STAR TREK: TOS - The Janus Gate, Book Three - Past Prologue

by L. A. Graf

  “Lieutenant Uhura reporting for duty, sir.”

  “Indeed,” said Spock without turning around, as if he’d been aware of her presence all along. “I [66] appreciate you taking the time to consume a meal before you reported, Lieutenant. It will save you the trouble of being harassed about your dietary requirements by various ranking officers of the ship.”

  Uhura bit her bottom lip to suppress a giggle. As usual, the Vulcan’s comment was perfectly serious. And although Kirk or McCoy might have been able to tease him about that, it wasn’t her place as a junior line officer to do so. “Do you want me to man the communications station, Mr. Spock?”

  “No.” The science officer turned toward her, and she could see now that he held a small mud-splattered instrument in his hands. “Lieutenant Palamas is still being treated in sickbay for the aftereffects of electrical shock. I require your expertise to cross-correlate the records you made down on the planet with Lieutenant Commander Mulhall’s database of galactic archaeological artifacts.”

  Uhura came forward to take the visual translator from him, although she barely recognized the archaeological device now that it had been stripped of its bulky protective cover. “Are the records still intact?”

  “Yes. I had Commander Scott remove the magnetic shielding himself, to guarantee nothing was damaged in the process.” Spock’s face looked a little more gaunt and sharply carved than usual, but nothing else about him betrayed the tense situation they were in. On the main viewscreen, Uhura could see the dark shadow of another spaceship blotting out the stars as it slowly orbited Tlaoli. It trailed a faint line [67] of spider silk in its wake. Uhura realized that must be the Shechenag ship, setting up the network of defensive satellites Captain Sulu had told them about back on board the Herschel She couldn’t tell how many of those iridescent strands of force were already in place around Tlaoli, since the dusty garnet glow of its day-side outshone any that might have crossed it, but Uhura suspected there wasn’t much time to waste. She glanced back up at Spock.

  “Are you looking for any particular information from the Tlaoli records?”

  The Vulcan lifted one eyebrow, but his face was otherwise so stolid that Uhura couldn’t tell if he was expressing admiration for her efficiency or surprise that she had asked such an obvious question. “I wish to know if the ancient Tlaoli ever encountered a shield such as this when they fought the Shechenag, and, if so, whether they discovered a way to counteract it. Failing that, I wish to know where the Shechenag have come from and why it took them so long to reach Tlaoli after we arrived. Given their insistence on preventing any use of the Janus Gate, they seem to have left it oddly unprotected in an empty quadrant of space.”

  Uhura nodded and headed over to the science station, where Mulhall greeted her with a preoccupied nod. Uhura didn’t hold that against her. All she really knew about the Enterprise’s chief astrobiologist was that Mulhall ate, slept, and breathed for her esoteric science specialty. Uhura didn’t even try to pry her away from whatever query she was running through [68] her database. Instead, she quietly set the archaeological translator on the science desk beside her and ran its leads into an unused data port, then began downloading its records of the Tlaoli written language into the ship’s main computer so they could be translated more thoroughly than she and Palamas had managed down on the planet. Unlike the visual translator, the ship’s logic circuits could reconstruct the rice-shaped phonemes that had been obliterated by cracks and tarnish on the walls of the Janus chamber. After a moment, the computer’s artificial voice said quietly, “Translation 99.3 percent complete. Continue iterations for additional word discrimination?”

  “How long will that take?” Uhura asked it.

  “Four hours to achieve 99.9 percent completion.”

  “We’ll go with what we’ve got.” Uhura glanced up at Mulhall inquiringly. “Are you ready to start correlating, sir?”

  The astrobiologist nodded again, but this time the full intensity of her pale-gray gaze was focused on Uhura and the translator. It was a little disconcerting. Mulhall was much taller than Uhura, tall enough that she hadn’t even needed to adjust the tilt of Spock’s display screen in order to use it. Her finely chiseled face held a strength and intelligence that suggested why she had risen to the rank of lieutenant commander, unusually high for a science specialist so young.

  “How old do you estimate those written records are?” Mulhall asked, fingers poised over the keyboard to input Uhura’s answer.

  [69] “We don’t know.” Uhura felt a flicker of annoyance at the incredulous look Mulhall gave her. “Our instruments weren’t working all that well down on Tlaoli. All the geologists could tell was that the alien ruins were older than the caves above them. So they’re at least several thousand years old and possibly millions of years older than that.”

  “Then we won’t bother looking for an exact match,” Mulhall said crisply. “We’ll do a language derivation check. Give me a prioritized list of the ten most common grammatical elements in the language and I’ll cross-reference that to every similar structure in our linguistic records.”

  It was Uhura’s turn to look surprised. “Only ten? Wouldn’t it be better to use more?”

  The astrobiologist shook her head. “Linguistic studies have shown that it only takes six to seven matches to pin down a genetic relationship if it’s really there. Once you start using less common language elements, you get too many false positives.”

  Uhura fed the request into the computer via the visual translator, and saw the flicker of response that immediately crossed Mulhall’s display screen. “Will it cause problems if I do some searches on my translation while you run the cross-check?”

  “Not until I get a match, and need to refine the linguistic derivation.”

  “Good.” Uhura had been thinking about how she could search the translated Tlaoli writings for the information Spock wanted. Instead of selecting abstract [70] concepts like “defensive shield” or proper names like Shechenag which might have changed through time, she’d decided it would be better to search for the discrete physical objects that would be mentioned if the Tlaoli military records contained any discussion of this type of warfare. She said, “Ship’s computer: locate all variants of the following terms in the Tlaoli records: ‘satellite,’ ‘space buoy,’ ‘orbital platform.’ ”

  “Locating,” the computer said, then was silent for a while. “There is only one usage of a term equivalent to any of those words. Translation follows: ‘All of the other worlds and satellites we once occupied were lost, one by one, as the war continued for millennia.’ Shall I continue?”

  “No.” Uhura glanced back over her shoulder at the viewscreen. They were now orbiting around Tlaoli’s nightside, and the strands of force that marked the growing barricade around the ancient planet glimmered like frostfire in the darkness. They crossed and recrossed at a variety of angles, looking more than ever like a floating spiderweb. “Try locating all variants of the following terms: ‘space blockade,’ ‘space network,’ ‘space quarantine.’ ”

  “Locating.” Another long pause. “There are no parts of the translation that correlate to any of those terms.”

  Uhura heaved a sigh. “All right. Then see if you can find a proper noun similar to Shechenag. Use a 30 percent differential in pronunciation to locate all possible variants.”

  [71] “Locating. Word found in two hundred and forty-seven places.” Uhura gave herself a mental thump on the head. Sometimes, the thing you thought was too simple to look for was actually the best. “Would you like verbatim translations of all instances where the word is used?”

  “Can you compile a summary of those sections of the records, or are the instances scattered around too much to do that?”

  “Two hundred and thirteen usages of the word ‘Shechenag’ are contained within nineteen percent of the text,” the computer said. “It will take approximately fifteen minutes to compile a summary of that section. Of the remaining usages, twenty-three
are scattered throughout the text and eleven are compressed into a very small passage at the end.”

  Uhura frowned, remembering the rough translation they had made down on the planet. The largest group of references to the Shechenag probably came from the historical section where the Tlaoli described their millennia-long war. Since the computer had already determined that no references were made in the text to satellites or space blockades, the blow-by-blow details of that ancient conflict might not be all that helpful now. The shorter section was more promising, since it was placed at the end of the text where the Tlaoli granted the use of the Janus Gate to anyone who might find it in the future. If it had occurred to them to add a warning there about their ancient enemies ...

  [72] “I think I have a partial correlation,” Mulhall said, without looking away from Spock’s science monitor. “And if I’m right, I’ve got some intriguing cross-references popping up in a database of Andorian myths and legends. Can I merge your text records into my query now?”

  “Give me one more minute,” Uhura said. “Computer, mark the longer section of the records for future compilation. Translate the section at the end where the Shechenag are mentioned eleven times.”

  “Translating.” This time, the computer’s pause was long enough that Uhura could hear a rumble of voices coming from the security station as Giotto consulted Spock about something. She glanced over her shoulder, but saw nothing particularly alarming on the viewscreen. In fact, the Shechenag ship appeared to have come to a stop, leaving its spidery network less than half complete. “The section can be condensed as follows: ‘Use of the Janus Gate should not be undertaken lightly. As we discovered during the war with the Shechenag, some changes made to our benefit in past battles resulted in a poorer future outcome. The likelihood of such inverse results can be predicted, but the Shechenag were never able to do this.

  “ ‘Many unrecoverable disasters were created in the timestream when the Shechenag stole our technology and tried to copy our chronological intervention techniques. In fact, the great interregnum in the war resulted from a Shechenag populist uprising to protest the use of time travel. Ever since that time, the [73] Shechenag sovereignty have tried to exterminate all use of time-slip devices, by themselves or by others.

  “ ‘We do not believe the Shechenag have now or ever will have the technology to destroy this Janus Gate, but the Shechenag sovereignty may attempt to prevent anyone else from using it as we do. Our homeworld lies on the farthest reaches of Shechenag space, in a region where they do not travel due to the risk of encountering other races whose behavior they cannot predict or control. But if the Janus Gate is used, the Shechenag may risk even such encounters in their zeal to protect the timeline. Use of the Janus Gate should therefore be made with adequate precautions against a Shechenag response, and with the understanding that such use may result in a declaration of war upon the user by whatever remains of the Shechenag Empire.’ ”

  “Fascinating.” The Vulcan’s superior hearing must have let him absorb the computer’s report from his position at the security station across the bridge. “That would explain why it took several days for the Shechenag to arrive and evict us from Tlaoli. However, it still does not answer the question of why they leave the planet undefended in their absence.”

  “I think I know the answer to that.” Mulhall looked up from the science display screen, her strong-boned face alight with the intellectual satisfaction of having solved part of the Shechenag puzzle. “The closest match we’ve got to the Tlaoli language in our database is an obscure, post-technological civilization out past Andorian space. In trying to find out more about [74] them, I ran across an old Andorian legend that seems to refer to Tlaoli itself.”

  “Indeed?” Spock turned to give them his full attention, although he didn’t leave the security station. Alerted by his presence there, Uhura looked up at the viewscreen more carefully, trying to identify the threat Giotto and Spock must have identified there. “What does this legend say?”

  “It’s actually very similar to the Irish legends of Brigadoon, a magical town that appears and disappears,” Mulhall said with an unexpectedly whimsical smile. “The Andorian storytellers claim there’s a whole planet like that, in a quadrant so distant no one remembers its direction anymore. For thousands of years, according to the legend, no one can see or land on this planet, because it’s shrouded in some kind of glowing ionic storm. But every so often the ionic storm calms down, and then the planet can be seen and landed on. If you visit the planet at those times, the story goes, you might be killed and eaten by monsters. Or, if you’re lucky, you might regain your heart’s lost desire.” Mulhall made a slightly embarrassed face. “I’m not sure if that last part means much of anything. It’s how Andorian storytellers usually like to end a legend.”

  “Getting your heart’s lost desire could refer to the use of the Janus Gate to change an unfortunate decision you made in the past,” Uhura pointed out. “And even if it’s not monsters, there’s certainly something down on Tlaoli that eats spaceships by draining their [75] power supply, and kills them by dragging them out of orbit.”

  “You are quite correct, Lieutenant.” Spock turned back to watch something on one of the security readouts, but his voice continued the conversation just as deftly even without his full attention. “Furthermore, if the glowing ion storm in the story were generated by a defensive barrier similar to the one which the Shechenag are currently erecting around Tlaoli, it may be that they do, indeed, protect the planet for long periods of time, until the Janus Gate manages to bring their barrier down. If the barrier failed shortly before we first arrived here with our landing parties—”

  The Vulcan’s voice cut off abruptly and Uhura saw his hand move in a blur too fast to distinguish. Milliseconds later, the familiar howl of red-alert sirens echoed through the ship.

  “Evasive action, Mr. Rhada!” Spock’s voice never sounded desperate, but it could rise to an insistent shout when circumstances seemed to warrant it. It did that now, telling Uhura everything she needed to know about the gravity of the situation. “All shields at full power, but do not fire phasers. Do you hear and understand, Mr. Giotto?”

  “I hear you, Mr. Spock,” the security chief said grudgingly. “But if those aliens out there start firing at us—”

  “I do not believe they will.” Spock’s gaze slanted back up toward the viewscreen, and Uhura’s followed it. This time, however, she finally understood what [76] she was seeing. The dark shadow of a Shechenag spaceship that appeared to be standing still against the stars—that was an optical illusion, caused by the alien ship’s lack of lights and therefore of easy size reference. In actuality, Uhura realized with a start, the Shechenag ship wasn’t standing still at all.

  It was approaching the Enterprise head-on.

  Chapter Four

  THE SHRIEK OF THE red-alert siren blasted through the bridge of the Enterprise, followed by an urgent cascade of voices as the crew reported in from their stations. It felt odd to Uhura not to be part of that disciplined response, to be merely a bystander on the bridge instead of an integral part of its functioning. All she could do was step back and keep a watchful eye on Ann Mulhall. Science specialists were rarely present on the bridge during times of crisis, and she wanted to make sure Mulhall didn’t interfere with the flow of information by asking questions or making irrelevant comments. But the astrobiologist was silent, observing the crew with a fascinated eye as if they were some new species of aliens she had never seen before.

  “Evasive maneuvers aren’t working.” That was [78] Lieutenant DePaul at navigations, watching both his own viewscreen and Rhada’s as the pilot concentrated on shifting from one set of random orbital curves to another. The replacement helmsman had steady hands, but she was nowhere near as swift with her course changes as Sulu would have been, Uhura thought as she watched her.

  “Shields up.” Giotto angled a stubborn look up at Spock. “Main phasers targeted and ready to fire.”

&nb
sp; “Wait for my signal.” There was never emotion in Spock’s voice, but the clipped intensity of that particular command told Uhura how much he meant it. “Lieutenant Palmer, are we receiving any communications from the Shechenag ship?”

  “I’m not sure, sir.” Palmer threw an urgent glance, not at Spock but at Uhura. “There’s something coming in past the subspace interference, but I’ve run it through every one of our translating algorithms and it still doesn’t turn into language.”

  “That’s because we didn’t have working universal translators when the Shechenag spoke to us down on Tlaoli. They translated their language for us.” Uhura crossed the bridge toward the communications station without waiting for an order from Spock. As the senior communications officer on the Enterprise, it was her prerogative to replace a junior officer in times of crisis. And judging from Palmer’s grateful look as she vacated the station, this qualified as one of those times.

  Uhura located the channel Palmer had been monitoring, full of the clattering mechanical sounds of [79] Shechenag speech, and routed it to the ship’s neuro-linguistic analyzing circuits instead of through the communications station’s simpler bank of preprogrammed translation routines. Unfortunately, even the powerful ship’s computer would take several minutes to begin breaking down the structure and vocabulary of the alien language, especially if parts of it were actually machine control code as Uhura suspected from the sound. By the time the Enterprise crew figured out what the Shechenag were trying to tell them, the two ships might well be engaged in a totally unnecessary battle.

  Uhura took a deep breath and adjusted her transmitter to the same frequency the Shechenag were using, then glanced at Spock. “Request permission to reply to the Shechenag, Commander.”

  “Granted.”

  Uhura opened a channel back to the alien ship, hoping the muffled sound of machine noise in the background meant that it was being monitored. “This is not the language,” she said firmly, trying to replicate as best she could the flat declarative sentence structure of the cybernetic aliens. “We do not intend hostility. We do not understand your orders.”