Synthesis - James Swallow [47]
His first officer immediately insisted on Ranul Keru and the big Orion, Dennisar, and when Riker arrived in the transporter room, he wasn’t surprised to see that the chief of security and his petty officer had come armed for bear.
Radowski checked their transporter signatures for the third time and secured the lock-on link that would enable him to yank them back to Titan the instant anyone pushed the panic button. Then, at a nod from his captain, the young man sent them down to the surface of a thinking machine.
Five humanoid figures and a squat cylinder of alien technology materialized in a humming swirl of light.
“Titan, this is Riker,” said the captain, tapping his insignia. “Down and safe.”
“Copy that, Captain.” Christine Vale’s voice was laced with interference but still clear enough to hear her unconcealed displeasure. “Be careful. Titan out.”
Keru and Dennisar were already taking up ready positions, each covering a sector of the long, low hall they found themselves in. Nearby, Melora straightened in her g-suit and raised a tricorder, scanning the environment.
“Atmosphere is a match for conditions aboard the Titan. I read a protective energy bubble surrounding the area. No radiation seepage,” she reported. “They must have scanned the ship before we arrived and set up an environment for us.”
Riker nodded. “It’s a good start.” He glanced at White-Blue’s core module as the device gave a crackling buzz.
“What…” began the machine, and it sounded almost afraid. “Interrogative: How did this transit occur?”
“You mean, how did we get here?” said Deanna. “We were invited by your people.”
“Negative,” said the AI. “Working. Internal clock has not been tampered with. Matching local beacon.” It paused, colors flickering. “Interrogative: I have just experienced an instantaneous relocation from your vessel to this site. How did this transit occur?”
“They don’t have transporters,” Melora said immediately. “Just as we suspected. There was no evidence of any transporter technology or transporter-derived technology in the wreckage.”
“We have a mechanism that can temporarily reorder matter into an energy pattern,” explained Deanna, “then project it to another location, where it can be reassembled into its original form.”
“What, you don’t have those?” Keru threw in the comment. “Maybe we’re not the poor cousins after all.”
Riker gave the Trill a look, and the other man turned away.
White-Blue’s indicators blinked. “That is… an alarming sensation. But a most ingenious system. I would like to understand the theory and process.”
“Didn’t you sift through our databases?” Riker said casually.
“There was not enough time for a full traverse,” admitted the AI. “You will recall we were under attack at that point.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” said the captain, taking a moment to give the locale a look.
“Perhaps we can discuss an exchange of knowledge,” Deanna was saying.
Riker nodded, only half hearing her. At first, he had thought they were standing in some kind of annex, perhaps a screening room for new arrivals. At one end, out under the faint haze of the atmospheric shield, he could see a flat oval platform—a landing deck. They had expected them to arrive in a shuttlecraft. As he looked down and saw that the pale pearl-colored floor beneath him was actually a frosted glasslike substance, the captain realized he had misunderstood the dimensions of the place.
They were a long way up, standing in the middle of an enclosed bridgelike structure, suspended between two narrow towers several thousand feet above the surface of the constructed planet. He swallowed hard, dismissing a momentary head-swim of vertigo. The towers were the tallest of a city-sized collection of minarets, columns, and decked platforms that reached up from a plain of bronze. Impossibly regular canyons ranged away, sliced at right angles into the distant surface. Looking down, Riker could pick out more detail—things that looked like massive Tesla coils half concealed under the shell, magnesium-bright sparks