Approximately five kilometers beneath SPROC and the Pandorian surface Starfleet Lieutenant Donald Coamover was about to feel the heat. He was in charge of a crystal cleansing and packaging detail near the bottom of mineshaft 3. Geothermal temperatures at that depth were naturally quite high on Pandoria but SPROC's air cooling system had always managed to keep the shaft interiors fairly comfortable. Until the crystalline structure started glowing... and growing.
It began when an eerie crackling sound emanated from the bottom of the shaft where a team of three ensigns were carefully chipping away and removing clumps of raw crystals from the surrounding crystalline structure. Geologist Ted Scatchard was scanning each clump with a crystal tricorder searching for the relatively rare rods of dilithium that could be found fused into the multitude of other crystals forming an incomprehensible matrix. When the tricorder detected a dilithium rod, usually no more than a few centimeters long, within a clump, Scatchard would place the clump onto a small lift that would convey it upward several meters into a cleansing cubicle where Lt. Coamover was supervising two other ensigns who would carefully isolate the dilithium and package it. The bulk of broken matrix crystal was shunted into a side disposal tunnel.
Nearing the end of their shift, the ensigns chipping off clumps of crystal were getting tired .. and careless. One of them was attempting to shear off a basketball-sized clump from a much larger lump with a sonic saw. This was a tedious process as the saw required constant recallibration to deal with the many different densities of the myriad crystals encountered. The clump seemed nearly ready to separate with only a couple thick crystals still attached to the larger lump. But these thick crystals were exceedingly dense and seemed impervious to the saw. All three ensigns were wearing thermal suits designed to protect them from the high subterranean temperatures emanating from the crystal mass. Ensign Robert Skaags, wielding the sonic saw, grew impatient and tried pushing against the clump to break it loose.
"C'mon you sonnava... UMPHH!"
"CAREFUL, Bob!" Geologist Ensign Scatchard warned. "Some of these crystals are extremely sharp! You'll tear your suit!"
Indeed, Ensign Skaags was feeling a small warm glow on his lower left side and looked down to see that there was, in fact, a small rip in the dense, synthetic layers of his suit. "Oh crap! Now I'm gonna get chewed out by Lt. 'Tightass' Coamover for damaging 'valuable Starfleet property'!" He stepped away from the crystals and put down the saw so he could more closely examine the tear in his suit.
There was a disgusted groan from the third suited crewmember, Ensign Eddie Cohn. "Oh Man! Hey! It's almost the end of our shift. Let's just tell the lieutenant we got this technical problem and call it a ..."
He was cut off by the commlinks inside all their helmets: "Whats the holdup down there?!" They looked up to see Lt. Coamover peering down at them from the catwalk railing around the cleansing cubicle. "We're ready for the next cluster."
Ensign Scatchard glanced at the other two and replied: "Sir, we are encountering difficulty with some exceedingly dense crystal in separating this latest clump. It's even resisting the sonic saw. Since it's nearly the end of the shift, perhaps we should.."
Coamover cut him off. "There are still fifteen minutes left in THIS shift, Ensign! More than enough time to process another cluster if it's worthwhile. Scan it where it is."
With a small sigh, Scatchard began running his tricorder over the still attached clump. A 'ping' sounded. "Wouldn't you know it!" Scatchard said with grim resignation. The tricorder was registering a rather large dilituium rod within.
Coamover allowed himself a tight, smug smile. "Cut it loose and get it up here, Ensigns!" He stepped back inside the cubicle.
Ensign Eddie Cohn, a large, stocky man, muttered a low profanity and placed both heavily gloved hands against the crystal clump and gave a mighty push. The clump didn't budge.
"Take it easy, Cohn!" Scatchard admonished. "We've already got one torn thermal suit!"
"Yeah," Skaags chimed in. He was holding a gloved hand tightly over the small tear just below his ribs. "And my belly is already feelin' pretty hot from just a little rip!"
Eddie Cohn was known to be impulsive and quick-tempered. He had an old fashioned geologist's pick hammer hanging from his belt which he yanked free. "It's just these two damned crystals holdin' this hunk of s...!" With a sudden, vicious swing he brought the spike point of the hammer down on one of the stubborn crystals. There was an unearthly crackle as the hammer point deflected off the crystal and buried itself in Eddie's thigh just above the knee. "AAAHHH!!" Almost immediately blood began oozing through Eddie's thermal suit around the hammer point.
"Eddie, you fool!" Scatchard activated his commlink. "Lt. Coamover, we've got an injury down here! We've got to get Ensign Cohn up to the Medcenter!" He bent over Eddie Cohn who had fallen backward into a recumbent position against the shaft wall while gripping his thigh around the protruding hammer. All three ensigns were fixated on Eddie's wound and failed to notice that the dense crystal that had been struck began to glow.
Grimacing in agony, Eddie gripped the handle of the hammer with one hand. "Eddie, wait!" Scatchard warned. "You should leave the pick in place til the docs remove it. It could prevent major bleeding!" Eddie Cohn was not of a temperament to heed prudent advice. With a sharp gasp, he yanked the pick hammer out of his leg. A thick spurt of deep red immediately followed.
Responding to Scatchard's alert, Lt. Coamover rushed to the catwalk railing. "What the hell are you clowns doing?!" He stopped short, aghast at the sight of two thermal suited ensigns trying to lift a third who was spraying blood all around the mine shaft floor... and onto the crystal matrix.
Coamover stared in stunned silence for a moment. There was a transporter station next to the cleansing cubicle but the wounded man would have to be muscled up a five meter ladder to the catwalk level. Coamover went back to the cubicle door. "Hobson! Baxter! Grab a coil of bracing cable and get it down there to help haul Cohn up the ladder. We've got to get him to Medcenter, a.s.a.p!"
The two cleansing and packaging ensigns hastened to locate the cable and tossed one end over the railing down to the three suited men below. Scatchard and Skaags were clumsily supporting and half carrying a cursing, groaning Eddie Cohn who was hopping erratically on one foot while the other leg continued spurting blood. They reached the bottom of the metal ladder with the cable dangling beside it. While half supporting Cohn with one arm, Scatchard reached for the cable with one gloved hand but it slid out of his grasp. He looked up at Coamover questioningly. "Geez, Lieutenant! What am I supposed to do with this?!"
A vexed Coamover shouted at the two ensigns on the catwalk. "You dolts should've tied a big loop in that cable before you tossed it down there! They can't manage that with those thick thermal suits on!"
With tensions rapidly rising, Ensign Jack Hobson allowed a sarcastic edge in his reply. "Well maybe you shoulda told us that in the first place, Sir! We'll pull the cable back up and tie a loop in it."
Coamover's eyes narrowed. There had been previous exchanges with Hobson where the lieutenant felt that the ensign was bordering on insubordination. "There's no time for that, Ensign! You can see how badly the man is bleeding!" One of Coamover's eyebrows formed a vindictive arch. "YOU... scramble down that ladder and secure the cable around Cohn's chest! Baxter and I will haul him up!"
Hobson, a short, wiry man, felt outraged. "But I ain't got a SUIT on, Lieutenant! You know how hot it gets near those damn crystals!"
"You can stand it for a couple of minutes, Ensign; just long enough for you to tie a loop around Cohn.. then right back up the ladder." A thin smile crossed Coamover's lips. "You're very nimble and FAST aren't you, Ensign? That's why your pals call you, 'Hasty' Hobson, isn't it?" The smile disappeared. "Now get your butt down that ladder!"
"But, Lieutenant..."
"That's an ORDER, Hobson!"
With a low snarl Hobson turned abruptly and started down the ladder. Living up to his nickname, the descent was accomplished in a matter of seconds. Hobson frantically threaded the cable around Cohn's chest while Scatchard and Skaags held up the man's arms. Hobson was already sweating profusely. A spurt of blood hit the front of Hobson's pants making the fabric stick to his skin. "Geezus, Cohn!" A low moan was the only reply from Cohn. Hobson glanced up at Cohn's face through the transparent helmet. Cohn's normally swarthy complexion had turned a pasty white.
As he furiously knotted the cable loop around Cohn, Hobson became aware of an eerie crackling noise. At the same time he also noticed the area around them was getting brighter. He gave a final tug on the cable knot and yelled: "OKAY! Haul him up!"
Hobson looked past Cohn's bulk toward the crystal mound where the three suited men had been working and, despite the high temperature, his own blood suddenly felt like ice water. The basketball-sized clump the men had been trying to separate from the mound was glowing brightly with coruscating colors. It had also expanded to the size of a beach ball and continued to grow, emitting the brittle crackling sound. As Hobson stared in open mouthed horror, thin tendrils of flashing, unearthly energy curled out from the ball and zeroed in on the splashes of blood Cohn had left splattered around. Each sprouting tendril emitted a shrill squeel which lowered in pitch as it touched a spot of gore, quickly absorbing it. The energy tendrils followed the eratic path of Cohn's blood, performing a demonic concert of crackles and squeels as they greedily sucked up the crimson syrup.
Hobson found his voice. "HOLEEE ---T!!"
At the catwalk railing Lt. Coamover and Ensign Baxter had been arduously pulling up the cable holding Cohn's body when they, too, became transfixed by the flashing light and crackling cacaphony. "Hold up, Baxter!" Coamover took one hand off the cable so he could touch his communicator. "SPROC Control! We've got a... situation down here in mine shaft three! I've got an injured man and there's something happening with the crys..." He was distracted by screams coming from below.
The energy tendrils had rapidly advanced to the suited figures of Scatchard and Skaags. The thermal suits deterred the tendrils for a moment as they consumed every spot of blood that Cohn had smeared onto them. Then one tendril found the rip in Skaags' suit. It injected itself inside, inducing an ear splitting howl from Skaags. He grabbed a small prybar from his tool belt and began slashing at the tendril that had begun absorbing his midsection. It was like flailing at fog. Skaggs did an incredible St. Vitus dance, spinning, jerking and screeching as he felt his intestines turn to jelly and disappear. In one last desperate swing of his arm before collapsing, Skaags' prybar struck Scatchard's helmet, cracking it open. Almost instantaneously another tendril shot through the opening and attached itself to Scatchard's eyeball. Scatchard barely had time for a: "Noooo... AAARRGG..URRKCH!!" before his brain dissolved and he, too, collapsed.
That broke the shocked spell for Hobson. "Oh, MAMA!" He turned and started scrambling up the ladder like a monkey. With a seemingly predatory intelligence, another tendril began rising after him. Just before connecting with Hobson's feet, the tendril was diverted by the blood-soaked suitleg of the dangling Cohn. It quickly followed the blood to the hole in Cohn's thigh and entered the suit. Still barely conscious, Cohn gave out a blubbery moan.
The extreme heat and shock and exertion was taking its toll on Hobson. Each succeeding rung of the ladder required a huge effort. As his head reached the level of Cohn's, Hobson looked over at his fellow ensign. At that moment a bubble of greenish yellow vomit erupted from Cohn's mouth, splattering the inside of his helmet. Cohn's pupils came to full dilation and glazed over.
A couples meters above on the catwalk Ensign Baxter felt the weight of the cable he was holding diminish rather quickly. He began pulling the cable up by himself with ease. By the time Cohn's helmet came into view, it was devoid of any head... and utterly clean inside. Baxter gave a couple more pulls on the cable to reveal that it was looped around an empty thermal suit.
At the same time an exhausted Hobson gained the catwalk level and reached up for the railing. He was staring with intense hatred at Lt. Coamover who stood to one side, wide-eyed and speechless. Hobson felt the insatiable energy tendril that had drained Cohn make contact with the blood-soaked front of his pants... and his groin. "YOU BASTARD!!" Hobson shouted at Coamover. "With a suit on I mighta had a CHANCE!" Then he started screaming at the top of his lungs until the loss of flesh and bone made any body control impossible. Hobson fell backward off the ladder with the tendril still inside. Only his empty clothing landed on the floor of the shaft.
The entire crystal matrix was now glowing so brightly Baxter and Coamover had to squint their eyes. The brittle crackling and squeeling was becoming deafening. Coamover glimpsed several more tendrils rising in their direction. "The TRANSPORTER!!" he yelled at Baxter, turning and running for the station next to the cleansing cubicle. A panicking Baxter started running while still holding onto the cable, but was yanked off balance when the thermal suit tool belt caught on the railing. He fell on his hip and looked back to see a pair of tendrils closing fast. Baxter screamed and scrambled to his feet.
Coamover raced through the open doorway of the transporter station and paused to set the activation control at ten seconds. Then he jumped onto the transport dais and turned to look back at the open doorway. He cursed the fact that there was no door to the station. No need for one had ever been anticipated.
"HURRY UP, Baxter!"
Baxter made it through the doorway when one of the tendrils nailed him in the back at the base of his spine, paralyzing his legs. He stood frozen for a second, then collapsed forward as his pelvis disappeared. A last pathetic whine: "Lieutenant, help meee.."
Coamover never heard the plea as his terrorized focus was on a second tendril zipping toward him. "Come ON, beam, C'MON!!"
The tendril entered the transporter space and Coamover instinctively kicked at it. The tendril slipped around his boot and slid up his pant leg. Coamover screeched and fell backward on the dais as his lower appendages disappeared. A second later the transport beam activated.
The transporter room on the surface at SPROC Control was a beehive of activity. Sensors all around SPROC had registered a sudden, sharp increase in gravitonic radiation, but the sensor in mineshaft 3 was going off the scope. Major Snodgrass had just ordered personnel from all mine shafts to beam up and was standing by to await the arrival of those from number 3.
The number 3 transport dais seemed to be malfunctioning. The space above it sparked and buzzed for several seconds before the usual smooth swirl of re-materialization occurred. When it did, instead of the six personnel Snodgrass expected to see, there was only one... or about half of one. Lieutenant Coamover lay on his back in shock; wide eyes staring upward. He was in full uniform but from about the waist down the uniform was flat and rumpled. His empty boots were at skewed angles several inches away from the pants cuffs. A curious ribbon of grey ash curved out of one cuff to the edge of the dais. The lower edge of his tunic began turning red as blood drained from his torso.
Snodgrass jumped onto the dais and looked down in utter astonishment at Coamover. "Good Lord, Lieutenant! What happened?!"
Coamover managed as faint reply as he bled out.
"The crystals... ate us!"