"So we split up, each to his own fantasy-world. Everything proceeded beautifully—for Sulu and me, at least." That triggered another thought, and the doctor glanced around the bridge. "Say, where is Uhura, anyway?"
"Hasn't come back yet," supplied Kirk helpfully, "but we haven't received any emergency call from her, nor from any of the other shore parties. Lt. Sulu just happened to have come back on his own, to drop off his specimens and get a bigger collecting pouch. Go on."
"Everything was happening just as I wished it would, when suddenly this army of animated playing cards appeared out of nowhere. Only they weren't playing." He fingered his torn sleeve.
"I nearly got aced, Jim." Nobody smiled.
"Animated cards?" The doctor nodded.
"Led by the Queen of Hearts herself."
"The Queen of Hearts and her army of cards are characters from Alice Through the Looking Glass, Captain," Spock informed him.
"I just remembered myself, Spock. I read the book as a child. But I wasn't aware that you were attracted to the literature of the fantastic. I thought general and hard science was more your style."
"Light reading is considered relaxing, as well as mentally healthful," the first officer replied. "My mother was particularly fond of Lewis Carroll's work." He looked thoughtful. "Considering the realities of life on Vulcan, it is not surprising that a good deal of her reading tended to the opposite extreme."
"I understand." Kirk turned back to confront McCoy. "Bones, you said you'd already entered your own fantasy of the moment. You weren't thinking about that book?"
"Absolutely not! As a matter of fact, I distinctly recall thinking how beautiful and peaceful and right everything was. And then before you know it, it's 'Off with his head!' My head." He added by way of rapid afterthought, "No comments from you, Spock."
Spock protested mildly. "I was not about to say anything, Doctor."
"Mr. Sulu," Kirk continued, shifting his attention to the helmsman, "did you experience anything out of the ordinary—that is, anything out of the ordinary you didn't wish for? Was there anything in your fantasy that either didn't belong there, or acted antagonistically?"
"No, sir. The contrary, if anything."
"Well then—" Kirk halted in midsentence as Scott's voice sounded over the open communicators.
"Transporter room to Captain Kirk." He thumbed the respond switch.
"Kirk here. What is it, Scotty?"
"Captain, contact has been lost with Lieutenant Uhura. I can't get a fix on her anywhere. She's still down on the surface, but the monitor signal from her communicator has disappeared."
"Sensor scan, Mr. Spock," Kirk said curtly.
"Yes, Captain." Spock turned his eyes and attention to his hooded viewer, began working controls. Kirk turned back and spoke into the pickup.
"Scotty, retrieve all landing parties immediately. All leaves are cancelled."
"Aye, Cap'n. But what'll I tell the rest of the crew?" The chief engineer sounded concerned. "Some of the second shift are already pressin' me to slip them down a few minutes earlier."
"You can tell them there's an emergency, Scotty," Kirk suggested, "but don't specify its nature. If anyone presses you for details, tell them it doesn't seem to be serious."
Scott didn't reply immediately, and Kirk could visualize the chief engineer's face, a mask of hesitation. He didn't believe in white lies anymore than in white rabbits. But Kirk knew the chief would see his way toward rationalizing the situation. They didn't know that Uhura was in any trouble; they only knew that her signal had gone out. It might be a mechanical malfunction.
"All right, Cap'n," came the reply.
"And keep trying to locate her. We'll be working on it from this end."
"Aye, sir. Scott out." Kirk clicked off, swung to look over at Spock.
"Any data yet, Mr. Spock?"
"Nothing, Captain. According to all sensor scans, there is no evidence to show that Lieutenant Uhura is even in the general beam-down area."
Kirk drummed thoughtful fingers on the arm of the command chair. A sudden thought, and he glanced back at the watching figures of Sulu and McCoy.
"She's still got to be there, under cover of some kind."
"Then you don't believe it's a mechanical breakdown, Jim?"
"No, Bones. Communicator breakdown is one thing, but that doesn't explain why Spock's sensors can't pick up her pattern. What I don't understand is why the Keeper of the planet hasn't put in an appearance. I'd be a lot less worried about Uhura if he'd come to your aid, Bones."
"That's right," McCoy exclaimed. "He's supposed to make sure that no one is injured by the fantasy-fulfilling mechanisms." Ruefully he fingered his sleeve above the tear, where the lance had grazed him.
"I didn't see him either," offered Sulu.
"I can only guess he didn't want us to see him," McCoy assumed. "Something's very wrong down there, all right. He should have shown up the minute those crazy cards came after me."
"Aren't his headquarters supposed to be somewhere underground?" asked Kirk.
"Presumably they would be adjacent to the central computer, which is responsible for operating and directing the wish-replying programs," Spock hypothesized.
"Do we have any idea where that might be, Spock?" The science officer shook his head.
"We know that there are a multitude of major centers producing and servicing the fantasy machinery. According to readings obtained on previous visits to the planet, these centers are shielded by a unique combination of restructured granite and metallic alloys.
"Our sensors will not penetrate this peculiar material. Therefore we have no way of determining which of numerous underground centers is the central control area itself. We can only speculate."
Kirk mused a moment longer. Then he was giving out instructions even as he rose from the chair.
"Mr. Arex, you have the conn." The navigation officer nodded, and command passed as smoothly as that. "There will be an immediate investigating party beamed down—said group to consist of Spock, Sulu, Dr. McCoy, and myself. No one else is to beam down to the surface even for a moment unless authorized by direct order from me. Is that clear, Lieutenant?"
"Yes sir," Arex responded. M'ress hissed angrily, hoping nothing had happened to her close friend Uhura.
Her reflection in the stream was blurred by the current, blurred and distorted. Slowly the ripples stirred, tumbled; she felt queasy. Then the reflections suddenly stilled and became smooth again. Uhura shook her head dizzily, slowly becoming aware that the ripples had been in her head and not in the stream. Strong light flooded the room.
Room—that wasn't right. She was outside, by the magic brook. But the nightmare had come and . . .
Abruptly she was fully conscious.
The underground complex in which she found herself was not endless: it merely seemed that way. Row on row of computer components and intricate machinery stretched as far as the eye could see. Directly in front of her was an alien, oddly shaped console fronted with an assortment of glowing display screens. One central screen dominated the others out of sheer size. It was much bigger than the main viewscreen on the bridge of the Enterprise.
"What's going on?" she said, in sheer reflex. "Why have I been brought here?"
A mild, rolling voice issued from the central region of the console, and she took a step backward. The voice was thoroughly mechanical. No organic force spoke through that hidden speaker.
"You are being detained," the voice said, "so that your master will not leave."
Captain she would have understood, or superior, or leader, but: "My master?"
The voice deigned to elaborate. "The skymachine."
Uhura thought furiously. This was a lot more confusing than the simple appearance of Alice and the White Rabbit. Taken in conjunction with her abduction and the emergency call she had heard over the communicator, that statement assumed threatening proportions.
"Skymachine? Explain yourself."
"Your intell
igence quotient is apparently lower than I had initially assessed. I refer to the skymachine which enslaves you. The skymachine now in orbit around my world."
"You mean the Enterprise?" If the machine could interpret vocal inflection, it would have no trouble detecting her honest confusion.
"I believe that is your name for it." A pause, then, "Yes, I see that it is."
"But—" No, she'd need more information on which to found an argument. No telling how the thought processes of this clearly crazed machine were working.
"Why do you think the Enterprise is my . . . my master?"
"That question is redundant. It appears that I must again revise my initial estimates of your intelligence downward."
Now Uhura was angry as well as confused. "Then I'll make a statement you won't find quite so redundant. If I'm not released immediately, my fellow crewmembers will come looking for me. I don't think you'll like the results if they find you."
This did not produce the half hoped-for outburst of electronic contrition. Instead, the computer voice replied calmly, "They are already here."
The viewscreen set in the face of the wall-high console came on. Uhura moved slightly nearer, keeping a wary eye to one side. A pair of the six-legged hovercraft servitors floated nearby, watching her.
Light darkened, rolled, and cleared on the screen, to reveal a clear view of Spock, Sulu, Kirk, and McCoy walking somewhere on the surface. The image was breathtakingly perfect, so much so that she had to resist an urge to reach out and grab Kirk's arm.
"Unfortunately, much as I abhor material waste," the voice continued indifferently, "I have no use for more than one hostage. This leaves me no choice but to turn them off."
To confusion and anger was now added fear. "Turn them off?"
"Again you persist in redundancy. No, I see that you do not comprehend. I will make them . . . cease to function."
"Cease to . . . you mean, kill them—no, put them to sleep, you mean, like you did when you brought me down here."
"The first word," queried the computer, "that is a term which means 'cease to function?' "
"Yes, but—"
"Then it appears communications are sufficient after all." The voice sounded satisfied. "It is as I wish; I will turn them off."
Kirk was grumbling irritably and trying to look twelve directions at once. "We travel all this way, cross parsecs, wanting nothing more than a little rest and take-it-easy time. Instead, you get attacked by a fantasy of unknown origin, Bones, and now Uhura is missing."
There was a beep from the communicator hooked to his belt. He flipped it open. "Kirk here."
"Lieutenant Arex, sir," came the distant voice of the navigation officer. "We've completed the total sensor scan of the surface. No sign of Lieutenant Uhura."
"Thank you, Mr. Arex. Keep sensors active in our immediate area and let me know the minute anything interesting happens. Kirk out."
"She must be in the underground system," Sulu insisted grimly. "There's no way she could have been taken off-planet without being detected."
"There's one other possibility," McCoy observed. "Sensors wouldn't pick her up on the surface if she were dead."
It was quiet for long moments. "We could save a lot of time," Kirk mused, breaking the silence, "if we could locate the Keeper." He looked understandably frustrated. "I still can't understand why he didn't intervene when you were attacked, Bones."
"I'd like to know the reason, myself, Jim."
Spock halted and held his tricorder out in front of him, sensors aimed groundward. A moment later he confirmed what they already knew.
"Instruments indicate the presence of a shielding barrier of restructured natural material combined with metals, Captain."
Kirk dropped to one knee and dug at the soft loam. The short, thick-looking grass came up with surprising ease. Several centimeters below the last roots his fingers encountered something that didn't crumble.
A few minutes later, he and Sulu had cleared a circle about a half meter in diameter. Below the dirt lay a seamless layer of oddly shiny rock, whitish-gray in the bright sunlight.
It was exactly what they expected, but that didn't prevent Kirk from rising and throwing a handful of dirt angrily aside. "This world is built like a fortress."
"If that's really the material Spock says it is, Captain," observed Sulu.
"I do not follow, Mr. Sulu," confessed Spock.
Sulu grinned mirthlessly. "Simple, Spock. This planetary master computer whatsis is a master of illusion. It might be able to fool your tricorder into reading an impenetrable barrier where there's nothing but plain old rocks."
Kirk grunted. "We'll find out how much of it is real and how much is fortress fantasy in a few minutes. The phaser bore can cut through twenty meters of any kind of stone in seconds. This stuff may be tougher—we may need minutes. But cut through it we will." He flipped open the communicator again.
"Kirk to Enterprise."
Lt. M'ress's voice responded instantly.
"Enterprise, Captain."
"Lieutenant, have Mr. Scott beam down the phaser bore and—" There was a sharp, crinkling sound as a burst of static drowned out his transmission. "Enterprise, do you read me?"
M'ress's voice replied, but it was weak, barely intelligible, and had to fight its way through a steadily mounting haze of interference.
"Your signals are growing weaker, sir," came the communications officer's fading voice. Further words followed, swallowed by static, then, "Suggest you repeat . . ."
That was the last coherent word they received. Try as he might, Kirk was unable to reestablish contact with the ship. Nor did any of the other officers have any better luck with their communicators. Every band was submerged under a tidal wave of sudden interference.
There was always the outside chance that the trouble was the communicators themselves, but it was hardly likely. Spock confirmed Kirk's fears a moment later.
He had removed the back of the tiny transmitter, adjusted his tricorder, and used the latter instrument to evaluate the condition of the first. Now he clipped the protective plate back onto the communicator and looked around at the waiting circle.
"They're definitely not malfunctioning, Captain. We have been cut off by the imposition of an artificial electronic block."
"Let's wait a few minutes, anyway," Kirk suggested. "There's a chance, judging from M'ress's reaction, that the important part of the message got through."
Scott asked her one more time. "You're sure it is the phaser bore they want, Lieutenant?"
"Positive, Chief," came M'ress's voice over the open communicator grid. "I couldn't get a second confirmation . . . our communications are being interfered with, but I'd bet that's what the captain asked for."
"All right." Scott clicked off, turned to face the two technicians standing curiously nearby. "Davis, Longey, you come with me."
Scott led them to storage bay six. Under his direction they removed a long cylindrical metal container and carried it to the main transporter room. With Scott supervising, the two techs began to set up the tripodal contents of the cylinder.
Davis looked puzzled. "Wonder what the captain wants with the phaser bore?"
"Tie that electrical ground into the third leg and stop blabberin'," admonished Scott. "I dinna know either, but you can bet he wants it fast." Davis bent to his work.
Before the last magnetic catch was locked in place, Scott was already working at the transporter console. Longey backed out of the transporter alcove, and Davis, after making sure all three legs of the bore sat within the floor disk, joined him.
Scott nodded to the ranking technician, who activated the intercom. "Technician 2nd Davis to bridge . . . beam down of phaser bore commencing." A familiar whine began to sound in the chamber.
The three men watched as the bore began to glow. It became translucent, then transparent . . . and then suddenly opaque again. Something was wrong. One minute they could see clearly through the ghost of the machine, the next, no
t. It was like watching a viewscreen scene fade in and out.
"It's not dematerializing, Chief," Davis observed, perplexed.
"I can see that, Mr. Davis." The chief engineer's tone was more harried than sarcastic. Right now he was much too busy trying to figure out what was wrong with the transporter. Finally he thumbed the intercom switch himself.
"Scott to bridge, we've got problems here."
M'ress's reply was crisp, quick. "Clarify, please."
Scott didn't immediately. Instead he tried some last minute adjustments on the console. But nothing worked. The phaser bore went as far as becoming a mere outline. It even acquired the beginnings of the familiar scintillating color that marked the first state of transport, but it adamantly refused to dematerialize.
At last he could only report, "The transporter isn't workin', Lieutenant. Not even on maximum power. I can get the bore down to ghost level an' no further. I've double-checked and all the circuits check out. I dinna understand it."
"All right, Mr. Scott," broke in Arex. "Keep trying at three-minute intervals."
On the bridge, Arex turned to M'ress. "It appears to be a different wave-length of the same energy block that's jamming our communications. I could not pinpoint the planetary source because . . ." He shrugged helplessly. M'ress finished the thought for him.
"Because the same energy block that's jamming transporter is also jamming your sensors." Her tail whipped from side to side in frustration. "Pr'ragh! So now it seems we are blind as well as deaf and dumb!"
Kirk was every bit as frustrated as his second communications officer.
They had been walking for hours now. He was getting tired of striding across endless acres of lovely but unrevealing landscape. They could girdle the whole planet this way without ever finding a hint of Uhura.
Sulu had been busy with his own science tricorder, his attention no longer focused on the surrounding vegetation. Now he looked up suddenly from the readout and put out a warning hand.
"Captain, something is hiding over there," and he pointed to their right, "in those trees. Metal alloy and rock; like the planetary shell."
Star Trek - Log 3 Page 3
