As if ignoring him, Melora turned to her instrument panel. "You want to bear zero-mark-zero-two-nine."

"Acknowledged," said Data, making the course correction. He continued to deftly pilot the shuttlecraft upward through the intricate layers of crystal growth, avoiding every sweeping archway and mammoth pillar. It seemed darker now on this side of the planet, but just barely. It was a sort of twilight, with overlapping shadows caused by the great monoliths.

"Is there never any night here?" asked Troi.

"Not like there is on most planets," said Melora. "Because Gemworld isn't solid anymore, light filters through constantly, no matter where the sun is. When I first went to Starfleet Academy, the nights were almost harder to get used to than the gravity. At least the gravity was constant. The nights seemed to come so quickly and with such finality. I used to lay awake, worrying that the sunlight wouldn't return."

Deanna shook her head in amazement. "I don't think I've met many people in Starfleet who have had to make as many adjustments as you. We have many non-humanoid species, but they have special ships outfitted just for them. But as the only Elaysian in Starfleet, you're not going to get any special ships outfitted just for you."

"I've noticed that," answered Pazlar with a smile. She glanced at Reg Barclay. "People always want to know why I'm in Starfleet, and why I've stayed so long. I've seen some incredible places, but I think I've stayed mostly for the people. Had I stayed on Gemworld, I never would have met any of you ... or the hundreds of other officers I've served with. I can always be an Elaysian, flying among the crystals, but I'll only be young and footloose now."

"Have you ever considered the diplomatic corps?" asked Data. "It would appear that we require more contact with your people."

She smiled with amus.e.m.e.nt. "Unfortunately, I've never been very diplomatic. When I leave Starfleet, I always thought I would come home and teach my people about the Federation. We have a hunger for knowledge, even if we don't like to leave home. But if we survive this crisis, maybe that will change. Maybe I won't be the only Elaysian in Starfleet."

"We are almost at our destination," said Data. "Are there any security precautions I should know about?"

"No. The Ninth Processing Gate is a major entrance to the sh.e.l.l. Lots of supplies go in and out, as well as workers. I'm sure they'll be expecting us."

Troi sat forward to get a good look at the ancient machine she had heard so much about. As the shuttlecraft drew closer, what looked like gray clouds solidified into bands of metal traversing the planet like a wire mesh. As they drew closer yet, the metal bands became metal walls with odd portholes and kidney-shaped cutouts. Through the holes and gaps in the sh.e.l.l, she could see the shimmer of forcefields and the darkness of s.p.a.ce beyond. It was disconcerting to see blue sky and black s.p.a.ce so close together, with no blend between them. It felt like the sh.e.l.l was keeping them prisoner as much as it was protecting them.

There was considerable activity around one of the portholes. Flocks of Elaysians hovered about, and a nest of Alpusta bounced nervously on their webs. From this same opening, colorful tendrils snaked into a thick coil which descended to the surface. It looked like a giant vine, thought Deanna, and she couldn't help but to think of Jack and the Beanstalk, a tale her father had told her. In a way, that's what this was-a magical world floating on top of the real world.

As the shuttlecraft glided slowly toward the opening, Troi revised her opinion. Now that she clearly saw the bolts, pits, welds, and patches in the sh.e.l.l, she realized it was a machine-perhaps the grandest machine ever built, but a machine nevertheless. This made the playground of spires and prisms below them seem all the more unreal, like hothouse tomatoes growing in the winter. In a way, Gemworld was nothing but the galaxy's biggest fishbowl, with air instead of water.

Data stopped the ship a safe distance from the gate. Once again, Elaysians encircled them and tethered the shuttlecraft, showing a lot of enthusiasm but very little efficiency. Troi could sense that all this special treatment was beginning to grate on the captain. He wanted to stride briskly wherever he felt like going-not wait until it was safe for them to be escorted, floating and helpless.

"We seem to be secure," reported Data uncertainly.

"Open the hatch," said the captain impatiently. He was already on his feet, waiting to get out, then he stepped back and motioned to Lieutenant Pazlar. "After you."

She tried to get up and groaned. "I could use a hand."

Barclay and the captain came to her aid and helped the Elaysian to the door. She leaped for joy off the shuttlecraft and whirled around like a swimmer in midair. "In time, flying will come to you like second nature," she a.s.sured them.

Deanna didn't feel as if she were flying yet, but their exit from the shuttlcraft was more orderly than the first time. Even Barclay made it without a problem. One of the Alpusta broke off from its fellows and swooped toward them on its web, its legs pumping slowly. Troi almost ducked with alarm, but she maintained her friendly demeanor while she tried to float without pinwheeling her arms. She hoped the Alpusta knew how to control its flight.

It did, extending its leg to the shuttlecraft and stopping just in front of them. It was impossible for her to tell if this was the same Alpusta who had spoken to them at the gathering of the Exalted Ones, but it carried itself regally. She supposed it might be ten meters across if its legs were outstretched, although its spiny black torso was only a meter or so across. The Alpusta seemed to have as many eyes as legs; they were mounted on thin stalks which swiveled curiously as it regarded the visitors.

She noticed a green crystal hanging like a belt beneath the Alpusta's torso and above its numerous legs. The crystal glimmered, and they heard the same metallic, synthesized voice they'd heard earlier in the chamber of the Exalted Ones.

"I am Jrojak of the Exalted. Hold my web and follow me into the Sacred Protector."

From his thoracic region, a silky, glimmering web shot forward about three meters. Captain Picard grabbed it gamely and held out his other hand to Troi. She was glad for his strong, confident grasp. Melora pulled Reg over and took Troi's hand, while Data took Barclay's free hand and the rear position. Like a chain of paper dolls, they were soon trailing after the Alpusta in a jerky ride into the interior of the sh.e.l.l.

Although the inhabitants seemed to use little technology in their homes among the crystal, the interior of the Ninth Processing Gate was a technological marvel. The corridors were cylindrical, and monitoring stations were everywhere-on the floor, ceiling, and walls. Most of these stations were unstaffed but inspected frequently by teams of fast-moving Elaysians. Snaking along the curved walls were narrow chutes and tubes, which looked like colorful veins. Materials seemed to be moving briskly through these conduits.

They stopped for a moment when the corridor became congested with workers. Deanna bent forward to inspect a bluish conduit full of liquid, and to her surprise a Lipul shot past, causing her to bolt upright in alarm.

"Steady there," warned Captain Picard with a sympathetic smile.

A moment later, they were in motion again, going up or down in branching corridors as the Alpusta desired. Troi knew they were moving laterally inside the sh.e.l.l, but it felt as if they were plunging deeper and deeper into a highly sophisticated complex. Some of the walls were illuminated with diagrams and flow charts; other walls were lined with filters, canisters, and apparatus she couldn't identify. Through tinted windows, she got glimpses of laboratories, testing equipment, and research facilities. At least that's what she guessed they were as the Alpusta whisked them along without comment.

Troi glanced at Data and saw that the android was bursting with questions, but he showed restraint and remained silent but curious. There would be explanations later, or they would have to deal with Captain Picard. Reg and Melora conversed in low tones, and Troi imagined that Reg was getting a more informative tour than the rest of them.

They entered what appeared to be a drinking room. There was nothing else you could call it, thought Deanna. Both Elaysians and Alpusta lined up politely to drink from long sip tubes immersed in swollen green bladders, fed by veins of liquid in the wall. They weren't offered any of the refreshment, and the procession moved on.

They pa.s.sed through a long, narrow chamber that looked like pictures Troi had seen of the engine room of an old transatlantic steamship. Great pistons churned, and hydraulic pumps and bellows wheezed. Here Alpusta seemed to be in charge, and the spider-like creatures swarmed all over the aged machinery, tending it lovingly. This machinery needed no explanation, thought Troi; without gravity to aid in the flow of materials, all the hydraulics and pumps were necessary. It was the first time that she got a feel for the incredible age of the sh.e.l.l.

The procession continued on, led by the stoic Alpusta. Briefly they pa.s.sed a window which opened on the s.p.a.ce side of the sh.e.l.l. Troi glimpsed row upon row of collection dishes, standing in the shadows of much larger hydrogen scoops. Before any of them could really get a good look, they had bobbed past the window.

There were suddenly fewer workers in the circular corridor, and the walls appeared jewel-like, as if made from the crystal. The pa.s.sageway ended at what appeared to be a fortified hatch-almost a vault. It was guarded by two Elaysians wearing yellow robes, and Deanna recognized the white-haired one as Tangre Bertoran, the man who had argued with them in the hall of the Exalted Ones. The other one must also be a Jeptah, decided Troi. Neither one of them looked happy to see the group of outsiders, even with an Alpusta and an Elaysian escort.

"I regret to say that this portion of the sh.e.l.l is closed to you," said Tangre Bertoran in no uncertain terms.

"What's in there?" asked Captain Picard.

"Programming systems, high-level access."

Pazlar pushed off from the wall and zoomed to within a few centimeters of the Jeptah's face. "These people have risked their lives to help us. How dare you defy the wishes of the Exalted Ones!"

He returned her glare. "For eons, the Jeptah have tended and protected this holy relic, and it has tended and protected all of us. Never in our long history have we opened the inner workings of the Sacred Protector to the eyes of outsiders. It was understood when we joined the Federation that we did not have to share our technology."

"Believe me," said Barclay bravely, "we could d-duplicate everything we've seen here. Maybe it would take a while, but it took you a while. The Federation will still be here tomorrow, but that's hard to say about Gemworld. All it would take is for you to lose the forcefield, and you lose your atmosphere."

"Precisely!" bellowed Tangre Bertoran. "Why do you think we are so protective of the workings of the sh.e.l.l? A moment's sabotage could kill every living creature on Gemworld!"

He ignored the others and appealed directly to the captain. "You are a man of honor, a hero in the Federation. We know this. Can't you accept the fact that we know when the sh.e.l.l is working properly? Do what you do best-destroy the rift out there! We don't have any weapons, or we would do it."

The captain's lips thinned, but he replied calmly, "We don't merely destroy everything we find in s.p.a.ce. Until we know what created that rift, we don't know how to deal with it. We need information. I'd like to remind you that the Lipuls contacted us. Perhaps you should discuss your concerns with them."

"You can't change anything here, anyway," insisted the Elaysian. "There are protocols even we must follow, and none of the senior engineers are present. It would do you little good to even-"

With a swift, violent motion, the Alpusta picked up the Elaysian with half a dozen of its legs and hurled him headfirst down the corridor. Flailing his arms and legs, Bertoran finally managed to stop his momentum and bounce off a wall. He whirled around and glared at the Alpusta. "Jrojak! You will answer for this!" The Alpusta turned its forest of stalked eyes on the other Elaysian guarding the door. He swiftly punched a code into an entry pad, and the hatch popped open with a rush of air. The Elaysian backed away as Jrojak swept past, dragging the captain, Troi, Barclay, Pazlar, and Data along in its wake.

They entered a room that was unlike any programming center Troi had ever seen. The walls of the tubular chamber were covered with small drawers. Between the rows of drawers, clawlike switches clicked with numbing regularity. An access panel lay open, its sparkling circuitry revealed, and there was one monitoring station like the ones they had seen throughout the complex.

The far wall was covered with a tapestry made from coa.r.s.e cloth. As Deanna peered more closely at this wall-hanging, she noticed that it had numerous small pockets.

Another Elaysian tried to scurry from the chamber, but Pazlar stopped her. "Don't go," she said. "Please tell us what's happening here."

The Elaysian looked uncertainly at the Alpusta, and the green crystal on its belt glimmered. "Speak, our daughter," said the metallic voice.

She gulped and nodded. "I am not Jeptah. I understand how serious this is."

"Then help us," said Picard, "so we'll know how to help you."

The Elaysian motioned around at the tiny drawers.

"These are the repositories-you might call them master circuits-made from the living crystal." She pushed off and floated to the wall-hanging with all the pockets. From one of the pockets, she took a red crystal shard about thirty centimeters long. It looked like one of the spiny crystals from the cl.u.s.ter they had seen in the hall of the Exalted Ones.

Crystal in hand, the technician drifted toward a drawer over Troi's head and opened it. Very carefully, she shoved the shard into its slot, and the accompanying switch began to tick softly. "It is that simple," she explained, "but it is not simple. It usually takes an acolyte the equivalent of twenty years to learn to program the sh.e.l.l. All the functions are available, but not all the crystals are available."

"What do you mean, they're not all available?" asked the captain.

"The six master crystals are in the possession of the senior engineers, one from each of the sentient species. We can program many functions here, but access to critical systems is limited to the six senior engineers. None of them are present on the sh.e.l.l at this time."

Troi stared in amazement. "How could they not be present in this time of emergency?"

"There are serious problems in the rest of Gemworld," answered the Elaysian defensively. She shook her head in frustration at having to deal with these outsiders. "The senior engineers are high-ranking dignitaries. There's no one more important, not even the Exalted Ones. They are the only ones who are able to make substantive changes in the sh.e.l.l programming."

"Perhaps we should recall them," said Barclay.

The captain raised his hand, quelling other suggestions. "I'm sure there's much we can learn from ... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Haselma," answered the programmer with a slight bow. She glanced uneasily at the Alpusta. "If it's the wish of the Exalted Ones, I will show you what I know, and how it relates to the crisis. You will have to send me your most intelligent engineers-this technology was advanced a million years ago."

Captain Picard smiled confidently. "I think Commander Data and Lieutenant Barclay will be able to keep up with you."

His combadge chirped, and a voice said, "Enterprise to away team."

"Picard here. Go ahead, Number One."

"We should be putting up shields now, but we have a problem. We're surrounded by about a thousand Elaysians, and they refuse to go away. We can't use thrusters or impulse engines for fear of injuring them."

"Did they say what they want?"

"Yes, access to our engine room, torpedo room, and weapons systems. And one more thing, they're all wearing yellow."

"Our friends, the Jeptah," said Picard with consternation. "Data and Barclay have to stay here on the sh.e.l.l, but the rest of us will return immediately. Picard out."

The captain turned and looked at Data, wishing that he didn't have to leave anyone on the sh.e.l.l, where they didn't seem to be entirely welcome. "Perhaps we need to send for security."

"I will be security," said a metallic voice, and they turned to see the Alpusta bobbing slowly on its web.

"Thank you," said Picard with apparent relief. "Lieutenant Pazlar, if you'll lead the way out."

The young Elaysian looked chagrined by these developments. "I'm very sorry, sir, for the problems we're facing. I knew some of my people were mired in tradition, but I didn't think they would try to hamper us. These are frightening times-it's bringing out the worst in us."

"You're not accountable for every member of your species," said Picard with sympathy. "Data, don't hesitate to contact the ship if you need help. As soon as we can spare more people, we'll send them over."

"What precisely are we looking for, sir?" asked the android.

"A connection between the sh.e.l.l and the dimensional rift. Check on their darkmatter collectors, too. Let's use the process of elimination to rule out the obvious. Maybe this sh.e.l.l has nothing to do with it."

"Yes, sir."

Troi noticed Melora giving Reg a worried glance. He nodded confidently. Good work, Reg, the counselor thought. You've come a long way. The Elaysian took the captain's hand, and he in turn took Troi's hand. Deftly bouncing from wall to wall, Melora quickly picked up momentum, and they were soon flying down the tubular corridor.

Chapter Eight.

CAPTAIN PICARD COULDN'T HELP being reminded of Gulliver and the Lilliputians as he cautiously piloted the shuttlecraft toward the Enterprise. Suspended in the blue sky, festooned with ropes, the Enterprise looked more like a dirigible than a starship; and thousands of yellow-garbed Elaysians swarmed all over her. They were apparently trying to tie the ship down, or tie themselves to her. More and more of them were arriving every minute, and a long chain of towed Elaysians stretched across the sky like the ragged tail of a kite.

Beside him in the copilot seat, Melora Pazlar lowered her head in embarra.s.sment. "I can't tell you how much I regret this, sir. I don't know what's taken hold of them."

"Fear," said Deanna Troi. "It's a strong motivator, not always for the best."

"Don't they realize how dangerous it is out here?" said Picard in amazement. "The new crystals are breaking off as fast as they grow, and with the gravity increasing-"

He didn't finish his statement because he knew his ship's counselor was right. They were locked in fear, striking at the wrong enemy, and rational discourse would not be easy.

Troi observed, "The Jeptahs' reaction to us is a cla.s.sic case of 'killing the messenger,' because they don't want to hear what we're saying. We're raising questions they can't begin to raise themselves."

"Any ideas about how we can get them to leave?" asked Picard. He slowed the shuttlecraft down to a controlled glide. In another hundred meters, the path would be blocked unless the throng of protestors voluntarily parted for them. Instead the Jeptahs seemed to be drifting into the shuttle's path, forcing Picard to go even slower.

Melora clenched her teeth in anger. "I wish we could stun them all."

"That seems a bit drastic," said the captain, mildly amused. "And we would also have to transport them all to the planet. No, there doesn't seem to be anything to do but hear them out."

As the shuttlecraft drew perilously close to the Elaysians, Picard applied forward thrusters and brought them to a complete stop. Then he popped the hatch, letting fresh air and sunshine pour into the small craft, which refreshed his weary spirits. Gemworld was a special place, but all the things that made it special also made their job difficult.

Elaysians fluttered around them, peering into the shuttlecraft with a mixture of curiosity and anger. Picard went to the open hatchway and surveyed the crowd of yellow-garbed humanoids, who were scattered into the sky as far as he could see. Off the bow of the shuttlecraft was the Enterprise, seen from an angle Picard had never expected to see, unless he were floating in the darkness of s.p.a.ce. With all the ropes hanging from it, the starship looked like a metallic Moby d.i.c.k-a monster dwarfing everything in sight.

"I am Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the Enterprise!" he called out to the Elaysians. "Do you have a spokesperson, someone I can talk to?"

"Tangre Bertoran," came the answer, which hardly surprised Picard.

"Someone get Tangre Bertoran!" His name was shouted aloud and carried across the wind by a chain of voices.

"We demand to be let onto the ship!" shouted one of the Jeptah. This cry was taken up for several moments, but Picard didn't react. He wasn't going to negotiate with an angry mob, not when he could talk to the main instigator.

Melora Pazlar appeared in the doorway, glaring at her fellow Elaysians. The captain could tell that she was about to explode. "Now would be a good time for diplomacy," he cautioned her.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm just so disappointed with them. I knew that I was shorttempered and demanding, but I didn't think so many other Elaysians were."

"Do you have any police, or anyone we could call for a.s.sistance? To reason with them?"

Melora shook her head. "We haven't needed law enforcement for millennia. The Exalted Ones might be able to reason with them, but it would take time to convene them and send a delegation back here. The Jeptah have never been shy."

"So I gather," replied Picard.

When a few of her fellows gazed at her with curiosity, Melora granted them her most charming smile and nothing else. Deanna Troi also came to the hatch and waved, but they pointedly ignored her. While they waited, the captain contacted the bridge and told Commander Riker that the shuttlecraft was just outside the hull, trying to negotiate a withdrawal of the protestors. Riker wished him luck.