8. A Deeper Well
Commanding Officer's Log, Stardate 48424.59. Commander La Forge has just told me the warp engines are ready to be fully tested for a twelve-hour run at warp nine point nine. Not a moment too soon. Despite Admiral Necheyev's refusal to allow us a temporal displacement drive, I intend to take the Enterprise into the past anyway, the old-fashioned way.
"Slingshot around the sun? No, we can't do it, commander. I've checked. Dr Brahms was right – we simply cannot get enough speed, or turn tightly enough. The gravity well isn't deep enough."
Riker's face fell. "I was hoping you would be able to tell me it was at least barely possible."
"I'm afraid not, commander. The ship can't handle it. We need more speed. It might be possible to lower the mass of the ship using a focused subspace field from the deflector array, except that we need that for the inverse tachyon field…."
"Any other problems?" Riker said, his face weary.
"Yes, lots," La Forge said bluntly. "Even if it works and if the Enterprise doesn't tear herself apart, I just can't guarantee we'll be anywhere near the right time when we come out."
"It doesn't have to be the same minute, or even the same week," Riker said.
"Seriously, Commander, I'd be hard-pressed to get the right year."
"How close can you get?" Worf interrupted, skipping ahead of the immediate insoluble problem in favour of one that looked easier.
"I'd need to run some simulations," La Forge said. "Best case scenario at this stage, I'd say we would have a two to four month window."
"We can't hang around for four months, even if we can get back at the same time. Not good enough."
"Not yet, but as I said, once I've run some simulations, I should be able to get it down to a month – that is, two weeks either side of their original insertion point."
"And how do we get back?" Worf asked.
"That's the easy part – we just reverse the equations," La Forge said. "Back just a few minutes after we leave, taking into account initial acceleration. No one will know we were ever gone, Commander – including Admiral Nechayev."
"Good," Riker grunted. He wasn't happy about going behind the Admiral's back, but at least she hasn't given him a direct order. She had merely refused to supply him with the tools for the job, so he was going to do the job, tools or no tools. He was in command, and the Enterprise was his, as she had confirmed. So it was time for some shore leave on Earth – thirty millennia ago. "Now try and find us a way to get that extra speed. You have twelve hours."
"And here I thought I was going to be rushed... Okay, I'll get on it right away, Commander." La Forge hurried back to the turbolift. The doors hissed open, and he entered. When he was alone in it, he rubbed his temples, grimacing. Thirty thousand years into the past? No one had ever gone that far back, not even with a chronodrive, let alone slingshotting around the sun. Is it even theoretically possible, he asked himself. Dammit Geordi, you're an engineer, not a theoretical physicist. Ah, wait, but Leah is a theoretical engineer, he reminded himself. Of course….
"Computer! Locate Dr Leah Brahms!"
"Dr Brahms is in her quarters," replied the dispassionate mechanical voice.
"Excellent. Deck Eight," he ordered the computer, and the turbolift shot off again, its inertial dampers concealing any sensation of movement at all. In a few moments the doors hissed open again.
"I really must see if I can't do something about the noise starship doors make," La Forge muttered to himself as they hissed shut behind him. He hurried down the long curving corridor. "Ah, here we are."
He pressed the intercom switch "Leah, it's Geordi. Do you have a moment?"
"Just a moment." The door hissed open, and Leah Brahms stepped out. "I was just on my way to see you, Geordi," she said.
"What about?"
"Well, Commander Riker wants to take the ship into the past, right? And it's an even bet that Necheyev won't let him have a temporal displacement drive. Or did I hear the rumours wrong?"
"You heard right," La Forge admitted.
"No surprise there. She's only been permitted one, and doesn't want you to break it. So what are your options?"
"You know we only have two other options, Leah," La Forge said. "Find a convenient Borg ship, persuade it to go back to Earth in thirty thousand years ago and ride on its chronometric particle wake, or…"
"Or do what Kirk did twice with the original Enterprise," Brahms finished for him. "However, you have a problem – the Enterprise simply can't go that fast."
"Yeah, we need to figure out a way to get a bit more power from the engines," La Forge said.
Brahms looked at him strangely, a slight smile playing about her features. "Do we?" she asked softly.
"Well, yes, you know we need more speed," La Forge said.
"I assure you, I know it very well," Brahms said. "But do you?"
"Yes, I…" La Forge broke off. "I – of course! I've been blind!"
"You only figured that out now?" Brahms said, looking at his VISOR.
"How could I not have seen it? It's so simple!" He tapped his communicator pin. "Commander Riker? Geordi here. I know how we can get more speed."
"How?" came Riker's disembodied voice.
"You remember I told you we needed more speed, and the Enterprise's engines couldn't give us any more power?"
"Yes. And?"
"We just need a steeper hill," La Forge said. "We use the gravitational well of the sun not just for the acceleration and lateral subspace translation into c-space for the time jump, but to increase our speed. So a star with more mass will drag us in that much quicker, and, more to the point, have a steeper gravity well. That's where we get the added speed from."
"Excellent. Good work, Geordi." The relief in Riker's voice was evident through the intercom.
"I should have seen it earlier, commander. I wasn't thinking," La Forge said. "There's another advantage as well. Roughly speaking, a super-dense stellar mass like a black hole causes a hole in not just space but time – time ceases to exist as one dimension but can be accessed from three, allowing us to travel to any time. The slingshot effect, using the light-speed breakaway factor, allows us to recreate a similar effect in subspace using the sun's gravity well. The farther back we need to go, the bigger the sub-space black hole needs to be. So if we use a much denser star than the sun we can create a bigger opening with less relative speed – with a big enough star, thirty thousand years will be easy."
"Where do you have in mind?" Riker asked.
"We'll do some thinking, and let you know commander," La Forge said.
"Keep me posted. Riker out."
Brahms looked at La Forge, smiling. La Forge loved it when she smiled. She looked like she was planning some huge cosmic joke, some impish jest. It was a smile that radiated fun rather than just happiness.
"So, Geordi, now that you have set our good commander at ease, which star shall we choose?"
"Well, there are any number we could use," La Forge said.
"True. But we don't need to go too far. We're travelling at warp nine point nine for twelve hours, so we'll be about four and a half light years from Earth. Nothing good that close, but there are a few candidates in the ten to twenty light-year range. Where would you suggest?"
"Ummmm," Geordi said, uncomfortably aware that Brahms was testing him. He was sure she had already worked out the ideal candidate, and was waiting to see if he was up to her level. "Oh, I know. How about Epsilon Hydrae A, at two earth masses? Or wait, no: what direction are we heading? Okay – how about Sirius B – it's a white dwarf and so the intense gravitational field would make up for its slightly smaller-than-ideal mass."
"Good choice, Commander. Sirius B was what I would have recommended. It should provide easily enough of a gravitational well to slingshot back that far."
"Yeah, too much farther and we'd need a real black hole," La Forge joked.
"That was almost funny, Geordi. But keep trying," Brahms said as she turned away to hide her smile. "Now you just need to plot the orbit and run some simulations."
"Yeah, child's play," Geordi groaned.
"Well, come on then," Brahms said, smiling openly this time. "We've got some work to do!"
"We?"
"What, you think I'm going to pass up an opportunity to calculate the orbit for a thirty-thousand year slingshot? I could get several papers out of this, as well as be keynote speaker at the next Daystrom conference. It's going to be on Risa, the pleasure planet, after all – can't pass that up."
"Well, we have twelve hours to figure out an orbital path and velocity," La Forge said. "Then the commander is going to want to take us back to the Ice Age."
Picard was dreaming. He was back home in France, at his family's house in LeBarre, among the gently rolling vineyards. He could hear the sound of the neighbourhood children playing in the morning sun, feel the gentle breeze of an early summer zephyr brush his cheek. But then the scene shifted; the children's voices faded out, and he found himself floating alone in a vast black void, tumbling in an infinite darkness.
His eyes snapped open, and saw rough blackened rock. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and when he was. Thirty thousand years ago, at the dawn of human culture, the beginning of everything.
"I am glad to see you awake." The cave woman called Ayla was kneeling by his bed, offering him a steaming cup. He took it, and sipped at its contents. It was a tea of some herbs he did not recognise. He sighed softly. A pity the people here would never know the rich complex flavours of Indian, Sri Lankan, or Chinese tea, he thought. But he had to admit the brew he was drinking was an interesting substitute.
"What is this made of?" he asked.
"Alfalfa and alder, with a sprig of mint," Ayla replied.
Picard looked in his cup. He could see a few small leaves and bits of vegetation in it, but he was no botanist. He doubted he could even recognise alder if he saw it.
"Interesting. I haven't had that before," he said.
"What do you normally drink?" Ayla asked.
"Earl Grey," Picard said, knowing it would mean nothing to her.
"Early grey what?" Ayla asked, confused.
"It's made from the leaves of a plant we simply call 'tea', but with added bergamot, a type of citrus, for flavouring. But I don't think either plant grows around here," Picard said.
"Did you bring any with you?" Ayla asked. "I always like to carry a supply of herbs for teas, as well as medicines."
"No, we didn't," Picard said. "Probably should have," he added to himself.
"Good morning captain, Ayla," said Data, coming into the room from the smaller area at the back of the Visitors' Hut.
"Did you sleep well, Data?" Ayla asked, offering him a cup of tea.
"I passed a most enjoyable night, thank you," he said. "And yourself?"
"Well, the baby was a bit fractious, but that's normal," Ayla said.
"You shouldn't be worrying about us when you have a baby," Picard said, his face concerned. "We can take care of ourselves, really."
"No, she's playing with Jondalar now. She's fine," Ayla said happily.
"Jondalar's her father, right?" Picard asked, wanting to get family connections straight - it wasn't always straight-forward in primitive societies. But he was surprised by Ayla's reaction. She sat and stared at him, breathing deeply.
"Tell me, Jean-Luc, how you think babies are created," she said quietly.
"Uh, perhaps it would be better if you told me," he said, not knowing what her views were. "I would be interested to hear your ideas."
"Do you think it is possible that the man can also contribute to the baby?" she asked eagerly. "It's not just him opening her up for the spirits, is it? There's something more involved, isn't there?"
Picard looked at Ayla carefully, assessing the situation. What he said now could affect the intellectual development of the entire human race, so he needed to tread carefully. There would be no harm in agreeing with a theory, but he needed to be careful not plant ideas in her head.
"Tell me what makes you think this," he said slowly.
"But do you agree?" Ayla asked, looking at him eagerly. "You know I'm right, don't you? I can tell."
"Please, Ayla, I would love to know why you think this. It seems you are in a minority, correct?"
"Yes, I am. Few care to join me in my thoughts, but I know I am right." She looked at Picard, and at the unusual appearance of his trusted companion, and decided he would not be shocked. "Let me tell you why I think this." Quickly, she told him of her adoption by the Clan and the birth of her son. She could see rage and amazement on the older man's face as she talked, but not disgust.
"He raped you when you were twelve," Picard breathed. "Ayla, I don't have the words to express my sadness and anger at what he did to you, but what you have told me about your son Durc is amazing. We did not know that – what was the term you used? – the Clan could interbreed with us. My people have speculated about it, but we have never known for certain."
"Do not men sometimes take Clan women where you live?" Ayla asked. "Or perhaps, Clan men take your women?"
"Ayla," Picard began sadly, "The people you know as the Clan… they have not lived in our land for a very long time. All we know of them are their remains," he said.
"Where have they gone?" she asked, a small knot of fear forming in the pit of her stomach. The worry about the future she had managed to suppress since the strangers arrived rekindled, and increased in strength.
"We do not really know," Picard said. "All we know is that there are none left. How many are around here?" he added.
"Very few," she replied, her face downcast. "Creb told me that they were leaving, that soon they would be gone. It has already begun, I see."
"Creb was your adopted father, wasn't he? He sounds like a wise man," Picard said.
"He was the great Mog-Ur, the wisest of them all. And even he couldn't prevent it. Even he can't stop my dreams, my premonitions."
"What dreams are these?" Picard asked.
"Just… dreams," Ayla said. She wasn't ready to talk about them yet, but she sensed the stranger would be able to interpret them better than she herself could. Perhaps even better than Zelandoni. "Would you like to take a walk?" she asked.
"Actually, yes," Picard said. "I haven't really had much of a chance to look around."
"Come, then," Ayla said. "There's someone I want you to meet."
"You tamed a wolf? Impressive," Picard said, looking cautiously at the animal. "Most attempts that I have heard about failed."
"You know of other people who have befriended wolves?" Ayla was unable to hide her disappointment. She had hoped that she was unique in taming Wolf, but it seemed not to be the case.
"Well, I've heard it's been done – but never as well as this," Picard said. The animal Ayla called Ulf, which she had explained was the Mamutoi word for 'wolf,' was sitting at her feet like an obedient puppy. Picard was almost tempted to pat him, but didn't want to risk a bite.
Ayla was amused at the older man's reluctance. She had seen it many times before: it was a common reaction to Wolf.
"He won't bite," she said. "Go ahead. He loves being tickled behind the ears."
Picard gingerly brushed his hand against the rough fur of the large canine, which growled softly.
"He likes you," Ayla said happily.
"Ah, good," Picard breathed. He was no more comfortable around dogs than he was around children, although his aversion to the latter had become somewhat diminished through serving for seven years on a starship full of them. But it wasn't full of dogs, and he was still not sure how to handle them. He stood back up, and looked expectantly at his hostess.
"Is there anything in particular you would like to see?" Ayla asked. "No, stay, Wolf. Jean-Luc and I are going for a walk."
"No, let him come if he wants to," Picard said. "I'm just not used to him yet, that's all."
They were at one end of the great wide mouth of the abri, the eastern, where all the huts were clustered in the area where they were able get the maximum amount of sunshine. Picard saw how they were made of stone on the lower levels and of wooden frames covered in hides above, although sometimes the stone extended the full way up. The hides were decorated in ornate designs, and he moved closer to one hut to examine them. They were beautifully rendered pictures of animals and various abstract symbols painted in black and many vivid shades of red, yellow, and brown. Bison, deer, wild steppe horses, and above all the great and powerful mammoth.
"Why do you decorate your huts in this way?" he asked.
Ayla blinked. She hadn't really thought about it. Art was not her strong suit, and although she had developed an appreciation for it, largely thanks to Ranec, she was generally of a more practical bent.
"Does it have some religious or spiritual meaning?" Picard was asking.
"I'm sorry, I never really asked anyone," Ayla said. "I don't think so."
"They're incredible," he breathed. He bent down and looked at the animals, lost in thought. The creation of art meant the creation of abstractions: the substitution of a symbol for the reality. The use of symbols was an important step towards being able to convey meanings through these symbols not just to a small group of people, but to many people, and over a long period of time. In short, it was the first giant step on the path towards writing, the single greatest invention of the human species. Picard felt his spine tingle as his fingers gently traced the intricate detailing of the animals that defined the world of the Palaeolithic.
"It's beautiful, whatever its purpose," he said softly.
Ayla was quite surprised by his interest. Surely his own people had similar art? She asked him.
"Our art is…different," he said. "Nor better, or worse. Just…different."
Ayla sensed he was holding something back, but not from malice. She sensed he wanted to tell her, but couldn't. Probably because I am not a full member of Those Who Serve, she told herself sadly. I know that Zelandoni has many secrets as well.
Picard stood up, and walked on, Ayla following him. He looked around, seeing hides being cured in frames, and long shafts of spears, apparently in the process of being straightened, leaning against a crosspiece supported by two posts. Baskets in different stages of completion were stacked in another place, and thongs were drying stretched between pairs of bone posts. Long skeins of cordage hung from pegs pounded into crossbeams above unfinished nets stretched across a frame, and loosely woven netting in bundles on the ground. Skins, some dyed various colours, including many shades of red, were cut into pieces and nearby, partially assembled articles of clothing were hanging. It was a busy life, but not overly hard. People were laughing and chatting, children were running free among the huts and working adults.
He headed out to the central area, clear of huts, where gatherings and feasts were held on days when the weather was inclement. There was a large firepit in the centre, and he wondered which archaeologist would be poking through its remains in another thirty millennia. Then he remembered that the cave system had collapsed by the time modern archaeologist were to take an interest in it. His mind's eye saw an image of the massive rock that hung above the entrance, and he headed out into the wide area that ran down the river, and looked up.
Ayla followed him, noting his interest in the Falling Rock, and it worried her. She had had enough nightmares, or visions perhaps, that involved that rock and Creb leaving her, and the fact that Picard, the stranger who had arrived when she had had another vision of Creb leaving her, was taking an interest in it disturbed her considerably. She was glad when he turned away without comment, and smiled at her.
"How many other caves are inhabited around here?" he asked.
"Six," Ayla replied. "Although more were inhabited in the past. People change caves from time to time."
"Captain." Data came up to them. He greeted Ayla, and then turned to Picard.
"Yes, what is it, Mr Data?"
"With your permission, captain, I should like to return to the shuttle to see what items of value I can salvage from the wreckage."
"What about the radiation levels? Didn't you say there was a danger of leakage?"
"Yes, captain, but I should be quite safe for a short period. We do not yet know for certain how serious the leakage is, either. It may not be a good idea to leave it here when we depart."
"It wouldn't be a good idea anyway, Mr Data," Picard said quietly. "We must not leave any traces of our visit here. It would be…rude to our hosts."
Ayla had not followed much of the conversation. The reference to a shuttle made her think of weaving – Marthona called the small wooden stick she passed through the strands a 'shuttle,' but what this had to do with the two strangers she had no idea. Nor was there any sense to the word 'leakage' in this context. And what was 'radiation'? Was it to do with The Mother? She was sure she had never heard any of the Zelandonis use the word.
"Very good sir," Data was saying. "I should be back before noon. With your permission, then."
"Make it so," Picard said.
Data nodded, and headed off.
"What was that about?" Ayla asked curiously.
"We, uh, left some equipment back near where you found us," Picard said, looking after Data and not at Ayla.
"I found something strange, come to think of it," Ayla said. "Just before I found you, I heard a huge noise."
Picard stiffened. "Yes?" He tried to keep his voice calm, but knew he wasn't succeeding.
He knows something about this, Ayla realised. Perhaps he can help me understand what it means.
"A long scar in the face of the earth," she said, looking at him closely. "There was something at the end, too. Like a tent of stone, but glowing like a green fire."
"Did you go near it?" Picard asked, and Ayla was shocked at the intensity of his question. He looked at her hard. "Tell me, did you go near it?"
"No, I felt something was wrong, something dangerous about it," she said.
Picard visibly relaxed. "Good. It might be dangerous. I am expecting some companions to join me in a few days, and we shall get rid of it together."
"What is it?" Ayla asked.
"It is something that does not belong here," Picard said. "I am sorry, but I cannot tell you more at the moment."
"Is it…dangerous?" Ayla asked, suddenly struck by a premonition.
Picard was silent for a while, his eyes clouded. "I hope not," he said. "But perhaps you should tell your people not to go near it until we can be sure."
"I will do that, Jean-Luc," Ayla said. "But if you are able to counter this attack on the Mother, then please do so."
"I will," he said. "I give you my word. Now, shall we continue our walk?"
NOTES:
Why do Trek doors hiss so much? It annoys me. And that's really all the notes for this chapter.
[Posted 4-4-14]
