Chapter 58: The Ambergris Element Part 5

Rela had arranged a clandestine meeting on the outskirts of the cultivated areas. The two other young Tribunes, Nefrel and Lemas, listened attentively to Buffy's description of the impending quake. Their looks turned to alarm when she began to detail the request.

"We need your help to capture one of the creatures . . . alive," she told them, "We can't do it ourselves—the only craft we possess for performing such tasks here was destroyed by one of the creatures."

The three young Aquans exchanged uneasy glances. "Rela was observed leading you toward the Forbidden Zone," Nefrel explained. "Domar has warned us that if we break the Ordainments again we risk being exiled to the open seas."

"We cannot reverse the mutations you induced in us without the serum," Buffy said firmly, "and we cannot make that serum without the creature's venom."

"But the Ordainments," Nefrel persisted, "also state that capturing one is forbidden."

"See how all is cleverly tied together!" Lemas exclaimed. "It is forbidden to capture a cpheryhm-aj because its poison is needed to reverse the sea-change. Tell me, Nefrel, will the Ordainments protect us from the upheaving of the sea-floor? These travelers say their science can help us, but we must help them first. That is just."

"We must break the Ordainments, Nefrel," insisted Rela, "even if Buffy Summers could not aid us."

The reluctant Tribune finally acquiesced, whereupon the four left the meeting place and started back toward the sunken city of the ancients.

"We do not need to return to Llach-sse," Lemas said. "We can obtain what we need from the outlying storehouses."

The next step took a great deal of persuasion on Buffy's part. Lemas and Nefrel in particular refused to believe one could simply walk over the forbidden reef and avoid the treacherous, current-torn crevice.

But exhilaration replaced fear when they finally completed the crossing, without a single injury or moment of panic.

Trying to stay out of sight as much as possible, they circled the city and approached the entrance from behind, from the region of the hospital-temple. Rela was swimming well in advance of the rest of the party. Suddenly, she put up a hand in a trans-cultural gesture, and they moved up quietly alongside her.

When Buffy and Xander had stumbled across the creature it had been dazed and drowsy, half asleep. Now it appeared fully quiescent, perhaps sleeping off the blow it had absorbed from the falling stone. It lay motionless on the sand, coiled in among a cluster of huge boulders.

Buffy knew how deceptive that peaceful scene was. At any moment, any suspicious sound, the monster might awaken and make a quick meal of them all. That another timely quake would be in the offing was highly unlikely.

Carefully the three Aquans unrolled a weighted net. Lemas and Nefrel unfurled it while Rela took care to keep it parallel to the bottom and untangled.

At a mutual sign, they started swimming smooth and fast for the creature.

Either they reached a crucial point or someone lost his nerve, because both Lemas and Nefrel suddenly stopped moving forward. Rela let go of the back end of the net. Inertia and weight kept the net moving forward and curving slightly downward. All three Aquans retreated toward the crumbled wall they had left . . . and waited, and watched.

Falling in a gentle arc, the net kept its shape as it neared the bottom, began to settle softly over the snake-squid. The beast quivered slightly when the first strands touched it; but when the body of the net made contact, the cpheryhm-aj erupted.

While Buffy watched anxiously, unable to intervene for fear of getting in someone's way at a critical moment, the three Aquans shot downward.

The more the monster struggled, the tighter the mesh was drawn. Buffy moved rapidly downward, hurriedly readying the makeshift container-collectors Joyce had designed, flexible pouches from each of which protruded a long suction tube with a wide mouth.

The creature had a better view of Buffy than it did of the dodging, darting Aquans. Tentacles and teeth strained for Buffy. Reflex reaction sent a jet of dark fluid toward Buffy.

Buffy edged the mouth of a suction tube into the slowly dispersing cloud, touched a control on the side of the tube. She moved the flexible gathering mouth from side to side. Joyce had warned her that they needed as much venom as they could obtain.

Dark poison dissipated around Buffy. The Aquans had assured her the poison was harmless unless injected. Rubble showered down from surrounding towers. Much of the already battered structure they'd hidden behind came down. Some of the venom already collected drifted from the open mouth of the suction tube and Buffy hurriedly closed it off. A series of violent after-shocks made things more difficult. Rela was alongside Buffy unexpectedly, watching the procedure worriedly. She directed her attention downward.

While the admirable material of the net had proven equal to the explosive spasms of the creature, it had fallen victim to some of the toppling stone. Rocks and carved pillars had driven the pinioned carnivore into a frenzy. They had also abraded sections of the net to the point where the monster was able to break them.

It was still trapped, still bound awkwardly . . . but it had discovered the weakened portions and was tearing at them with mindless malevolence.

"We must leave now, quickly," Rela insisted. She turned, started for the top of the reef where they would be safe.

Buffy examined a gauge set in the side of the tube, called after her. "We need more venom."

"There is no time!" she shouted back. "There . . ."

A thunderous, echoing moan drowned out her last words. Two of the muscular tentacles and part of the upper body of the creature were already free of the netting. Another minute or two and the creature would free the rest of its thick torso. They couldn't hope to outswim the maddened beast.

Cursing silently, Buffy raced off in pursuit of the retreating Aquans.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy and Xander floated in the tank as they watched Joyce run a final series of checks on the mildly toxic chemical. So many things could go wrong if even a small portion of the ancient formula was wrong, out of date, inaccurately set down. And there was no Aquan physician present to look for signs of failure.

Joyce and Sam entered the tank via the airlock, their life support belts turned on. Joyce locked a small bottle of fluid into a hypo. "We've set this up as best we can, Buffy," Joyce said. "Only a small section of the relevant records was missing. I don't think—I hope—it isn't critical."

"But I thought you said . . ." Xander began.

Joyce made calming motions. "Oh, I'm sure about the composition of the serum, that portion of the records is intact and plenty scientific. The section that's missing . . ." She shook his head. "Something to do with the dosage per unit of body weight. I've had to approximate without the complete charts. We might never turn them up." She motioned the Buffy and Xander toward the beds that had been setup in the tank.

"The experiments Sam and I ran on local fish-life show that if the serum dosage is too strong, it causes an over-mutation which then can't be reversed by any means. Inject too little and there can be violent side effects. The stuff is tricky, and too potent for my liking. I'd like to conduct further experiments, but we . . ."

"Haven't got enough venom," Buffy finished for her mother.

"Not only that, but the potency of what you brought back fades rapidly," Sam said. "The composite serum has to be used right away. If you could obtain some more . . ."

"Sadly I don't think we could get Rela and her friends to help us again," Buffy said.

"Then we'll have to make do," Joyce said. "I've decreased the maximum allowable dosage by one quarter—that should be proper for your systems."

Buffy nodded. "All right. How many infusions?"

"Two small, one large."

"Let's get started."

Buffy and Xander officers assumed reclining positions on the beds, head higher than feet Joyce checked a gauge on the side of the hypo, made a last adjustment. Joyce pressed the hypo's nozzle to Buffy's upper arm, then stepped back and studied her watch intently. Several minutes slid by before the first change appeared.

Buffy's skin was changing, the pigmentation darkening slightly. First it deepened to a rich golden hue, then to a familiar amber. Buffy's lids drooped low, lower, finally closed tightly.

Abruptly, the amber color drained like bourbon from a broken bottle, leaving Buffy a pale, nearly albino white. They all studied Buffy anxiously, but she showed no signs of movement. Joyce frowned uneasily and hurried to exchange the hypo for a tricorder. She passed it carefully over her daughter'ss limp form, muttering to herself all the while. "Pulse fading . . . all internal functions slowed . . . heartbeat weakened . . ."

"Andrenalin . . . aldrazine?" ventured Sam. Joyce shook her head.

"There's enough in Buffy's system now that doesn't belong there. Give the serum another couple of minutes."

Sure enough, normal color began to tint Buffy's face, returning with the same suddenness it had departed. Buffy stirred slightly on the makeshift pallet. Joyce let out a sigh of relief. Again she made a pass with the tricorder. "Pulse and heart normal, other shifts within acceptable parameters . . . good. Sam? "

Sam handed Joyce the second of the three bottles and Joyce exchanged it for the first, reset the dial on the side of the hypo. This time she pressed it over Buffy's chest, just below the left lung, held it there a second, then moved it to the right side and repeated the injection.

Buffy's body reacted instantly this time, jerking spasmodically on the bed like a puppet with snipped strings. Before Joyce could have countered with another injection of any kind, Buffy collapsed. Once more the amber hue flooded Buffy's face.

"Something's really given Buffy's system a kick," Joyce said, "her metabolism's a good ten times normal for a Slayer."

"Mrs. S.," Xander interrupted, "her hands."

Joyce's gaze moved down the unconscious form. The thin webbing which had formed between the fingers was dissolving. She looked lower and saw that the same process was at work on the feet. She checked her watch, made yet another pass with the tricorder.

"Metabolism normal—and everything else!" Joyce couldh't keep the optimism from her voice, didn't want to. "Indication of physiological alteration in the lungs . . . Buffy's beginning a complete reversal. Sam . . ."

Sam handed Joyce the final bottle. Carefully Joyce locked the vial in place. "This is the final dose," Joyce said, to no one in particular. "The major infusion. Roll Buffy over please, Sam."

Sam slowly turned Buffy on her stomach . . . easy enough in the water. Joyce recalled the translated instructions, prayed that the ancient recorder was precise in the technique and made the last injection as it had been described.

Joyce pulled the hypo away, nodded to Sam. Sam turned Buffy over on her back again. Nothing happened. Joyce was about to program a minute secondary dose when Buffy suddenly doubled up in agony, her legs threshing wildly and an expression of pure pain invading her face.

The pitiful moans of Buffy having nightmares filled the water around them. Scales erupted like scars on Buffy's face and the backs of her hands.

Twitching with uncontrollable violence, Buffy spun from the bed and onto the sand. Joyce, Sam and Xander stood by watching as they knew the strength behind a Slayer's attacks.

Finally the explosion quieted and Buffy came to rest motionless and face down on the sand. The back of the skin-tight green bodysuit started to bulge slightly, showing an eruption of dorsal fin.

"Too strong . . . the serum was too strong!" Joyce groaned. The spasms struck again and once more Buffy was thrashing water. The amber color deepened even further and revealed a faint yellowish overlay.

But this time, as Buffy twisted in the sand, the scales that had formed momentarily on her face and hands began to fade, the bulge on her back disappeared and was reabsorbed.

The kicking and tumbling slowed, stopped. As Buffy lay still on the bottom the yellow tinge vanished from her skin, followed soon thereafter by the amber. Joyce drifted over to the limp form. Again the tricorder did its work.

When Joyce looked up again there was a note of satisfaction in her voice. "Buffy's starting to breathe steadily again. Quick, we must get her out of the tank."

Together, Joyce and Sam wrestled Buffy into the airlock. While Joyce supported her daughter, Sam manipulated the controls. Both watched Buffy's face nervously as the drains in the floor rapidly sucked the water from the lock.

Buffy started to choke, flailing at the water with both didn't wait for the water to leave completely. Instead, Joyce slammed a palm down on the red button on the console labeled Emergency Cycle.

They nearly fell as a gush of water half-carried them from the airlock. Together they laid Buffy on the floor. Buffy stopped kicking almost immediately, coughed a couple of times, water dribbling from one side of her mouth.

Then Buffy rolled over, still wheezing, but with less force now. The coughing finally died and then she was breathing deeply again—and for the first time in a long while, normally.

"Easy, Buffy, how do you feel?"

Buffy continued to take long draughts of air. "Tired, a bit dizzy . . . otherwise fine."

Sam reappeared with a large thermal blanket. She draped it around Buffy's shoulders as she got to her feet.

"Better make dry clothes your first priority, Buffy," Joyce advised her daughter. "Along with the metamorphosis of your respiratory and circulatory systems, there've been some extensive changes in your epidermal layers. I half anticipated them, from what the old records said. But so help me, I didn't think they'd come color-coded. After what you've just been through, it would be damned silly for you to catch a cold."

Buffy nodded, then Joyce turned her attention to the water room's remaining occupant. "You're turn next, Xander, if after watching, you still want to go through with it."

Xander's gaze remained on Buffy who smiled at him. "I'm impatient to get out of here, Mrs. S."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy sat down in the command chair . . . slowly, enjoying the use of her legs for something other than horizontal locomotion. She looked toward where Sam and Willow were explaining the various functions of the bridge's instrumentation to the goggling Domar and Rela.

Both Tribunes wore body suits and transparent, water-filled masks. Their tanks rested on the back of the wheelchairs that Willow's people had improvised.

"Careful placement of a few large photon torpedoes," Sam said, "combined with a selective bombardment of fault areas with phaser beams, should shift the epicenter of the quake sufficiently northward for your city to survive with minimal damage. We hope anyways. This is leaning into theoretical territory."

"I did not believe such knowledge existed," Domar said as he looked around the bridge in amazement. "It is incredible . . . all of this."

"Colonel, approximately three minutes to the first significant fault shift." Entara said.

"Thank you, Entara," Buffy answered. "Sam, confirm coordinates for torpedo strike to effect re-alignment of epicenter."

Sam sat at her station and checked her instrumentation. "Confirmed, sir."

Buffy looked towards Xander and smiled, she was glad that her friend like herself was enjoying the use of his legs. "Xander, I know that the coordinates and firepower required has all been precalculated and preprogramed. Hold yourself in readiness, however, for any last minute adjustments. They have a way of cropping up at the most awkward times."

"Of course, Buffy," came Xander's reply.

Buffy nodded toward Entara. "Fire torpedoes, first phasers."

Entara initiated the sequence of computer-directed firepower that would alter the internal heavings of a planet.

Far to the north of the submerged Aquan city, several super-fast objects dropped through the amber-hued atmosphere and vanished beneath the surface of the roiling sea. So fast did they travel that there was no towering fountain of water, no great splash where they entered.

Nor was there any sound. But far, far below the waves the multiple detonations of the precisely spaced photon torpedoes created a shock wave felt for hundreds of kilometers around.

Seconds later, while the deep-water creatures and bottom ooze were still settling back into ages-old quiescence, twin beams of light brighter than a sun lit the underwater abyssal plain with a radiance that illumined simple-minded crawlers for the first and last time of their primitive lives.

"Report, Sam:"

"Too early yet to tell, Colonel," Sam declared without looking up from her console. "Another minute or so before the major shift is due."

Domar did not entirely comprehend what was taking place around him. Nor did he understand the process by which certain things were being altered. He knew only that these strange people, these air-breathers from (was it possible?) another world, were presently engaged in some obscure activity that would decide one way or another the fate of his beloved city.

Domar did not for a moment think that whatever the outcome of that activity he, at least, was safe from impending destruction. He was aware that the motives of these beings were not wholly altruistic. From what he had been told they had a world of their own much like his on which some day in the future a similar crisis was likely to occur. If proven successful, the methods now being employed to save his people would someday be utilized to save their own.

He mentioned nothing of this. For one thing, everyone in this chamber of miracles was silent and expectant now, in a way that suggested they were hardly indifferent to the outcome of their efforts. For another, voicing his dark suspicions would have been undiplomatic.

"Sensors indicate," Sam announced, "that the epicenter of the just-concluded quake was in the north polar seas, sir . . . a totally uninhabited area, according to Domar's people."

"This means, then, that my people are safe?" Domar asked.

"That's right, Tribune," Buffy said happily, turning from the screen to face him. "It doesn't mean, though, that your city won't be subject to such dangers in the future. We can't make the ground around your city more stable. All we can do is bleed the instability to a region where no one will be endangered. When can we beam down, Sam?"

"The section of sub-continent on which the Aquan city is built has been subjected to a considerable if not violent realignment of the substrata, sir. This will stabilize fully within a few hours . . ."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"Where would you like to be set down, sir?"

Buffy took up her position on the transporter platform, next to Xander. Domar and Rela sat in their chairs by the transporter console, looked on in fascination. They had expressed a desire to see the process by which they'd been brought aboard and would beam down later.

"You have the coordinates of the spot where Willow and my mom first found us after we'd been changed?" Buffy asked.

The transporter chief checked his console and nodded.

"I think that will do, Chief."

"All right, sir. Energizing."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

The ocean of Argo was as softly amber and calm as Buffy remembered it, with wave-crests the hue of cream chiffon. She and Xander were standing on a pile of jumbled rocks and dead coral, just slightly above sea-level. But something was wrong, something had changed.

The shallow pool where Joyce and Willow had discovered their water-breathing forms lay just below and to their left, all right . . . but now it was only a low sand-filled depression scooped out of the rocks. And the little island seemed much increased in area. "The quake rose the ocean bed in this area," Buffy said in realization.

They walked around the new island as they waited for Domar and Rela to be beamed down. Buffy and Xander found the ancient city where they had found the medical logs of the ancient Aquans now stood proudly above the waves.

"Argo appears to have a new city, Buffy," Xander observed, "or rather, one reborn."

"Well put, Xander," a new voice agreed. They turned.

Domar spoke as he and Rela struggled from the water, masks and tanks still in place. They moved better on the soft sand than they had on the Enterprise, but Buffy and Xander walked politely down to meet them at water's edge, nonetheless.

"We did not entirely escape the effects of the quake," Rela informed them, indicating that she and Domar had beamed down to the city, "but our people survived with minimal damage—and less injury—thanks to your help. If we had remained near what you call the epicenter, we surely would have been destroyed."

"We owe you and your companions much gratitude, Colonel Summers," Domar said gravely. "Is there nothing we can do for you?"

"The ability to transform us into water-breathers," Buffy explained, "is something on which our scientists will find very interesting to study. If we might have permission to make copies of those and other medical records of your ancestors . . .?"

"All will be placed at your disposal, Colonel Summers." assured Domar. "What we have left, of life as well as knowledge, you have given us. We gladly share with you. "

"So bright, so warm it is here!" Rela purred, stretching lazily. "I will be glad when the surface places can be inhabited."

"It will have to be done slowly, carefully," Buffy admonished her. "You'll need more than the ability to breathe air. There's the problem of your skin, for example."

"What's wrong with my skin?"

"As it stands, nothing," Buffy said. "But it's adapted to a perpetually moist environment. It will dry out, crack, and blister unless given some form of protection . . . such as the body suit you're currently wearing. I take it some of your people …"

"Yes," Domar said as he gestured toward the risen city of the ancients. "The young among us have decided to rebuild the great shelters of our forebears."

"Only the young?" Buffy queried.

"Mature Aquans cannot adjust to the thought of becoming air-breathers. There are no formulas in the old records for altering one's outlook on such things. So most of us will remain in the world we know. Air-life is for the pioneers among us."

"Don't lose contact with each other like your ancestors did, in case of another continental adjustment."

"We will pass ordainments to forbid this."

"And this time we won't ignore them," Rela finished impishly.

It was at this moment Buffy's commbadge chimed. She tapped it. "Summers, here."

"Buffy," came Willow's voice from the commbadge. "We just picked up a Naquadah signature. Apparently it is coming from a Stargate."

"How far," Buffy answered.

"Topography shows it in the risen city," Willow replied. "Not far from your current location."

Buffy nodded as she looked towards Rela and Domar. "It seems you have a way of traveling the stars," she said. "If you consent. I will send a ship filled with people that can help you both in rebuilding this city as well as learning about the Stargate."

Domar looked toward the junior Tribune. Rela nodded in understanding that Domar wanted her to answer. She looked back towards Buffy with a smiled on her face. "We consent," she said. "We look forward to their help."

Author's Note: The next chapter will include the Crossover. The Crossover will be with my story A Mother Reincarnated.