Star Trek - Log 8

by Alan Dean Foster

  "It is an ability of all Lactrans to serve as a focusing point for such energies, much as a magnifying lens concentrates sunlight. They are presently utilizing the generative capacity of every mind on board to beam a simulacrum of the jawanda's distress call to the same point in space as the shuttlecraft. The combination of the shuttle's own broadcast and this mental projection may be strong enough to—"

  Arex, who alone of the bridge complement seemed relatively unaffected by the Lactrans' activities, made both aliens and science officer into seers: "Captain—our pursuers are changing course once again. They are definitely inclining toward the retreating shuttlecraft, by a significant number of degrees."

  Kirk's response struggled through the pounding in his brain. "Lieutenant Uhura, what reaction from our captive?"

  "No . . . change, sir," she replied, her expression contorted from the effort of interpreting her readouts. "It's maintaining the same level of broadcast intensity. Maybe it's reached its limits."

  "Still continuing on a divergent course, sir," Arex reported. "They are definitely headed away from us now and are beginning to fall behind."

  "Thank you, Mr. Arex. Continue close sensor scan on—" He broke off, rehearing the navigator's recent words. "A moment ago you said 'pursuers,' Lieutenant. There are more than one?"

  "It appears likely, Captain. I am tracking three to four sources sufficiently far apart to preclude any other explanation. I thought at first that the one very large creature might be generating signals from various regions of its body, but it seems now that the distance between sources is too great. All, however, are angling toward the shuttlecraft."

  Kirk wondered if the relief was visible in his expression. To have one of the monsters closing on them was frightening enough. Three or four . . . "Mr. Sulu, how long before we reach the gravity well of a strong sun?"

  There was no formal "border" to the home galaxy, of course. Distances between suns were so unimaginably vast that the term was more suggestive than descriptive. But, compared to the reach of intergalactic space, the gravityless habitat of the jawanda, the region they were about to enter was rich in stars and jawanda-pinioning gravity.

  "Twenty-two minutes ship time, Captain," the helmsman finally responded. Kirk's anxiety lightened a little at that encouraging report.

  "Keep a close scan on our decoyed pursuit, Mr. Arex. Let me know the instant they show any sign of changing course again. Mr. Spock, can the Lactrans sustain their broadcast for the requisite time remaining?"

  "They reply that they will have to, Captain."

  Kirk nodded understandingly, his gaze shifting back to the long-range scanner view now on the main screen. It showed only dark, empty space aft of the imprisoned jawanda. For another twenty minutes it had to stay that way.

  They crept along at warp-three, Kirk chafing at the restrictions of the Boquian mechanism which forced them to travel at far below normal cruising speed. As the Lactrans had promised, the throbbing grew no worse, but neither did it decrease.

  Glancing around the bridge, he saw that Uhura, Sulu, Arex, and even Spock were beginning to show signs of real strain. He heard his own discomfort reflected in the concern in McCoy's voice. The doctor walked over, massaging his temples with slow circular hand motions.

  "Jim, even a headache can produce damage if it's allowed to continue untreated. I can't prescribe treatment for something like this."

  Kirk checked the official chronometer set in one arm of his chair. "A few minutes more, Bones. We can survive a few minutes more."

  Then they would enter the vicinity of NGC 7332. An unremarkable M3 star, hitherto unvisited by anything more complex than a Federation long-range mapping drone. But the cold orange-red giant was a nearing haven for the Enterprise, a ten-million-kilometer-wide beacon whose gravity was now akin to the fire with which primitive man had frightened off pursuit by hulking furry carnivore.

  He berated himself for falling into the trap McCoy so often entangled himself in, ascribing familiar characteristics to the unfamiliar—in this case the jawanda. That inexplicably efficient inhabitant of deep space was neither furry nor carnivorous.

  A shout came from the normally placid navigator's station.

  "What is it, Mr. Arex?" he asked quickly. "Have the signal sources changed course again?"

  "No, sir." Something in the Edoan's voice sent a tremor along Kirk's nerves. "I have detected a new source of radio emissions. It is larger . . . than all the others combined."

  "Bearing?"

  "Directly for us, sir . . . warp . . . warp-seven!"

  "Time to gravitational tangency, Mr. Sulu?"

  "Three minutes twenty seconds remaining, Captain," the helmsman shot back.

  "The new source is far off, Captain. We should just slip into the safe zone before it reaches us."

  "Recalculate for precision," Kirk ordered, thinking in astonishment that that was one phrase he never had expected to direct to his first officer.

  "Inconclusive, Captain," Spock replied immediately. "Distance undeterminable at this time."

  "Source accelerating!" Arex gasped in disbelief. "Nearing warp-eight!"

  "Less than two minutes to go!" shouted Sulu. "Plotting minimum possible orbital radii to maximize gravity effect."

  Still nothing on the rear scanners. Where was the apparition? "Emergency magnification on long-range sensors, Mr. Sulu," he directed the helmsman.

  Sulu acknowledged, and once more the retreating emptiness jumped perceptibly—to show only a narrower view of nothingness.

  "Sixty seconds, Captain."

  "Warp-nine, sir," the Edoan said dazedly. "Moving up to warp-ten."

  Whatever was after them was now traveling faster than any Federation vessel in existence. It must be converting energy at an incredible rate.

  Equally unbelievably, Kirk suddenly felt better than he had in some time. Then he realized that the throbbing in his skull had vanished.

  "The Lactrans are aware that their ruse is not discouraging this new, nearer threat, Captain. They see no reason for continuing their broadcast, especially since one of them is verging on unconsciousness and they feel we may soon require our full abilities."

  Kirk had time to feel ashamed. While he'd been suffering along with everyone else during the amplified mental broadcast, he'd neglected to consider what toll it might be taking on the amplifiers—the Lactrans themselves.

  "Fifteen seconds, sir." Sulu was counting down. "Eleven, ten, nine . . ."

  "NGC 7332 in sight on forward scanners, Captain," announced Spock reassuringly. Sulu continued to count off eternities.

  "Four, three, two—"

  An explosive shriek of outrage and disappointment erupted from every bridge speaker despite Uhura's desperate attempt to reduce it to bearable intensity. Sparks flared from various seals and seams in the communications console, and a small explosion blew out several gauges, the concussion throwing her from her seat. McCoy was at her side in an instant.

  "Entering the strong gravitational pull of NGC 7332, Captain," Spock informed him solemnly.

  Kirk didn't hear him. He was still seeing something which had appeared for a brief second on the viewscreen, details of its appearance uncertain because the overloaded scanners had automatically blanked themselves out immediately after contacting it.

  For an instant something gargantuan had drifted there, filling the screen with discharges of purple and crimson energy whose diameter exceeded that of half a hundred Earths.

  Then the scanners came on again and the sun-shape was gone, frustrated, soaring in angry desperation back to the gravitational void of the abyss . . .

  "Status, Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked slowly.

  "We still retain control of our captive," the science officer assured him. "It seems to have ceased all broadcasting. Undoubtedly it realizes that it has passed the gravitational point of no return."

  Kirk swiveled his chair. "Lieutenant?"

  Uhura was back on her feet and studying her damaged station with profe
ssional concern. "I'm all right, sir. That last outburst—overwhelming." She smiled at McCoy. "Thanks, Doctor." McCoy nodded and moved away, still keeping an inconspicuous eye on her to make sure she was as stable as she claimed to be.

  "Hivar the Toq," Spock continued, "states that the mechanism is undamaged and still operating well. We should have no difficulty in retaining control of the captive all the way back to Lactra. The Lactrans are tending to themselves. They are extremely wearied, and the youngster expresses some concern. Both adults are extremely pleased with us. We did not panic, as lower animals would have, and permit the jawanda to escape."

  "I'm glad we came up to their expectations," replied Kirk drily. "Continue on course to Lactra at our present speed, Mr. Sulu."

  "Aye, sir . . . with pleasure."

  "How's your headache, Bones?"

  "Completely gone, Jim. No aftereffects, either." McCoy looked thoughtful. "It occurs to me that the Lactrans' ability to focus the mental output of many minds into various wavelengths could be a powerful weapon."

  Kirk agreed. "True, Bones, but I don't think we have to worry about that. Not only aren't the Lactrans a belligerent race, but they'd hardly bother to involve themselves in the petty private squabbles of such primitive creatures as ourselves." He grinned and looked toward the navigator's station.

  "Mr. Arex."

  "Yes, Captain?"

  "Before we entered the gravity well of NGC 7332, I thought we had a momentary view of our pursuer—certainly not extensive enough a glimpse to tell anything. You were monitoring the long-range sensors aft at the time. Did they succeed in recording sufficient information to give us an idea of its size?"

  "They did, sir," the Edoan announced slowly. "Quite incredible. It appears that even the Boqus' estimations of the jawanda's upper growth limits were on the conservative side. Were our last pursuer so inclined, and able to withstand the radiation, it could have enveloped Sol."

  "No wonder they exist only in intergalactic space," Kirk whispered after a moment's reflection. "They need the room."

  McCoy was trying to adjust to the existence of a living organism that size. He could not, naturally. It was beyond the visualizing ability of the human mind. One could write a one and follow it with nine zeros and call it a billion, but the sum could not really be comprehended.

  So it was with their final nemesis, an unimaginable colossus turned at the last possible instant by a star trillions of times greater in mass than itself.

  From NGC 7332 the journey back to Lactra was mercifully uneventful. Their captive jawanda, now revealed as a true midget of its kind, occasionally testified to its continued health by emitting outbursts of subdued electronic noise.

  But it somehow comprehended its position. It made no fresh assaults on the Enterprise and did not attempt to flee the gravitational bond of the octahedral cage.

  At warp-three the trip back to Lactra took much longer than the journey out, and Kirk and the rest of the crew luxuriated in every minute of it. Eventually, though, the jawanda was installed in polar orbit around that strange world, to circle it forever like some huge foil-shaped moon.

  Now fully recovered, the two adult Lactrans and their boisterous offspring were transported back to the surface, though not before confessing that the expedition had enriched their knowledge as well as their zoo.

  Thus, free of further obligation to the elephantine super-minds, Kirk was able with inexpressible relief to give the order to return at warp-six to Boqu.

  Everyone experienced a few moments of apprehension as the Enterprise once again left the safety of the galactic arm, apprehension engendered by the fear that a vengeful cluster of mature jawandas might be lingering to ambush them.

  But, for all their great size and efficiency at converting energy, the jawandas were the most elemental of organisms, from a mental standpoint. If they possessed minds, these seemed not extensive enough to include memories. The return to Boqu was as peaceful as the race to NGC 7332 had been panicky.

  Hivar the Toq and the marvelous Boquian mechanism were returned to the planet's surface, which was still undergoing a burst of activity, thanks to the solution to the pandemic discovered by Dr. McCoy's team.

  There was even a remote chance, Hivar assured Kirk, that Boqu might one day apply for admission as the Federation's farthest-flung member—an eventuality which could be extremely discomforting to such as the Klingons and Romulans.

  There was much more to be learned from the sociable Boqus than from the aloof inhabitants of Lactra. In fact, the entire geology section volunteered en masse to remain on Boqu to study the incredible silicon-based ecology. A reluctant Kirk had to deny their applications, for there was no telling when another Federation ship might reach the distant, isolated world.

  Leaving the orange-and-mauve storm clouds of Boqu, they returned again to the comforting light of the home galaxy. It was as they were traversing the final stretches of intergalactic void that Spock looked up from his station, wondering aloud.

  "One thing continues to prey on my mind, Captain."

  "Not fatally, I hope," McCoy quipped.

  Spock continued, ignoring the doctor. "We were astonished at the size of the jawanda we captured, only to subsequently discover that it was but an immature specimen of its kind. This was emphasized by the apparent size of its unsuccessful rescuers, who themselves shrank into smallness by comparison with that somewhat larger—"

  " 'Somewhat larger,' " McCoy murmured derisively.

  "—last pursuer," the first officer concluded, with an admonishing stare at the Enterprise's chief physician. "It continues to occur to me that that final colossus might have its own masters out in the depths of the abyss."

  That conception was sufficiently stupefying to silence even McCoy. Together with Kirk, he stared at the view brought close by the ship's after scanners. It was hundreds of thousands of light-years to the nearest pinpoint of light—the outlying stars of Nubecula Major. True, the size of their last pursuer had been unimaginable . . . but what was more unimaginable than the vastness of the intergalactic gulf?

  "I don't know, Mr. Spock," Kirk mused softly. "Until we encountered the jawandas I'd always been accustomed to thinking of living beings in terms of meters, or, rarely, in thousands of meters. The jawandas have changed that to thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of kilometers." He gestured toward the viewscreen. "Perhaps someday we'll encounter creatures out there who'll dwarf the greatest jawanda, and then we'll have to grow used to measuring organisms with light-years instead of metrics."

  That was a bit extreme for McCoy. "Now think a minute, Jim, about the impossibility of a living being a light-year in length. Just consider . . . consider . . ." His voice trailed off. "On second thought, I'm not going to consider it right now. One lingering headache in the past couple of months is plenty. I think it's time to consider an extended session in the Rec Room." He left the bridge, the doors of the turbolift closing behind him.

  But not before Kirk saw that the doctor's final speculative gaze was focused on the screen and the darkly ominous yet beckoning reaches of the fading intergalactic gulf.

  Table of Contents

  CONTENTS

  THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  X

  XI