After a few minutes it's obvious they're not heading for the surface. Rawlson produces a small hand torch and leads them off the main passageway, through an access hatch and into a much narrower tunnel.
Kirk takes him by the elbow. "Where are you taking us, Commander? And where are my men?"
"I told you. We need to get to control. We're blind down here." Rawlson shakes off Kirk's grip and resumes walking, speaking over his shoulder. "The control room has monitoring equipment and secure communications. We can send a coded signal to the Enterprise." He points ahead into the darkness. "This takes us under the warehouses. And I don't know what he did with your men. I suspect they'll be with the others."
"Others?" And then Kirk realises. "You mean the rest of your team. The positives. They're confined somewhere?"
Rawlson nods but says nothing more. They've come to a junction and he motions for them to stop while he goes on ahead.
The flicker of an overhead strip light reveals the clutter of smashed mining equipment. Haul trucks lie abandoned. A laser drill hangs suspended from rough hewn rock.
"Captain." Spock gestures to a scar on the rock face. "Phaser fire. There has been an altercation here."
Kirk thinks back to the original transmission from a terrified Lieutenant crouching beside a destroyed console. "I'd say this whole colony has been one big altercation, Mister Spock. It's anarchy."
Spock is thoughtful. "Indeed. Although there is evidence that until recently there was an underlying order here. A strategy that is currently unclear to me." He moves closer, his voice low. "Jim, I do not trust-"
He checks himself. Rawlson has returned.
"All clear. But we need to hurry."
He crosses the tunnel and enters another access hatch, beckoning for them to follow.
This passage is even narrower than the last. The man in front moves fast, torchlight flickering on dripping walls, boots sinking into black sludge. The moisture dripping from the ceiling stings on their bare skin. The air is acrid with chemicals.
At last the tunnel climbs and then comes to an abrupt end at a metal door with no apparent fixings or handle. Rawlson produces a key pad and types in a code. With a gritty grind the door swings open flooding the passageway with warm air and dim light.
When they step onto the gantry the first thing Kirk notices is the crackle of electricity and the scent of ozone. The air hums with energy, raising the hairs on his forearms and trailing cobwebs of static across the back of his neck.
They are standing several metres above a darkened room of flashing lights and glowing screens. In one corner an intermittent shower of sparks speaks of a severed power conduit. Equipment has been removed from here with no attention to the niceties of electronic engineering, Kirk judges.
A glass wall separates the room from a dark adjoining chamber which appears to be empty.
Rawlson doesn't hesitate. His footsteps down the metal staircase echo with percussive urgency.
Kirk is about to follow when his first officer stills him with a gentle grip around his upper arm. He keeps his voice to a low murmur.
"Captain - those monitors - I would appreciate an opportunity to observe them more closely."
Kirk nods, understanding immediately. "I'll do my best to provide a diversion, Mr Spock."
At the foot of the stairs he joins Rawlson who is rummaging in a storage locker built into the wall.
"So, Commander. We appear to be alone and not under immediate threat. I think you owe us an explanation."
Rawlson sits back on his heels, dragging a grey metallic briefcase from the back of the locker.
"I owe you? Well, that's rich, Kirk. I rather think you owe me. Or Starfleet does."
Kirk frowns. "For what? You're not going to tell me you're proud of what's happened here."
"Well, no... I'll grant you recent events have been...unfortunate. But my research is sound. You'll see. You'll all see when I publish my results."
"Unfortunate?" Kirk sucks in a breath.
The images rise unbidden. A scream cut off by phaser fire. The Starfleet boots under tarpaulins. He'd never even seen their faces.
Fury rises dark and hot but he can't afford to lose control. He forces himself to take a step back. He's aware that Spock is behind him standing over the nearest console. He has to keep the man's focus. He tries a change in tack.
"You're a scientist, Commander. By background and training. Let's keep to the facts. You told us this was a research project. That something went wrong."
Rawlson rises, bringing the briefcase with him. It is obviously far heavier than its size suggests. He heaves it onto the nearest bench.
"Starfleet was blind. You were blind, Kirk. But I saw it. Long before I transferred to the command track, long before this place, I saw the potential. But I was blocked on every front."
Kirk inwardly curses. The Enterprise logs from Alpha 177 had been security coded to protect them from the casual reader. But he remembers Rawlson's messages. He'd been based at one of the fleet's most renowned research labs. With that level of clearance he would have had no problems accessing the official logs.
"Blocked? I think you may be referring to the quite reasonable restrictions Starfleet places on research that treats people as lab rats, Commander."
"People?" Rawlson rolls his eyes. "You still don't get it, Captain. It was never my intention for my research to involve people."
Kirk is beginning to see where this is going. But his peripheral vision tells him Spock has moved across to another console, to a padd attached to a docking port. He takes a step sideways and rests his fingers on the bench to block Rawlson's line of sight. "So you managed to obtain a sample of the Alpha ore?"
Rawlson smiles. Kirk finds the glint of pride anything but reassuring. "Not just a sample. A supply actually. It wasn't easy. But it was worth it. My initial results were extremely promising." He rests his hand on the briefcase, fingers stroking the smooth metal with an odd unconscious tenderness.
"It was slow. Thanks to the lack of support from my superiors, I had to work in secret. And then came the opportunity to command. I shelved the work. But I kept the samples."
"And then you ended up here. On Deneb III. With a team of Starfleet's finest engineers and scientists. You had the best colony team in the quadrant. Good god, man. What happened?"
Rawlson looks away, his eyes dark. "It's what didn't happen, Captain. You've seen for yourself how hostile this planet is. Yes, I had a good team. The first year we made decent progress. The surveys were correct - if anything they'd under-estimated the mineral wealth here. We even managed some limited permaculture under cover, but every drop of water required de-ionisation. The yield versus energy ratios were well outside sustainable parameters. And then the supply ships stopped coming."
And with a flash of certainty Kirk understands. A colony starved of supplies. A scientist with a special interest in command. And the Enterprise logs outlining a way out - a way to duplicate dwindling stocks. He remembers the heaters they had attempted to transport to the freezing landing party on Alpha 177. So it would not have worked on complex machinery, on anything with a circuit board, but with raw materials...
"You used the samples," he says flatly. "You deliberately contaminated your own transporters."
Rawlson's eyes flash. "I modified and quarantined one transporter, Captain. I took every precaution. But I had to operate in secret. I couldn't brief the team. I continued rationing - god knows where they thought I was getting supplies."
He turns away. "And then the storm hit - it lasted more than a week and demolished two of our storage units. We had to take shelter here, in the mines. And when it was over... my samples, the dust - it was everywhere. I didn't realise. I didn't know what had happened until the security team..." His voice cracks and for the first time Kirk finds it in himself to feel a twinge of sympathy. "The tunnels were blocked by debris. They used the transporters to beam to the surface. Then they used them to return."
The man in blue raises his eyes from the bench and the case beneath his hands. "Your logs, Kirk. Your personal logs. If I'd seen them, it might have made a difference. I might have seen the signs. The duplicates didn't reveal themselves immediately. By the time I realised what was happening it was too late."
Kirk thinks back to his assessment of the qualities needed to get promotion within Starfleet security. The discipline. The focus. The ability to thrive in conditions of adversity. And the converse of that. Aggression. Single mindedness. Cruelty.
"So they rounded up their counterparts. And your team. They locked them away. Took control."
"Yes." Rawlson sighs, "Not all them made it. And that's not the worst of it." He pulls the briefcase upright by the handle. "Captain, we've wasted enough time. My duplicate could return at any time. It is time to signal your ship. We need to get out of here."
Kirk finds himself in agreement. The desire to leave this planet of death and duplication, the pull of his starship, is almost irresistible. But by the commander's own account there are men and women here who need help. His own men among them, Kingley and Yamamoto. And something doesn't add up.
"I'm curious, Commander. How did you become a victim of the duplication process? You surely didn't decide to use the transporters given what you knew."
"I told you Captain. By the time I realised what was happening it was too late. I was part of the second transport. By then the whole array was contaminated." His eyes slide away and Kirk has the distinct sense he is not hearing the full story. He keeps his voice neutral.
"And the guards - they still obey your orders. You're still in command here. Yet you allowed what happened on the Demeter." Rawlson swallows and makes to move away but Kirk extends his fingers to grip his upper arm. He won't allow him to drop his gaze. "They tortured those people."
Something indefinable flits across Rawlson's face. "Not me, Captain. I wasn't responsible. My duplicate, remember. It would appear the instinct to obey survives the duplication process. When I had access to the comms I tried to warn the colony ship to stay away - they wouldn't listen."
Every instinct tells Kirk to doubt what he's hearing. There are too many gaps in this story. And he hasn't forgotten a warm Vulcan grip in a dark tunnel. "Jim, I do not trust-"
But the same instincts are telling him the time for talking is over. He makes a decision. "Right. You said we can reach the Enterprise from here. I need to talk to my chief engineer."
With some eagerness the commander turns toward the consoles. Only to be brought up short by an immovable object in the shape of a Vulcan science officer.
"Commander Spock." He makes a move to circumnavigate the form in front of him but Spock takes another step, blocking his path.
"I would submit you have not yet supplied the Captain with full picture, Commander."
Kirk allows some of his frustration to bleed through. "I've heard enough, Spock. The details can wait. We still need to track down the confined positives. And the best way to do that is via the Enterprise."
Spock's eyes are sombre. "There is more you need to know, Captain."
Kirk looks at the flashing numbers and text on the padd Spock holds with sudden dread. "What have you found, Spock?"
"A record of recent events, Captain. A list of the personnel who have undergone duplication. The commander is to be commended for his scientific approach."
Vulcans don't do sarcasm, Kirk thinks. Yet there is no mistaking the distinct lack of admiration in his science officer's tone.
"The text and numbers on the left show the days since duplication. The numbers on the right are an attempt to extrapolate lifespan. That is correct, Commander, is it not?" A question that is not a question. Rawlson has gone very pale. He stares at the floor.
Spock continues as if he has heard an assent. "And the central column has a particular significance. That column is headed with the letter G. I believe I understand what that G is intended to signify."
Kirk casts his eye down the lengthening list - a macabre and accelerating countdown. "But that can't be right, Spock. There are far more personnel entries here than appear in the colony records."
The Vulcan raises an eyebrow. "Commander...?"
Rawlson seems defeated. Shoulders slumped, he addresses the nearest floor tile.
"I told you you hadn't heard the worst of it. Once the duplicates had taken over they accessed the computers in my laboratory. They read my research."
Kirk senses a cold fist clench somewhere below his ribs. Suddenly he knows what Rawlson is about to say, even as his mind refuses to accept the enormity of it; even as any hope of resolving this impossible situation shatters.
With the air of a man who has nothing left to lose, the Commander lifts his chin and braces himself, as if for a blow.
"The G stands for generation. The duplicates, the negatives - they have continued using the contaminated transporters."
For a moment Kirk finds it difficult to draw breath. "My god. Rawlson. What have you done?"
-oOo-
