Star Trek - Log 7

by Alan Dean Foster

  "Captain, we're being beamed!"

  II

  "I can't be certain—the message is terribly scrambled, and like nothing I've ever seen before—but I think it's a request to open intership communications," Uhura declared.

  "So much for the disability and damage theory," Kirk observed tautly. "That means they're probably healthy—just antisocial. Switch on the screen, Uhura."

  The communications officer appeared to be struggling with her instrumentation, but eventually the view of the grand nova vanished. It was replaced by a portrait of a more composed subject, but one in its own way no less fascinating.

  As usual, Kirk awaited this first view of an unknown race without preconceived imagery. Even so, the first sight of a representative of supreme warp-drive technology was at once disappointing and shocking. Disappointing because its manipulator was no wizened alien genius, and shocking because the reality tended to the other extreme. In fact, the young woman who appeared on the screen was so human that she could have traded uniforms with Uhura or any of the Enterprise's female complement and moved freely about the ship.

  When she spoke, however, her speech was anything but familiar. Nothing sounded normal; even the inflections seemed intentionally misplaced.

  "Demood eb yam I ro ecno ta pihs ym esaeler, ssergorp ym gniwols si maeb ruoy, noissim ytiroirp a no mI."

  Following this urgent stream of decidedly incomprehensible alien chatter, the viewscreen once again went dark. It was replaced automatically by the view forward—the steadily growing magnificence of the Beta Niobe Nova.

  "Human, certainly," Kirk ventured, "unless her race is a shape-changer."

  "It would have to be more than that, Captain," Spock observed, "to mimic so precisely without ever having contacted us."

  "Possibly even a direct human analog," the captain continued, "though the likeness appears too exact to be true. The only thing that doesn't match up is her language. Never heard anything like that before. Yet somehow it sounds vaguely familiar. I could swear she referred to herself as 'I' at least once."

  "It might merely have been the 'aye' sound, Jim," April suggested from behind him. "I didn't recognize the language, either. I haven't heard speech like that, not in all my travels throughout the galaxy. But as you say, it did have something familiar about it. Strange."

  "Let's see if the ship's translator can come up with identification, Lieutenant Uhura," ordered Kirk.

  "All right, sir."

  As she ran the tape of the woman's brief speech through that intricate portion of the Enterprise's computer system, she also allowed the sounds to play over the bridge speakers. Once again everyone listened to that oddly pitched, weirdly modulated, yet faintly familiar babble. Repetition failed to produce enlightenment; no one could make any more sense out of the situation this time than before.

  A pause after it trailed off, then, "Negative response, Captain," she finally reported. "Whatever it is, it's no known language in our section of the galaxy."

  "Implement decoding procedures," came the command. "Might be a coded variant of some little-known humanoid speech."

  The woman on the screen hadn't delivered her message as if it were in code, Kirk thought as Uhura worked. She had delivered her sentence—if that's what it was—rapidly and without apparent effort, as though it were her natural, everyday speech. Furthermore, she had done so in a fashion suggesting that her listeners would understand instantly.

  There was surprise and just a hint of embarrassment in Uhura's voice when she spoke again. "I've got the answer, Captain. I should have recognized the pattern right away, but it was a little too close to home. The woman was speaking our own language, only in reverse."

  "Reverse," Arex echoed from the navigation station. "No wonder it sounded so familiar, like a tape played backward."

  "Correct," Kirk agreed sourly—he should have identified it himself—"only without the distortions one would expect of such a playback.

  "All right, Uhura, let's hear that tape again, only backward this time—that should sound forward to us. And put the visual tape on screen again, too."

  Uhura nodded. Once more they saw the anxious face of the woman, once more listened to her tense message. Only this time it was easily understandable, even though her words failed to match her mouth movements.

  "I'm on a priority mission," the words tumbled out, "your beam is slowing my progress. Release my ship at once or I may be doomed."

  "Short and to the point. Open hailing frequency again, Lieutenant, matching ours to her broadcast. Tell her she's endangering her life if she continues on her present course, and explain why. Tape it and then broadcast it in reverse, so she'll understand. Though it's beyond me," he continued puzzledly, "how anyone could head for the heart of a nova and not have an inkling there just might be a bit of danger involved. Something doesn't make sense here." A sudden thought intervened.

  "Mr. Spock, we should be close enough to obtain a decent internal sensor scan. How many life forms aboard that vessel?"

  "I have just concluded a check of our first readings, Captain. The result is conclusive: There is only one. The woman we saw on the screen."

  "No response, sir," Uhura broke in. "She's incapable of replying—or else is just refusing to."

  Kirk was about to suggest another approach when a demanding buzz from his armchair intercom caught his attention.

  "Engineering to bridge. Engineering to bridge."

  "Yes, Scotty, what is it?"

  "Captain, I'm gettin' severe stress reports from all over the ship. The Enterprise wasn't meant to travel at such a speed."

  What speed, Kirk wondered.

  Scott rushed on. "If we keep on like this, we'll break up, Captain."

  "Just a minute, Scotty." Kirk looked ahead. "Sulu, are we still holding on with that tractor?"

  The helmsman checked his readouts. "Holding firm, Captain."

  That explained it, then. "Lieutenant Arex, we are apparently being towed. What is our present speed?"

  "Warp-eleven, sir," the Edoan replied incredulously, after a frantic check of his instrumentation.

  "No wonder Scotty's having trouble. Mr. Spock, how long before the alien vessel impinges on the outermost danger zone, the first lethal radiation?"

  Spock made a quick check and performed some rapid calculations. "Three minutes, forty-two seconds plus, Captain. There may be some local variance in field strength, but generally speaking . . ."

  Kirk spoke hurriedly to the chair pickup again. "Scotty?"

  "I heard, Captain."

  "We'd burn up in the nova before our superstructure went. I'm trying to stop that ship from destroying itself."

  "Well and noble, Captain," the chief engineer agreed, "but speakin' of destroyin' oneself, keep in mind we can't travel like this much longer."

  "Three and half minutes, Scotty, that's all. Give me that. Kirk out."

  And he cut off, leaving the chief to oversee some frenzied emergency bracing of the warp-drive engines.

  "Speed still increasing, Captain," Arex reported. "Warp-fourteen, warp-fifteen . . ."

  Seconds before, they were traveling at warp-eleven, and even that was putting a severe strain on the ship. It also meant that the engines on board that tiny suicidal craft were even more powerful than first imagined—they were slowly overcoming the drag effect of the Enterprise's tractor.

  Kirk had no choice but to release that beam. There was a point beyond which he wasn't willing to go to rescue the confused or misguided pilot of the other ship, and that point had been reached. The Enterprise must not be risked.

  "Cancel the tractor, Mr. Sulu. Lieutenant Uhura, continue beaming our message at the other ship until they acknowledge or . . ."—he hesitated—". . . until they become incapable of acknowledging. That gives you about three minutes. When she hits those first radiation belts, her instrumentation's going to fry. Maybe she'll at least change course a little."

  "Yes, sir," Uhura said doubtfully. "I'll beam it, sir, but .
. ."

  "Captain . . .?" There was a strained note in Sulu's voice. It brought Kirk's head around quickly. "I can't release the tractor."

  "Explain, Mr. Sulu. Fast."

  Sulu stared helplessly at his console. "All controls appear inoperative—the ship isn't responding as she should."

  "Take it easy, Lieutenant. Go to manual override."

  The helmsman's hands flashed over the console, repeated the necessary manipulations again, then a third time. "Still no response, sir. We're locked tight." A touch of panic was creeping into his voice now.

  "We've got to break that beam," Kirk said tightly.

  "Our speed is now warp-twenty," Spock announced quietly. "Alien vessel will contact first lethal radiation in one minute, fifty seconds."

  "Nevermind that now," Kirk shouted. "Mr. Spock, see if you can aid Mr. Sulu." The first officer moved rapidly to the helm. "Lieutenant Uhura, contact Security and have them break out a phaser rifle. I want the tractor-beam components melted into a tin puddle!"

  Even as he gave the order he knew there was no way Security could break out the necessary equipment, set up, and perform the required destruction before they passed the point of no return. They needed those three and a half minutes again, and now they didn't have even half that.

  He swiveled in the chair, resigned. "I'm sorry, Commodore, Dr. April. It looks as if we're not going to make this conference."

  He saw that further words were unnecessary. The commodore and his wife were probably the most relaxed people on the bridge. It was a serenity derived from having faced death a dozen times before. Anyone who served on a far-ranging starship knew that life was at best a transitory business.

  "Captain," April told him, "as Starfleet personnel we were always prepared to give up what small sentience life has granted us. I was ready for the end before I ever set foot on my first ship."

  "We're still starship personnel, Captain," Sarah April added softly, holding tight to the now wilting flower.

  "We do have one chance left," a grim-faced Kirk explained. "After it enters the first zone of strong radiation, the alien ship should burn up rapidly. With nothing to lock onto, our tractor beam will be freed." He turned toward the science station.

  "Mr. Spock, will we have enough time to apply full braking power and execute the necessary course change?"

  Spock considered the question in light of the constantly changing information the ship's sensors supplied. "We're up to warp-twenty-four and still increasing speed rapidly, Captain. But I calculate that we will have forty-two point eight five seconds to effect a significant course change following destruction of the alien vessel. That is assuming, of course, that it does not possess radiation screens as advanced as its engines."

  Kirk had no time to reflect on that possibility. "Mr. Sulu, I want a course implemented at warp-eight the moment our tractor is released."

  "Yes, sir. Bearing, sir?"

  "Whatever will get us clear of here the quickest—this is no time to be choosy."

  Sulu nodded, then punched the necessary information into the Enterprise's helm. Kirk hit the intercom again.

  "Mr. Scott, we're going to try to slow our speed a little. Stand by to apply full braking power in fifty seconds."

  "Standing by, Captain," Scott acknowledged. "A good thing, too."

  "Fifty-two seconds to contact for the other ship, Captain," Spock declared.

  Kirk studied the view on the screen ahead. Detectors still showed the tail end of the tiny alien craft. It seemed incapable of mounting engines equipped to drive it at such incredible velocities. It was almost lost against the now frighteningly near blaze of red, orange-yellow, and white fluorescing gases.

  "Eighteen . . . twelve, eleven," the first officer was counting off.

  "Stand by to execute course change, Mr. Sulu. No time to spare. Apply maximum braking power."

  "Braking," Sulu announced. The fading silhouette of the alien ship had vanished now, subsumed by a licking tongue of orange phosphorescence.

  "Now, Sulu," Kirk snapped, unable to restrain giving the verbal command even though he knew the Enterprise's electronic nerves were prekeyed to perform the necessary maneuver.

  "Something's wrong, Captain!" Sulu yelled immediately. "We're still being pulled by the alien ship!"

  "Impossible, impossible," Kirk murmured. "There shouldn't be anything left for the tractor beam to lock onto. By now that tiny craft and its enigmatic pilot should have been reduced to cinders."

  "We're still connected by tractor to something, Captain," announced Arex, "and we're still building speed."

  "Contact with destructive energy levels in thirty-five seconds," declared a dispassionate Spock, eyes never straying from his instruments.

  "Incredible engineering," Kirk mumbled. "A ship that small capable of warp-thirty-six. If her people can build engines like that, maybe they have invented shielding sufficient to permit a ship to survive the heat and radiation of a nova. But the Enterprise can't."

  He knew the answer, but decided there was nothing to be lost by a last check. "Mr. Scott, we are receiving full braking power, aren't we?"

  "Aye, sir," the answer came back, "but we're as bad off as before. As long as we're locked to that little skiff, or whatever it is, I canna do nothin' with the engines."

  "Contact in twenty seconds," Spock informed him solemnly.

  "Mr. Sulu . . .?"

  "Still no change, sir. We're still locked in. Warp-speed . . . warp-thirty-five."

  Kirk was out of the command chair and at the helmsman's side in a second, keying controls himself. It was a last, desperate hope. Even the most experienced officer could overlook . . . overlook what? What could he hope to find that both Sulu and Spock had missed?

  Some minuscule calculation, some fail-safe forgotten, ignored.

  "It's got to work," he muttered to himself as he furiously manipulated useless controls.

  "Fourteen seconds," counted Spock inexorably. "Thirteen, twelve . . ."

  Kirk returned to his seat, turning slowly as he sat. At least they would not die in darkness. The awesome, overpowering glory of the nova's heart was sucking them in at incredible speed.

  "No use. It's finished."

  Behind him, Robert April had unobtrusively slipped an arm around his wife's shoulders. Her hands clutched a little tighter around the nearly dead blossom.

  "Three . . . two . . . one . . ." Spock concluded.

  Something picked the Enterprise up and heaved it forward, bounced it off a rubbery surface, and threw it once more. Those on the bridge bobbed about like rubber toys in a bathtub. A dizzying assortment of color swirled about the ship, but no one had the time or inclination to notice—everyone was too busy trying to keep from being tossed against a bulkhead or neighbor as the ship rode out a tremendous buffeting.

  Kirk reflected on the fact that there shouldn't have been any buffeting, let alone anyone still alive to feel it. By now the Enterprise should have been nothing but a rapidly diffusing field of ruptured molecules melting into the raging energies of Beta Niobe.

  The ship slowly ceased its violent shaking. And yet, Kirk mused as he rose slowly to his feet from where he had been thrown, they were still here, still alive, and, from the looks of the bridge, still functioning. He saw his shocked surprise mirrored in the faces of the other officers as they found themselves intact. Slowly, stations were resumed by dazed personnel.

  "What happened?" Uhura finally wondered aloud.

  "A great many things, Lieutenant," Spock declared. He was working at his station with an intenseness unusual even for him.

  Uhura was unable to request a more specific explanation, because Kirk had called for damage reports. They came in immediately and constituted another surprise. All decks reported no damage, no injuries other than a few minor bumps and scrapes to personnel from being violently thrown about.

  Kirk's amazement grew. Everyone still alive, and healthy as well.

  Of course, he still had no idea what had happ
ened to them, or where they were cruising at the moment. At any instant the ship might come apart at the seams, as should have happened several minutes before. He shrugged mentally. No point in dwelling on that. Maybe they would at least be spared enough time to figure out what had happened to them.

  "Lieutenant Uhura, can you get us any external visuals?"

  "I'll try, sir." Some very peculiar static rippled across the main viewscreen, then cleared without warning.

  Or had it?

  Kirk blinked, but the image that had appeared on the screen was still there, unwavering, unchanged, unbelievable. It was as impressive as it was impossible, in its own bizarre way. What Kirk and Spock and everyone else saw was a normal-looking universe, normal except for one slight change.

  It was a universe of pure white, speckled with stars of varying intensities of black.

  "Where are we?" April whispered in amazement.

  "I don't . . ." Kirk paused, noticing a new aberration. The starfield on the screen was shrinking away, not moving past. A quick check of instrumentation confirmed his observation. The Enterprise was traveling back-end first through this perverse vacuum.

  "I believe, Captain," Spock hypothesized aloud as he stared at the negative panorama ahead, "that we have somehow passed into an alternate universe, normal in every respect—but normal in reverse of what we know to be real. We have entered a universe where everything is the opposite of our own."

  "Black stars in a white void," Kirk murmured. "It looks frightening, somehow."

  "Physics are never frightening, Captain. Merely hard work sometimes."

  "Mr. Sulu," Kirk asked firmly, "what's our present situation?"

  "Still apparently locked onto the alien ship, Captain."

  Kirk turned to his first officer. "Radiation?"

  "Nothing, Captain," Spock announced after a moment's check of his gauges. "It seems we're no longer in any danger. I wonder if we ever were."

  Kirk thought of one more detail to be checked. "Bridge to Engineering . . . Scotty, how are we holding up?"

  "It was hectic for a few minutes, sir. What's going on? Everything's workin' properly—but in reverse. We're havin' to learn how to run the ship all over again, backward. Takes a minute to get used to it. Not the instrumentation adjustments; it's the goin' against years of experience, pushin' off when you want on, turnin' to maximum when you want to shut somethin' down. I know when I adjust the engine flux backward now that everythin's goin' to be all right, but I canna keep from feelin' in my bones that I'm goin' to blow us to kingdom come."