Ghost of a Chance - Mark Garland [83]
He felt every muscle in his body growing tense, a condition he had been fighting, a minor battle he had lost. Nothing compared to Gantel's, of course.
At least not yet.
"If there is a positive spin to be put on any of this," Daket told the bridge crew, stating only the obvious, "I would be interested in knowing what it is. How long before we can lift off?"
"Three minutes. Most of our personnel have returned. We have only--" Daket cut Tatel off. He had decided pretense was largely useless at this point. "Anyone who has not returned in three minutes... will wait here. Time has run out. The fleet will arrive in less than an hour. We will be on hand to greet Shaale."
With luck--something that seemed to be in short supply this day--Daket would learn precisely what had befallen Gantel's vessel, so that he could avoid that same fate. Or he could simply stay out of harm's way until the fleet arrived, which was clearly the more attractive option, provided he could make it work.
In any case he couldn't just stay on the surface. If the earthquakes didn't destroy him, Shaale would see his career destroyed. He could have no defense for such inaction. He'd accomplished next to nothing, which was hardly an excuse for continuing to do so. Gantel's unfortunate end meant there was no one to help, and no one on whom to shift the blame--but it also meant that if anything good did come of this mission, Daket was in a position to take most of the credit for it. A delicate and risky position, to say the least, which did nothing for the throbbing in his head or the burning sensation in his stomach, but an opportunity nonetheless. A beginning... or an end.
"Two minutes," Tatel said.
Daket felt his chest tighten. "I know," he said. "I know."
***
The place looked much as it had in the dream, but the differences were immediately apparent. Everywhere, Janeway could see signs of deterioration in the great underground cavern. She stood with Chakotay in what might have been the exact spot her consciousness had occupied when she had visited here before, and as she breathed, she was reminded of the stark reality of this place.
The smell of smoke and sulfur made each breath difficult, though oddly, it was not as bad as she had perceived the same air to be during the vision.
The machine was every bit as massive and remarkable as she remembered, but it had been damaged in numerous places. Dozens of tubes had been broken or crushed by falling rock. The entire plateau was littered with rubble, Janeway noticed, as she let go of the package they had brought along, leaving Chakotay to tend it. She turned slowly in a circle while Chakotay steadied the antimatter container. Large sections of the cavern walls had been sheered away, collapsing into piles of debris; some of them had even tumbled over and into parts of the machine. In those places, the bright tubes had gone dim, or completely dark.
The walls themselves were marked by massive cracks that ran from the roof of the cavern to the floor of the plateau, or beyond it and over the edge, reaching toward the great abyss below. Some of the cracks were clearly very deep.
Janeway realized that Chakotay had been silently following her gaze, seeing all of this for the first time. And they could see quite well.
Not only the machine itself, but also the dozens of fixtures surrounding it radiated light. They combined to form a small subterranean sun. But in the vast region beyond the plateau the darkness gathered quickly, concealing the distance entirely.
"It's a natural cavern," Chakotay said softly.
"I believe so," Janeway said.
"Nature can be a powerful creative force."
In the silence between their words a low rumble could be heard, a sound that came from deep beneath their feet and reverberated in the chasm all around them. "It also can destroy what it creates," Janeway said, just as the mild aftershock sent a small cascade of rock and gravel tumbling