Star Trek 09

by James Blish

  At the same moment the strident alarm signal sounded. Kirk's voice came over the communicator.

  "Battle stations! All decks to battle stations! The enemy is reducing speed! This is not a drill! All decks to battle stations!"

  On the bridge Chekov shouted. "It's coming to a full halt, Captain! Magnification one, visual contact!"

  Centered on the screen, now only a small object, the strange creature seemed to be pulsating. Kirk said, "Hello, Beautiful." Then he leaned toward Chekov. "Move in closer, Mr. Chekov. Sublight, one quarter speed."

  As Chekov manipulated his controls, the bridge elevator door opened; and Garrovick, his face pale with tension, emerged to cross quickly over to Kirk. "Sir, request permission to return to my post."

  "Within phaser range now, sir!" cried Chekov.

  "Lock phasers on target, Mr. Chekov!"

  "Locked on target, sir!"

  "Fire main phasers!"

  But the fierce energy blips passed directly through the creature. Stunned, Kirk watched in unbelief.

  "Phasers ineffectual, Captain!"

  "Photon torpedoes, Mr. Chekov! Minimum spread pattern!"

  "Minimum pattern ready, sir!"

  "Fire!"

  The ship lurched slightly. The target emitted a flash of blinding light and the Enterprise rocked. Uhura cried, "There—on the screen! It's still coming toward us, sir!"

  The vaporous creature was growing larger, denser on the screen. "Deflectors up!" Kirk ordered.

  "Deflectors up, sir."

  Spock spoke into the awed silence. "The deflectors will not stop it, Captain." He was stooping, intent on his hooded viewer. "I should have guessed this! For the creature to be able to use gravity as a propulsive force, it would have to possess the capacity to flow through our deflector screens!"

  "Any way to stop it, Mr. Spock?"

  "Negative, Captain. It is able to throw its particles slightly out of time synchronization. It seems to measure our force-field pulsations—and stays a split second in front or behind them."

  Chekov said, "Contact in five seconds, sir!"

  Kirk hit his intercom button. "All decks, all stations, intruder alert!"

  "All vents and hatches secure, sir," Chekov said. "All lights on the board show green—No! Sir, the number-two impulse hatch! We've got a red light on it!

  Kirk whirled toward the screen. The cloudlike thing was on the ship now. Suddenly, it disappeared.

  Scott turned, crying, "Captain! Something has entered through the number-two impulse vent!"

  "Negative pressure all ship's vents! Mr. Chekov alert all decks!"

  Red lights flashed to the ear-splitting howl of the alarm sirens.

  "Well? Reports?"

  Though Spock and McCoy sat at the Briefing Room table, it was Scott to whom the questions were directed. He knew it and looked away from Kirk's accusing eyes. "Sir, when it entered through impulse engine-two vent, it attacked two crewmen there before it went into the ventilation system."

  "Bones?" Kirk said.

  "One man has a bare chance of survival. The other is dead. So you can hang that little price tag to your monster hunt!"

  "That's enough, Bones."

  "It's not enough! You didn't care what happened as long as you could hang your trophy on the wall! Well, it's not on the wall, Captain! It's in it!"

  Scott added his drop of reality to Kirk's cup of self-castigation. "With the ventilation system cut off, sir, we've air for only two hours."

  Human beings with a cause, Kirk thought. You must not look to them for mercy. As though to confirm the thought, McCoy said, "I expect things don't look much brighter to the patients on colony Theta Seven."

  Only in Spock, the half human, was there mercy. "May I suggest that we no longer belabor the point of whether or not we should have pursued the creature? The matter has become academic. The creature is now pursuing us."

  "Creature, Mr. Spock?" said McCoy.

  "It turned and attacked, Doctor. Its method was well considered and intelligent."

  Kirk spoke very slowly. "I have no joy in being proved right, gentlemen, believe me. It could have been many light years away from us by now. But, instead, it chose to stop here. Why? Why? Why?"

  "I must wait, Captain," Spock said. "Until I can make a closer analysis of the creature."

  "We have two hours, Mr. Spock." Kirk turned to Scott. "Try flushing your radioactive waste into the ventilator system. It might cause some discomfort."

  "Aye, sir."

  McCoy rose with him. He halted at the door. "Jim, sorry about that few minutes ago. Your decision to go after it was right."

  The exoneration should have meant something. It didn't. If you weren't companioned by the condemning thoughts of other people, you were companioned by those of your own conscience. Spock spoke. "Captain," he said, "the creature's ability to throw itself out of time, to desynchronize, allows it to be elsewhere in the instant our phasers strike. There is no basis, then, for your self-recrimination. If you had fired your phaser precisely on time twelve years ago, it would have made no more difference than it did an hour ago. Captain Garrovick would still be dead."

  "Theories of guilt, of right or wrong, past and present—I seem to have outgrown them suddenly. Suddenly, Mr. Spock, my sole concern is saving my ship and my crew."

  The fault was not yours, Captain. There was no fault."

  Kirk rose. "If you want to play psychoanalyst—and frankly, it's not your role, Spock—do it with Ensign Garrovick. Not me. Thank you." He left the Briefing Room without a backward glance.

  Spock took the hint. He buzzed the door of Garrovick's quarters and walked in. Garrovick leaped to his feet.

  "You may be seated, Ensign. I wish to talk to you."

  The young face was puzzled. "Yes, sir."

  "Ensign, am I correct in my assumption that you have been disturbed by what you consider a failure to behave in the prescribed manner in a moment of stress?"

  Garrovick flushed painfully. "Well, I haven't been exactly proud of myself, sir."

  "Perhaps you have considered this so-called failure of yours only from the standpoint of your own emotions."

  Garrovick shook his head. "No, sir. I've considered the facts, too. And the facts are that men under my command died because I hesitated, because I stopped to analyze instead of acting. My attempt to be logical killed my men, Mr. Spock."

  "Ensign, self-intolerance is an hereditary trait of your species."

  "You make it sound like a disease, sir."

  Their eyes, fixed on each other, failed to note the slight wisp of vapor that was filtering out of the jammed ventilator opening. Garrovick made a gesture of impatience. "You're telling me, "Don't worry about it, Ensign! It happens to all of us. We'll just bury the bodies and won't think about them any more.' Isn't that it, Mr. Spock?"

  "Not quite. You can learn from remorse, Ensign. It changes the human constitution. But guilt is a waste of time. Hate of the self, always undeserved, will ultimately crush you."

  Spock paused suddenly, sniffing the air. "Do you smell anything?" he asked. "I thought I scented—" Then he saw the trail of mist drifting from the ventilator.

  Garrovick whirled toward it. "Sir, it's the . . ."

  Spock, grabbing his arm, propelled him to the door. "Out of here—fast! I will attempt to seal it off!"

  He rushed to the ventilator opening. Seizing the jammed switch, he struggled to close it. But the cloud, full and dense now, was pouring into the room, over him, around him, and finally completely obscuring him.

  In the corridor Garrovick raced to a wall communicator. "Captain! The creature! It's in my cabin, sir! It's got Mr. Spock!"

  Kirk leaped from his chair. "On my way, Garrovick!" He dropped his speaker. "Scotty, reverse pressure, Cabin 341! Lieutenant Uhura, Security to 341! Medical alert!"

  He'd given the right orders. In Garrovick's quarters, the creature, pulled by the suction of reversed pressure, was drawn back into the ventilator opening. McCoy, with a S
ecurity team, met him outside the door. As McCoy reached to open it, Kirk said, "Wait, Bones! We need a tricorder reading!"

  As a guard adjusted his instrument, McCoy cried out, "Jim, Spock may be dying!"

  Kirk whirled. "If we release that thing into the ship, he'll have a lot of company!"

  Garrovick, ashen, spoke. "It's my fault, sir. I must have jammed the vent control when I hit a cup against it."

  Kirk spoke to the guard. "Check if the reverse pressure has pulled it back into the ventilation system!"

  "He saved my life, sir," Garrovick said brokenly. "I should be lying dead in there, not him."

  Spock's voice came through the door. "I am gratified that neither of us is dead, Ensign." He flung the door open. "The reverse pressure worked, Captain. The vent is closed."

  Stunned, Kirk stared at him. "Spock, don't misunderstand my question—but why aren't you dead?"

  "That green blood of his!" shouted McCoy.

  Spock nodded. "My hemoglobin is based on copper, not iron."

  Kirk had moved to the cabin door, sniffing at it. "The scent—it's different. Yes . . . Yes, I think I understand now."

  "You don't really believe you're in communication with the creature, Captain?"

  "I'm not sure what it is, Spock. But you remember I said I knew it was alive. Perhaps it's not communication as we understand it, but I did know it was alive and intelligent. Now I know something else."

  The wall communicator beeped. "Bridge to Captain Kirk."

  Kirk flipped the switch. "Kirk here."

  "Scott, sir. The creature's moving back toward the number-two impulse vent. The radioactive flushing may be affecting it."

  "Open the vent," Kirk said. "On my way. Kirk out." He was running down the corridor when he hesitated and turned back. "Ensign Garrovick!"

  Garrovick hastened to him. "Yes, sir?"

  "You were on the bridge when we were attacked."

  "I'm sorry, sir. I know I'd been confined to quarters, but when the alert sounded for battle stations, I . . ."

  "Very commendable, Ensign. What was your impression of the battle?"

  "I don't understand, sir."

  "I'm asking for your military appraisal of the techniques employed against the creature."

  Garrovick's jaw firmed. "Ineffective, sir." He added hastily. "I mean, Captain, you did everything possible. It's just that nothing works against a monster that can do what that thing does."

  "And what's your appraisal of your conduct back on the planet?"

  "I delayed firing."

  "And if you had fired on time?" Kirk waited, his eyes on Garrovick's eyes. "It would have made no difference, Ensign. No weapon known would have made any difference. Then—or twelve years ago."

  "Pardon, sir? I don't understand."

  "I said, return to duty, Mr. Garrovick."

  Joy flooded the young face. "Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain."

  He was about to add something, but the elevator doors had already closed on Kirk.

  There was news awaiting him on the bridge. Chekov, moving aside to surrender Spock's station to him, spoke eagerly. "Results positive, Captain. The creature has left the ship at high warp speed and is already out of scanner range."

  Kirk had joined Spock at his station. "Direction, Mr. Spock?"

  "Bearing was 127, mark 9. But I've already lost it now, sir."

  Kirk switched on the intercom. "Scotty. I'm going to want all the speed you can deliver. Stick with it until we begin to shake apart. Kirk out." He turned to Spock. "I believe I know where it's going."

  "It has changed course before to mislead us, sir. Logic would dictate that—"

  "I'm playing intuition instead of logic, Mr. Spock. Mr. Chekov, compute a course for the Tychos Star System."

  Heads snapped around. Controlling his surprise, Chekov punched in the course. "Computed and on the board, sir."

  "Ahead full."

  "Ahead full, sir."

  "Lieutenant Uhura, contact the U.S.S. Yorktovon and Starfleet. Inform both that we're pursuing the creature to planet 4 of that System. It's the location of its attack on the U.S.S. Farragut twelve years ago."

  Spock said, "I don't understand, Captain."

  "Remember when I said that the scent of the creature was somehow different? Something in my mind then said, 'birth . . . divide . . . multiply.' It said 'home'."

  Spock's eyebrows went up. "And you know where "home' is, Captain?"

  "Yes. Home is where it fought a Starship once before. Lieutenant Uhura, give them our tactical situation. Tell them that I am committing this vessel to the creature's destruction. We will rendezvous with the Yorktown—" He turned to Chekov. "Round trip, Mr. Chekov?"

  "One point seven days, sir."

  "Lieutenant Uhura, we will rendezvous with the Yorktown in forty-eight hours."

  Planet 4 of the Tychos Star System was a strangely dull, lifeless-looking one. On the bridge McCoy eyed its viewer image with distaste. He spoke to Spock. "I assume you also think we should pursue this creature and destroy it."

  "Definitely, Doctor."

  "You don't agree with us, Bones?"

  McCoy shrugged. "It's a mother. I don't happen to enjoy destroying mothers."

  Spock said, "If the creature is about to spawn, it will undoubtedly reproduce by fission, not just in two parts but thousands."

  Kirk glanced at him. "Anti-matter seems to be our only possibility then."

  Spock nodded. "An ounce should be sufficient. We can drain it out of our engines, transport it to the planet in a magnetic vacuum field."

  Garrovick had taken up a position beside Kirk's chair. "Ensign, contact medical stores. I want as much hemoplasm as they can spare. And I want it in the Transporter Room in fifteen minutes."

  "Yes, sir."

  "You intend to use the hemoplasm to attract the creature?" McCoy asked.

  "We have to lure it to the anti-matter. As it's attracted by red blood cells, what better bait can we have?"

  "There remains one problem, Captain."

  Kirk nodded at Spock. "The blast."

  "Exactly. A matter-anti-matter blast will rip half the planet's atmosphere away. If our ship is still in orbit, and encounters those—shock waves . . ."

  "We'll have to take that chance." Spock said, "No one can guarantee our Transporter will operate under such conditions. If a man is beaming up when that blast hits, we may lose him, Captain."

  Garrovick who had returned was listening intently. He flushed as Kirk said, "That's why I've decided to set the trap myself, Mr. Spock."

  Spock got up. "Captain, I have so little hemoglobin in my blood the creature would not be able to harm me extensively. It would seem logical for me to be the one who—"

  "Negative, Mr. Spock. I want you on board in case this fails. In that case another plan will have to be devised."

  "Captain," Spock persisted, "it will require two men to transport the anti-matter unit."

  "Sir," Garrovick said. "Sir, I request permission to go with you."

  Kirk regarded him speculatively. Then he nodded. "Yes," he said. "I had you in mind, Mr. Garrovick."

  Desolation—a brittle world of death was the world of the creature, its surface scarred and blackened by lava fissures, the hideous corrugations of dead volcanoes. As they materialized on it, Kirk and Garrovick staggered under the burden of the anti-matter unit, their anti-gravs tight on the brilliant metal sphere suspended between them. The hemoplasm container took form beside them. The moment he found secure footage on his lava ridge, Kirk freed a hand to open his communicator.

  "Kirk to Enterprise."

  "Spock here, Captain."

  "Proceed immediately to maximum distant orbit, Mr. Spock."

  "Yes, sir."

  Garrovick said, "this is the ultimate, sir. Less than an ounce of anti-matter here . . . and yet more power than ten thousand cobalt bombs."

  Kirk nodded. "A pound of it would destroy a whole solar system. I hope it's as powerful as man is allowed to get."<
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  There was a small rise in front of them. Leaving the hemoplasm where it lay, they carefully positioned the anti-matter container on the little hillock of flattened lava.

  "Detonator," Kirk said.

  Garrovick handed him a small device. Moving with utmost care, Kirk attached it to the container. Then, with the flick of a switch, he armed it. That done, he reopened his communicator.

  "Kirk to Enterprise."

  "Spock here, Captain. Holding at thirty thousand kilometers."

  "Anti-matter container positioned and armed. I'll call back when I've baited it Kirk out."

  "Captain! Look!"

  The vaporous thing had fully emerged from a lava fissure and was flowing over the hemoplasm, ingesting it. "The hemoplasm!" Garrovick cried. "The bait's already gone!"

  Kirk straightened. "We'll have to use something else."

  "But it only feeds on blood!"

  Kirk's older eyes met the younger ones. "Transport back to the ship, Ensign. Tell them to prepare to detonate."

  Garrovick was aghast. "You, sir? You're going to be the bait?"

  "You heard your order. Get back to the ship!"

  Garrovick didn't respond. He looked again toward the creature. Gorged on the hemoplasm, it was still hovering over the container. Then, very slowly, it began to move toward the two humans.

  Kirk grabbed Garrovick's arm, and swung him around. I gave you an order!" he shouted.

  "Yes, sir." He took out his communicator; and starting to walk slowly past Kirk, prepared to give beam-up instructions. Then, without warning, he whirled and struck Kirk with a sharp karate chop on the back of the neck. Kirk fell. Garrovick, glancing quickly toward the creature, stooped to pick up Kirk's body. Kirk lashed out with a kick that threw Garrovick off-balance. He stumbled and Kirk jumped to his feet.

  "Ensign, consider yourself on report! We don't have time in this service for heroics. I have no intention of sacrificing myself. Come on!" He yanked Garrovick into a position that placed the anti-matter unit between them and the creature. Then he opened his communicator. "Kirk to Enterpriser