by Peter David
"All right," Burgoyne said slowly as s/he came to a crouch. The pain was too overwhelming for hir to fully stand. "All right, just… back out of here. Okay? Just get out of here. We're trying to have a child here, and you're not doing anyone any good by…"
Selar cried out. The shout was actually a mild warning, giving Burgoyne about a split second's notice before she was hit with the same pain. S/he staggered, falling…
…and that was the moment that the creature chose to charge.
Remarkably, its wings actually seemed to perform some mild function as the creature took a quick running start, leaped, and sailed through the air at Burgoyne, letting loose with a roar designed to paralyze its victims.
It was unnecessary in Burgoyne's case. S/he was paralyzed already; paralyzed with the pain of the labor contractions smashing through hir, playing havoc with her mental balance. With the pain exploding in hir head, s/he was barely able to react in time as the monster angled straight toward hir.
A phaser would have made short work of it. A knife might also have proven handy. What s/he did have, however, were hir claws. That, and a determination that s/he was not going to end her existence in the belly of some creature in the middle of nowhere.
Burgoyne let out a scream that matched the creature's, in ferocity if not in volume. S/he rolled out of the way and lashed out with hir feet, the claws on hir toes fully extended. S/he sliced across the creature's midsection, ripping out a good chunk of its side and eliciting a fairly satisfying screech of pain from the creature.
It spun in place, ready to charge again, and then another wave of pain struck Burgoyne. S/he gasped, unprepared for it, and that was when the purple creature came at hir, jaws wide, ready to bite hir in half. It scooped up Burgoyne in its mouth, enveloping hir entire upper torso, and proceeded to bite down.
The only thing that stopped Burgoyne from being bitten in half was that s/he had one arm braced against its upper jaw, one arm securing its lower jaw, and s/he was doing everything s/he could to hold them apart. Hir arms were quivering with tension, s/he was panting from the effort, and then the worst pain of all hit hir. It made all the others seem mild in comparison.
And instead of succumbing to the pain, which was what s/he was most tempted to do, s/he did the opposite. S/he focused it, used it, summoned it to hir and took all the agony, all the anguish, and instead of allowing it to debilitate hir, s/he forced it to strengthen hir. S/he let out a shriek that, instead of acknowledging the pain, served as a war cry. S/he shoved the jaws of the beast wider and wider apart…
…and then s/he heard a most satisfying snap.
It was the sound of the creature's jaws breaking.
Now it was the monster's turn to be in pain as it bellowed hideously and flopped over. The impact threw Burgoyne clear, and the Hermat pivoted in place and charged, leaping across the intervening space, propelled by hir powerful limbs. S/he skidded right under the creature's belly and hir claws lashed out, slicing the creature right up the middle and rolling out the other side.
The creature blinked its one eye furiously and came at Burgoyne with its horn. Burgoyne snagged the horn just before it would have lanced straight through hir chest, and the creature pushed hir halfway across the cave floor, dragging hir all the way. It roared right in her face.
That was the moment when the incisions that Burgoyne's dextrous claws had made finally did their job. The cuts ripped open, the skin no longer able to hold together, and the creature's innards spilled out onto the cave floor.
The monster let out a yelp of surprise, its eye rolling around, trying to see what was happening under its belly. It knew it smelled something, and its ears perked up when it heard something that sounded like a wet, splashing noise. Then it came to the realization that the animal guts it was detecting, through smell and sound, were its own.
It tried to get away from Burgoyne at that point, but it was too late. Too late for itself in terms of its own survival, and too late in the hope of retreating from Burogyne who smelled victory. Burgoyne came in from the side, and this time when pain hit hir from the contractions, s/he used the energy of it to push off from hir feet and practically fly over the distance to the creature, sinking hir fangs into its throat and tearing out a piece of the jugular vein. Blood fauceted from it and s/he revelled in it, letting out a scream of triumph that was louder than anything the creature had unleashed thus far. The great beast took only one more step, and then toppled over. It hit the ground heavily and didn't move, its final breath rasping in its throat.
Burgoyne took no time at all to revel in hir triumph. Instead s/he shoved the creature's carcass aside and rolled over toward the Vulcan. "Selar," s/he whispered, surprised at the hoarseness of hir own voice. "Selar, it's okay… it's going to be okay n—"
And then Burgoyne flipped completely over. S/he fell next to Selar, whose eyes were wide, and together they bore down, and together they felt it coming, and they gasped in synch, and they pushed together, and cried together, and when the child's head emerged Burgoyne felt it as much as Selar. Gasping, s/he pushed the pain aside, and crawled, hand over hand, over to where the child was emerging. "I have it… I have it…" s/he managed to get out, tears rolling down hir face, and there it was with the most elegant little pointed ears, and close-cropped blondish hair, and then Burgoyne's guts convulsed as s/he pushed the child out with Selar. And then the child was nestled in Burgoyne's arms. Burgoyne couldn't believe it. S/he laughed and sobbed simultaneously.
"Your… fault," came Selar's voice, raspy and tired.
"What… would be my fault… precisely," inquired Burgoyne, sounding no less exhausted.
"I would have been… far more dignified… in the labor… less histrionics… without link to you. You made it… difficult for me to focus… less controlled…"
"Sorry," Burgoyne said contritely.
Selar paused a moment, and then said, "Do not worry about it… Burgy…"
Burgoyne laughed softly. Then s/he saw that Selar was starting to sit up, and said quickly, "I wouldn't if I were you. Just stay put. Relax. You've earned it. I think… we both have."
Selar was staring at the fallen monstrosity at the side of the cave. "What… is that?" she said.
"Couldn't tell you. It sure looks strange to me, though."
Selar could only nod in agreement. Then she focused on the bundle in Burgoyne's arms. She did not smile, of course. The edges of her mouth, however, did turn upward slightly, which for her was a tremendous advancement. "What is it? Is it a boy… or a girl… or… ?"
Burgoyne had automatically torn a piece off hir own ragged clothing and wrapped it around the child. "I think it's more in the 'or' category."
XIV.
The Black Mass knew hunger.
The Black Mass knew exhaustion.
This had been a particularly difficult migration for the Black Mass. It had known assault. It had known discomfort.
Now it wanted to know sustenance, and it wanted to know it soon. It sensed sustenance not far off, and it hoped, at the most fundamental core of its being, that there would not be more noise.
(It did not actually know noise as noise, of course. Until then, it had known largely silence. Noise was a concept it could not begin to grasp as such. It simply knew it as a negative sensation, something that had hurt it, something that was unnatural.)
It tired of noise, tired of something trying to hurt it. Was it not simply trying to survive? To exist? Was it not simply going about its business, as it had for as long as any part of it could possibly recall? What right did the noise have to interfere, to try to drive it apart. No right. None at all. It should just leave the Black Mass alone, it should…
It was there.
The noise.
Was there.
The Black Mass felt it, just as it had earlier. It pushed it away, and still the noise came. It ran, and still the noise came. And all of us, we creatures, we pull together and it will not hurt us, it will not stop us, we are the Black Mass,
felt at a primal level, fighting for survival, attacking us, hurting us, and we will hurt it, we will make it stop, but we are so hungry and have no idea which way to look first…
…and then it stopped.
We, the Black Mass, let out a collective silent sigh of relief. We have held together. We are not alone, no member is alone.
But we are angry.
We have not attacked before. We have been patient. We have cared about food, only food, but now it must be made to stop, it must stop, it will come at us again and again…
Light.
Light… from… a star?
We had not detected it before, but there it is… light…
Go… there… go and eat… see… must have… light…
Eat… eat…eat…
"It's going for it!" called Soleta, sounding remarkably excited for a reserved Vulcan.
And indeed, that was exactly what was happening. Slowly, steadily, the Black Mass was following the trail of the tri-cobalt flares that theExcalibur had strung in preparation for the creature's advance.
In the distance was the Beyond Gate, the black hole that would ideally serve as the creature's final resting place. Once there, it could never hurt anyone again…except in the unlikely event that it happened to run into Xant on his way out.
"Come on," said Shelby in an encouraging whisper, as if the thing could actually hear her. She was on the edge of her seat. Other members of the bridge crew were likewise positioned forward on their chairs.
"Come on … go for it, you oversized oil slick."
Each of the cobalt flares snuffed out of existence as the Black Mass rolled over it, trying to absorb what it perceived as energy from a star, drawn by the light, coming up empty but pulled inexorably to the next one, and the next, searching for sustenance. Closer and closer…
"Thirty seconds until it reaches the event horizon," Soleta reported. 'Twenty-nine… twenty-eight…twenty-seven…"
"You're very fond of countdowns, aren't you?" McHenry asked her.
"Yes," was her straightforward reply.
The countdown continued. The Black Mass' approach toward the black hole continued as well. Closer and closer it drew, the final flares beckoning to it…
Something… is wrong . . .
No star. No food. Look… but not touch. See… but no feel.
We are hungry. This star . . . not enough… need food . . .
Must eat . . . eat… eat… this is… not enough… must eat…
"It's slowing down."
"No," whispered Calhoun upon hearing Soleta's pronouncement.
"It's definitely slowing down. It's on the edge of the point of no return… but it's not going all the way over. It's hesitating… maybe it suspects something…"
The Black Mass began to surge, moving about, thrashing this way and that, as if trying to sense something…
"Ready phasers," said Calhoun. "Let's see if we can push it over the edge…"
"Captain!" Soleta's increased volume put across the gravity of the situation. "It's coming after us!"
"You mean it's heading this way?"
"No, I mean it is coming straight for us!"
Food . . . there… the thing which made the noise… we want it… we want it… food… food . . .
It was their last stand. Calhoun knew there was no time to try anything else. This was their last, best shot. If they couldn't get the creature into the black hole, there would be no stopping it. But it wasn't going for the flares, and the only chance they had was to try and pummel it once again, break it apart, send its components hurtling into the gravity well of the black hole. "Engineering! Phasers on line!"
"Captain," came back Mitchell, "we've pushed it too far already. I can't give you bursts for more than five seconds each."
"That won't be remotely enough, Mr. Mitchell."
The thing was coming straight toward them. Space was warping around it, and Calhoun knew that within seconds it would be upon them. They could still outrace it, still get out of its way… but that wouldn't stop the Black Mass. It would just get them to safety. There had to be another way, there—
"Captain!" Kebron suddenly said. "Detecting a small vessel, moving fast, straight toward the Black Mass."
"Onscreen!" ordered Calhoun.
Somehow, he knew. Before he even saw it, he knew. He knew whose ship it was going to be.
"Give me a hailing frequency," he said. His voice sounded very distant, very cold.
"You're on, Captain," said Kebron.
"Xyon," he addressed the small craft with such calm that one would have thought he was scolding a cranky child on a playground. "You're on a collision course with the Black Mass. Pull back."
Deep down, he hadn't been expecting an answer, but he got one anyway. "This was my idea. Just helping see it through."
"You're not supposed to be here."
"I know. But I came anyway. Did some checking at Tulaan IV, made sure justice was done, then came here. I'm doing my job. You wanted to make sure they were safe; so I'm making sure."
"Xyon, veer off!" There was greater urgency to Calhoun's voice. "Now! Kebron, tractor beam."
"Out of range, sir," said Kebron.
"Xyon!" It was not Calhoun who had spoken. It was Kalinda, standing there on the bridge, calling out to him. "Xyon, don't do it!"
"Came back for you, Kally. Wanted to make sure… you were all right." His voice was crackling over the link now, beginning to break up. "This is the way to do it. Si Cwan… you punch like a girl. Dad… see if you can improve his punch. He needs all the help he can get. We… all do…"
Calhoun mouthed his name, mouthed words…
"Don't you dare say I love you," warned Xyon, and then the crackling overcame his communications beam, and his voice was lost.
But the visual was there, for all to see.
Xyon's ship hurtled straight and true, directly into the Black Mass. There was no hesitation, no slowing down, and as a result the ship was through the far side of the Black Mass before the entity fully understood that something had thrown itself into it.
What it did fully understand, however, was hydrogen plasma… the type being emitted by the impulse drive of Xyon's ship. It knew the taste…
As one, the millions of creatures that comprised the Black Mass wheeled around and went right for Xyon's ship. The plasma lured it, and it came, and kept coming…
Eat eat eat eat eat eat eat eat . . .
And then it was right there, right there, crossing the event horizon of the Beyond Gate.
The black hole, a bottomless pit of reality, drawing in light and gravity and anything else, impossible to see except through instrumentation, a thing that was a blend of science and legend, hanging there in space. Nothing meant anything to a black hole, for it sat there, God's kitchen drain, pulling in anything that got within range…
…pulling in the Black mass.
What is happening to us?
We are being pulled apart, but we must not, we must stay together, we are the Black Mass, do not leave us alone, we must be together, not separate forever, stay together, do not go, do not go…
At the last second, it seemed to realize that something was wrong. It tried to reverse itself, tried to pull out, and the Black Mass began to shred. Half of it was being pulled away, the other half endeavoring to escape, and for one horrific moment the bridge crew thought that part of the Mass was going to get away. Even a part of it could be devastating if it managed to find a way to continue on its course.
But then that part which was on the verge of escaping … stopped trying. Instead it hurled itself toward that which was already caught, reforming, coagulating into its magnificent whole once more and spiralling down, down…
It stretched, elongated, twisted down and away, the Mass black against the black hole, and Soleta could have sworn… could havesworn . . . that somewhere in the inner recesses of her mind, where her sensitivity to other minds was at its greatest, somewhere in there she sensed some sort of
hideous collective scream, as if something had realized its fate at the last moment and had been horrified by it. And then it was gone, just like that, leaving her to wonder if she had imagined it… and hoping that she had.
They stared in silence at the place where the Black Mass had vanished. So formidable had the creature been, that they almost expected it somehow to make a miraculous return from the maw of the Black Hole. But there was nothing. There were certain constants of the universe that nothing—not even the Black Mass—could overcome.
"Mr. Kebron," Calhoun said tonelessly, in a voice as still as death, "scan the area. Is there any sign of Xyon's ship?"
"No, sir."
"Scan it again."
"Sir, there is no sign of—"
"Scan it… again."
"Yes, sir."
"You too, Soleta."
"Aye, sir."
For the next ten minutes, the sensors of theExcalibur swept the area, probing and searching.
And finding nothing.
Xyon was gone.
XV.
SELAR AND BURGOYNE HUDDLEDclose to one another as the temperature in the cave dropped. It seemed to Burgoyne that the wind was only getting stronger, and the meager clothes with which they had been provided were becoming less and less effective with every passing moment. Obviously night on this damnable world was going to be even worse than day… and of course there was no telling just how long night was going to be.
Selar was holding the child close to her bosom. She had nursed the child earlier, although her own hunger was interfering with her ability to do so. But she had done the best she could, and the child was resting comfortably. Still, Burgoyne had no idea how long the child's comfort was going to last. How long, indeed, any of them would last.
"I hope you plan to be involved with the rearing of the child," Selar said. "It would be best…."
"Do you really hope that?" Burgoyne was tired, hungry, and not a little fed-up with the entire situation. "Do you really hope that I will be around? Because it's difficult for me to be sure. You see, all I've ever been is nice to you. And sometimes I think you're being responsive, and sometimes not. I never know where I stand with you. To be blunt, Selar—and this may not be the best time and place, but it's not as if we have a choice—to be blunt, you are the single most aggravating individual I have ever met."
