by Dayton Ward
“Yes, sir,” Kyle said. “As you know, the ship’s a total loss, but we’re still able to access the computer banks well enough. I should have some data to transmit to you in a few minutes.” As he made his report, he retrieved the data card—which now contained a copy of the Huang Zhong’s sensor telemetry—from the console’s reader slot and returned it to his satchel. “Salvage operations are under way. We should be able to retrieve the most sensitive components, but we’ll probably have to destroy the bulk of the wreck, sir.”
Spock said, “Understood, Mister Kyle. Carry on with that effort, and transmit the sensor data to me as soon as possible. Spock out.”
“Real chatty, isn’t he?” Rideout asked, offering a knowing grin.
Kyle chuckled as he returned his communicator to its place at the small of his back. “He has his moments.” Drawing a deep breath, he resumed his work at the science console. “Well, back to it, I guess. Miles to go before we sleep, and all that.” He resisted the urge to stifle a yawn, knowing that the next two days would provide ample opportunity for such things. “I just wish I’d thought to bring some coffee in here.”
NINE
Spock aimed his tricorder at the smooth stone wall, adjusting the unit’s scanning beam and watching its miniaturized viewscreen as he worked to bring into focus what was invisible to the unaided eye. The whine of the tricorder in operation, carried by the soft breeze blowing in this direction from the plateau where he and his landing party had set down with the shuttlecraft Columbus, echoed off the high walls of the narrow passage and was irritating to his sensitive hearing. He ignored that, concentrating instead on his data collection.
“Are you sure it’s here, Spock?” asked Doctor McCoy from where he stood several meters behind the Vulcan.
Spock replied, “Our own scans as well as the data provided by the Huang Zhong’s sensors all indicate that at least one of the attacks occurred from this general vicinity, Doctor. My tricorder readings would appear to support that assertion. However, I am not, as you say, ‘sure’ that this is the precise location we seek, which is why I am continuing to conduct a sweep of the area.” Keeping his attention on the tricorder’s display, he noted the slight shift in energy readings as the scanning beam swept over a section of rock eight point five meters in front of him. He took a step in that direction, at the same time hearing what he recognized as a grunt of irritation from McCoy.
“A simple ‘no’ would’ve sufficed, Spock. There’s no shame in saying you’re not sure. In fact, it’s quite understandable. After all, we have no idea what it is we’re supposed to be looking for, right?”
Once again, the readings from his tricorder registered a fluctuation, and Spock’s eyes narrowed as he looked up from the unit toward the expanse of rock directly in front of him. It looked very much like the surrounding hillside—dull gray with hints of vegetation at ground level, and minor sparkling as minerals in the rock reflected the violet-tinged sunlight. There seemed to be nothing to distinguish this section of the wall from any other portion of the hill.
That, logically, would be the point.
Behind him, Spock heard McCoy release a tired sigh. “Spock, this looks like a dead end. There are other passages leading into the hills from the plateau where we landed. Maybe we should split up and search those, too?”
When his tricorder beeped this time, Spock deactivated the unit and returned it to its resting place along his left hip, suspended there by the leather strap slung over his right shoulder. “That will not be necessary, Doctor,” he said, before taking two steps toward the rock wall.
“Spock!”
An odd tingling sensation played across his exposed skin as he moved closer to the wall. Without hesitation, he took a third step in full stride, only partially expecting his foot to come into contact with the unyielding rock. Instead, his boot vanished, followed by his leg and then the rest of his body as he took yet another stride. The pale purple glow of Gralafi daytime did not vanish, though Spock did note that the breeze and the slight whistle accompanying it were now gone. Turning around to face the way he had come, he saw McCoy along with Lieutenant Boma and Enterprise security officers Johnson and Minecci running toward him, their faces each sporting an expression of shock and worry. When McCoy called out to him, Spock realized that the sound of the doctor’s voice was muffled, as were the shouts of the other landing party members.
Interesting.
McCoy, ever the emotional one and with no apparent regard for his own safety, seemed poised to plunge headlong toward whatever had separated Spock from the rest of the group. He was held back by Boma and Lieutenant Johnson. The security officer had a firm grip on McCoy’s left arm and was refusing in no uncertain terms to allow the doctor to advance.
“Doctor McCoy!” Spock called out.
That was enough to give the physician pause. “Spock? Are you all right?”
“I am, Doctor. Thank you. As you no doubt are surmising by now, the rock wall before you is a façade—a holographic projection. It is not real.”
His features taking on what Spock long ago had come to associate with the doctor’s ostensible default state of mild irritation, McCoy snapped, “The heart attack you almost gave me would’ve been real enough.” He paused, drawing a breath before asking, “All right, now what? Do you want us to come through?”
“Remain there,” Spock ordered, turning to once again face what he now saw was the actual wall of rock that formed this part of the hillside. An immense boulder sat before him, flanked at its base by smaller piles of stones. Something about the arrangement struck him as odd, even artificial. Was the boulder perhaps something more? Looking at the dirt near the base of the massive rock, he noted slight imperfections in the soil beginning at the stone piles and curving out and away from the hillside. He knelt next to the grooves, tracing them with the tips of his fingers. How long had they been here, undisturbed by time or perhaps even the ravages of weather? He rose to his feet, eyeing the wall to the left of the boulder, and noted a portion of rock at chest level that seemed paler than the surrounding stone. The area was no larger than his hand, he surmised. With that in mind, he placed his hand on it.
The rocks began to move.
A faint reverberation emanated from somewhere behind the boulder, and Spock stepped back as it, along with the smaller rocks at its base, began to move as one conjoined unit, swinging to his right away from the hillside. Then the sounds stopped, along with the movement. The resulting opening, though still sufficient to allow passage, seemed too narrow to be of any practical use. Another glance at the grooves in the soil told him that this doorway, such as it was, should have opened even farther.
“Spock!”
Turning, he realized that he once again could hear the sounds of the breeze in the narrow canyon passageway, and it was obvious that McCoy and the rest of the landing party could once again see him. The holographic projection that had acted as camouflage for the true entrance had disappeared.
“Are you okay?” McCoy asked as he approached.
Spock nodded. “I am uninjured, Doctor, as I indicated the first time you posed that query.”
“Would you look at this?” Boma said as he stepped forward, his attention on the now open portal. Reaching for his tricorder, he activated the unit and aimed it toward the entrance. “It looks to be some kind of passageway, Mister Spock, angling downward, into the hill and beneath ground level. I’m picking up faint power readings close by, with indications of a stronger source farther down.” He stopped scanning, though he remained motionless for a few seconds with the tricorder still held before him. “If these readings are right, there’s a massive complex down there.” Allowing the tricorder to drop by its strap to hang from his shoulder, he reached for the phaser on his right hip. “The people responsible for bringing down the Huang Zhong could be here.”
“Unlikely, Lieutenant,” Spock said. “Aside from the Dolysians at the mining colony, we have detected no indications of life anywhere on thi
s planetoid.”
Boma regarded the phaser in his hand. “Whoever built the weapons used to destroy my ship made sure they stayed hidden. For all we know, they’re still hiding somewhere our sensors can’t reach. There’s only one way to be sure, sir.” As he spoke, Spock was able to discern the emotional battle the man was waging within himself. To this point, the lieutenant had seemed able to maintain his composure even in the face of the ordeal he had endured and survived. In addition to healing Boma’s injured right arm, McCoy also had provided an initial psychological assessment, stating that the lieutenant showed no outward signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. The doctor seemed confident that Boma’s emotional state was stable, though he conceded that could change at any time. For the moment, he seemed in control of his faculties, harboring none of the rampant emotionalism that had dominated his behavior during the disastrous mission on Taurus II.
Perhaps that itself is one of the outward signs Doctor McCoy seeks?
“Your hypothesis is plausible, Lieutenant,” Spock said, “and investigation of this complex is warranted if we are to determine what really happened to the Huang Zhong. Therefore, we shall proceed.”
Boma gestured toward the opening before casting a solemn grin at Spock. “Mind if I lead the way?”
Despite a notable absence of anything resembling evidence of inhabitants, there was no denying that the facility, whatever its origin, was aware of the landing party’s presence.
“Okay,” McCoy said from behind Spock as the group made its way farther down the tunnel leading from the entrance and deeper into the subterranean complex, “somebody was thoughtful enough to set up motion sensors or whatever for anyone stumbling around down here. Makes you wonder what else they set up.”
Spock was forced to admit that the doctor raised a valid point. In response to their movement in the underground passageway, lighting fixtures already operating at a low level had grown brighter, revealing much in the way of detail. In addition to the illumination installed into the corridor’s ceiling, other points of light had come on line at regular intervals along both walls.
“Mister Boma,” Spock said as he studied his tricorder, “turn left at the next intersection.” Ahead of him, the lieutenant nodded in acknowledgment as he approached the junction, followed by Lieutenant Johnson. Boma and the security officer paused before stepping into the widened section of tunnel where this passage and two others met. They studied the other paths, their phasers in their hands, though held low and near their sides. Then Johnson pointed to his left.
“There.” Looking back toward Spock, he added, “It’s a door or hatch of some kind, sir.”
Spock nodded to Boma, and the lieutenant, as he had since the landing party’s entrance into the complex, once again took the lead. He was the first to reach the hatch, its smooth, polished surface standing in stark contrast to the rough stone walls of the surrounding passageway. The door itself was hexagonal, elongated along its vertical axis.
A small square panel was set into the wall next to the door, featuring no buttons or other visible controls. Spock moved to it and scanned it with his tricorder.
“This appears to be the door’s control mechanism,” he said, “though if these readings are correct, the door itself is not locked.” With no obvious option presenting itself, Spock chose the most logical action and reached out to touch the panel. For his efforts, a low mechanical whine echoed in the corridor as the hatch began to slide upward, disappearing into a slot in the wall above the door’s threshold. Spock noted the door’s thickness; locked or not, the hatch was intended to act as a protective barrier, but against what, he had no idea.
“It’s the simplest approaches that always work the best,” Boma said, nodding toward the door panel. Then, stepping forward so that he could see into the room, he paused at the entry. “Wow.”
“Hardly a scientific observation, Mister Boma,” Spock said as he got his first look at the chamber beyond the door. “However, it is understandable.”
Rather than being a natural formation beneath the surface of the planetoid, the room looked to have been carved from the rock. The walls and floor, constructed from a metallic compound, were smooth and possessed a polished gray finish not all that different from the interior bulkheads of a starship. Octagonal in shape, the room was, Spock estimated, perhaps twenty-five meters in diameter. Six of the room’s eight walls contained mechanisms or consoles, while the remaining two featured doorways leading to what appeared to be anterooms. The rows of control banks and consoles were composed of dark, polished glass or some other transparent material, and while some of the stations were inert, others were active. Glyphs and text were visible on many of the console surfaces, displayed in a language Spock was surprised to realize he recognized.
“Fascinating.”
Stepping into the room, he motioned for Johnson and Minecci to remain at the entrance. As the two security officers took up stations near the door, Spock looked up to see that panels that looked to be of similar material to that of the walls were set into the ceiling, which otherwise retained the only visible characteristics of carved rock. Some of the panels featured indirect lighting fixtures that cast a pale lavender tinge across the room. Others supported various apparatus whose functions Spock could not discern, but it was the object hanging from the ceiling at the center of the room that commanded his attention.
“Spock,” McCoy said as the doctor moved to stand next to him, “is that what I think it is?”
A large cube, mounted in a manner that would allow it to preside over everything in the room, was lit from within, and emanated a low, monotonous hum accompanied by a continuous swirling pattern of multicolored lights. As he regarded the cube, Spock realized the light pattern bore more than a slight resemblance to the effect of the energy field surrounding Gralafi.
“If you believe it to be the same type of mechanism that you and Captain Kirk found on the Kalandan outpost planet, Doctor,” Spock said, “then you would be correct.”
Frowning, Boma asked, “You mean you’ve seen something like this before?”
“Seen it?” McCoy snapped. “More like almost killed by it.”
Spock saw the confused expression on the Huang Zhong science officer’s face, and added, “Several months ago, we encountered an artificial planet, thousands of years old and constructed by a race of beings who called themselves the Kalandans. The planet was an outpost, designed as a colony.” He moved toward one of the banks of control consoles, scanning them with his tricorder. “Those who created it were long dead, having fallen victim to a disease they inadvertently created while building the planet.”
“By the time we found it,” McCoy added, “the colony they’d built had been standing there empty for thousands of years, with a defense system left on automatic; a kind of holographic projection that could literally kill you just by touching you.” He shook his head as though recalling the events. “Before we even knew what was happening, we’d lost three people, including two on the ship.”
Boma made no attempt to mask his disbelief. “Some kind of machine sent a hologram to the Enterprise to kill people?”
“It was not quite that simple, Mister Boma,” Spock replied as he continued his tricorder scans, “though the Kalandan defenses were quite formidable. They were even responsible for transporting the Enterprise hundreds of light-years from the planet.”
“What?” Boma asked, incredulous as he looked around the room. “And that same kind of technology might be here?”
Looking up from his tricorder, Spock said, “I cannot be certain, Lieutenant. However, this equipment appears to be much older than the technology we found on the Kalandan outpost. Nearly one thousand years older, according to my tricorder scans.”
“So,” McCoy said, “you’re saying it’s not as advanced?”
Spock nodded. “In some respects, Doctor, though it is still impressive, particularly if we are to believe that the Kalandans are somehow responsible for the energy field sur
rounding this planetoid.” He paused, noting one of the status readings on his tricorder. “I believe I have found a means of interfacing with this equipment.”
“I take it you were able to learn something about their language?” Boma asked.
“To a point, Lieutenant, thanks to our survey mission to the Kalandan outpost.” Spock had spent some time working with the computer systems on that world, but it was Lieutenant Uhura who had conducted the most research into the ancient technology. Still, he had managed to acquire a working knowledge of the Kalandan computer systems and had some ability to interface with them. Monitoring the control console with his tricorder, he reached for the smooth, black panel and pressed several of its embedded controls. Each touch to the panel brought with it a mechanical tone that Spock likened to musical notes. As he pressed the last control in the sequence prescribed by his scans, he heard a high-pitched warbling sound coming from behind him.
“Spock!” McCoy exclaimed. “Look!”
Turning from the panel, Spock saw that the control cube hanging from the center of the room’s ceiling had become more active, its interior illumination having accelerated. A beam of light shone forth from the cube’s base to the floor, and within it was a female humanoid shape. She wore a jade-colored long-sleeved robe, which covered her entire body. Her silver hair was short, leaving her neck bare. Spock estimated her age to be comparable to that of a middle-aged human.
“Unbelievable,” Boma said.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” McCoy added.
Having now coalesced into solid form, the projection of the woman seemed to smile at them, though her blue-green eyes seemed flat and unseeing. “My fellow Kalandans, I offer you greetings. I am Meyeliri, caretaker of this facility. We have created what is now the preeminent repository of Kalandan knowledge ever assembled by our civilization. In the event our homeworld continues to deteriorate to the point where it can no longer sustain our civilization, this world will serve as the first step in reestablishing our society.”
