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STAR TREK: TOS - Enterprise, The First Adventure

Page 30

by Vonda N. McIntyre


  “No activity on Quundar, captain,” Sulu said.

  “Stephen, you can’t visit the worldship on your own!” Jim said.

  Scarlet broke in. “But why ever not? Stephen, you are welcome to visit, as is anyone from your companionship.”

  “Scarlet, please—” Jim faced the viewscreen again. “Stephen, don’t do this. The Federation comes down hard on people who meddle in first contacts without a clearance. Besides, it could be dangerous!”

  “The interior can be dangerous,” Scarlet said. “It is ... wild. But no one will harm you at the perimeter. James, why do you wish Stephen not to go to the worldship?”

  “We have rules—laws—that govern how we contact people we’ve never encountered before.”

  “How very odd,” Scarlet said.

  “You’d better check your contact list before you send the fleet out after me,” Stephen said.

  “Stephen!”

  [264] The Vulcan’s image faded. Dionysus stopped responding to signals from the Enterprise.

  Serves me right for trying to talk to him rationally, Jim thought. He got the feeling Stephen had enjoyed the argument. Scowling, he rose and joined Sulu at the helm. Sulu gestured at his sensors.

  “Nothing, captain. Koronin’s just watching.”

  “Waiting,” Jim said.

  “What are all these ... things?” Scarlet said.

  “What things?” Jim said to Scarlet, distracted. And Uhura’s remote expression troubled him. “Lieutenant, are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes, captain.” She returned to her station, humming.

  “All these artifacts,” the striped flyer said.

  Sun-and-Shadows wandered across the upper level of the bridge, looking at the instruments, touching the controls.

  “Please don’t do that!” Jim said.

  “Don’t do what? Walk? Touch? Look?”

  “Touch, mostly.”

  “Why not?”

  “Those ‘artifacts’ are the ship’s controls. It’s dangerous for untrained people to change their settings.” They’re like curious children, Jim thought. Always wanting to investigate one more bright light or one last switch or control button.

  Cloud Touching said something in the flyers’ language, Green replied, and all four flyers spoke simultaneously.

  “I don’t understand,” Sun-and-Shadows said. “What are controls?”

  “Devices for directing the Enterprise—for choosing its course. The worldship must have something similar.”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you guide it? How do you stop and start it? How do you monitor the environment?”

  The flyers conversed again.

  “None of those words applies to the worldship,” Cloud Touching said.

  “Now I don’t understand,” Jim said.

  “The worldship does not move,” Scarlet said. “It does not start, it does not stop—so no one guides it.”

  [265] “But it did move—it moved from wherever you come from, and it came here.”

  “No, it stays in one place. It ... this is difficult to say in your language. It defines one place. The universe moves around it.”

  “But ...” Jim stopped. He wished the science officer had not been so inconsiderate as to put himself out of commission. Perhaps a Vulcan could argue physics with the flyers, or at least choose a set of terms so everyone knew what physics was being talked about. If it was physics at all. This sounded more like religion.

  Sun-and-Shadows, by the science station, poked at the sensor controls with unrestrained curiosity.

  “Sun-and-Shadows, please don’t change the settings on the sensors,” Jim said, keeping his patience with considerable difficulty.

  Sun-and-Shadows stopped playing with the controls but continued to hover near the station.

  “Captain,” Sulu said. “If the worldship drifts on its current course, within the hour we’ll pass into a region over which even Starfleet claims no jurisdiction.”

  Jim needed to study the schematic; but the flyers also had to be kept amused.

  “Yeoman Rand,” Jim said, “please give our guests the grand tour.”

  Rand timorously joined the four flyers and tried to keep them from playing with the controls while they pelted her with an interminable series of questions.

  Jim began to think of Scarlet as a guest who had brought along three uninvited children and overstayed the welcome.

  So much for the first contact between two highly developed cultures, Jim thought in disgust.

  Sulu put the schematic up on the viewscreen. Three concentric circles represented the boundaries: Federation Survey had marked the inner one, the Klingon Empire claimed the middle one, and Starfleet considered the outer one to enclose Federation territory. The worldship’s appearance had dragged the Enterprise outside the middle ring. Once they crossed the outer ring, the Enterprise would be an outlaw ship, invading foreign territory.

  [266] “Thank you, Mr. Sulu,” Jim said.

  After a moment, Sulu realized Jim had no intention of giving him any instructions for a course change. With a grin, the helm officer turned back to his place.

  “Scarlet,” he said, “I must talk to you about something very serious. Your worldship is moving—”

  “But I explained before, it does not move.”

  “All right! I won’t argue semantics. The universe is moving a dangerous part of itself toward the worldship. My ship isn’t allowed inside that part of the universe. I’ll have to move out of it. If the worldship stays where it is, you may find yourself surrounded by hostile beings.”

  “I have no reason to be hostile to other beings, nor they to me.”

  “I know that. But the Klingon Empire has been known to attack first and ask questions afterwards.”

  “They will not want to attack the worldship, but they are welcome to visit, as you are.”

  “Please don’t discount what I’m saying,” Jim said. “You, all your people, and your world will be in danger, unless you can persuade the universe to keep you in a safer place.”

  “I would be sorry to move the universe right now,” Scarlet said. “I have more to learn about you and your people, and about the beings who oppose you.”

  “Do you understand ‘war’?”

  “It is a word Spock gave me.”

  “War is terrible, Scarlet. If the Klingons do behave in a hostile way, don’t wait around to experience it. Move—the universe, if you have to.”

  “I will remember what you have told me, James.”

  “Captain Kirk!” Uhura said. “Dr. McCoy is calling Security—it’s Mr. Spock!”

  Jim scowled and decided he had better find out what was going on. Scarlet followed him into the lift.

  “Please go back to the bridge, Scarlet,” Jim said. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It might be dangerous.”

  “You fear so many things, James,” Scarlet said.

  “I’m only worried you might get hurt in a strange environment!” Jim said, offended.

  “James,” Scarlet said gently, “I fly with lightning.”

  [267] In the confined space of the lift, the flyer opened one wide wing. A black scar slashed across delicate furred skin. Scarlet folded the wing again.

  The lift opened. Shouts echoed down the corridor. Jim headed for sick bay, skating along in the low gravity.

  Two security officers tried to restrain Spock. One of them tumbled past and fetched up against the far wall. He slid to the floor, stunned. He was over two meters tall, massive, heavily muscled. Spock had flung him across the room with the sweep of one arm.

  “Commander Spock!”

  The Vulcan struggled, freeing himself from the grasp of the second officer. He spread his arms and flattened his hands against the walls that formed a corner behind him.

  “Hold him still!” McCoy carried a hypo-sprayer.

  The two security officers looked at McCoy, looked at each other, and warily approached Spock.

  “Comman
der Spock!” Jim hoped his voice might get through to a part of the science officer that still responded to orders. Not that I’ve had much luck ordering Vulcans so far, Jim thought.

  Spock’s shoulders tensed. Jim braced himself for impact. Wild-eyed, oblivious to Jim, the Vulcan saw something beyond him. Instead of plunging past or through him, the Vulcan flung both arms up and out. He clutched the air. He shrieked, his back arched, and he collapsed.

  McCoy knelt, touched the corner of his jaw, and felt for his pulse. Scarlet came farther into the room.

  “Did he speak to you?” Jim asked.

  “No,” Scarlet said. “But he told me ... he told us all, didn’t you hear him? His pain is great. He believed I would touch him again.”

  Spock spread his hands on the deck. “Not the ground,” he whispered. “The sky ... This place has no sky ...”

  He tried to rise. The hypo-sprayer hissed as McCoy injected a sedative. Spock struggled against it briefly, then sagged, unconscious.

  “I’ve been trying not to drug him, but I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself,” McCoy said. “He doesn’t know where he is. He raves about the worldship. About flying.”

  [268] Scarlet regarded Spock sadly. “I never meant to hurt him. I would return his knowledge if I could exchange it for the pain I gave him.”

  “Bones, what’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know!” McCoy threw the hypo-sprayer onto a lab table. It clattered and bounced in the low gravity.

  “Did that make you feel better?” Jim asked dryly.

  “Yes,” McCoy said. “It did. If I knew what was wrong with him, I could probably do something.” He picked Spock up and laid him on one of the exam tables. The weight of a full-grown person was negligible in one-tenth g.

  “What exactly happened when you exchanged information?” Jim asked Scarlet. “If you can describe the process ...”

  “My people communicate in many ways,” Scarlet said. “I can speak with another’s mind, by a simple electromagnetic transmission and reception. Spock can ... absorb information and offer it by influencing the patterns of the brain.”

  “He must have absorbed too much,” McCoy said. He frowned thoughtfully. “There’s very little in the medical literature about mind-melding ...” His voice trailed off.

  “He understood—long before I did—that we could never begin to communicate without his ability,” Scarlet said. “His ability, not mine.”

  “His ability,” Jim said. “Mind-melding?”

  “Yes,” Scarlet said. “That’s what I said.” He repeated the unusual word. “That is Spock’s term.”

  “I don’t speak Vulcan,” Jim said.

  “Oh,” Scarlet said. “What a shame. You should learn. It’s a fascinating intellectual construction—”

  “Excuse me,” Jim said. “If I could learn a language in fifteen minutes, like you, Vulcan would be one of the first I tried. But—I don’t mean to be rude—I have other things to worry about than linguistics.”

  McCoy studied the readings on the medical sensors. “I’m worried, Jim. His life signs are getting weaker. The note in his medical records says to let him sleep if he’s injured—it doesn’t say let him slip into a coma. I have no way to pull him out.”

  “He took this risk of his own free will,” Jim said. “He may have to suffer the consequences.”

  [269] “But he’s withdrawing—he’s weakening!”

  “I understand that, Bones. What I don’t understand is what you expect me to do about it.”

  “I’m going to talk to Stephen. Maybe he can draw Commander Spock out of this fugue. If he has the ability—I have a hard time thinking of him as a Vulcan.”

  “You have something in common with Commander Spock, after all,” Jim said. “But Stephen isn’t going to be much help. He’s left for the worldship, and he’s turned off all his communications.”

  “Jim, we’ve got to get him—bring him back!”

  Jim weighed the suggestion. “No,” he said. “The danger to the Enterprise is too great.”

  “But Spock may die!”

  “I’m sorry for that, of course. But I have my ship and my crew and Federation boundaries to consider.”

  Newland Rift entered sick bay hesitantly. “Dr. McCoy?”

  Jim winced, expecting a chorus of barks and whines and snarls. But Rift had left his puppies behind. He seemed uncomfortable in the low gravity, and he looked worried.

  “Yes, Mr. Rift?” McCoy said. “I’m very busy—”

  “Have you seen Lindy?”

  “Not for some time.”

  “I’ve been looking all over for her. Captain, have you seen her? You have spent so much time together ...”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know where she is.” Jim wondered if the massive former wrestler had assigned himself the position of Lindy’s stand-in father, and had come to demand if Jim had honorable intentions. The thought was fairly intimidating. Rift ought to ask Stephen the same question, Jim thought gloomily.

  “Lindy must be with Athene,” Rift said. “Where might they have gone?”

  “Gone? What do you mean, gone? Only the shuttlecraft deck and the repair bay are big enough for Athene.”

  “But Athene isn’t in either place.”

  Jim had a horrible suspicion. Lindy spends a lot of time with Stephen, he thought. And Stephen is on his way to the worldship.

  On the worldship, Athene could fly.

  Chapter 11

  ONE DID NOT have to be an expert tracker to figure out what had happened on the shuttlecraft deck. Athene’s hoofprints and Lindy’s and Stephen’s footprints led through the grass to the module at which Dionysus had been docked.

  Jim swore softly.

  “Why are you so troubled, James?” Scarlet asked. “They are in no danger—they’ll be welcomed.”

  “Lindy’s in danger from the other people I told you about.” Jim called the bridge. “Lieutenant Uhura, it’s essential that I contact Dionysus.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I’ve tried, but Stephen won’t answer.”

  “Captain, she has no experience in space,” Rift said, deeply distressed. “She’s fearless, and she believes the company might someday help make friends with the Empire. She ...”

  Jim felt sorry for the powerful man, whose strength and skill and affection for Lindy could not help her. Jim, too, worried. What was more, he was responsible for her safety. As Rift said, she had no experience out here, no way of knowing what Stephen might be taking her into.

  “Don’t worry,” Jim said to Rift. “I’ll find her.”

  Jim had no trouble getting volunteers to go on the rescue mission. While a machinery crew came to the hangar to move the partitions, Mr. Sulu and Lieutenant Uhura prepared the shuttlecraft Copernicus to depart. Then Jim was faced with the problem of whom to leave in charge.

  I’m running out of senior officers, Jim thought. Gary is [271] light-years away in the hospital, Commander Spock is in a coma, and McCoy has to take care of Commander Spock. And then there’s Mr. Scott ...

  Jim went to Scott’s cabin and stopped outside the door. He had no idea what he was going to say to the engineer.

  He knocked.

  “Come.”

  Scott glanced up from the crumpled, scribbled-on piece of paper on his desk.

  “Captain Kirk!” He rose.

  “As you were.”

  Scott sat down again.

  “We have a problem,” Jim said.

  “Aye, captain, that we do.”

  “We’re going to have to put aside our conflict. This is an emergency, and I need your cooperation.”

  “I canna call back my actions,” Scott said. “Nor my words. I thought ye were imprudent to open the ship to beings we know nothin’ about. ’Tis what I still believe. Captain Pike would never ha’ done such a thing. His style was ...” Scott’s voice trailed off.

  “More cautious?” Jim said.

  “More prudent, captain.”

  “You’re going to have to
overcome your problems with my style for the time being,” Jim said. “I need you to take the conn.”

  “What!”

  “I’m going to the worldship.”

  “But, captain—!”

  “Don’t argue with me anymore, Mr. Scott! The Enterprise is drifting toward Empire territory. If I don’t return before we reach the boundary, you’re to keep the ship inside Starfleet jurisdiction. If the Empire sends scouts, you may raise your shields, but you are not under any circumstances—even faced with a hostile force—to use weapons. To do so within disputed territory is an act of war. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, captain, but ...” He sounded doubtful.

  “Can you carry out those orders?”

  “I’m no’ to use weapons, captain? Even in self-defense?”

  “No weapons under any circumstances. If you’re [272] attacked, raise your shields. If you’re in danger of losing the shields, retreat.”

  “And if you’re no’ back, captain?”

  “That has no bearing on your actions. Will you do as I ask?”

  Scott considered. “I canna swear, captain. I ha’ my own judgment, my own conscience, to answer to.”

  Jim had no more time to spend in discussion. His mood was grim. “I hope your conscience isn’t so prudent that it starts a war.”

  Stephen brought Dionysus down inside the worldship, where a wide, parched plain met weathered rock convolutions. The engines sighed to silence. Athene shifted nervously.

  Lindy looked through the port. “It’s beautiful!”

  Strata-striped columns of eroded sedimentary rock thrust from the land; in the far distance, low foothills rose toward unending mountains.

  Stephen’s methodical mind began analyzing the scene, speculating on different ways in which the landscape could have been produced. He had to shake himself out of a train of thought that compared building the landscape like a great model against setting up conditions within the worldship that would, after geologic eons, produce it.

  He tried to feel anger at himself for slipping into the Vulcan way of thinking, which counted beauty and joy beneath analysis and information. The anger flickered, then failed, but he pressed himself beyond the analysis. Only then could he see how Lindy perceived the worldship.

 

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