STAR TREK – THE NEXT GENERATION

by Soledad

EP#5: THE CRYSTAL SKULL

Rating: Teens, most likely

Genre: Action/adventure

Disclaimer: All Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry and Viacom or whoever owns the rights at this moment. I don't make any profit out of this – I wish I would, but I don't, so suing me would be pointless.

This particular story is based on the similarly-titled story idea of Patrick Barry. Sessethantis zh'Cheen is book canon, borrowed from the DS9 relaunch series.

For visuals: Dr Boudreau is "played" by Nichelle Nichols as she appeared in "Heroes". The vista of Bolaxnu 7 was inspired by the picture "Alien Paradise" by Inge Nielsen.

Timeframe: early season 5, in the year 2368, after the episode "Darmok" but before "Ensign Ro".

Summary: The Enterprise is bringing surprises to an archaeological expedition lead by an old friend of Captain Picard's on Bolaxnu 7. Since the Ferengi are interested in the planet, too, things take unexpected turns. And then Riker begins to change…


CHAPTER 01 – THE LOST CITY

At Stardate 45 059.1 the USS Enterprise left the orbit of El-Adrel IV, heading back to Federation territory, while the sleek Tamarian ship made an elegant slope in the opposite direction. Standing at the huge windows of the observation lounge, Captain Jean-Luc Picard watched them go to Warp a few minutes later, on their way home.

"A most significant encounter, Number One," he said to his executive officer, and William Riker nodded in agreement.

"You reached a breakthrough, sir. As far as we know, this was the first successful attempt at communication with the Tamarians, not only from side of the Federation but by any other people who've ever met them. You should be proud."

"Oh, I am, Number One," Picard replied in a somewhat melancholy tone. "I just wish a good man wouldn't have to die before we'd actually come to an understanding."

"He knew the risks," Riker said. "Better than you, sir; than any of us. Clearly, he found the final results worth such risks. We might not understand why, but…"

"I do understand, actually," Picard smiled tiredly. "That doesn't make the loss any smaller, though. Especially after all the losses caused by the Klingon civil war."

"We were fortunate it ended so quickly," Riker nodded soberly. "It could have easily escalated into a war that would spread all across the Beta Quadrant like wildfire. Klingon conflicts tend to do that."

"Especially if the Romulans are involved," Picard finished for him. "A shame that our friend, Praetor tr'Khellian cannot increase his influence. But his plans are for the long run and he wouldn't endanger them for any immediate advantages. Romulans are a patient people."

"And they can afford to take their time…. Just like Vulcans," Riker said grimly. "I'm afraid we haven't seen the last of Commander Sela. We'll meet her again, in the not too distant future."

"Undoubtedly," Picard turned away from the window and squared his shoulders. "Do we have any new orders yet, Number One?"

"Aye, sir," Riker handed him a PADD. "We've been assigned the task of bringing supplies to an archaeological expedition that's working on a desert planet named Bolaxnu 7, led by a certain Dr Annette Boudreau." he shook his head. "Is Starfleet Command aware of the fact that we aren't really a cargo vessel? Isn't it a bit excessive to assign such a mundane task to Starfleet's flagship?"

Picard gave him a dryly amused look.

"Do you know where Bolaxnu 7 is located, Will?" the executive officer shook his head. "Mid-way between Federation and Ferengi territory."

"Oh," Riker said intelligently as realization hit. Picard nodded.

"Indeed. We are the ship with the most first-hand experience in dealing with the Ferengi; I presume we're supposed to evacuate the entire expedition if we deem the situation too dangerous."

"What the hell are they doing so far out of the Federation's backyard anyway?" Riker asked.

Picard shrugged. "I don't know, Number One. But I do know Dr Boudreau. She's a name-worthy archaeologist who's been focusing her efforts on the Faran Empire for the last fifteen years or so."

"The Faran Empire?" Riker repeated with a frown. "I can't remember ever having heard about it."

Picard, who had a strong personal interest in archaeology, shrugged again.

"Why would you have? It was never a major galactic power – not a military one anyway, although its influence used to extend over a great number of sectors in their area of space. I know very little about it myself – my personal interest has always been the Kurlan culture – but I'm certain that Mr Data will provide us with sufficient information about the Faran Empire as well as about Bolaxnu 7 and Dr Boudreau's expedition."


"The Faran Empire was a major economical power in a so far largely uncharted area that lies between Federation and Ferengi territory," Data explained on the impromptu staff meeting forty minutes later. "It existed for almost thirteen thousand years – the exact length of its existence is still unknown, as the source material is both contradictional and imprecise."

"What source material?" Riker interrupted.

"So far, the only information has been gained from the Annals of the Faran Emperors," Data replied. "However, those only exist in translation – in Deltan and Athosian, mostly – and it is hard to tell how much of what they contain is true and how much is simple propaganda."

"What do you mean with propaganda?" LaForge asked.

"They describe their reign as an era of peaceful extension, flourishing trade with their neighbours and cultivation of art; all kinds of art," Data answered. "However, as the legendary capital planet of the Empire, Izul, has not been found yet, those statements could not been confirmed so far. The rare funds on colony words are merely utilitarian buildings that show no particular artwork; it was either not suited to survive for an extended period of time or they were not allowed to be displayed outside of Izul itself."

"Interesting," commented Counselor Troi. "Is it known what caused the demise of the Faran Empire?"

Data shook his head. "No. The only known fact is that the Empire fell into an abrupt and mysterious collapse over eight thousand year ago. Again, that date is mainly conjecture," he added. "Despite the size of the Empire, very few outsiders had ever had contact to it, and with the loss of the capital planet all reliable information seems to be lost as well."

"You mean the Empire mostly consisted of colonies populated by the Faran themselves?" Dr Crusher tried to clarify.

Data nodded. "Exactly, Doctor. There are reflections to a more numerous subspecies that appears to have been sent to the colony words; and a group called the Kakriri Warriors that might or might not have been of the actual Faran people, but it is all more than a little vague, unfortunately."

"Understandable, though," Picard supplied. "If the Annals were meant for the use of the Emperors themselves, there was no need to go into great detail about something they already knew."

"Correct, Captain," the android said. "The mystery about the Faran Empire has been the interest of Federation archaeologists for a long time. Andorians, in particular, have been greatly motivated to rediscover the famed Faran art. Excavations are going on on a number of identified colony worlds; however, Bolaxnu 7 is the one at the greatest distance from Federation territory, which makes it necessary to provide the expedition with supplies, as there are no inhabited planets within reach where they could get anything they may need."

"Is there anything that would be elevating this mission above the mundane?" Counselor Troi asked. "Beyond the fact that it is being led by Dr Boudreau, that is?"

"You know Dr Boudreau?" Picard looked at her in surprise.

Troi shook her head. "No; but I've looked her up in the Federation's archaeological database and realized that she's considered the highest authority in this particular area," she smiled at Picard. "I understand that the two of you have known each other for a long time, Captain."

Picard nodded. "Since university, actually. We were both students of Professor Richard Galen, before I'd decide to join Starfleet."

"Professor Galen? The one who's spent the last decades attempting to confirm the bold theory that numerous humanoid species in the galaxy had a common genetic heritage?" Dr Crusher whistled. "I met him on a conference, a few years ago; he's quite extraordinary."

"That he is," Picard agreed. "I heard that he'd spent all these years gathering information from at least nineteen planets across the quadrant in an effort to confirm this theory."

"Has he managed to do so?" Riker asked doubtfully.

"I don't know, Number One," Picard shrugged. "He was very disappointed when I chose a career in Starfleet instead of one in archaeology and we haven't really spoken ever since. All I know about his work is from hearsay – and from his publications, of course."

"Do you think that Dr Boudreau is trying to prove the same theory?" Dr Crusher guessed.

Picard shook his head. "No; Annette has always been exclusively interested in the Faran Empire. It had been a childhood dream of hers to find Izul before everyone else."

"And she apparently succeeded," Data said. Or, at least, she seems to believe so. Her latest report to the Archaeology Council of the Federation announces that she has discovered a lost city on Bolaxnu 7 which, in her opinion, indicates that the planet actually is Izul."

For a moment everyone was stunned to silence. As usual, Riker recovered from his surprise first.

"Do you think she's right, Captain?" he asked.

"It is, at the very least, possible," Picard allowed. "The location of the planet is such that it could be considered as a possible candidate. However, to answer that question for certain, we'll need more data. A great deal more."

He looked at the android. "Mr Data, I want you to find out everything there is currently known about the Faran Empire; and not just the few confirmed facts. Everything: rumours, gossip, wild theories, no matter how obscure. I want to know what we might be facing when we arrive at Bolaxnu 7."

"Understood, Captain."

"Mr LaForge, what is our ETA?"

"By maximum travelling velocity approximately four days and sixteen hours, Captain," the chief engineer replied. "Unless you want me to push the engines a bit, that is."

Picard shook his head. "No, that's not necessary. If the planet is indeed Izul, it's been there over eight thousand years undisturbed. It can wait a few more days. I'd prefer to make myself familiar with the source material before we arrive. Dismissed."


Geordi LaForge did push his engines just a little bit, and so the Enterprise arrived at Bolaxnu 7 in a little under four days.

"It is a desert planet of the Class G," Data reported on the last staff meeting before the away team would beam down, "with a silicate surface, and a thin oxidizing atmosphere. Quite similar to Rigel 12, actually, but with five per cent less planetary mass. The planet's core is currently inactive due to its age, but there still is some water under the surface – not enough to support organic life, though."

"Do you mean it can't support life now or that it was never capable of doing so?" Dr Crusher asked.

""On the contrary, doctor," the android said. "The presence of dry river beds proves that the planet was once more than well suited to support life. Apparently, it even had oceans at some point. Whether it was natural aging that changed the conditions or some cosmic phenomenon is currently unknown, though."

"What about mineral resources?" Worf asked. "Could it have been used as a mining planet?"

"Sensor readings indicate the former presence of large deposits of raw dilithium," Data replied. "However, those deposits have been depleted millennia ago. It is, geologically seen, a rather old planet and largely useless, save for research purposes."

"Any sign of the lost city that Dr Boudreau discovered?" Picard asked.

The android nodded.

"Yes, Captain. There is a dense, intricate network of subterranean tunnels and caves, at the very least twenty-eight levels deep. Due to the presence of certain rare ores in the rock our sensors cannot penetrate the structure any deeper, but I assume that there might be further levels beneath the ones we can read."

"You mean the whole city is under the earth?" Riker clarified.

The android nodded again.

"The only surface structures are a pair of monoliths that, according to Dr Boudreau's report, create the actual entrance into the city… some kind of passage, it is said."

Riker pulled a face. "I don't like the sound of that. With your permission, Captain, I'd like to take both Data and Geordi with me. Just in case there's some kind of unknown technology at work. I wouldn't like to walk into a trap."

"Permission granted," Picard said, "although I don't think that Annette Boudreau would have any hidden agenda. She lives solely for her work and has little to no other personal interests."

"I don't doubt that, sir; but she might not know what sort of traps the inhabitants of this planet might have left behind."

"The possibility of any of the technology still working is less than ten per cent, Commander," Data said. "This planet has been uninhibited for at least 7.872 thousand years. Of course, this is only a rough estimate," he added apologetically.

"Of course," Picard suppressed a smile. "Very well, Number One. Put together an away team while Ensign Brooks puts together the supply modules and Chief O'Brien prepares the cargo transporter unit on Deck 4. In the meantime, I'll contact the expedition and have a little chat with an old friend."


Less than twenty minutes later the away team, consisting of Riker, Data, LaForge, Worf, Dr Selar and medical technician Simon Tarses met in Transporter Room 3, ready to beam down to the surface.

"Where is Chief O'Brien?" asked Riker from the young, dark-skinned woman standing behind the transporter console.

She was new, came aboard during the regular crew rotation schedule from Starbase 260, shortly before the Klingon civil war would break lose. Hubble or Hubbell or something like that was her name, Riker couldn't quite remember at the moment.

"Still busy with the supply modules in the cargo transporter," the transporter technician replied. "There's some highly sensitive stuff in those modules, sir; and the cargo transporter units are primarily designed for operation at molecular resolution. Which is sufficient for standard cargo use but one needs to be careful with certain chemicals and sophisticated equipment."

That was considerably more information than Riker actually needed, and the delay made him slightly irritated.

"Have you spent much time in Commander Data's company, Ensign…"

"Hubbell, sir," both the transporter technician and the android stared at him in mild bewilderment, but he decided not to start explaining himself.

"Are we ready?" he asked the rest of the away team instead.

"Aye, sir," they chorused, taking up positions on the transporter platform. Riker took the one left for him in the front.

"Energize," he said, and a moment later he felt the brief disorientation as the transporter beam caught him and carried him away.

The world upon the surface of which they were set down was incredible. There was no other word to describe it. A desert long void of life, for sure, but of grim, gripping beauty nonetheless.

The rocky surface, covered with boulders of various sizes, from that of a man's fist to that of a shuttlecraft, mixed with rough sand just this side of gravel, had a distant reminiscence of Mars Solis before the terraforming, but the ruling shade was closer to rose and purple than true red. And it was bathed in mixed light of red-gold and silver.

They were standing in the bottom of a wide, shallow valley – presumably a dried-out river bed – that was framed by monolithic rock formations that varied widely in shape and shade. The twin monoliths on their right were supposedly the ones that marked the passage to the lost city, although nothing of that could be detected by the naked eye – or by tricorder readings, for that matter.

Far above and ahead of them, almost touching the horizon, hung Bolaxnu 8: a huge, ringed planet, gleaming and semi-transparent like quicksilver. It seemed impossible that the incredible mass of the gas giant had not yet torn Bolaxnu 7 to pieces; but perhaps it had messed up its smaller neighbour's orbit, turning a once flourishing world into a deadly desert in the process.

A broad sward of white clouds – in truth a sward of densely set, bright stars, as the planet didn't have enough surface water left to produce actual clouds – appeared to curl upwards, linking itself through the ring of the gas giant; in its downward curve sat Bolaxnu, the central star of the system: a small yet bright ball of reddish light, compared with the cold gleaming of the ringed planet. Riker was fairly certain that Bolaxnu 7 knew no darkness. Even at nighttime, the silver light of its giant neighbour would provide enough illumination to make any artificial means unnecessary.

"Are the two planets in Trojan orbit?" he asked, and Data nodded.

"Yes, Commander. However, my calculations show that this might not have always been the case. It is more likely that the gravitational pull of the gas giant slowly, gradually modified the orbit of Bolaxnu 7, until it finally got caught in this constellation; which probably took ten millennia or longer. Stellar Cartography would enjoy making more accurate calculations."

"I'm sure they will," Riker answered dryly. "But we have more urgent matters to deal with right now. Let's find the actual entrance, shall we?"

They walked up to the twin monoliths that were said to mark the entrance to the subterranean city and now, from close up, they could see that these were different from the natural rock formations seaming the valley. Made of the same amber rock, yet clearly by artificial means, they were as tall as the towers of As'toroken, their gleaming surface unmarred by weather and any other environmental effects, despite the fact that the planet had been abandoned for millennia.

There was also no sign of any gate or doorway on either of them.

"If this is the entrance, I can't see how it's supposed to work," muttered Riker. "There's nothing and nobody here."

"That is not entirely correct, Commander," Dr Selar took out her medical tricorder to scan for life signs. "Logic dictates that the entrance of the city must be well hidden; presumably even cloaked."

"Perhaps it can only be opened from the inside," suggested Ensign Tarses.

He was a young man, barely out of the Academy, with a constantly worried expression on his fresh face – which most people found vaguely confusing, as he'd inherited the pointed ears of his Vulcan grandparent.

"That is unlikely, Ensign," Data replied. "If the entrance could not be opened from the outside, the expedition would never have found it in the first place."

"Perhaps the opening mechanism was damaged, yet they've managed to repair it," suggested LaForge. "My VISOR can still pick up traces of residual energy between the two monoliths – in fact, it is building up as we speak."

"He's right," Worf consulted his tricorder. "Commander, we should back off a bit, just in case."

"I don't think our own people would mean us any harm, Mr Worf," Riker said. "They're expecting us, after all; and the supplies we bring them."

"Nonetheless, we might be dealing with unknown technology here," Dr Selar supported the Klingon. "Logically, we should apply safety measures."

She made a couple of demonstrative steps backward and Ensign Tarses followed her obediently.

In the meantime the energy was now visibly building up between the twin monoliths. It crackled on the smooth surface of the amber rock, its sizzling arches meeting in the exact middle, intertwining and forming the outline of a tall, arched gateway. In the next moment, however, it was gone, and between the monoliths stood the shapes of two women, seemingly small and fragile compared with their surroundings.

One of them was clearly an Andorian: tall and willowy for one of her race, with delicate facial features and an almost swan-like carriage in the neck of shoulders. Her more silvery skin tone and the flimsy, stalk-like antennae rising from the front parietal lobes unmistakably identified her as a member of the Thalish minority.

Riker found her vaguely familiar but at first he couldn't remember where from – until the wide lilac eyes gave her away, a rare colour, even among the Thalish. It was Sessethantis zh'Cheen, not only a celebrated artisan of Andor but also a member of the hereditary gentry. Granted, the once ruling families had lost their right to form the Andorian government some five centuries previously, but there were still many who acknowledged the position of such families and pained their descendants honour.

Sessethantis zh'Cheen would have been the First Princess of one such family a thousand years ago and was treated accordingly, both by her own people and the representatives of the Federation. She accepted it as her due.

Sometimes being the son – even the estranged son – of a Federation diplomat came in handy. Riker could now remember having met her on Betazed, quite a few years ago; even through now she was wearing a simple and practical ceara, the traditional garb of a zhen, the only one of the four Andorian genders that was capable of bearing children, instead of the usual formal robes. She was clearly here to work, not in any political function.

"Zha'Cheen," Riker said, using the accepted polite form of address, "it is nice to meet you again. I wasn't expecting to see you here, of all places."

"The artwork discovered at this excavation is quite extraordinary," she replied in a melodious, slightly accented voice that was much softer than that of the average Andorian's. "As the current deacon of the Art Academy, I was the most obvious choice," those wide, lilac eyes narrowed. "Do I know you, Commander?"

Riker shook his head. "It is doubtful that you'd remember me, Zha'Cheen, but we've met before. On Betazed, when the newest building of their Art Academy was opened."

Her antennae wiggled in the Andorian equivalent of a nod.

"I do remember now. You were with the family of Ambassador Troi; but you looked different then. This… facial hair changes your appearance very much."

"So I am frequently told," Riker grinned; then he turned to the other woman who'd been listening to them quietly. "I'm Commander William Riker, First Officer of the Enterprise. Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

"The pleasure is all mine," she replied, reaching out with a small, dark, fine-boned hand like a bird's claw. "I am Dr Boudreau, leader of this expedition. How's Jean-Luc doing?"


For a moment Riker was stunned with surprise. He hadn't looked up Dr Annette Boudreau in advance, but he'd expected somebody of Picard's age and mannerism. The two had studied together and been friends ever since, after all.

What he saw instead was a small, dark-skinned woman of regal posture who seemed to be in her late seventies or early eighties. Her short-cropped, iron-grey hair famed her face like a wreath of silver frames, her almond-shaped, dark eyes mirrored a great deal of experience and a lot of pain and one could have cut glass with her cheekbones. She barely reached to Riker's shoulder and yet had such a strong, commanding presence that the executive officer of the Enterprise unconsciously snapped to attention under her piercing glare and had to fight the urge to kiss that fragile old hand with the deepest respect.

In her youth she must have been absolutely stunning. The ashes of a once great beauty, long burned away by the hardships of a long life, were still visible in her proud, imperious face. In a different place and time, she could have been a queen… a priestess… a goddess. Here and now she was a scientist – still with the same aura.

"Welcome to Bolaxnu 7, Commander," she continued in her deep, smoky voice; she didn't seem to mind that he had yet to answer her question about Picard's well-being. "Would you mind to introduce the others?"

Riker hurriedly apologized for his lack of manners and introduced his colleagues, one by one. When he named Dr Selar, the eyes of Dr Boudreau lit up at once.

"A doctor, good," she said in obvious relief. "One of my colleagues, Dr Roark, was recently injured, and he doesn't seem to be getting better. We're all concerned about him."

"What happened?" the Vulcan asked with professional interest.

"Not all of the tunnels are safe," explained Dr Boudreau. "The deeper levels have a tendency to collapse; the floors can break through here and there. Dr Roark was working in one of the newly opened caves and fell into a hidden pit, some thirty feet deep… or more. He broke several bones and suffered a heavy concussion. Unfortunately, our bone-knitting device has stopped working half a year ago. All we've got are some medical tricorders and a dermal regenerator."

"It's high time, then, that we get your supplies here," Riker touched his com badge. "Riker to Cargo Transporter Unit 4."

"O'Brien here," the voice of the Enterprise's transporter chief replied.

"You can beam down the supplies now, Mr O'Brien," Riker told him. "Log on to our communicators and put them down anywhere in a two-metre-radius."

"Aye, sir," the good-natured Irishman acknowledged his orders. "Energizing in five-four-three-two-one… transfer complete!"

In the next moment the five large supply modules materialized less than a metre from their position. Based on the relieved smile of Dr Boudreau with which she checked the inventory lists, the expedition must have run out of just about everything during the last year.

"We've been working here for more than three years by now," she explained, "and supply runs have been few and far between. We're glad that Thantis has joined us half a year ago; having a celebrity in our rows makes it a lot easier to get at least the basic necessities. Without her, we might have had to cut our work short here."

"That would have been a shame," Riker said. "Especially now that you've finally found the lost capitol of Izul."

"Well, where that is concerned," Dr Boudreau seemed more than just a little uncomfortable, "my proclamations may have been premature."

Data, having taken in their surroundings both visually and via tricorder, came back just in time to catch the tail end of their conversation.

"What do you mean with premature, doctor?" he asked in surprise.

Dr Boudreau shrugged elegantly.

"I may have been wrong," she admitted with obvious reluctance.

Riker stared at her in shock. "You gotta be kidding, doctor!"

"Afraid not," she replied in a tight voice; then she turned away. "If you'll excuse me, Commander, I must oversee the transfer of the supplies. Thantis cans how you around in the meantime."

Riker found this sudden interruption a little odd but he couldn't deny that the transfer of supplies was the most important thing – at least for the expedition members.

"Of course, doctor," he said. "Commander Data and Lieutenant Worf will help you with the supplies, while Dr Selar and Ensign Tarses look after your injured man. We can discuss the issue of Izul later."

"What am I supposed to do, sir?" LaForge asked.

"Keep a close eye on any bit of technology you may discover," Riker ordered in a low voice. "This site to site transporter seems intriguing. Not something we could use aboard a starship, of course, but certain mining colonies, especially the ones with a closed environment, might show interest, if we can figure out how it works."

"I doubt that it would prove more practical than anything the Federation already has," the Andorian commented. "Besides, it is ancient. No; the true wonders of this city, whether it is the lost capital of Izul or not, lie under the surface."

"From an artisan's point of view, I presume," Riker grinned.

Zh'Chen's antennae turned towards each other in a clear sign of amusement.

"Is there any other one, Commander? Follow me, and I shall show you wonders no man has ever seen before."

"Is the gateway accessible from the outside, too?" LaForge asked.

"Of course," replied zh'Cheen. "As far as we can tell, this was a public entrance, open for everyone, save for emergencies. The inhabitants of this planet – whoever they might have been – had realized that the surface will become inhabitable in the long run soon enough to move their civilization underground. Dr Roark estimated that they must have worked on it for centuries – millennia perhaps – delving deeper and deeper in each new generation. We've barely begun to scratch the surface."

She led them to a slab of smooth, amber stone that had been worked seamlessly into the rocky floor of the valley, in the exact middle between the twin monoliths. It was large enough for six people to stand on it.

"This is the local equivalent of a transporter platform," she explained. "We still haven't figured out what triggers the actual process; or whether it can be used in other directions than just in and out. Annette says they haven't found similar platforms within the city, but that doesn't mean there aren't any. Perhaps…"

Whatever else she intended to say, it was chopped off by the transporter effect that caught them unexpectedly and without warning.

~TBC~