time to get away. From the spot of the crash, a wave of shock spread among the rabble like

ripples in a pool, as they tried to flee. But there was nowhere to run, because no place on the planet was

safe with the Genesis Wave bearing down on them.

“Hold that transport order!” shouted Worf into his com device. “One of the shuttlecraft has crashed into

the crowd—brought down by hostile fire.”

Several of his officers were already shooting vengefully into the mob, trying to drive them back from the

flaming wreck. It would never fly again, but the passenger cabin was built to[6]withstand impact, fire, and

planetary reentry. Despite its singed appearance, it wasn’t badly damaged. There was a good chance

that the two-member crew had survived the crash, but they wouldn’t survive that rabid crowd for long.

“Command, lock on to the crew of the downed shuttlecraft,” ordered Worf.

“Unable to, my lord,” she answered. “There’s a neutrino radiation leak, probably from the cryo

reactants in the coil assembly. Scanner readings are unreliable, and we’d have to get them out of there

fast. Of course, we have less than five minutes, anyway. Let us proceed with your transportation at

once.”

The locals were leaping into the flames of the wreck, and some scrambled to the top of the shuttlecraft

and began to pull at latches and hatches. When his men picked them off with shots that were dangerously

close to the craft, Worf yelled, “Squadron, hold your fire! Follow me to the shuttlecraft and surround it.

SuH tugh!”

Worf waved his arm and led the charge down the hill into the crazed masses, already driven more frantic

by the crash. The weight of impending doom hung over all of them, and he wondered when they would

cease this denial. They had to stop rioting and prepare themselves to meet death with dignity. Then again,

he thought, maybe Klingons would have behaved the same way, because it was natural to want to fight

such a cruel fate. With steely reserve, he joined his men in shooting defenseless, unarmed citizens who

were crowding in against them, as he fought his way toward the fallen shuttlecraft. His troops were

spread out behind him, some of them too far back.

“Don’t let them take your weapons!” he ordered. “Don’t let them touch you—keep them back!” But the

huge crowd had figured out what the Klingons were doing, and it pressed forward like an octopus

wrapping its tentacles around a small fish. Despite the mayhem the Klingons unleashed upon them, this

doomed populace had no reason to resist mob rule and every[7]reason to discount death. He heard a

mangled shout in Klingon and turned to see an officer at the end of the column get swamped by half a

dozen rioters. His fellows tried to blast the attackers, but they couldn’t fire with abandon for fear of

hitting their comrade.

While Worf’s attention was distracted, one man jumped him, while another grabbed his legs. He

smashed the first attacker with the butt of his disrupter rifle and kicked fiercely at the second, while he

sent an arcing disrupter beam through the crowd. Only turning into a berserk madman allowed him to

fight his way through them, but he was determined enough to reach the smoldering wreck of the

shuttlecraft. He slammed against the singed gray hull, glad that no one could reach him from behind, and

pawed his com medallion.

“Worf to Mission Command!” he barked. “Evacuate as many of the away team as you can,

immediately.”

“Yes sir,” she replied. “We cannot get a lock on you or anyone near the shuttlecraft, because of the

interference.”

With relief, Worf saw the closest three of his men disappear in a sparkling mosaic of transporter

molecules, and he shot a beam into the crowd to keep them at bay. Most looked confused and stunned,

or contrite, and only a few were enraged to the point of insanity, but these few were enough to cause

considerable trouble. He looked back at the shuttlecraft and thought he heard someone banging from

inside. Then again, it could have been the mob shaking the craft from the other side.

“MajQa’,”he told Mission Command. “Evacuate our men but keep one transporter room open for me

and the survivors. Give me a countdown when we near our drop-dead departure time.”

“With all due respect, Ambassador, our drop-dead countdown ended thirty seconds ago. Only the

flagship remains in orbit.” Her voice grew steely. “We want you back now.”

“Keep taking the away team!” answered Worf, shooting a rabid citizen who rushed him with a shovel in

his hands. “Give[8]me a chance to free them—beam us up when we get away from the wreck. If you’re

not present then, I will understand.”

“Pulling back to maximum transporter range, with best trajectory for emergency warp escape,” reported

Command icily, as if she were talking to a dead man. “We will remember you with honor. End contact.”

Worf was glad he had fired his disruptor very little until now, because he needed to constantly rake the

crowd with the deadly beam in order to keep them away. Those in front often didn’t want to come closer

but were pushed by the mob from behind—everyone wanted to see the bungling Klingons who had failed

to save them. More than a few wanted to tear him apart. They blamed the Federation, because this awful

weapon had originated with them, even if no one knew who wielded it now. Then Starfleet had promised

more help than they could deliver, even when aided by both the Klingons and Romulans. Worf didn’t

know who in the Federation had done all the promising to the doomed Genesis worlds, but he would

look them up when this was over.

He heard a bang above his head and was alerted a second before someone slid over the top of the

shuttlecraft and onto his back. The attacker tried to get his weapon, and Worf gave him the butt of it in

his midsection. In fighting this close, he’d rather have abat’leth than this useless rifle. Still, Worf managed

to batter the attacker away, mow down a few more in the wailing crowd, and jump up on a strut. From

there he scrambled to the top of the boxy craft, which was meant to carry sixteen passengers, or fourteen

fully equipped warriors. Now standing atop the shuttle, Worf was bombarded by rocks and other thrown

debris. He crouched down and lowered his bone-plated forehead to take most of the lumps, while his

hands worked on opening the side hatch, which faced upward. It took only a few seconds to realize it

was jammed shut. Brute strength wouldn’t open it, and time was running out.

[9]He banged on the hatch with his rifle and shouted, “Are you alive?”

“Yes! Yes!” He heard a faint voice, which was enough to keep himworking, despite the abuse he was

absorbing. There was no rear door on this vessel, and the other door was under the dirt. So he pulled a

small explosive device, ajorwl’, from his sash, set it for five seconds, and placed it inside the recessed

latch compartment. An egg suddenly hit him on the left side of his face and dribbled down his chin, but he

ignored it while he drew another jowl from his sash. This charge he placed where the impact had formed

a crack in the hatch’s seal.

“Get back!” he bellowed to the survivors inside.“Explosive charge!”

With that, Worf armed both devices at the same instant, not seeing the crazed citizen reach the top of the

craft. As Worf stood up, the local charged him and grabbed his waist, knocking the disrupter rifle out of

his hands. Worf wanted to jump off before the explosion; instead he had to battle the deranged man

while the seconds ticked away on the charges. Not only that, but somebody had grabbed his fallen

disrupter rifle, and blasted a wild beam that went streaking over his head.

Worf whirled his attacker around just as the beam sliced into the man’s back, shielding Worf from the

deadly disrupter. His scream turned into a gurgle as the blast hit his body in a blazing yellow burst. Worf

jumped off the opposite side of the shuttlecraft, just as another errant beam crackled through the air. The

twin explosions went off, hurling Worf another few feet into the crowd. He rolled in a somersault,

reached for his mek’leth, and came up slashing anyone who tried to mob him.

He fought his way back to the crushed hull of the shuttlecraft, just in time to see a pilot clamber out the

smoking hatch on top. A disrupter beam sheared the hull, shooting sparks, but the pilot was armed and

fired back. He continued to fire at the crowd, while his comrade crawled out—she was holding her[10]

arm and had blood on her vest, clearly wounded. Still the crowd was enraged at the sight of these two

would-be rescuers, who could still escape the horrible fate that awaited their whole planet. The

screaming throng surged like an ocean in a storm, threatening to engulf the shuttlecraft, and Worf wasn’t

sure they could get far enough away from it to be rescued.

“Look at the sky!” shouted someone. Then everyone cried the same words.

Attention was diverted from the three Klingons and their wrecked vessel to the northern sky, where the

gray clouds had just turned a vivid green. A flaming curtain swept over thedistantmountains, throbbing

and mutating as if distorted by heat. Distant majestic peaks erupted in fury, disappearing into rolling

clouds of ash and steam.

“tugh!”shouted Worf, waving for his comrades to follow him as he ran from the shuttle. The two pilots

leaped into the crowd, many of whom had fallen to their knees in awe and supplication, and they reached

Worf just as the tingle of the transporter beam gripped his spine. He felt the ground trembling and saw

the buildings and monorails writhe like snakes on fire. Then mercifully their molecules disappeared from

the planet just as the monstrous wall of neon fire blasted every animal, rock, and blade of grass into a

churning mass of grotesque tissue.

Worf and the two shuttle pilots collapsed onto a transporter pad in a dimly lit Klingon vessel.“Qapla’!”

exclaimed the transporter operator, as another crew member slapped him on the back. “Transporter

room six to bridge,” he barked. “Ambassador Worf and two crew members have been recovered.

Request medical attention.”

“Acknowledged,” came the answer from the first officer. “Ambassador, emergency departure was

successful, and we are now at warp eight, moving quickest route out of the path of the Genesis Wave.

We have refugees to deliver at Starbase 309. After that, do you have any orders?”

[11]Worf rose to his feet and shook the dirt and garbage off his uniform, while an underling handed him

fresh ambassadorial robes. He wiped the drying egg off his face, too, and it reminded him of a Terran

colloquialism. Having egg on his face was fitting, because this effort had been anything but a success.

Their combined response to this terrible disaster bordered on failure, and he was supposed to be the

Klingons’ liaison to the Federation. They couldn’t begin to move fast enough, and Starfleet had so far

failed to find the source of the wave. It was too late for billions of souls—

“I want to visit one of these wrecked planets to see the aftermath,” answered Worf with grim

determination. “I’ve seen it coming straight toward me, and now I want to see what it has left behind.

There will be a time of reckoning.”

“As you say, my lord,” agreed the first officer.“Setting course for Starbase 309.”

two

From the sunrise balcony high atop theSummerPalace , Overseer Tejharet gazed down upon the central

courtyard of Tejmol, the capital city ofAluwna . The flowering gardens and gleaming walkways were

teeming with revelers and trinket vendors, and the trill of flutes and lyres filled the air, along with the

twinkling laughter of children. In another unit of time, there would hardly be room to walk, and the smell

of grilled fish would waft across the immense plaza. Blazing silver-salmon clouds silhouetted the stark

spires and minarets of the city’s skyline, and sun glinted off the golden pillars of theSunriseTemple . The

courtyard was lined with blue transporter booths, disgorging more pedestrians with every passing instant.

No one worked more than two or three units a day, and most adults on Aluwna were artisans. His

people were joyful and at peace, as they had been for millennia, and their world shined with the glow of

prosperity and purpose.

In two days, all of that was going to end.

Overseer Tejharet turned back to his quaking science advisors. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Are you

sure it’s coming this way?”

Bereft of words, they waggled their open palms and speechless tongues. Finally one gray-haired

eminence waved a device[13]that created a holographic star chart on the sunburst design of the palace

floor; a mass of stars and planets floated in the air like snowflakes caught in a whirlwind. Slicing through

this delicate starscape came an ominous shaft of darkness—the shadow of death. It engulfed everything

in its wake, and its black edge just barely grazed the blinking orb that represented Aluwna.

“My Overseer,” said the old advisor in a quavering voice, “we have just received an update from the

Federation. There can be no mistaking it: The Genesis Wave will reach Aluwna in sixty units—two

dawns from today.”

The monarch scowled, feeling much older than his sixty-two cycles, which still made him relatively

youthful for a ruler of this courtly planet. He demanded, “What about Starfleet? They are evacuating

other planets—what aboutus! They promised to send the Klingon fleet.Where are they?”

The advisors recoiled from the enraged monarch, and their babbling grew more intense. In the jumble of

words, Tejharet could make out a few desperate excuses: “They are spread too thin!” and “They have

been delayed!” or “The Klingons will arrive, but not in time to evacuate the whole planet!”

Overseer Tejharet rubbed his head ridges, which were distinguished by triple rows of silvery eyebrows.

“I never trusted the damn Federation,” he grumbled. “Maniacs and murderers, that’s all theyare . This is

their doing—this Genesis device istheir weapon!”

“But, sire,” said the eldest advisor, “would they turn such a terrible force upon themselves? The reports

from Sector 879 have been truly horrific. Twenty-three inhabited planets have been destroyed, and the

death toll is over fifteen billion.”

“And we are doomed to add to that total!” snapped Tejharet, dropping his hands to the sides of his

brocaded satin tunic.

“Not everyone must die,” a young advisor assured him. “The trade fleet and the royal yachts have been

summoned, and all ships will be in orbit well before sixty units.”

[14]“What is that—ten ships? Eleven?” asked the ruler derisively. “No doubt, all of you have your seats

picked out, but I’m not willing to sacrifice eighty million loyal subjects without a fight. That’s eighty million

innocent souls who have done nothing to deserve this cataclysm. And not just ourpeople —I understand

this weapon will terraform our planet and destroy our civilization! Do any of you have a single idea what

to do ... beyond saving yourselves?”

The advisors looked sheepishly at one another, unable to admit that they had been totally dependent

upon the Federation, who were nothing but a collection of bumblers and primitives. Overseer Tejharet

scowled more deeply and said, “You must summonher.”

The scientists looked more horrified by this proclamation than by the actual threat of the Genesis Wave.

The elder stepped forward, his outstretched hand shaking in his billowing sleeve. “Surely, sire, you don’t

mean—”

“You know who I mean!” snapped the monarch of Aluwna. “Summon her immediately. By the Hand of

the Divine, I pray she can save us.”

With that, Overseer Tejharet turned his back on his trembling advisors, who scraped and bowed their

way out of the chamber. Once again the hereditary ruler gazed out the archway at the bustling courtyard,

where unsuspecting citizens laughed and talked, ate and danced, and filled the sparkling plaza in the early

light. He wanted to weep for them, or at least hug each one, because they were so innocent and unaware

of the mortal danger bearing down upon them.

Professor Marla Karuw ate a hearty breakfast consisting of a small game bird called anestarn, plus

several pinkish tubers. Unlike most of her compatriots on Aluwna, the striking brunette with six red

eyebrows ate meat, and lots of it. Unlike her mealy-mouthed colleagues, the professor spoke her mind

and[15]did what she felt was necessary, and she maintained their respect even as she curried their

antipathy. Therefore, her room in the bowels of the old hospital was more like a laboratory than a prison

cell, and she had access to outside communications. Through a video terminal, she avidly followed the

destructive path of the Genesis Wave, which had appeared from nowhere unexpectedly to slash a

widening path through the Alpha Quadrant. From a distant video feed, she witnessed an unprepossessing

rock of a planet get razed by a fiery green wall of pulsating energy, turning it into a throbbing, churning

mass of monstrous new life.

Her female guard, Juwarni, sat at a small table outside the forcefield door, watching the same viewscreen

that Karuw watched. The jailer put down her utensils, unable to finish her meager breakfast of porridge

and greens. With shocked horror, she asked, “That isn’t cominghere, is it?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” answered Marla Karuw. “Of course, the instant we find out for sure, we

may all be dead.”

The older, stocky female scowled. “You shouldn’t talk like that. Of course, you haven’t got much to

lose—with a life sentence and all.”

“Life in a prison is preferable tothat,” answered the professor, motioning to the screen. “But that’s

clearly life, too. As I perceive it, the Genesis effect isn’t death, really, but a reborning into something

new.”

“What?” asked the guarduncertainly.

The scientist shrugged. “It’s hard for us to tell. Such experiments will get you imprisoned for life on our

provincial planet. I should have fled to the Federation cycles ago.”

“So you could make a weapon that destroys planets and kills everything in sight?” Juwarni snorted

derisively.

The dark-haired woman turned and stared at her keeper with sharp golden eyes flecked with lavender.

“I would like to discover all the secrets of life and death. You have only to look at[16]this looming

disaster to know that ignorance is worse than death.”

Suddenly the guard bolted to attention and listened intently to orders coming through her earpiece. “Yes,

sir!” she responded,then moved closer to the door. “Marla,” she said, “you had better finish your

breakfast, because they’re coming to fetch you.”

That brought a worried frown to the scientist’s face. “If I were you, I’d take the rest of the day off and

spend it with my family.”

“Why?” asked the jailerpuzzledly.

STAR TREK - TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book 4 - Genesis Force

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