Constellations

by Marco Palmieri

  “No,” Merrill shook his head. “No, you’re destroying a year of work. You’re putting us back to square one!”

  “If you don’t signal the Tholians, the Enterprise will,” Kirk finished.

  “The transfer ships are practically on our doorstep, Kirk,” Merrill argued. “They’ve come too far to go back empty-handed. The Tholians won’t be happy.”

  “Commodore, I won’t argue with you further. Under Starfleet regulations, General Order Twelve, paragraph—”

  “All right!” Merrill stared down at the desk furiously as if there might be some alternate answer on the faux wood surface. “All right,” he repeated quietly. “I’ll comply. But for God’s sake, let me send the communiqué.”

  Kirk’s communicator beeped, providing a welcome end to the conversation. “I’m returning to the Enterprise, Commodore,” Kirk said as he stood. “Please report whatever response you get from the Tholians immediately.”

  Kirk flipped his communicator open as he met McCoy outside the briefing room. “Sulu here, Captain,” the helmsman’s voice sounded out of the communicator grid. “Tholian transfer ships have arrived. And Tholian traffic outside the system is intensifying, sir. Multiple ship signatures at the edges of our sensors.”

  Kirk looked at McCoy. “Have the transporter room lock on to my signal, Lieutenant. Two to beam up.”

  Kirk was tight-lipped as McCoy tagged along while he marched from the Enterprise transporter room to the turbolift. The silent treatment finally became too much as the lift started to rise. “Bones, was it you who told me a man should never meet his heroes?”

  McCoy smiled sympathetically. “The idea’s always a little bit better than the actual experience.”

  “He thinks he has a potential alliance with the Tholians,” Kirk said. “For all I know he’s right. But it just feels completely wrong.”

  “Merrill’s been a starship commander and an ambassador, Jim,” McCoy said. “He’s seen every side of this kind of issue. You can’t count out his point of view just because M-33 isn’t the most prestigious assignment for the end of a career.”

  “That’s just what I’m afraid may be motivating him, Bones: a final chance for glory. If he could come home having forged an alliance with the most inscrutable race the Federation has encountered in the past century…”

  The bridge doors snapped open on that thought and Kirk entered to see the familiar view of the space station on the viewscreen—with several new additions. The Tholian courier vessels held position just off M-33’s northern flank, hovering menacingly over the station.

  “Captain,” communications officer Palmer said as Kirk stepped down toward his command chair. “Message from Commodore Merrill. He says the Tholians are demanding immediate transfer of the captured vessel to their ships.”

  Kirk sat down, eyeing the viewscreen. “Let’s talk to them directly, Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, sir. Hailing frequency open.”

  “This is Captain James Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise. We have received a request for political asylum from the Tholian vessel captured by station M-33. Until we determine the status of the Tholian pilot, we respectfully ask you to delay your transfer—”

  “This is Commander Iskel of the Tholian Assembly,” came the triple-toned voice of the lead transfer ship commander. “Our agreement with the commander of this space station grants us immediate access to all Tholians who intrude on this area of space.”

  “With all due respect, Commander, you and your vessels are currently intruding in Federation space. And our policy is to grant asylum to anyone who formally requests it.”

  “Our agreement was designed for your protection, Enterprise,” the Tholian replied. “The Assembly has no designs on this sector. But we also seek to prevent Tholian Outsiders from intruding here. Those who do so will be dealt with by us.”

  “We appreciate your concern, Commander, but—”

  “Enterprise, we grant ten of your minutes to release the captives from the station; after that time we shall use force to retrieve them. End of communication.”

  Kirk blinked as the line snapped off. “Well, that was the world’s shortest negotiation,” McCoy said.

  “Captain, I’m reading a large group of Tholian vessels headed into the system,” Sulu said from the helm. “Their approach is far off normal Tholian shipping lanes, Captain—I don’t think they’re Assembly vessels.”

  “Outsider ships. Tactical on viewer,” Kirk ordered. He watched as a cluster of ten Tholian ship signatures registered on the screen. “That’s an attack group,” he said.

  “At least five webweavers, Captain,” Sulu reported. “They’re slightly smaller than standard configuration, but with five of them they still have significant offensive capability even discounting the support ships.”

  Kirk felt an ugly weight settle into his gut. Every instinct told him to move the Enterprise and intercept the Outsider attack group before it reached the station…but he couldn’t leave M-33 with four Tholian ships already threatening it. “Raise the commodore,” he said. “Mr. Sulu, what’s the complement of the station?”

  “Two hundred twenty currently, sir.”

  “This is Merrill,” the commodore’s voice sounded. “You’re in it now, Kirk.”

  “How much of a defense can M-33 put up against a Tholian attack group?” Kirk asked.

  “Yeah, we’re tracking them,” Merrill said of the approaching ships. “Not too damn much, Kirk. We haven’t faced down anything of that strength yet. And I’ve got even better news: the Assembly’s called in their own forces. In a few minutes we’ll have a civil war on our hands.” Merrill’s voice was thick with anger. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”

  “I still don’t understand what this fight is about,” Kirk said. “Even the transfer ship commander insisted the Tholians have no claim on this system.”

  “Looks like some of them do,” Merrill said.

  “Commodore, have your people stand by to evacuate. We can’t mount a defense while we’re chained here to this station.”

  “You’re going to beam two hundred people aboard your ship? Do you know how much power that will draw?”

  Engineer Scott turned from his station at that. “He’s right, Captain. We’ll have to recalibrate the cargo transporters for evacuation protocols, and they’ve been running nonstop since we got to the station.”

  “Commodore, I know you only have a couple of cargo transporters on board the station, but you can use those to move some of your personnel—and you should also be able to channel an energy feed to us to augment our power.”

  “We can do it, but we still won’t have enough time to move everyone before those ships get here,” Merrill insisted.

  “We’ll have even less time if we don’t start immediately,” Kirk said.

  Uhura was matching more translator concepts when the evacuation order came. She and Spock were huddled against the hull of the Tholian ship, the Vulcan correlating her information while Glasser and her team continued to work over the vessel.

  “Lieutenant,” Spock said, “it is imperative that we be able to converse in specifics with the Tholian pilot as soon as possible.”

  “I understand, sir. I’m getting close. And it’s…adapting even faster now.”

  “It may not be fast enough,” Spock said. “We could be called upon to leave at any moment. I doubt the Enterprise can spare the energy to transport this entire vessel into its shuttlebay under current circumstances, and once we leave we may never reestablish communication with this particular Tholian.”

  Uhura looked up at Spock. “Well, can’t you just mind-meld with this thing?” The Vulcan’s left eyebrow rose disapprovingly.

  “I have been attempting to do so, Lieutenant,” Spock said. “But it is rather difficult to sense thoughts through a ship hull. At any rate, Tholian thoughts seem to be incompatible with Vulcan telepathic abilities.”

  “You…must…leave.”

  Uhura’s eyes
widened as the strange, triple-toned sound of the Tholian diplomatic language sounded over the translator speaker.

  “We understand you,” she said. “Explain your request.”

  “You occupy Cathedral Station. You block the Way. I am Mage Naskeel. I am sent as Speaker.”

  “Naskeel, please quantify your differences with the Tholian Assembly,” Spock said. “Your people have been referred to as ‘Outsiders.’ We are unfamiliar with such a segment of Tholian society.”

  Uhura looked at the science officer in exasperation. “Mr. Spock, I’m just getting a workable language interface going here. Ironing out complex concepts is still going to take time.”

  “We have very little left, Lieutenant.”

  “We are the Children of the Lost Ones,” the triple voice continued. “We return now to Cathedral Station. You must release me, that I may serve.”

  Uhura looked at Spock. “Serve what?”

  Kirk stared helplessly at the tactical screen as the phalanx of Outsider ships penetrated the system. “Sixty station personnel now on board, sir,” Sulu reported.

  “Scotty, how are the transporters holding up?” Kirk asked.

  “They’re doing the job all right, but our energy reserves are plummeting.”

  “Will we have enough power to complete the evacuation?”

  “Aye, but not much more.”

  “The Outsider ships will be in weapons range in fifteen minutes, Captain,” Chekov said.

  “Red alert. All hands to battle stations,” Kirk said quietly. “Is Commodore Merrill aboard yet?”

  “The commodore refuses to beam aboard until the rest of his crew is evacuated, sir,” Palmer replied.

  “What about our personnel?”

  “A few cargo handlers, Mr. Spock, and Lieutenant Uhura remain on M-33,” Palmer said. “Mr. Spock requested that he and Uhura be among the last transferred off the station.”

  Kirk shook his head in frustration as he watched the advancing line of ships. Now another group appeared at the far frontier of the star system, still an hour distant. “That’s an Assembly tactical force, Captain,” Chekov said. “Several quite large ships, particularly for Tholian designs.”

  “Scotty, estimate our energy reserves and best possible speed out of the system.”

  “Jim, you’re gonna abandon the station?” McCoy said.

  “Consider it a tactical withdrawal at this stage, Bones,” Kirk said. “Hail the Outsider fleet, Lieutenant Palmer.”

  Kirk waited while Palmer worked at her controls, but after a few moments the woman shook her head. “They don’t answer, Captain. But they’re beaming something very much like a general attack warning ahead of them.”

  “We’re at eighty evacuees on board now, sir,” Sulu said.

  “Lead Outsider ships accelerating, Captain!” Chekov reported. “At new speed they’ll be in firing range in two minutes.”

  Kirk did the math in his head; there were still more than a hundred people on the station. “Contact Mr. Spock and arrange to have him and Lieutenant Uhura beamed aboard in the next group…along with Commodore Merrill and his command crew.”

  “Yes, sir.” It took only a few seconds for the arguments to begin. “Mr. Spock requests more time, sir. And Commodore Merrill refuses—”

  Kirk clicked his chair intercom. “Transporter control: isolate M-33’s command crew and beam them aboard in the next wave, along with Spock, Uhura, and that xenobiology crew they’re working with.”

  “Lead Outsider ships are firing, sir!” Chekov announced. “The station’s deflector shields have come up.”

  “Raise ours, Mr. Chekov,” Kirk said helplessly as the first few bolts of plasma fire from the Tholian Outsiders struck the edges of the station. The Assembly transfer ships broke formation and began to return fire, but it was clear the Outsider attack force heavily outmatched them. Kirk blinked as one of the transfer escorts suddenly vaporized under heavy fire. Then the Enterprise herself lurched under a plasma hit.

  The Outsider attack group lay down a firestorm as it converged on the station, and Kirk watched as the force’s five webships fanned out with a cat’s cradle of energy webbing strung between them. While their support ships blasted away at the Assembly vessels and the Enterprise, the Outsider webships began to draw their gleaming snare around M-33.

  “They’re going to destroy the station,” Kirk said. “Divert power back to weapons and target those ships.”

  Spock stepped away from Uhura and the Tholian ship and walked toward the row of dead Tholian vessels with a deliberateness that belied the growing desperation of their situation. Glasser looked up at the Vulcan from where she’d been examining one of the Outsider ship’s seals and then stood to follow Spock, bracing herself for a second as the deck shuddered under her feet.

  “Dr. Glasser, you have never determined why these three Tholian pilots died; is that not correct?”

  “We assume something went wrong with their ships’ life-support systems. But we’ve never nailed down a specific cause.”

  “Yet the Assembly’s failure to retrieve them strongly suggests they were aware of the inevitability of their deaths,” Spock said. “What have you learned of Tholian metabolic processes?”

  “They generate their own very high internal temperature,” Glasser said. “But we’ve never been able to determine much about their internal structure. It seems to disintegrate very rapidly after death.”

  “Disintegrate or dissipate?” Spock said.

  “Sir?” Glasser asked curiously.

  “I believe Federation science may have taken the Earth insect analogy too far where it regards the Tholians,” he said. “I do not believe Tholian external bodies are exoskeletons in the traditional sense.”

  “Then what are they?”

  Spock moved a few steps into the fragile remains of the dead Tholian vessel he was examining and knelt next to the shattered crystalline corpse of its Tholian pilot. “Prisms, in a respect,” he said. “You found no chemical residues of a physical body after this necrotic disintegration,” the Vulcan continued. “I submit that no physical internal structures were there to disintegrate.”

  Glasser’s face slackened as she caught up with Spock’s line of reasoning. “We assumed the Tholians died when their ship’s life-support systems stopped functioning. You’re saying it was the other way around!”

  “Precisely,” Spock said, showing Glasser his tricorder viewing screen. “These high energy readings from within the Tholian vessel are not simply the ship’s power systems. Some of them must emanate from the Tholian pilot itself.”

  Glasser shook her head wonderingly. “We were ID’ing those signatures as the ship’s power feeds. We just assumed those readings were too high for a living creature’s body temperature.” Glasser pulled up her own tricorder and began cycling through its records. “Look at this,” she said, showing her readings to Spock. “That means these are the energy readouts from the pilots that died, taken during their last few hours of life.”

  Spock nodded as he analyzed the readings. “Fascinating. A specific level of radioactive decay across a uniform spectrum. Doctor, by examining these levels, one could predict down to the nanosecond the life span of any Tholian individual.”

  “They’re like living atomic clocks,” Glasser said. “That certainly explains Tholian punctuality.”

  “It may explain more than that,” Spock said. “Why Tholian society is so rigidly organized, for one thing. And perhaps why this particular individual represents such a threat to the Assembly.”

  “Mr. Spock,” Uhura’s voice sounded. “You’d better hear this.”

  Kirk watched as the Tholian web tightened around M-33, its blazing filaments now igniting a violent glow as they pressed in on the station’s weakening deflector shields. The Enterprise had slowed some of the Outsider ships’ work by focused phaser fire, but with the ships and their web now in direct contact with the station, Kirk had to be judicious about how much fire he could lay down on their
adversaries. He swore he could see the structure of the station crunching inward under the press of the energy web, and he winced as lights on several levels of the station went dark as power levels drained under the assault. Suddenly the deflector grid on the station flared brilliantly and the bubble of protective energy disappeared.

  “They’ve lost their shields,” Chekov said.

  “Scotty, route power back to transporters and beam the rest of those people out of there!” Kirk ordered.

  “Aye, sir, if there’s any power left to route,” Scott groaned.

  “Beam up the station’s command crew, then Spock, Uhura, and that xenobiology team—immediately.”

  “Captain, incoming communication,” Palmer interrupted. “It’s from the commander of the Assembly attack force.”

  Kirk shook his head and blew out a sigh of exasperation. “Down here, Lieutenant,” he said as he hit his chair intercom. “This is Captain James Kirk—”

  “Starship Enterprise—by order of the Tholian Assembly you are to depart this system immediately.”

  Kirk closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before replying. “Tholian commander,” he began, “your government has officially recognized our claim to this system and you have no authority here; we are involved in the evacuation of our space station and require more time to complete that operation…however, we would appreciate any assistance your fleet can render.”

  “Your claim on this region is currently irrelevant, Enterprise,” the Tholian’s dissonant voice replied. “This situation will be resolved by us. We will not be responsible for the consequences if you do not withdraw.”

  “I can assure you the Tholian government will be held responsible for any further actions taken against Federation personnel,” Kirk argued.

  “Captain, the station command crew and Mr. Spock’s party have been beamed aboard,” Scott announced. “But our transporters will need at least five more minutes’ recharge before we can beam another group aboard.”