"The Night People"

[Atoz 77]

THE NIGHT PEOPLE

Captain's log, Stardate 52870.4: The Odysseus has arrived at the uninhabited class M planet Sanlo 286, where the research vessel Andromeda has been conducting an archaeological survey. This planet once had a humanoid civilization at about the Bronze Age level, but which completely died out for reasons that remain unknown.

Standing halfway up the flat-topped pyramid which had informally been named the Monk's Temple, Enir Rosh had a fairly good overview of the ruins. The much larger King's Temple lay half a mile to the north, the smaller Nun's Temple to the east, the Knight's Temple slightly off center to the west. If you knew where to look, you could just trace the broken line of outer wall which encircled all four, delineating an area the size of a respectable town. Inside that area was a maze of crumbling walls, roofless, representing the small dwellings of people who had once lived here..

The city had been built on a peninsula where a tributary joined a major river, but here in midsummer the air felt hot and dusty. The plain was covered with scraggly grass ranging from pale green to brown in color, and the withered trees and brush that remained were an indicator that the area had once been lush forest before the climate had turned arid.

The morning stillness was suddenly broken by the shimmering hum of the transporter. Charles Fawkes, the Odysseus First Officer, materialized at the base of the pyramid and immediately caught sight of Rosh's gold and black uniform above him. "Good morning, Commander," Rosh said, as he waited for his superior officer to join him. "Another beautiful day in the neighborhood."

"I never know when you're being sarcastic, lieutenant," Fawkes replied with a frown as he climbed the steps. And as if that thought had reminded him of something, suddenly one corner of his mouth twisted into a wry grin. "How are you and Roda Leas getting along? It must be nice having another Eminian to talk to, eh?"

"Vendikan, sir," Rosh corrected shortly, as he led the way through the doorway into the interior of the pyramid.

"Sorry?"

"She is from Vendikar, Commander."

"Ohhh," Fawkes said sagely. Same species, different nationalities. The interplanetary war between Eminiar and Vendikar had been ended by a Federation-brokered treaty over a century ago – long enough, you would think, for it to be considered long forgotten. "Speak of the devil..."

Two people loomed up ahead in the musty tunnel, and one of them was Lt. Leas, the red-and-black uniformed second in command of the Andromeda. Her complexion was a little lighter than Rosh's olive tone. Just as Rosh did, she had two horny ridges extending upwards in a V from the bridge of her nose. But while Rosh's ended with two vestigial horns at the top of his head, hers simply vanished into a mane of luxurious auburn hair. Fawkes thought she would quite attractive if she were smiling, but she wasn't smiling.

The other person was Dr. Andrea Bembridge, a young civilian archaeologist. She was wearing tan shorts with a slightly darker top, her long brunette hair kept coiled underneath a visored cap to keep the sifting dust out of it. "Commander, lieutenant," she said, shaking her head regretfully. "It's too bad. Sensors recorded a small tremor during the night. It must have caused the wall to cave in. Lieutenant Leas found it when she surveyed the site yesterday afternoon."

Fawkes could see a gap in the wall ahead, and freshly broken fragments of stone littering the floor where the cave-in had opened up a hidden chamber inside the pyramid. "Let's take a look," he said, leading the way. But as soon as he stuck his head inside, the first thing that hit him was the foul smell of hot, stale air mingled with another unidentifiable odor. "On second thought," he gasped, hastily backing out again, waving his hands in front of his face in an unsuccessful attempt to fan the miasma away.

Bembridge stepped briskly through the narrow opening, her palm flashlight stabbing through the dust filled air to illuminate a perfectly square room. In the center there were vague shapes that cast gloomy oblong shadows in the light. Leas followed her, grimacing at the stench but showing no other sign of discomfort. Fawkes squinted through the gloom until he recognized the obstructions as three rectangular slabs of stone approximately a meter high. Lying on top of each one of them was an extremely ancient dead body.

A mummy, actually. Each one had been carefully wrapped in strips of coarse cloth, gray and brittle with age. From his position by the opening, Fawkes could make out the humanoid forms underneath, abdomens slightly sunken, stick-like skeletal arms and legs with knobby joints, the upright stubs of feet The blackened skull of one of them had been exposed, looking shrunken and hollow, with teeth like a rat's. Blotched and discolored skin was stretched taut from bone to bone. The sight of the three very, very dead corpses made his skin crawl.

[Atoz 77]

"No sarcophagi," Bembridge was saying as she moved quickly from one mummy to the next, examining them, touching them gingerly. "No protective amulets. They've simply been left out. Deterioration is evident."

Fawkes could see that much from here. On one corpse, he could clearly make out the toes of its feet protruding from the wrappings. Rosh apologetically brushed past the First Officer as he joined the two women. Lieutenant Leas stiffened and shifted her position away from him without otherwise acknowledging his presence.. In that instant, Fawkes thought he saw one of the mummies also move, but it could easily have been an optical illusion caused by the changing shadows. "What do you think, Dr. Bembridge?" he asked.

"It's an unfortunate thing to happen," the scientist said judiciously, looking at him. "As you know, archaeologists rarely dig these days, especially not organic remains. This is partly out of respect, and partly because of the damage inevitably caused by handling and by the corrosive affects of moisture and oxygen in the ambient air. We can usually get all the data we need with sensors, without the need for disinterment." Fawkes was indeed aware of this. He waited patiently through her lecture.

"It's lucky for us that the climate is so dry," she concluded. "Trying to preserve them would probably not be worthwhile. All in all, the best thing would be to simply rebury them as soon as possible, once I've taken tricorder readings."

"That should be easy enough," said Fawkes. "We can replace the wall with a
thermacrete shell and pump the air out. Mister Rosh, take care of that once Dr. Bembridge is done."

Lieutenant Leas bristled. "With all respect, Commander. My people are perfectly capable of handling a simple job like that. We don't need the help of an Eminian."

In the indirect glare of the flashlights, the expression on her face was difficult to read. Rosh merely raised one eyebrow as though she was talking about someone else entirely. The shadows shifted in the corners of the room, once again giving Fawkes the impression of something moving that should be long dead. "Fine, lieutenant," he said, eager to get out of this place and back in the sunlight. "We're only here to help. Let's go, Mr. Rosh."

***

Captain Atoz emerged from his Ready Room and took a look around the bridge to see that all was in order. Amelia Penner at the Comm station spun around in her chair and handed him a data padd. "Afternoon, Captain," the young woman said brightly. "Latest dispatches from Starfleet. Nothing particularly urgent."

"Thank you, Ensign," he replied, glancing down the headings. "Have you had any word from Lt. Caeli?"

"Not a peep since he arrived on Risa, sir," she said with a mischievous grin. "That probably means he's having too good a time, the rat."

Atoz smiled back easily and handed the padd back to her. "I'll look at these later." Turning, he stepped into the turbolift. "Sickbay," he requested.

The car smoothly began to descend, then paused almost immediately on Deck 3. As the doors hissed open, Science Officer Weir was waiting. She smiled at him and got into the car, whereupon the descent resumed. "Are you going to Sickbay, too, commander?" the Captain asked innocently.

"Actually I was looking for you, sir," she replied. "I wanted to ask how long we were going to remain here."

"Patience is a virtue, commander."

"Yes, sir. I realize this," she agreed, still smiling.

"The Blackheart Nebula isn't going anywhere," he said as the turbolift stopped on Deck 7 and the doors opened.

"Neither is Sanlo 286, sir," she responded, hurrying to keep up as he took off walking down a curving corridor. "This civilization died out nearly twelve hundred years ago. There have been three previous expeditions, and none has solved the mystery of why. Plus, the Odysseus is not really suited for this kind of thing. I could only find one member of my department who has any previous experience with an archeology dig – Roger Stephano."

"Of course you're right, Diane. It's not our assignment. But Dr. Bembridge's father is an old friend of Pierce's. Let's see what he has to say." Together they turned toward the office of the ship's Chief Medical Officer.

Pierce was at his desk, studying something on his computer screen. He looked up as they arrived. "Ah, what wings of good fortune lighten my path! I was about to come looking for you both. Andrea asked me to look at her tricorder readings. What would you say if I told you those three mummies are not natives of this planet?"

"I don't know," said Atoz airily. "Is that something you think you're likely to say?"

Weir crossed her arms, frowning. "What do you mean? Of course they're natives."

"Look for yourself," Pierce said, turning his screen around so that she could see the body scan images of the skeletons. "The native remains that we found all have five fingers and toes. The mummies have six."

"Genetic mutations," said Weir. "Polydactylism is not uncommon among certain species. It's quite possibly the reason they were given special treatment."

"Then there's the cranial development," Pierce insisted. "Naturally it would hard to be certain without a DNA comparison, and we haven't found enough intact native DNA to be sure. But I'm telling you, these guys were aliens. I feel it in my bones. I feel it in my liver. I'd feel it in my tonsils if I still had any."

"Oh, that's really scientific," Weir scoffed.

Atoz slowly shook his head. "I have to go along with Diane, Hawkeye. How would aliens have gotten here? If they came by space ship, what happened to it? Wouldn't it be preserved too? Some of their technology at least?"

"I know I don't have all the answers," Pierce replied. "But isn't it worth looking into?"

They both looked to Atoz while he thought it over. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

"I'd like to beam one aboard for a full medical workup. Microcellular scan, everything."

"Absolutely not!" said Weir. "If they were killed by a disease of some kind, the microbes could still be viable! The bodies could be infested with parasites or insects! You could be exposing the entire ship needlessly."

"Thank you, Captain Weir," Atoz said sarcastically, earning himself a sheepish look from the Science Officer. "She has a point, Hawkeye. I'll compromise. You can send down an away team." And as the doctor was about to object, he added, "... Provided that Dr. Bembridge signs off on this. It's her responsibility, and her butt in the sling if the Science Ethics Board raises questions."

***

It wasn't easy to convince Bembridge. She did at last agree to leave the tomb open for another day while she thought it over. The next morning, she gave permission. Doctor Pierce and Nurse Fred Hauser beamed down, along with Lt. Rosh. In addition to their tricorders, tomographic imager, and a portable biocomp, they were also carrying life support masks so that they would have fresh air to breathe inside the tomb.

Waiting for them at the base of the pyramid were Dr. Bembridge and Lt. Leas. The Vendikan looked even more aggrieved than she had the day before, openly scowling at the sight of the Eminian.

Rosh himself was none too happy to be here, and it had little to do with Lt. Leas. Although he was not normally prone to attacks of squeamishness, the image of those decomposed mummies had haunted his dreams all night. If there had been anyway to absent himself from this duty without arousing comment, he would have taken it. It was actually a relief when, just as they started up the steps of the pyramid, two crewmen came hurrying over to interrupt them. One was a female petty officer from the Andromeda, and the other was Lt. (j.g.) Stephano, one of the science officers from the Odysseus who had volunteered to help sort and catalog artifacts.

"Lieutenant," the petty officer said, addressing Lt. Leas, "I don't want to point fingers, but somebody's been messing with my table!"

The Vendikan scowled at Rosh as if this were obviously his fault. "Show me," she said shortly. Rosh reluctantly followed as Dr. Pierce, Hauser, and Bembridge continued to climb the side of the pyramid.

The survey teams were not physically excavating the site, but a number of artifacts had been found exposed by normal erosion. A table had been set up beneath a protective awning where small pottery shards, tools and various objects were kept while they were cleaned and identified. "Yesterday morning when I beamed down," the petty officer continued heatedly, "I thought some of the artifacts had been moved around during the night. But I didn't say anything. I could have been wrong. Today the whole table was knocked over!" She held up a tarnished metal cup that was badly damaged, mashed nearly flat. "This was in good condition this last night when I left it. And do you know where I found it? In one of the pits clear across the compound!"

"What about this?" Stephano held up a folding chair which had been left behind on the site overnight. It was broken in half. "Our people are not in the habit of senseless vandalism, lieutenant."

"Are you suggesting mine are?" Leas bristled.

"Could it have been an animal?" Rosh asked, looking for signs in the dry grass, trampled by the survey teams from both ships over the last several days. But nothing could be read in the baked hard ground.

"It would have to be pretty big," said the petty officer doubtfully. "I haven't seen anything but insects and birds."

"According to our surveys, " Stephano said stiffly, "the planet does have large ruminants, lieutenant. And there are smaller animals corresponding to the weasel family."

Leas stopped herself obviously on the verge of a cutting reply.

"Where did you say you found the cup, crewman?" said Rosh, opening his tricorder.

"Pit number four, sir."

The UV traces revealed by Rosh's tricorder were complicated by the passing of several people since dawn, but still there was something peculiar. The Eminian set out in a northerly direction, with the others following. At that end of the city were several irregular indentations in the cobblestone surface where wind-blown sand had accumulated. They were labeled with little numbered signs because artifacts had been found in some of them. Nearing pit number 9, Rosh stopped. There were footprints in the sand. They were smudged and incomplete, but they were there. Bare, humanoid footprints!

"What the--?" Stephano said. "I thought this planet was supposed to be uninhabited!"

Leas answered, frowning. "It is."

[Atoz 77]

As the news spread, Pierce's project was all but forgotten. Everyone dropped what they were doing and gathered around. Bembridge came running down the face of the pyramid so quickly, she nearly fell and broke her neck. When they were informed, Atoz and Weir beamed down in order to see for themselves.

"This is impossible," Bembridge said, crouching beside the footprints looking totally flabbergasted. "I've studied the records of all previous visits to this planet. The Endeavor, the Hardy, the Larkspur... going back nearly twenty years. No humanoid life exists here."

"Off hand I'd say they must have missed something." said Captain Atoz mildly, kneeling to get a closer look at the prints. "It is possible for a small group of individuals to pass undetected on a single planetary scan."

Weir shook her head patiently. "On a single scan it's possible, sir. But three separate expeditions?"

Bembridge nodded in agreement. "If the natives had simply abandoned the cities and were living at the tribal level or in family groups, we still would have detected them. To have a reproducing population, there would have to be thousands of them."

Atoz looked searchingly around at the ruins. "Doctor Bembridge, how much do we know about what caused this civilization to die out?"

"Quantum dating of various sites seem to indicate an epidemic of violence that spread from one city to another, across the entire continent."

The Captain frowned as he stood up. "You mean like a disease?"

"The patterns are similar," the archaeologist replied. "In fact I chose this site because it seems to be one of the oldest, near the epicenter of the pandemic. But it would be an unusual disease to cause bones to break and throats to be cut, as we've found it the buried remains. It had to have been a physical conflict of some kind, like a war."

"Well, there is this wall around the city."

"Actually the fortifications are puzzling," Bembridge said blandly. "I mean, they're not very good. If you look closely, you see that they were hastily erected. Other cities elsewhere have much more effective defenses. But there's no evidence in any case that the walls were breached by an attack. No evidence of an invading army. No indication at all of a comparable enemy nation that they would have been at war with."

Atoz frowned. "Then who were they afraid of?"

"That's one of the mysteries."

Atoz turned around, doing a slow scan of the ruins, which had suddenly taken on a much more sinister atmosphere. The stark, barren courtyard, the silent streets, the empty shells of the houses all seemed to mock their efforts to understand what had happened here. The dead city felt full of ghosts. Restless ghosts, if somebody was walking around down here where there shouldn't be anybody.

Lieutenant Leas broke the silence. "Andromedans to me! Whatever left these footprints must be nearby. I want every inch of this site searched!"

"That's a good idea," Atoz said. "Mister Rosh, you'll organize our people and assist."

"I hardly need—-" Leas blurted out, but stopped herself. "As you wish, sir."

As the search teams got organized and started off, Atoz spotted Pierce. "Have you finished your tests?"

"Didn't even get started," the doctor replied in a disappointed tone.

"I think it might be a good idea to go ahead with it."

Pierce gave him a long, hard look, then scoffed.. "Oh no! Seven, if you think you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you're crazier than I am! Take it from me, scary holovids to the contrary, mummies do not come back to life. I'm a doctor. I've got a certificate somewhere to prove it."

The Captain shrugged. "We've both seen our share of crazy things, Hawkeye. I don't like that as an alternative any more than you do, but I'd like to definitely rule it out, if possible."

***

Someone had removed the loose bricks from the opening, presumably in preparation for erecting a thermocrete wall in its place. Pierce made sure that his transparent life support mask was secure and that the hose leading to the small air tank clipped to his belt hung out of his way, then he stepped through the gap. Bembridge followed him, to make certain that the mummies weren't damaged during the examination. Last came Atoz, using the gear earmarked for Hauser. Weir had argued that as Science Officer, this was her job, but Atoz wanted to see this for himself. At any rate, as a former Science Officer himself, he had just as much expertise as she did with the equipment. Weir and Hauser waited outside.

The air inside the little room felt hot and musty. The mummies immediately drew his attention, lying stiff and inert as logs. The deterioration of the wrappings over the centuries was obvious, with blackened bones showing through in several places, even the complete skull of one, its mouth open in a silent accusation, its empty eye sockets staring at nothing. Atoz was glad for the life support mask. He could only imagine what the smell must be like.

Then he noticed the pictographs painted on the interior walls of the chamber. This was something that he hadn't been told of. Unfortunately he could make nothing coherent out of the completely alien iconography. Even Dr. Bembridge, when asked, admitted that it hadn't been deciphered yet.

Barely an hour passed before they completed the tests and emerged into the sunlight. "Well?" said Weir.

"You were right," Pierce sighed, pulling off his mask. "Phylogenic comparison with the native corpses indicates an allotypical variation of between point three and point nine percent. They're not aliens, they're mutants."

"But what do you think caused them to mutate like that?" Bembridge asked. "Radiation? Some kind of teratogenic microorganism?"

"The micro-cellular scan was a bit unusual," the doctor conceded.

Weir crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow. "You're not going to tell me they showed cellular activity?"

"Don't be silly," Pierce said, as Bembridge laughed. "I expect the bodies are contaminated with some kind of fungal spores. When I get back to the ship, I'll run a search through the computer to be sure."

"In the meantime," said Atoz, "I want that chamber sealed up before the day is out. You agree, Dr. Bembridge?"

"Oh, absolutely!" the archaeologist said.

***

The search teams were finished by noon. Back aboard the Odysseus, Rosh reported to Fawkes. "We found nothing, Commander. No signs, no traces of any humanoid presence."

"Any chance they could be hiding underground, where tricorders couldn't spot them?"

The Eminian shook his head. "The geology of the area is not suitable for cave formation."

"Maybe they only come out at night," Fawkes observed. "Are you planning to beam back down tonight?"

Rosh drew himself up, his right hand twitching nervously down by his side. "Lieutenant Leas insists that she can handle it without any assistance," he said shortly.

Fawkes realized that his next question was bordering on what Rosh would probably call impertinence, prying into his personal life, but he asked it anyway. "What is it with the two of you, lieutenant? Every time you have any contact with her, you come back in a foul mood. It's like... it's like you're still at war."

Rosh seemed to consider whether the question was out of bounds or not. As he spoke, he stood at attention, but his right hand was wandering, grabbing a handful of his uniform and twisting until the knuckles went white. The Eminian didn't even seem aware of it. "The conflict between our planets was concluded in my grandfather's time," he said. "But it had dragged on for five hundred years. Stories of Vendikan treachery are still part of our culture."

"Wars can be like that," said Fawkes, thinking about the history of his own native England.
"I would like to approach her, but every time I do, I feel uneasy. I cannot help wondering. Does she see me merely as a representative of a planet which once killed millions of her people?"

"What if she feels exactly the same way you do?" Fawkes said. "Afraid that if she approaches you, she'll be snubbed? It's something to think about."

Rosh nodded curtly. "Will that be all, Commander?"

***

The research vessel Andromeda had a total crew of thirty, and none of them were Security specialists. Even so, as the sun went down that evening, three sentries had been posted around the site in case the mysterious humanoid returned.

Petty Officer Teri Littlefield, navigator's mate, peered into the pitch darkness, her palm sweating on the butt of her hand phaser while she hoped that at least one of the planet's three moons would rise soon. A string of four battery powered lamps had been set up in the center of the city square, but she was stationed in the deep shadows at the foot of the Knight's Temple, several meters from the nearest one. Hours passed. The only sound was the shrill creek-creek of small insects out in the night. White streamers of mist were drifting in from the sluggish river, ghostlike in the reflections of the lights.

"Nothing out here but me... and the ghosts," she whispered quietly to herself.

Suddenly something went thud off to her left. Out the corner of her eye, she saw movement, nothing more than an indistinct shape, really. Heart hammering at her chest, she tugged her phaser out of its holster as the figure loomed over her. "Gautier, you ***! You scared the shimunkus out of me!"

"Gee I'm sorry, chief," the crewman said nervously. "I just got a little bit, you know, concerned that I hadn't heard anything out of you in a while."

"Next time use your frigging comm badge, dork! I could have shot you!"

"Have you seen the others?"

The navigator squinted into the night. "I saw Lt. Leas go behind the King's Temple a couple of hours ago. Val Jean is stationed on the other side, at the Nun's Temple."

Gautier looked up at the stars that were visible in the sky. "Do you think somebody's really down here?" he asked. "I mean a live, flesh and blood somebody?"

"As opposed to what?" Littlefield said.

He hesitated. "Well you know the rumors."

The navigator scoffed. "Mummies walking? I'm surprised at you, Gautier!"

Her comm badge chirped. "Chief?" said Val Jean's voice. "I'm picking up something on my tricorder. It reads humanoid, moving your way. Fast!"

***

Enir Rosh lay awake listening to the quiet tick of the antique clock that had been passed down through his family for four generations. Blessed with a healthy body and an untroubled conscience, Rosh had always been a sound sleeper, not in the habit of waking in the middle of the night. His eyes moved restlessly from shadow to shadow in the darkened cabin. For some reason, the familiar landscape of his quarters appeared strange.

Something was moving across the room. A sound, a whisper, a shadow.

He tried to lift his head to follow it, but his muscles were rigid. His neck, back, arms and legs were frozen. All he could move were his eyes, darting from left to right with rising fear as the thing, whatever it was, drew closer.

It was vaguely humanoid, dark and malformed, parchment-like skin stretched tightly over its bones. It crept upon the bed silently, with a curious jerking movement of its twisted limbs, clambering across Rosh's body to straddle him. Rosh struggled to move, but it was no use. Numb with horror, he never had the chance to wonder how the mummy had got on board the ship. He only knew that it was here, its weight pinning him in place as its eyeless face bent forward...

[gtxpro]

fantastic.. I really loved it.

[Atoz 77]

Captain Atoz had tried to sleep, but the images of those mummies he had seen that afternoon kept intruding. After tossing and turning for some time, he considered calling Diane Weir, dismissed that idea as too self-indulgent, and finally settled on reading. Maybe a good Sherlock Holmes mystery would tire him out. "Arachne," he said, sitting up in his bed, "find me a short story to read. Random selection from the works of Arthur Conan Doyle. Display to my data padd.

"Working, Captain," replied the soft female voice of the ship's AI interface. "I hope you enjoy it."

Atoz settled back against his pillow. The story was called "Lot No. 249." It was about an Egyptian mummy. Sometimes Arachne's sense of humor could be a little too--

The bosun's whistle sounded. "Captain, I'm sorry to wake you sir," said a voice, that of Lt. Valentine Capek, the night duty officer. "Crewman Seabrook has just been found strangled outside transporter room one."

"Strangled?" Atoz repeated, tossing aside the padd. "Is he--?"

"He's in Sickbay now, sir," the duty officer replied, his soft Czech accent somber. "Doctor Yee is trying to resuscitate him."

"Wake Pierce if he isn't already up," Atoz said, springing out of bed and getting dressed.

"There's more, Captain," Capek continued. "Whoever attacked Seabrook activated the transporter moments later and beamed down to the planet. The biometric access code was that of Lt. Rosh."

***

"What bearing?" Littlefield called. "Val Jean? Answer me: What bearing?" She clicked her comm badge frantically on and off, but there was no response.

"Chief?" said Gautier nervously. The lamp at the far end of the line had gone out. As they watched, something – a dreadful, menacing, shadowy something – snatched up the next one and smashed it against the cobblestones. Gautier and Littlefield both drew their phasers, their mouths dry with fear.

"Lieutenant Leas?" Littlefield stammered, pressing her comm badge again. "Lieutenant, it's here!"

There was no answer. "It's already got her!" Gautier quavered as the third lamp cracked against the side of the pyramid and extinguished. He aimed his phaser in that direction and fired. The bright blue stunning beam briefly lit up the square and went out.

"Be careful with that thing!" Littlefield cautioned him. "Did you hit it?"

"I don't think so."

There was only one lamp left, and without saying a word they both moved out of the shadow and directly under its glare. With darkness all around them, there was something comforting about light, something that made them feel at least marginally safer. "I think we should beam up to the 'Dromeda," Littlefield said. "Let the Odysseus handle this."

"You know what Lt. Leas will say," Gautier protested.

"Where IS Lt. Leas? That thing's already killed her!"

Gautier nodded, but the decision came too late. From up the steps of the pyramid on their left flank, a direction they hadn't been expecting, a small figure leaped out of the darkness. Littlefield spun around with her phaser ready, but Gautier was in her line of fire. She had a quick impression of something tall and sinister, cloth wrapped tight around a lean and sinewy body, and then it was on Gautier, seizing his head in both hands like a vise. There was a sickening crack as the crewman's neck broke, and his body was tossed aside like a rag doll.

Littlefield's phaser dropped from her hand in shock as she backed away from the creature and stumbled against the steps of the pyramid. It was Dr. Bembridge! Her face was barely recognizable, her eyes burning with savage hatred, lips pulled taut from her bared teeth. A low growl thrummed from her chest as she advanced. She had stripped down to her drab gray underclothing, her bare feet padding quietly on the stone pavement as she stalked closer. Closer...

Littlefield was on her back, trying to scramble away. Bembridge was crouching over her now, close enough the navigator could smell her sweat and feel her breath on her face. A blue phaser beam suddenly shot out of the dark shadow of the pyramid, catching the archaeologist in the chest. She staggered sideways as Roda Leas rushed towards her, bringing up her fist in a hammer blow that slammed into the side of her head. Bembridge fell over. "What's going on, Littlefield?" the Vendikan asked, as if they were in the crew lounge talking over a game of poker. "What was she doing down here?"

"I don't..." the navigator gasped. "I think she killed Gautier...". Leas was bending over the man, about to check his pulse, when suddenly she froze, her nostrils dilating as if she smelled another presence! Crouching, she swiveled slowly around to face a second figure, hardly more than a shadow, which had appeared at the edge of the lamplight.

Leas spoke in an alien language, barking out a guttural challenge. Littlefield tried not to move, tried not to even breathe, afraid of drawing attention to herself. The newcomer stepped into the light. Rosh was barefoot and bare-chested, his lower body clad in pajama bottoms. He sprang as quickly as a hunting cat. Leas had holstered her phaser, so all she could do was rise to meet him, reaching out with her left arm to intercept his lunge. He replied with his right fist in a blow that should have taken her head off. She ducked under it and threw herself on his back, her strong arms wrapping his neck in a choke hold. He bucked, throwing himself against the stone side of the pyramid in his efforts to dislodge her.

They were serious! Their bodies already bruised and bleeding, Littlefield wondered that they hadn't broken bones in that impact against unforgiving stone. She watched them going at it like wild beasts and wondered if it was safe to move, to try and call for help.

Leas had caught Rosh's left arm in a lock and threw her weight against it. Disregarding the pain, the Eminian twisted, slamming her to the ground. Bending over her, he grabbed a handful of her auburn hair, lifted up her head and pounded her into the stone.

"NO!" Littlefield cried before she could stop herself. Rosh looked up.

"We should probably thank you, mortal," he said softly, his voice like a wind. "We had lain dormant for so long, we were nearly dead. What joy it is to feed on emotions again! Especially the hostility these two had for one another." He indicated himself and the groggy, half-stunned Vendikan. Leaving her sprawled across the base of the pyramid, he went into a crouch and advanced upon the navigator. "But we think fear is much tastier. We feel it oozing from every pore of your body."

Littlefield slapped at her comm badge. "Somebody help! Beam me up! Beam me up now!"

But Rosh was already on top of her, his hands seizing her throat. It was going to be too late...

Two bright blue beams stabbed out of the dark, catching Rosh high on the chest and on the left shoulder, and winked off again almost at once. He half turned, amazingly still on his feet.

Atoz and Fawkes, standing at the edge of the lamplight, glanced at one another uncertainly. They had both fired for a duration of two seconds. Three seconds was considered optimal for a stun beam. Five seconds or longer risked permanent damage to the spinal cord and the brain stem.

"You are too late, Captain," the Eminian said, lurching towards them. "With the energy we have drawn from these tonight, we are nearly unstoppable." His mouth gaped open, and a cloud of locusts seemed to emerge from it. A howling storm of insects and sand was blowing across the plaza, shoving Atoz and Fawkes to their knees, getting in their eyes. Rosh charged, butting Fawkes aside and seizing Atoz by the throat...

A snarl remarkably like a jungle cat echoed across the compound, as Roda Leas fired her phaser and held it. One... two... three... four... five... six... Rosh keeled over backwards and dropped with a sigh.

[Atoz 77]

As Rosh and Bembridge were carried by anti-grav into Sickbay, they were already beginning to reawaken. Pierce jumped athwart the struggling Eminian, grabbing his right arm and holding him down, while Atoz held down his other side. "Get some restraints on him!" the doctor ordered. Fawkes and Leas were likewise busy holding down the archaeologist, who was fighting like a wolverine to escape, leaving Dr. Margaret Yee and the nurse on duty to rush forward and activate the force field restraints. Pierce expelled a sigh as they took effect, allowing him to back away. "I don't want to give them sedatives until I know more about what's affecting them."

"Look at his neural activity," Margaret Yee said incredulously, indicating the diagnostic panel above Rosh's bed. "His heart rhythm is dangerously erratic as well! He's going to go into cardiac arrest!" Quickly she snatched up a hypo and plunged it directly into his chest muscle.

Atoz looked up in alarm as the heartbeat reading on his panel dropped nearly to nothing. "What did you do?"

"Merely induced a coma, sir," Yee replied as she ran a neural probe over his ridged forehead. Reaching across him, she picked up another instrument. "He'll be all right."

Pierce came over from Bembridge's bed. "That's not what worries me," he said, pointing at the cellular activity display. "This is exactly like the reading I found in the mummies. They're not fungal spores at all, they're seeds. They belong to a gaseous anamorphic organism, and they're spreading all over his body, mutating him as we speak. If we don't stop them fast, we're going to lose him."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Atoz asked.

"I could manufacture a counter-agent easy," Pierce said, "but I'd need a sample of the reactive substance." He looked over at Bembridge and shook his head. "These two are already under too much vascular stress. They'd never survive it. I guess that means we need to find another--"

He broke off because Roda Leas had pushed her way in front of him, holding her right hand so that he could see the tiny stub of a sixth finger growing there. "Will I do, doctor?"

Pierce blinked. "That's right! You were exposed the same time Rosh and Bembridge were! Seven, we've got a lot of work to do, and I'd appreciate it a bunch if you and Fawkes could get out from underfoot. I'll call you when I have any news."

***

Captain's log, Stardate 52874.9: The solution to the mystery of Sanlo 286 turns out to be an anamorphic organism which feeds on fear and hostility. Presumably it spread through the population of this planet, provoking violence until there was no one left alive, which drove it into dormancy. Doctors Pierce and Yee have been working all night to save Dr. Bembridge and Lt. Rosh from a similar fate.

Atoz, waiting in Pierce's office, woke up from a fitful nap on the sofa and was surprised when he noticed the time. It was nearly shift change. He had sent Fawkes to his quarters hours ago, and he would soon be reporting to him again. He had barely finished dictating his log entry when the door hissed open and Weir appeared. He flashed her a wan smile. She gave him a concerned look, but didn't bother to ask if he had been there all night. His rumpled uniform said as much.

"I have some news," she said, sitting next to him on the sofa and offering him her data padd.

He glanced at the display for want of anything better to do. "What am I looking at? Looks like a hunk of metal."

"It's part of the altarpiece in the King's Mound," she said. "Everyone thought it was a nice ornamental object, but no one thought to do a metallurgical analysis. It turns out to be an aluminum/titanium alloy."

Atoz rubbed his sleepy eyes, forcing himself to think. "Those two elements don't exist in nature in pure form," he said. "And they would be impossible for a pre-industrial culture to refine."

"That's correct, sir. What we're looking at is probably part of a spacecraft that crashed here."

"So Pierce was right."

"Partly," the science officer conceded. "The anamorphic organism must have hitched a ride on it. It would have made a spectacular shooting star."

Atoz nodded. "Three people found it, breathed in its seeds, and got transformed into... what? Hosts?"

"Incubators, essentially," Weir said. "The seeds grew in their bodies, mutating them at the same time. The gaseous form of the adults then roamed the planet at will, causing the population to kill one another and feeding on the fear that resulted."

"The people must have finally realized what was causing it," Atoz speculated, "and bricked those three mutants up inside the pyramid, hoping to stop the plague."

Weir gave a regretful sigh. "But by that time, it was too late."

"And once there were no more people to feed on, the adult forms died, too. Until we found the mummies. Bembridge, Leas, and Rosh were exposed to the seeds and started the cycle over again."

"Almost started it over again," she corrected, resting her hand on his shoulder. "We stopped it in time, sir. If I'm not out of line, you really should get some rest."

He smiled, gratefully putting his hand on top of hers. "I'll be okay. This isn't the first all-nighter--"

At that point, the doors hissed open again. Pierce was standing in the open doorway, while behind him, Rosh and Bembridge were being moved to the convalescent ward. "It was touch and go for a bit, " the doctor said wearily, "but they're both going to be fine after a little rest." He slumped into the chair behind his desk.

"Diane and I were just trying to make sense of the whole thing," Atoz said. "Do you mind clearing up one thing for me?"

"If I can."

"Rosh and Bembridge were completely out of control down there. What was going on?"

Pierce paused for a moment to think how best to explain. "Look, there's something called Alien Hand Syndrome. You know the brain has two hemispheres, right? The right brain is logical and verbal. The left brain has the emotions and instincts. This is fine as long as the two halves communicate with one another. When that connection is disrupted for some reason, the left brain can take over parts of your body on its own, without you being aware of it. Fawkes told me he saw Rosh twitching his right hand without realizing it. That's a classic symptom.

"The organism just amplifies the effect. It hooks into the prefrontal cortex and uses those primitive instincts against you. When you sleep, your conscious mind loses control, and the organism takes over. Of course that's an oversimplification of what's really going on, but you get the idea."

"Are you telling me they were sleepwalking?" said Atoz.

"Basically. It's the way the organism functions. It stimulates those primitive, aggressive feelings and gets people to kill while they're asleep and unable to control themselves."

Atoz tried to imagine it... the entire population of a city falling asleep and turning into killers, attacking their friends and neighbors. No wonder walls couldn't stop them. "And Lt. Leas was exposed to it," he said, "but she wasn't taken over because she was awake and on duty at the time."

"A good thing she was, too, or we'd have lost all three of them."

***

Rosh woke up in the convalescent ward. He opened his eyes without moving his head or his body in anyway, so that anyone watching him might think he was still asleep. He lay that way for some time listening to the quiet beep of the patient monitor, telling him that his body functions were normal.

After awhile he heard a movement to his left and a soft hand was touching his wrist. He moved his head and saw Roda Leas half-standing over him, holding his hand while she read the patient tag on his wrist. Dressed in a patient smock just as he was, she had obviously been in the bed next to his. His first instinct was to indignantly snatch his hand back, but he fought the instinct down.

"Enir?" she said, when she saw that he was awake and watching her. "Enir, beloved of Shar'tai?"

He blinked, hostility aroused at once. What business was it of hers? If she was just going to made fun of his name... Then he remembered his conversation with Commander Fawkes, another lifetime ago it seemed. "It was my parents' favorite novel," he explained.

"It was written on Vendikar," she said, "by G'nil Wor of Ubria."

He shrugged. "It is the still the best heroic fantasy novel written in past fifty years," he said defiantly.

"You've read it yourself?" she asked eagerly, and to his surprise, she smiled. She let go of his hand and slid back into her own bed, crossing her legs in front of her. "My favorite part is when Shar'tai first gets the letter! And her uncle tries to keep its contents from her!"

Rosh shifted his position in the bed. She had a very nice smile. "My favorite part is when she finds the Mirror. And she sees--"

"Oh! Yes!" Leas gushed. "That part always makes me... well, it makes me sad..."

A few minutes later the duty nurse came by to check on them, and found them so deep in conversation, she simply turned around and left them at it.

THE END