Part 8 (1/2)

The engineer continued to study his readout. ”Now, that's interesting.”

”What is?” asked the mutant.

Geordi showed him the tricorder. ”When you left, there was nothing remarkable about you. But when you came back, you were literally dusted with verteron particles.”

Nightcrawler looked at him. ”Verteron ... ?”

”Sorry,” said the engineer. He'd forgotten that in the mutants' universe, which was roughly equivalent to his own in the twentieth century, verterons probably hadn't been discovered yet. ”They're subatomic particles a.s.sociated with subs.p.a.ce phenomena.” Nightcrawler still didn't look enlightened. ”Subs.p.a.ce ... ?”

”A spatial continuum,” said Geordi, ”with different properties from our own. It's by ducking into subs.p.a.ce that the Enterprise is able to travel at faster-than-light speeds. In fact, one might call subs.p.a.ce another dimension-which leads us to an interesting question.”

The mutant tilted his head. ”That being?”

”Whether this other dimension you're traveling through isn't related to subs.p.a.ce. I mean, we don't come out of warp smelling like brimstone-at least, I don't think we do. But the presence of those verterons suggests you're doing with mind and body what we need an entire warp drive to accomplish.” Geordi looked at his guest with newfound respect. ”Let me tell you ... if that's true, it's pretty amazing.”

Nightcrawler stroked his blue-furred chin, his golden eyes fixed on the possibilities-of which there were many. ”Does that mean,” he said, ”there's a way for me to travel from world to world ... maybe even star to star ... without benefit of a s.h.i.+p?”

Geordi thought about it. ”Maybe,” he conceded at last. ”But then again, maybe not.”

Nightcrawler looked at him quizzically.

”You see,” the engineer said, ”even after we enter subs.p.a.ce, we still have to apply a lot of power to move the s.h.i.+p from place to place. It's true, your ma.s.s wouldn't be anywhere near that of the Enterprise-but then, in subs.p.a.ce, ma.s.s isn't really the main issue.”

”In other words,” said the mutant, trying to boil down Geordi's comment, ”it wouldn't be enough just to access this continuum, or whatever it is. I would also have to have a way to propel myself across it.”

The engineer took a breath, then let it out. ”I think so-but honestly, I'm just taking a stab at it. I'd have to study you a lot more closely to come up with an accurate answer.”

Nightcrawler shrugged. ”I'm game if you are.”

”Maybe later,” said Geordi. ”Right now, I want to run some computer models with regard to those verteron particles you're wearing.”

The mutant's brow creased. ”Why? You think they had something to do with our timehooks malfunctioning?”

”I think it's a possibility,” the engineer told him.

”And if that's the case,” said Nightcrawler, ”it'd be silly not to check it out.”

Geordi smiled. ”You said it, not me.”

When Erid emerged from the mess hall, hugging the high wall on his right as always, he saw new faces among the guards on the parapets. Apparently, Rahatan's act of rebellion had gotten the government's attention. Reinforcements had arrived overnight.

A few new transformed were in evidence also. But there was no sign of Rahatan, Denara, or Leyden. Osan had restricted them to their cells, as the prime guard had recommended the day before.

Still, Erid thought, Rahatan had a powerful talent at his fingertips. So did Leyden, for that matter. If either of them had wanted to escape their containment, they might have done it.

In fact, if he were Osan, he would have seen to it that Rahatan and Leyden were guarded around the clock-and maybe Denara as well. Anything less would have been foolish.

Then Erid had a terrible thought. What if Rahatan and the others had been deemed too dangerous to confine? What if the administrator of the fortress had decided to kill them instead?

It was hard to believe someone could be destroyed for an insignificant offense. However, worse offenses might follow-probably would follow, if Erid was any judge of character. And the government had never faced anything like the transformed before.

”Erid?” came a voice from behind him.

He turned and saw it was Corba who had spoken to him.

She tilted her head slightly. ”That'syourname, isn't it?”

Erid nodded, intrigued by her strange, quick way of talking. ”Yes.”

”You don't talk much,” Corba observed.

He shrugged. ”I think a lot.”

”Aboutwhatyou'vebecome,” she said.

”That,” he replied, ”and other things.”

Corba glanced at the opposite wall, where the guards were looking down on the yard. Erid glanced that way, too. Their conversation hadn't drawn any special attention. But then, they were hardly the only ones conversing.

”Otherthings?” she echoed. ”Likewhat?”

”Like how much I hate it here,” he told her.

He hadn't intended to say that. But it had been days since he exchanged more than a couple of superficial words with anyone, and the sentiment had simply come pouring out.

”Weallhateit,” Corba answered. ”That'swhyRahatan didwhathedidyesterday. Becausewe'repeople, notanimals. We'renotsupposedtobecagedup.”

”No,” Erid agreed. ”We're not.”

Her gaze seemed to harden, become more resolute. ”Andwithanyluck, wewon'tbecagedmuchlonger.”

He didn't understand. He told her so.

Again, Corba cast a glance at the battlements. ”Rahatanwantstobreakoutofthisplace.”

Erid looked at her. ”Break ...” He shook his head. ”But how do you know?”

”Paldulcontactedhiminhiscell,” she said. ”Hecando that. Rahatantoldhimwedon'tneedtostayhereanylonger -not withthepowerswe'vegot.”

He swallowed. ”But the guards ...”

Corba frowned. ”Allweneedtodoisworktogether. That's whatRahatansays. Ifwedothat,theguardscan'tstopus.”

Erid felt his cheeks flush. ”And the others ... ?”

”I'vespokenwithhalfadozentransformedmyself,” she said. ”Noonesturnedmedownyet. They're all sick of being here.”