Star Trek - Log 8

by Alan Dean Foster

  And he had the sick feeling that the voiceless mass in front of him had neither.

  The two Lactrans abruptly turned from the enclosure to converse with each other. Simultaneously, Kirk's body relaxed. His face was pale and his tunic drenched with perspiration. As the others watched anxiously, he rolled over, sat up, and let out a long whoosh of exhaustion.

  "Have they stopped, Jim?" McCoy finally asked, when he felt Kirk had recovered enough to answer. The captain looked like a man who had just come out of an eighteen-hour sleep. "How are you?"

  "They've left off . . . for now," Kirk told them. "I think I'm okay, Bones. But I'm tired . . . so tired."

  "Understandable," McCoy agreed. "Spock, what do you think of . . . Spock?" McCoy turned, to see Spock staring as if frozen at the pair of concerned Lactrans. He was startled to see three more of the full-sized aliens sidling up to the first two. It seemed the alarm had been raised.

  At least, he thought grimly, they had succeeded in getting their captors to notice them.

  Spock left his trance and glanced down at Kirk. "I am not certain, Captain, but I believe they have concluded that they cannot break into your mind on an individual or even a dualistic basis. They are surprised."

  "Good!" McCoy exclaimed. "Maybe they won't try it again."

  Spock turned a somber gaze on him. "On the contrary, Doctor, they are now readying the mental strength of five of their number in a more powerful attempt."

  A wild, faintly desperate tone underlined Kirk's reaction. "I can't hold out against that many. It's not possible. I don't know why they stopped the last time. You've no idea, Bones, what it's like." He turned an anxious stare on the gathering of Lactrans.

  "I don't know if I'll come out of another attack like that last one, let alone one of more than twice the strength."

  "Every one of us must help the captain," Spock instructed. "Concentrate on him, try to become one with him, a part of his mind and thoughts. Perhaps we can create some kind of screen, or at least—"

  But Kirk was already on the ground again, spinning in pain and screaming for something to leave him alone.

  "It's tearing—!"

  Their concern was too great for those surrounding him to erect anything like an effective mental screen, if such a thing were even possible. Kirk rolled about for several minutes until his body quit. He lay still, only a quivering of arms and legs and an occasional jerk of his head indicating that his spread-eagled form was still fighting back.

  His continued resistance was as obvious as the fact that he was slowly weakening. More minutes passed. Kirk rolled onto his face, limp as a rag doll now, his form twitching from time to time as if touched by a live cable.

  A number of wholly alien feelings were approaching eruption inside the Enterprise's first officer when a familiar and unexpected glow appeared in the air inside the force screen, as if someone were shining a colored light on a rippling sheet of clear silk.

  Two figures began to emerge. "The Lactrans are coming into the enclosure," Markel began, "but why in this fashion if—"

  He broke off as the shifting hues solidified. One of the two figures was Lactran, all right. But the other . . .

  It was a surprise to see the small Lactran reappear, but it was a positive shock to see Chief Engineer Scott held firmly in its tail-grip.

  The surprise and shock worked equally on the five Lactrans outside the field. Their concentration was shattered by the appearance of the small one, and the results were immediately apparent as Kirk finally ceased his helpless spasms.

  The adolescent put Scott down gently. As soon as the chief had moved off a bit, two of the larger Lactrans—not even Spock could tell if they were the original two—reached in and drew the smaller one outside the boundary of the force screen. Rather roughly, McCoy thought, as he turned his attention back to the still supine Kirk.

  The others were already gathered around him. He turned onto his back, and McCoy saw his eyes were glazed. Slowly, he tried to sit up, but nearly collapsed. McCoy bent to help.

  "No, I'm all right, I'm okay," he muttered thickly. But he did not reject the support of McCoy's shoulder after he had struggled to his feet. His eyes were clearing rapidly.

  "Whew! I feel like my brain's been pulled through a wringer." He looked around at the assemblage of worried faces. "You've no idea what it's like, Scotty." He blinked. "Scotty? What are you doing here?"

  The chief jerked his head to indicate the activity behind them. "My alien acquaintance brought me."

  Spock looked incredulous, though his words were as evenly modulated as ever. "You succeeded in making contact with it?"

  "Not exactly." The object of sudden startled attention grinned. "It made contact with me. I gather it was a tremendous effort for the poor child to slow down to my level."

  "You were right, Mr. Spock. Our attempts at communication were properly directed, only at the wrong members of this society."

  "What did you learn?" Kirk asked.

  The chief engineer considered the question carefully. "Some of it doesn't translate verra easily into human terms," he explained slowly. "But I did succeed in grasping a few definite concepts.

  "For one, our small friend is the emotional and physical Lactran equivalent of a human six-year-old. Mentally, however, it is considerably superior to any of us. The first thing it did on appearin' on board was pick the nearest mind for useful information. Mine! Then it went on and absorbed all the knowledge in the ship's library computer, science center, and general storage facility. Bein' a curious laddie—or lassie—it decided to play around with its new toys. That included operating the ship's helm. Sent us tearin' right out of orbit."

  Kirk, who saw the Enterprise gallivanting all over known space at the mercy of a playful alien infant, swallowed hard. "How did you convince it to come back?"

  Scott turned introspective. "I think it was my concern for the rest of the crew that persuaded it. That, and the fact that I never showed any hatred toward it." He shrugged. "I suppose any child can tell instinctively when a threat is present and when it's not. And there was my willingness, the willingness of another, uh, child, to chat with it."

  "Infant-to-infant communication," Spock observed, showing no resentment at being likewise classified. "My congratulations, Mr. Scott."

  "Anyhow," the chief continued, "I managed to convince it that I wasn't anybody's pet, and that we're no mere grubbers in the dirt. And that it would be a sight better for all concerned if it would bring the ship back into orbit around its own home world. From there, it wasn't too hard to convince it to reenter the transporter so we could return home. By that time the youngster was pretty sure I meant it no harm. What finally reassured it was my readiness to come along too. I think they can sense friendliness in another's thoughts as readily as they can much more complicated concepts. If we could only—"

  Spock cut him off softly. "A moment, please, Mr. Scott." The Enterprise's first officer shook his head irritably, like a man trying to throw off the first assault of an advancing migraine. "I believe . . . they are trying to contact us directly. I can . . . make out . . . something. It is very difficult. The adults . . . so concise, so fast in their mental formulations . . .

  "They are . . . trying now . . . to slow down for us. Communication involves the insertion of many transitional concepts they have long since discarded as superfluous. The . . . child . . . has explained to them. Adults are attempting to rephrase their normal thoughts into . . . baby talk." The evident irritation and minor pain gradually faded, while his attitude of attentive listening remained unchanged.

  "There . . . it's better now. The child has learned much from us, particularly from Mr. Scott. It has also acquired an enormous volume of information about us, and is relaying this to its parents . . . though I can recognize only glimpses and snatches of what it is relating. It is like trying to follow every ripple in a fast-flowing stream." A pause; then: "It has concluded, Captain. Already it has told its parents all about the Federation and t
he many aspects of its composition, including all the races it comprises."

  "Already," gulped McCoy, wondering not merely at a youthful mind capable of delivering a torrent of material so rapidly, but also at those more mature minds able to absorb and assimilate it.

  At the moment, however, there were other concerns tempering Kirk's admiration of the Lactrans' mental calisthenics.

  "All that information ought to include enough facts about ourselves to convince them we're not common animals. How do they look at us now, Mr. Spock?"

  "It would appear that they have indeed revised their initial opinions of us," Spock replied, swaying slightly as he struggled to codify the Lactrans' rapid flow of thoughts. "Apparently we are now classed as simplistic life forms in the process of evolving rapidly into a higher order."

  "Vulcans included?" McCoy couldn't resist the opportunity.

  Spock's intense concentration didn't keep him from sounding slightly annoyed. "Yes, Vulcans included." He frowned as the Lactrans continued to relay information.

  "They are confused now."

  "That's a hopeful sign," Kirk murmured. "I was beginning to wonder if they were infallible."

  "It would seem not, Captain. Several of them are arguing that on closer inspection we may prove in certain unexpected ways to be equal or even superior to them. I cannot follow all of the discussion, but much of it involves the efficacy of instinct as opposed to pure thought."

  "No need to ask which of those we're supposed to represent!" McCoy snorted. "I don't know if they're flattering us or insulting us."

  "It is purely a zoological question to them, Doctor," Spock explained. "The question of value judgment does not enter into it."

  "I can see why they're using you as their go-between." McCoy murmured, but so softly that no one else could hear. Aloud, he observed, "So they think that as far as we're concerned, equality is just around the corner?"

  Spock nodded absently, as usual taking no notice of the doctor's sarcasm.

  "At the moment I'm more interested in getting back on the Enterprise than in reaching their mental level," Kirk declared pointedly. To McCoy's professional gaze the captain appeared and sounded fully recovered from the withering Lactran mind probe which had almost rendered him comatose.

  Kirk had no time to consider the speed of his recovery. It had occurred to him that, despite the Lactrans' apparent reconsideration of their human captives, they might find other reasons for not releasing them.

  "How do we manage that return—or do we?"

  Another pause followed while Spock listened to intense Lactran babytalk and strove to comprehend. If such delays were merely irritating to Kirk, to Markel and Bryce they seemed interminable.

  "It appears that we do," the first officer finally informed them. Bryce began to smile. "Under one condition." The smile died aborning.

  "While we are still classified as beneath Lactrans on the scale of evolution, they do concede that we do not belong in their zoo. We grade high in certain abilities and low in others. This apparent contradiction continues to puzzle them."

  "That's hardly surprising," observed McCoy. "The contradictions within ourselves have been confusing mankind since the beginning of its history."

  "What's this condition they're talking about?" Kirk asked, somehow sensing that it involved more than the Lactran equivalent of a handshake. Their captors had some purpose in mind.

  He would never have guessed it in a hundred years.

  But the Lactrans refused to be hurried.

  "Their abstract imagery . . . so difficult to interpret." Again a frown of intense concentration contorted the first officer's face. "They do not feel that those who maintain zoos belong in them."

  "I wouldn't have put it that way," Markel commented, fairly shaking with impatience. "How do we get out of theirs, then?"

  Spock blinked, turned to the Lactrans, and said, "Like this." He walked toward the display table, past where the invisible wall had been, and over to the table itself. There was no hum, whine, or revealing flash to announce the abrupt termination of the restraining force field. One moment it was present, and the next it simply was not.

  Still pondering the mysterious condition under which the Lactrans would agree to release them, Kirk followed his first officer's lead. McCoy, Scott, and Markel followed him. Lieutenant Bryce hesitated, then turned and started back toward the house to rouse the still weak Randolph.

  As the former captives left the enclosure, the front ends of all five Lactrans turned in unison to follow them with almost mechanical, precision—attentively, Kirk thought. While he could not be sure, he was willing to bet that their captors were prepared to prevent any sudden "instinctive" surprises—such as a rapid attempt to beam back up to the ship.

  Eyeless stares followed the movements of the humans as they picked up activated phasers, tricorders, and other equipment. Kirk did not miss the expression on Markel's face as the leader of the survey team lovingly fondled the familiar instruments he had longed for these past weeks. There was much more to the way he checked out the devices, replacing many on his belt and survey suit, than simple pleasure at regaining denied possessions. They no longer had the significance given them by captivity, but regaining them held a symbolic significance far greater. Markel found a freedom in handling Federation devices manufactured by Federation machinery and hands, instead of falsely familiar constructs manufactured by an alien keeper.

  The survey commander had ample time to indulge himself in the inspection of his lost equipment, because it took some time for Lieutenant Randolph, aided by Bryce, to join them. When she finally appeared, McCoy hurried forward to examine her, moving his hands toward his medikit. She shook off the incipient attention.

  "Please Doctor, no drugs. I want to savor every second of our departure from this place. I promise not to collapse until it's into a Federation bed." McCoy hesitated, then smiled and nodded understandingly.

  Kirk tried to appear interested in the remaining survey instruments, but his attention was actually focused on the Lactrans, who appeared to be observing the byplay between McCoy and Randolph. The captain's hand shifted imperceptibly toward the communicator, which once more rested in its familiar place at his side.

  The movement was not as imperceptible as he thought, however, because as his fingers touched the smooth edge of the device, the front end of one of the watching adults turned toward him. The fingers slid on past and above the communicator to scratch easily at his belly. He sighed reluctantly. So much for trying to beam clear from under the mental gaze of these jailers.

  "Very well, Mr. Spock, let's have the details of this condition. I give my word we'll abide by whatever they have in mind." Easy enough to do, he mused sardonically, without a hope of otherwise departing. For a brief moment, he thought he sensed an alien mental laugh.

  Spock strained again, beginning to show some signs of fatigue. The process of acting as translator was starting to wear on him.

  "It is still difficult, Captain. Their thought processes are so incredibly fast. It is becoming slightly easier, though. We are learning from each other as we continue to communicate. Somehow, I gain the impression that the condition in some way involves this 'zoo'—not quite the proper term, but it must serve."

  "If they think we're going to volunteer some substitute exhibits," McCoy began heatedly.

  "No, no, Doctor . . . it does not involve the continued presence of humans, Vulcans, or any other Federation-member race."

  McCoy calmed down, satisfied.

  "It is more complex than that."

  "How so, Mr. Spock?" Kirk pressed curiously. The first officer had turned to face the largest of the adult Lactrans.

  "I am told by the Old One that their collection is not complete. It will probably never be complete, since the desire for expansion and acquisition has faded on Lactra. There are temporal referents that I do not understand. The Old One explains gently that this does not matter. Apparently, one especially desired creature is overdue fo
r collection. It is this that they wish us to help rectify."

  "One creature?" McCoy echoed uncertainly. "You mean, they want our help in capturing some unknown specimen?"

  "Essentially, that is correct, Doctor. It seems that there is one creature they have known about for hundreds of our years yet have not been able to capture because"—the young Lactran moved jerkily, and Spock turned to gaze blankly in its direction—"because they have given up the knowledge of how to construct artificial devices—ships like the Enterprise—capable of ranging deep space. They have been content in past centuries to range for specimens close to their own system, and to use the years for refining their mind control. The emphasis in Lactran society has shifted during this period from the practical to the purely aesthetic.

  "Yet they still retain knowledge of this one special creature, and wish to obtain a live example of it. It is for this that they request our aid."

  Kirk considered gratefully the courtesy of the Lactrans. That they could as easily take control of the Enterprise as request the voluntary help of its crew was something he did not doubt. But for some reason it was important to them that such help be given freely.

  McCoy walked close. He whispered cautioningly, "I wouldn't be too ready to accept their claim that they've 'forgotten' how to build deep-space ships, Jim."

  "If it's an evasion, Bones, there's not much we can do about it. We can either believe them or call them liars. I don't think it would be wise to do the latter. They obviously have their reasons for wanting the use of the Enterprise . . . and us."

  "Then consider this," the doctor persisted. "If the Lactrans, with all their amply demonstrated abilities, their mental powers, and considerable technology, have been unable to capture this boojum so far, what makes them think we can do any better?"

  "Good point, Bones," Kirk agreed willingly. "Transportation we can provide, and we have had some experience handling live alien specimens—everything from tribbles to wauls. But interstellar big-game hunters we're not." He looked back at his first officer, and his voice rose.

  "Explain to them, Spock, that we agree. We're willing to aid in any way we can, in return for our eventual safe departure from Lactra. How should we begin? Do they have any idea where to start looking for this prize creature? We certainly have no experience of it, or the Lactran youngster would have discovered some reference to it during its very thorough examination of our library."