From the flicker in her eyes, Picard had the distinct notion that Beverly was not all that comfortable to find herself in concurrence with the Klingon security chief. On such matters as contact with mysterious life-forms, she tended toward the open-handed approach, while Worf-by virtue of instinct and job training-preferred the well-formed fist. "Would you care to elaborate, Mr. Worf?" said Picard.

"The forces originating on the planet pose a potentially lethal danger to the Enterprise. If we are dealing with a form of sentient life we do not understand, it will be that much more difficult to defend ourselves if this life form does become hostile."

Captain Arit thumped her hand on the table. "I also agree with that, Picard."

Picard's mouth thinned to a thoughtful line. "Hmm. I acknowledge the value of such caution, but I see no alternative to taking the risk. If we are to solve this riddle, retrieve our shuttle and determine if Domarus is safe for the Tenirans to settle, then we need more information."

Arit looked at him. "And how do we go about getting it?"

"By making a greater effort to stimulate communication. The more response we are exposed to, the more likely we are to figure out a key to understanding who or what we are dealing with."

A dubious expression crossed Arit's face. "What do you mean, 'stimulate communication'?"

"I think I see what you're getting at, sir," Riker said. "If our actions caused who or whatever is on Domarus to respond with those chromatic energy bursts-"

"We should be able to elicit similar responses," Geordi cut in, "by doing more of what we did before-responses we'll be ready for."

"Responses we can then study closely," Picard said, "and perhaps decipher. Any comments or dissents?" There were none and the captain of the Enterprise stood. "Then let's formulate a strategy. And remember-the lives of our missing away team and five thousand surviving Tenirans depend on our success."

Chapter Fourteen.

"MOTHER, TELL ME what the Enterprise is like," little Keela demanded. "Is it nicer than the Glin-Kale?"

As she looked at her impatient child, Captain Arit wore an expression fairly common to mothers, a mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt and exasperation. "Yes, Keela ... I'm afraid it's much nicer than the Glin-Kale." She tried to get on with the task of reorganizing her desk, sorting through the data pods that seemed to replicate themselves into a veritable population explosion whenever she was too busy to review them on a timely basis.

But she knew what was on them-reports from department heads telling her how this or that system was about to fail, or had already done so. How they were about to run out of spare parts, or had already done so. How they struggled to get along without properly trained crews.

Maybe it was time to dispense with these blasted reports entirely. On a vessel as crippled as the Glin-Kale, it was no longer news when something failed. No, the surprise was when something actually worked.

"Is it less crowded than our ship?"

"Hmm?" Arit had gotten totally distracted. "Was it what?"

"Mother." Keela drummed her fingers on the desk, the way she had seen her mother do, and she jutted a lower fang over her upper lip, giving her a snaggle-toothed look of annoyance. "You aren't even listening to me."

"I'm sorry ... yes, the Enterprise is less crowded than this ship. Much less crowded. And I do think you'll have a chance to visit over there."

The little girl's air of jaded impatience vanished, as she clapped her hands in antic.i.p.ation. "Really? When?"

"Not just yet." As she spoke, Jevlin entered the office cabin and boosted Keela up for a hug, then set her down. "Now run along and play, Keela," said her mother. "I have to discuss some very important things with Jevlin and Valend Egin."

"Egin!" Jevlin sputtered. "Why him?"

"Because he is the only valend, and it's a courtesy ..." She paused, bent close to Jevlin's ear, and muttered the rest so Keela wouldn't overhear. "... no matter what we really think of him. Keela-go-now."

"Yes, mother," the girl sighed, and she retreated to the family quarters next door.

When the door slid shut behind Keela, Jevlin permitted himself to mutter a prefatory curse. Then he said the valend's name as if it were also a curse. "Egin. Where the devil is he? He's always late, like he thinks he's royalty or something."

Egin, the only surviving member of the Teniran government council, stood before the mirror in his cabin dressing alcove. With a tarnished gold comb, he fluffed his silvered hair, adding back some of the fullness that age had removed. Then he opened a worn velvet case, took out an official pendant and hung it around his neck.

"There. How do you think your grandfather looks, Vik?" He turned toward a lanky boy in his mid-teens, dressed in a jacket too tight across the shoulders and knickers too short for his legs. He looked like he was wearing garments belonging to a younger brother, but they were his, long since outgrown. Like everyone else on the Glin-Kale, he had to be content with what he had.

The boy flashed a grin with a gap where one lower fang should have been and reached over to even up the pendant's heavy gold chain. "You look like the First Valend, grandfather."

Egin coughed to clear a hoa.r.s.e rattle from his throat. "Do you think our ill.u.s.trious captain will treat me with the respect due our leader?"

"If she knows what's good for her, she will."

"Hmmph. Well, she usually doesn't," Egin muttered ironically. Then he swept a hand toward the door. "Walk with me, Vik."

They left the cabin, the boy at his grandfather's elbow as they strolled down a corridor as crowded with huddled refugees as the rest of the ship. People rose to greet their First Valend as he pa.s.sed by, and Vik beamed with pride.

One old woman grabbed Egin's hand and held it. "Valend Egin, what is happening to us? We thought we'd reached our new home." Other shabby emigres gathered around him, touching his arms and hands and shoulders as if trying to draw solace from the dim aura of his office.

"Yes," said a younger woman with a hollow-eyed toddler clinging to her neck. "We saw the planet from the windows. Is it ours?"

Other haunted voices echoed in his ears, and Egin listened solemnly. Then he gently withdrew from their grasp and held up his hands in a wordless call for attention.

"I believe we have reached our promised land, the refuge from suffering that we've sought for so many years."

A ragged cheer went up from those closest to him, but he motioned for quiet. "However," Egin continued, "some of our other leaders are paralyzed by fear. They are intimidated by outsiders who have their own agenda. You know, if I had been your First Valend years ago, I never would have struck our fatal bargain with Ziakk. I never would have-"

"Make them let us go home," the young mother said, uninterested in the self-serving trip through the past he was about to begin. She had more immediate concerns. "My baby needs a home."

Egin placed his hand on the young woman's forehead in benediction. "We all do. And we shall have one, soon. Right now, I am on my way to the meeting which may very well decide our fate."

"Then go," said the older woman. "Go with our prayers ... go with G.o.d."

Jevlin lowered himself slowly into Arit's desk chair and rested his walking stick against the wall. "Cap'n, we can't wait all day-what happened with Picard over on that starship of his?"

"You're as impatient as Keela," Arit scolded. "We have to wait for Egin to-"

Just as she said his name, the plump First Valend waddled into the cabin. "You know, Arit, you really should have come to my quarters."

"This isn't an audience, Egin," Jevlin said, "it's a d.a.m.n briefing, so just sit y'rself down."

"All I meant was that my quarters are more s.p.a.cious, more comfortable and far less utilitarian." He wiped a disapproving finger along the dusty metal frame of the chair before sitting. "And considerably cleaner, as well, I might add."

With Egin finally settled at Arit's desk, across from the first officer, the captain filled them in on the lengthy conferences in which she had taken part aboard the Enterprise.

"You told them about our past?" Jevlin protested. "Why, Cap'n?"

"Why not, Jevlin? A secret is only worth keeping if it has some value or gives you some advantage. This secret did nothing for us."

"But you revealed our military weakness," said Egin with a reproachful cluck of his tongue.

Both officers flashed quick glares at him, though for different reasons. "That's what I was going to say," Jevlin muttered, not at all happy about discovering that he and Egin had similar disagreements with Captain Arit.

When Arit continued, her clipped tone betrayed a growing displeasure with both men. "Fear of revealing weakness implies that such revelations seriously impair one's battle chances. I'm sure it was already quite apparent to Picard after his visit here that the Glin-Kale stood no chance whatsoever against his starship. And if you two don't realize that, then you are both fools."

Egin waggled a prim finger of objection. "See here, Arit-you can't talk to the First Valend like that."

"That's the beauty of it-I can talk to the First Valend any way I please. Now shut up, Egin."

Jevlin let out a wheezing chuckle.

"You, too, Jev," Arit said, silencing him with a nasty glance. Then she went on with her briefing, explaining in detail the evidence discussed with Picard and his officers, and the conclusions they'd reached about the likelihood that sentient life not only existed on Domarus but had been trying to make contact. By the time she was done, it was quite clear that, for the most part, she agreed.

It was equally clear that Jevlin and Valend Egin did not agree at all, and they burst forth with a discordant clamor of criticism, each trying to outshout the other.

At first, Arit tried her best to respond to the barrage. Then she got angry. Quickly, she reached for Jevlin's walking stick, swung it high and slammed it down on the desktop with a resounding crash that made both men jump. But more important, it stunned them into silence long enough for her to regain control of the situation.

"I'll give you each time for one main objection. Jevlin, you first." When he hesitated, she prodded him with the walking stick. "Now."

"How do you know Picard's real goal isn't to make Domarus unfit for us to inhabit?"

"I don't. Your turn, Egin," she said, leaving Jevlin open-mouthed.

Egin stood to make his point. "What proof do you have that you were told the truth about all this on the Enterprise?"

"None at all. There-that's done-now let's-"

"Cap'n!" Jevlin roared. "Y're going against every lesson we've learned, and y'haven't answered a single question."

This time, Arit silenced her friend with a piercing look. When she replied, her voice was quiet. "I have one answer, for all objections. My instincts tell me that these people are different ... that they can be trusted. Besides, you both overlook a critical reality. We don't have the power to stop the Enterprise from doing whatever Captain Picard chooses."

"All right, Cap'n ... all right," Jevlin said, scratching the stubble on his chin. "Let's say that's true. What do we do then?"

"Nothing, Jev. Nothing at all. We wait to see if the Enterprise succeeds in eliciting some comprehensible response from whatever intelligence may live on this planet."

"Hmmm," Jevlin chuckled. "Maybe that's not so bad. If whatever's down there gets riled enough, they'll strike back at the Enterprise, maybe do away with 'er ... and maybe we'll be left to do as we please. I like that ... yes, I think I do."

"It's down this way," Gina called back over her shoulder. Her voice echoed off the rocks as she trotted ahead of Data and Ken, skipping from side to side as she traversed the rough tunnel floor, yet maintaining her footing with the casual grace of a mountain goat. "I'm sure of it ... we're almost there."

"Gina," Data said, "do not get too far ahead."

But she was right. The tunnel led around a bend, banked down and took them directly to the cavern containing the shuttlecraft. Gina burst into the cave like a marathon runner breaking the tape and threw herself into the arms of a surprised Wesley Crusher as he and Counselor Troi waited beside the shuttle.

Deanna looked Ken and Gina over. "Other than being a little dusty, you two look none the worse for your unauthorized exploration."

"They appear to be fine," Data said.

"Wait until you hear what we saw," Gina bubbled. But something caught her eye at the far end of the cavern. "OhmyG.o.d-look!"

As she pointed, the others turned to follow her finger. Two of the mysterious sparkles turned lazy circles in the shadows just below the cave ceiling.

"They weren't there a minute ago," Wesley said as he took a few cautious steps closer.

Two more sparkles flared into being, as if invisible hands had just struck a pair of matches. Then still others appeared, singly, in twos and threes, floating or dancing in the air above the away team, in a cavern soon brightened by the shivering silver glow of at least three dozen bits of glittering light.

Then they began to swirl and tumble, and they spun out their multicolored strands of pure light, streamers that spiraled and met and blended, seeming to create intricate designs that lasted only seconds before drifting apart.

"It's gorgeous," Gina whispered. "It's like ... like living art."

"But it looks so random," Wesley said. "I wish it would find a shape and hold it."

"It may look random, Wesley," Data said, "but it is not. I have been able to identify forty-two distinct designs that repeat with a stable cyclic frequency of two one-hundredths of a second."

Wesley gave the android a double take. "Are you sure?"

"Quite."

"Data, that's incredible."

"And far too rapid for the human brain's capacity for comprehension," Data said. "In addition, it appears that new designs are being added to the totality at a regular rate. Such a complex structure that is both consistent and variable suggests-"

"Suggests intelligence," Troi said softly as she gazed at the colored strands.

They all turned to look at her, and Data nodded. "Yes, that is what I was going to say, Counselor. Are you able to sense anything definitive?"

She edged closer to the astounding light show. A brilliant green tendril suddenly reached out and brushed her shoulder, almost flirting with her. Troi gasped in surprise, but remained in place, watching as it curled back on itself, as if beckoning her to join it.

"I do sense-" Deanna took a deep breath. "Life. Not life as I've ever experienced it before. But I do believe they are life-forms ... and I believe they are sentient."

Data came up beside her, his pale eyes wide with childlike wonder. "Most intriguing ..."

Egin entered one of the Glin-Kale's observation areas, illuminated only by a pale shaft of starlight coming through the oval window. Not exactly a large chamber to begin with, it had been converted to storage like most other open s.p.a.ces on the old ship. Crates and barrels were piled from deck to ceiling, leaving only a small clear area directly in front of the windows.

It wasn't much, but at least here he could peek out at the stars and the vast void around them, and find some momentary relief from the pervasive sensation of being crushed together with all the other refugees. The need for such relief was widespread, and there were too many people aboard and too few observation areas, so Captain Arit had been forced to establish a rule: to ensure reasonable access, no one could remain in any observation nook for more than fifteen minutes.

At some times, there would be long lines of Tenirans waiting for a turn at a window. But Egin found this chamber blessedly empty and he shuffled in-and promptly tripped over a pair of legs protruding from between a couple of supply crates. Egin's hands flew out and caught hold of a barrel before he could fall.

"Oww!" snarled the owner of the legs as he struggled to get up. His silhouette rose before the observation window. It was First Officer Jevlin. "Don't you watch where y'r stepping, Egin?"

"I-I'm sorry," said the fl.u.s.tered official. Then he smelled the peroheen wine on Jevlin's breath and frowned in annoyance-why am I to blame? "You shouldn't be lying in ambush, you drunken sack!"

Jevlin clenched one fist-the one not holding the bottle-and gave serious consideration to cold-c.o.c.king Egin before another word was said. But the purple wine tasted so good after all the time he had been away from it that his hostility was overcome by a rush of comradeship. As he reached out with his free hand, Egin flinched, obviously expecting what Jevlin had initially thought of delivering.

But the fist had relaxed, and Jevlin clamped a nonhostile hand on Egin's shoulder. "There's enough room for two here. Seems to be an off-hour for observin' the stars."

Egin remained wary, unaccustomed to anything resembling a welcome from the old first officer. They stood at the window in uneasy truce, both looking out at the tranquil globe the Glin-Kale orbited.