Star Trek 08

by James Blish

  "What is it?" Jaris whispered.

  "A vision of hell," Kirk said. He switched off the screen. "This foul thing has shown us the place of its origin. And it is now master of all this ship's operations, including our life support systems."

  "You mean it could kill us all?" gasped Morla.

  "I suspect it will try," Spock said. "But not immediately." He paused. "It feeds on terror. Death is not enough for it. There are nearly four hundred and forty humans aboard this ship. They offer it an unparalleled opportunity to glut itself on the fear it can stimulate in them. Before it kills, it will make the most of its chance."

  Kirk nodded. He moved over to the intercom button. Pressing it, he said, "All hands, this is the Captain speaking. The computers are malfunctioning. Repair efforts are proceeding. Meanwhile, it is of the utmost importance to stay at your posts and remain calm. Captain out."

  He faced around. "Bones, what's your sedative situation?"

  "I've got some stuff that would tranquilize a volcano, Jim."

  "Start distributing it to all hands. The longer we can hold fear down, the more time we'll have to get this hell-born thing out of the computers."

  He swung back to Spock. "Mr. Spock, you have a compulsory scan order built into your computer control banks."

  "Yes, Captain, but with the entity in control . . ."

  "Even so, it will have to deal with everything programmed into the computers. Aren't there some mathematical problems which simply cannot be solved?"

  Spock's somber face lightened. "Indeed there are, Captain. If we can focus all the computers' attention on one of them . . ."

  "Good. That should do it." Kirk moved over to the table. "The rest of you, stay here," he said. "Bones, get going on that tranquillizer. Let's go, Mr. Spock."

  But the thing had taken over the elevator. Though its door slid open to admit Kirk, it started to slam shut before Spock could enter it. "Spock!" Kirk shouted. He grabbed him, yanking him in just as the door clanged shut. Spock turned to regard the door with interest. "Fascinating," he said. "Our friend learns quickly."

  "Too quickly." Kirk pushed the up button to the bridge. Instead of rising, the elevator sank. Decks flashed by to a whining sound. "Free fall!" Kirk yelled. “Put it on manual control!"

  They both seized the manual controls, pulling at them. The whine stopped, and very slowly the elevator began to rise. Then its alarm siren shrieked. "That was due to be next," Kirk said grimly. "Life support malfunction!"

  "We don't have much time, Captain."

  "You said it yourself, Mr. Spock. It wants terror. Death comes second on its list."

  The elevator stopped at the bridge deck, but there was another struggle with its touch plate to get its door open. Nor did they find much cause for cheer as they hurried out of it into the bridge. Sulu, already gasping for breath, was with the technician at the life support station. "Captain, the override is jammed!"

  Spock ran to the station. Ripping off a panel, he exposed its mechanism, and kneeling, went to work on it. He was reaching for a tool when Hengist's voice screamed from the bridge speaker. "You are all about to die! Captain Kirk, you are wasting your time!" The voice broke again into its hideous laughter.

  "Turn that off, Communications!" Kirk wheeled to Sulu. "Man your post, Mr. Sulu! Prepare all your manual overrides!"

  Spock got to his feet. "Normal environmental levels restored, Captain. But, as you know, they won't last long. Several hours with luck."

  Sulu asked, "What's going on, Captain?"

  "Man your post, Mr. Sulu!" Kirk, aware of his tension, hastened to meet the nurse who was stepping out of the elevators air hypo in hand. "Is that the tranquilizer?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Everyone, including yourself."

  The Communications technician had bared his arm for the shot when Hengist's voice spoke once more.

  "You cannot stop me now, Captain!" Kirk reached over the crewman's shoulder to push buttons, but the voice wasn't hushed. "Fool, you cannot silence me! I control all the circuits of this ship! You cannot reach me! Your manual overrides' life is as limited as your own. Soon all controls will be mine!"

  Kirk moved over to Spock at his computer station. He said softly, "Well, Mr. Spock?"

  "Work proceeding, Captain."

  This time Kirk raised his voice. "Destroy us—and you destroy yourself."

  Chuckles bubbled from the bridge speaker. "I am deathless. I have existed from the dawn of time—and I shall live beyond its end. In the meantime I shall feed—and this time I need no knife. In pain unspeakable you will all die!"

  Spock looked up from his work. "It is preparing its feast on terror."

  "Imbeciles! I can cut off your oxygen and suffocate you! I can crush you all by increasing atmospheric pressure! I can heighten the temperature till the blood boils in your veins!"

  Sulu had received his shot. He turned to Kirk. "Captain," he said cheerfully, "whoever that is, he sure talks gloomy."

  "Yes. Stay at your post, Mr. Sulu. If any more systems go out, switch to manual override. Above all, don't be afraid."

  "With an arm full of this stuff, sir, I wouldn't be scared of a supernova."

  "Ready, Captain," Spock said.

  "Implement."

  Spock addressed his library computer. "This is a compulsory Class 1 direction. Compute to the last digit the value of pi."

  Sharp clicks mingled with an outbreak of buzzing noises. Spock waited. And what he waited for came. Over the speaker Hengist's voice, alarmed, said, "No—not . . ."

  Spock made his reply. "The value of pi is a transcendental number without any resolution. All banks of our computer are now working on it to the exclusion of all else. They will continue to calculate this incalculable number until we order them to stop."

  "Let's get back to the Briefing Room," Kirk said. "The Argelians will probably be the first to panic."

  Sulu watched them go to the elevator. Then he said happily to himself, "I wonder what I'm supposed to be afraid of."

  In the Briefing Room, the body of Hengist was still slumped in the chair where it had been placed. McCoy was circling the table administering the tranquilizer shots. As Kirk and Spock entered, Scott said, "Well, Captain?"

  "I don't think our computers will be inhabited by anything but a bunch of figures for a while."

  Spock had gone directly to the computer controls. He tested them. "There's some resistance, Captain, but the directive is succeeding. Bank after bank is turning to the problem."

  McCoy paused, his air hypo suspended. "If you drive it out of the computer, Jim, it will have to go somewhere else."

  "I doubt if it will move into anyone who's been tranquilized, Bones. How're you coming?"

  "Almost finished. Just Jaris and me . . ."

  He stopped dead. The lights had dimmed again. And there was that rushing sound of vast wings beating. Very gradually, the lights returned. Spock punched a button on the computer controls.

  "The entity has fled, Captain," he said.

  Kirk had been pondering McCoy's warning. "But where has it fled? Bones—if the thing entered a tranquilized body, what would happen?"

  "It might take up knitting," McCoy said. "But nothing more violent than that."

  "And you say everyone has had a shot except you—and Jaris?"

  Jaris turned in his chair. "You and Mr. Spock have received no shot, Captain."

  Kirk looked at him sharply. "That is true. But I know it is not in me—and I'm willing to take a chance on Mr. Spock. Bones, give yourself a shot."

  "I ought to stay clear to keep my wits about me," McCoy protested.

  "I gave you an order, Bones!"

  McCoy stared at Kirk. Then he shrugged, bared his arm and plunged the hypo into it.

  "Prefect," Kirk said, "if you will extend your arm, please . . ."

  Jaris exploded into an insane howl. Out of his mouth Hengist's voice screamed, "No! No!" Leaping from the table, Jaris flung himself on Kirk. Spock raced over to them.
The elderly body of Jaris was infused with unbelievable strength. It had Kirk by the throat. Spock tore it away. It shrieked, "Kill! Kill you all! Suffer, suffer! Die!" Grappling with Jaris's fiercely powerful body, Spock reached for its neck to apply the Vulcan pinch. Jaris crumpled. And once again the lights dimmed—the vast wings flapped.

  Kirk regained his feet. Around the table its tranquilized people, some sitting, some standing, were smiling as though the struggle had been staged for their entertainment. Yeoman Tancris, her recording pad dropped to the floor, was regarding Spock with a beautiful admiration. From behind her an arm reached out. It encircled her neck, pulling her backward. Hengist's body had left its chair. It whipped out a knife and laid it against the girl's throat.

  "Stand away—or I'll kill her!" it said.

  McCoy, thoroughly tranquilized, said mildly, "You'll hurt somebody with that knife," and extended a gentle hand toward the weapon. Hengist took a savage swipe at him. Spock jumped him as Kirk ripped the hypo from McCoy. Spock, closing with the howling madman, managed to tear his sleeve. Kirk rammed the hypo home. Hengist wavered in Spock's grasp. "I'll kill you all," he said quietly. "And you shall suffer and I shall feed—" He collapsed.

  Kirk grabbed his shoulders. "The Transporter Room! Quickly!" he shouted to Spock.

  The Transporter technician beamed at them happily as they staggered into the room, the heavy body of Hengist between them.

  Kirk yelled, "Deep space—widest angle of dispersion—full power—maintain . . ."

  The Transporter Chief looked at him reproachfully. "No need to get so excited, Captain. I'll take care of it."

  "Spock! Do it! Tranquilizers have their limitations!"

  Alone, Kirk placed Hengist on the platform. The benevolent Transporter Chief was moving casually toward the console when Spock pushed him aside and seized the controls.

  "Energize!" Kirk shouted.

  The motionless figure on the platform broke up into sparkle—and was gone.

  Spock, his elbow on the console, leaned his head on his hand. Kirk laid a hand on his shoulder. "Quite an expensive little foray into the fleshpots—our visit to Argelius," he said. But the Transporter Chiefs feelings were hurt. "You didn't have to shove me, Mr. Spock. I'd have gotten around to it," he said pleasantly. He looked up as Scott and McCoy, both grinning contentedly, opened the door. "Now there are two officers who know how to take life—easy," he said.

  "Jaris will be all right," McCoy announced soothingly.

  "What did you do with the thing, Captain?" Scott asked. "Send it back to the planet?"

  "No, Scotty. We beamed it out into open space at the widest possible dispersion angle."

  "But it can't die!" McCoy said.

  "Perhaps not, Doctor," Spock said. "Indeed, its consciousness may survive for some time, but only in the form of billions of particles, separate bits of energy, forever drifting in space—powerless, shapeless and without sustenance. We know it must eat to remain alive."

  "And it will never feed again, not in the formless state it's in," Kirk said. "Finally, it will die." He looked at McCoy. "Bones—how long before that tranquilizer wears off?"

  "Oh, five or six hours, I guess. I certainly have given everyone a pretty good dose."

  "So I notice. Well, Mr. Spock, for the next few hours we'll have the happiest crew in space. But I doubt that we get much work done."

  "Sir," Spock said, "since, after all, we came to Argelius to rest, I see no reason why we shouldn't take advantage of it."

  "Let's go!" Scott cried enthusiastically.

  "Shore leave, Mr. Scott? You and Dr. McCoy have still to sleep off the effects of the last one. But we?" Kirk turned to Spock. "Mr. Spock, want to make the rounds of the Argelian fleshpots with me?"

  Spock's eyebrows rose. "Captain," he said stiffly, "I spoke of rest."

  "Ah," Kirk said. "So you did. My mistake, Mr. Spock."

  FOR THE WORLD IS HOLLOW

  AND I HAVE TOUCHED THE SKY

  (Rik Vollaerts)

  * * *

  That "Bones" McCoy was a lonely man, Kirk knew. That he'd joined the service after some serious personal tragedy in his life, Kirk suspected. What he hadn't realized was the fierce pride in McCoy that made a virtual fetish of silence about any private pain. So he was startled by his violent reaction to the discovery that Nurse Chapel had exceeded what McCoy called her "professional authority."

  Entering Sickbay, Kirk found her close to tears. "You had no business to call Captain Kirk!" McCoy was storming at her. "You're excused! You may go to your quarters!"

  She blew her nose. "I'm a nurse first, Doctor—and a crew member of the Enterprise second," she said, chin firm under her reddened eyes.

  "I said you were excused, Nurse!"

  Christine swallowed. The hurt in her face was openly appealing. She blew her nose again, looking at Kirk, while McCoy said gruffly, "Christine, please—for God's sake, stop crying! I'll give the Captain a full report, I promise."

  She hurried out, and Kirk said, "Well, that was quite a dramatic little scene."

  McCoy squared his shoulders. "I've completed the standard physical examinations of the entire crew."

  "Good," Kirk said.

  "The crew is fit. I found nothing unusual—with one exception."

  "Serious?"

  "Terminal."

  Kirk, shocked, said, "You're sure?"

  "Positive. A rare blood disease. Affects one spaceship crew member in fifty thousand."

  "What is it?"

  "Xenopolycythemia. There is no cure."

  "Who?"

  "He has one year to live—at the outside chance. He should be relieved of duty as soon as possible." ,

  Kirk spoke quietly. "Who is it, Bones?"

  "The ship's chief medical officer."

  There was a pause. Then Kirk said, "You mean yourself?"

  McCoy reached for a colored tape cartridge on his desk. He stood at stiff attention as he handed it to Kirk. "That's the full report, sir. You'll want it quickly relayed to Starfleet Command—to arrange my replacement."

  Wordless, Kirk just looked at him, too stunned to speak. After a moment, he replaced the cartridge on the desk as though it had bit him. McCoy said, "I'll be most effective on the job in the time left to me if you will keep this to yourself."

  Kirk shook his head. "There must be something that can be done!"

  "There isn't." McCoy's voice was harsh. "I've kept up on all the research. I've told you!"

  The anguish on Kirk's face broke him. He sank down in the chair at his desk.

  "It's terminal, Jim. Terminal."

  Though red alert had been called on the Enterprise, Kirk was in his quarters. A "replacement" for Bones. Military language was a peculiar thing. How did one "replace" the experience of a human being—the intimacy, the friendship forged out of a thousand shared dangers? "One year to live—at the outside chance." When you got down to the brass tacks of the human portion, you wished that speech had never been invented. But it had been. Like red alerts. They'd been invented, too. In order to remind you that you were Captain of a starship as well as the longtime comrade of a dying man.

  As he stepped from the bridge elevator, Spock silently rose from the command chair to relinquish it to him.

  "What is that stuff on the screen, Mr. Spock? Those moving pinpoints? A missile spread?"

  "A very archaic type, Captain. Sublight space."

  "Aye, and chemically fueled to boot, sir," Scott said.

  "Anything on communications, Lieutenant Uhura?"

  "Nothing, sir. All bands clear."

  "Course of the missiles, Mr. Spock?"

  "The Enterprise would appear to be their target, Captain."

  Prepare phaser banks. Yes. Two of them. He gave the order. "Get a fix, Mr. Chekov, on the missiles' point of origin."

  "Aye, Captain."

  "Mr. Sulu, fire phasers."

  The clutch of missiles exploded in a blinding flash. "Well, that's that," Kirk said. "Mr. Chekov, alter c
ourse to missile point of origin."

  "Course change laid in, sir."

  "Warp three, Mr. Sulu."

  Spock spoke from the computer station. "They were very ancient missiles, Captain. Sensor reading indicates an age of over ten thousand years."

  "Odd," said Kirk. "How could they still be functional?"

  "They evidently had an inertial guidance system that made any other communications control unnecessary."

  "And the warheads, Captain," Scott said. "Nuclear fusion type according to my readings."

  Spock spoke again. "We're approaching the coordinates of the hostile vessel, Captain."

  "Get it on the screen, Mr. Sulu."

  The term "vessel" seemed to be inappropriate. What had appeared on the screen was a huge asteroid. It was roughly round, jagged, its rocky mass pitted by thousands of years of meteor hits.

  "Mr. Spock, we've got maximum magnification. Is the object on the screen what it looks to be—an asteroid?"

  "Yes, sir. Some two hundred miles in diameter."

  "Could the hostile vessel be hiding behind it?"

  "Impossible, Captain. I've had that area under scanner constantly."

  "Then the missiles' point of origin is that asteroid?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Kirk got up and went to Spock's station. "Full sensor probe, Mr. Spock."

  After a moment, Spock withdrew his head from his computer's hood. "Typical asteroid chemically but it is not orbiting, Captain. It is pursuing an independent course through this solar system."

  "How can it?" Kirk said. "Unless it's powered—a spaceship!"

  Spock cocked an eyebrow in what for him was amazement. Then he said slowly, "It is under power—and correcting for all gravitational stresses." He dived under his hood again.

  "Power source?" Kirk asked.

  "Atomic, very archaic. Leaving a trail of debris and hard radiation."

  Kirk frowned briefly. "Plot the course of the asteroid, Mr. Chekov."

  Once more Spock withdrew his head. "The asteroid's outer shell is hollow. It surrounds an independent inner core with a breathable atmosphere—sensors record no life forms."