by Tony Daniel
“Oh, they have . . . characteristics,” said the director. “Extendable bumps that we’re pretty sure are ovipositors on females and penises on the male. You can tell male from the female by . . . well, you can’t really tell easily unless you’re used to it, and the Horta wants to show its underside. Just trust me, that Horta is a male.”
The director took out a handheld device that Spock was about to inquire about when she pulled the trigger on the device and a large sonic signal reverberated through the chamber. It was similar to a rescue air horn in quality and intensity. Then from a side pack of items she carried at her waist, the director took out several different colored round stones.
“They communicate with marbles,” said Kirk.
“Marbles?” said Spock.
“An ancient Earth pastime,” Kirk replied. “A children’s game using smooth stones, like ball bearings. The object is to knock the player’s stones out of an area, and then you get to keep them.”
“Sounds rather barbaric,” said Spock.
“Oh, it is,” said Kirk, “but entertaining.”
The director put the marbles in front of the Horta named Slider Dan. True to his name, he slid over the stones with a rumble. Spock noted that the marbles had various colors, and the director had placed them in a specified order. With a few more examples, Spock was confident he could understand the code and read the marbles when they were laid down. But it seemed a very cumbersome method to communicate complicated ideas—and what he had to communicate was very complicated indeed.
The male Horta withdrew from the marbles. The mining director looked down and checked the order.
“Well,” said Weisskopf. “He says he’s game for discussion.”
“And you explained to him what we’re proposing to do?” asked Kirk.
“I told them that this one”—she pointed to Spock—“wished to speak with him by touching him. I don’t think he knows what that means any more than I do, really. But he said yes. You want me to ask him again? In some other way?”
“I believe that will be sufficient, Captain,” said Spock. “After all, no one is ever really prepared for a Vulcan mind probe.”
The Vulcan approached the Horta and knelt down beside it. He could smell the sulfuric tinge of its acidic flesh, but he knew from his previous contact with the All Mother that most of the acid was generated and held underneath the creature. The carapace of a Horta was not toxic or harmful. Contact would be necessary for the mind meld to truly be effective.
Spock reached out and touched the Horta. It seemed to flinch, and it drew back a shuffle step, but then it remained still and allowed him to continue positioning his hands on its surface.
Spock sent tenuous mental inquiries directed toward the Horta. Like many beings that had not experienced telepathic communication with alien species, there was the initial recoil, and a moment of fright. But this Horta appeared to be rather perceptive and seemed to grasp quickly what was going on. In fact, it—he—seemed to know exactly who Spock was.
You are the Vulcan who touched the All Mother’s mind. It was the Horta Slider Dan, his thoughts sifting into Spock’s mind. You are the communicator who found a way to save the children. I am honored to be in contact with you, sir. We have among us a semi-telepathic bond, and when you speak with me you are speaking to many, although what is communicated is more feeling than intelligent thought.
Spock replied in thought; I am pleased that we may communicate together, and be as one for a short time. The procedure requires that you open your mind to me and I to you. It is more than mere speech; it is a complete sharing of being. Will you let me do this, and will you engage with me?
I shall, Spock. This is not so different from our normal meeting communications, the Horta replied. You understand that we “talk” with smells and psionic waves that allow us to form a clan mind and the hive mind. It works best among family members, but all of us are capable of some form of mental communication with one another.
Thank you. And with that, Spock entered into full mind meld with the Horta.
What he encountered there first were thoughts of rock. The jagged form of the mineral trace, the crack that might be exploited to open up new territory. The weight of the planet above, and the heat of the planet below. The beauty of vast caves and minerals deep under the surface hidden where no human could survive or enter—but those places were the playground of the Horta. The chemical tang, the smell of minerals and salts. And the delightful taste of those minerals that trade with the humans provided, especially those delicious geodes so enjoyed by Slider Dan—the meaning of whose name was not so far off from the human approximation, although his true name was an unpronounceable amalgamation of images, of a fast and swift youthful Horta passing through rock as a swimmer might slice through water.
I am named for a mythological hero in our distant past, Spock. Now that their thoughts were one, Spock instantly understood the myth from which the name derived. The process of comprehension was rather like a computer download. It was a sort of tall tale, and Slider Dan was immensely proud of his name, which was unique to his Horta clan.
“Spock” is an ancient name on Vulcan. I believe my human mother gave it to me so that I might better fit in.
You Vulcans have heaviness about you that I think the All Mother would appreciate. But what do you do for fun on Vulcan?
Fun? We reason.
Oh.
We occasionally engage in competitions of logic. I myself enjoy a good game of three-dimensional chess with the captain.
Sounds delightful.
Spock could not tell whether or not the Horta was being genuine or was making a joke at his expense. It seemed a mind meld still allowed wiggle room with the truth. In any case, it didn’t matter, as Spock was not offended. The time had come to communicate his mission.
Using the mind meld, Spock quickly explained what it was that Starfleet Command and the Vesbians wished from the Horta.
After he was finished, but before the mind meld was broken, Spock felt the Horta draw away from his mind as if to shield a thought he did not wish to communicate. And then there was full contact yet again.
We wish to discuss, and ruminate among ourselves. We must consider. It is a large thing you ask of us, to leave this world even for a short time. None of us has departed ever. In fact, if we go on to the surface, some of us experience a thing very similar to what the humans experience in very tight spaces. We will have to overcome this if we are to accompany you. Let us withdraw now, and I will give you an answer in a little while. Thank you so much for visiting us again, and speaking in such a manner to us. You are greatly honored among our people. We have a name for you, a special name.
And what is that? Spock asked
Speaker from the Stars, thought the Horta. And then Spock and Slider Dan broke contact. Spock stepped back, dazed for a moment, as he usually was, after an intense mind meld.
“Spock,” said Kirk, “are you all right?”
“Perfectly,” answered Spock after a moment. “I have communicated our purpose to the Horta. They wish time to consider it and will return with a response shortly.”
“I hope it’s very shortly,” said Kirk. “Time is one thing we don’t have very much of.”
“I believe the Horta understand this as well,” answered Spock.
Five minutes later, Slider Dan inched toward Spock and signaled, with the bright glow on his carapace that resembled the flow of magma underneath a rocky crust, that he was ready to reestablish the mind meld. When Spock did so, there was only one sentence communicated.
We wish to show you something, and we wish to ask you a question.
Come with you? Where?
To the place that only Speaker from the Stars may know. The other humans will have to remain. Only you may accompany us to this place.
I will need to consult with my captain, answered Spock.
Of course, replied the Horta.
Spock pulled back from the mind meld long enou
gh to address Kirk. “Captain, Slider Dan wishes me to accompany him deeper under the planet surface. Furthermore, he does not wish anyone but me to come along with him.”
Kirk did not look pleased.
“Spock, do you sense any danger?”
“I do not,” Spock answered. “I believe he wants to show me something important to the Horta, and doing so may further our mission.”
“All right,” Kirk said. “Go. But be careful, Spock.”
“Understood, Captain.”
• • •
Spock wondered if his following the Horta away might seem a bit zombie-like to those who were watching. While he was aware of what his body was doing, he was distracted by maintaining the link and could not achieve a fluid physical motion. Spock walked after the Horta into one of the tunnel entrances. It seemed a random tunnel, not unlike the other ones, but he knew from the Horta’s thoughts that this was a special passageway that led somewhere important, somewhere no man had gone before.
After he had entered the top tunnel and walked ninety-one meters, Spock turned to get a glimpse of where he had come from. A group of Horta had moved in behind them and, to Spock’s puzzlement, they closed the tunnel up entirely, forming it back into solid rock. He would not be coming back this way.
You will now need to leave your communicator here in the tunnel, said Slider Dan. We know this device might be traced, and we do not wish to reveal where we are taking you.
Very well, Spock answered. He dropped his communicator and followed the Horta onward, into the darkness.
Eight
Captain’s log, Stardate 6408.6. On the mining outpost of Janus VI, Mister Spock, after having mind melded with the Horta, has disappeared into a tunnel of the planetoid. I expected Spock to return shortly, but he has been gone for over two hours. Meanwhile, the Vesbian ambassadors and I have been waiting for word. Time is not on our side. With no sign of Spock, I have determined to venture into the depths to seek him out. If the operation to save Vesbius is to succeed, we must be on our way soon. If we do not, it won’t matter whether we are able to recruit the Horta’s help. The colony will be doomed.
Kirk paced around the Horta egg chamber in consternation. After Spock had stepped into the tunnel, the Horta had begun to retreat from the area. Several dozen of them went down the tunnel after Spock and then suddenly its entrance had been closed. This surprised Kirk, and it seemed ominous. Spock had followed the Horta peacefully, but the captain had to ask himself now how much of that had been Spock and how much might have been the effect of being submerged in a group mind. There was no way he would be able to find Spock unaided. They could only hope to be able to trace his communicator.
Five minutes passed. Ten, then twenty. Still no Spock. Then, as if on cue, the remainder of the Horta—hundreds of them—began to leave the room. At first this was in dribs and drabs, and finally it became a mass exodus. They left through every tunnel available, and within a half hour, the only beings that were in the room were the humans.
“I’ve never seen that before,” said Weisskopf. “They sure seem restive.”
Kirk agreed. He opened his communicator. “Enterprise, this is Kirk. Get Sulu and Chekov beamed down here immediately with a tricorder.” Kirk considered. Was this an act of aggression? A misunderstanding? He fervently hoped that it was the latter. “Scotty, can you lock on to this signal?”
“Maximum range, sir, but we have a good lock. But if you go any farther under that rock, you’ll be out of transporter range.”
“Understood. Tell them to arrive unarmed,” Kirk said. He hoped he was making the right decision. For Spock’s sake, and the sake of Vesbius. “Lock on to our four Vesbians.”
Hannah had come along with them, as had Merling, but Kirk did not want to take them with him when he went to search for Spock. Merling had obviously disliked the Horta on sight. He wouldn’t be useful. Hannah had not fared well on the descent and was clearly in some pain. Her face was drawn and she looked feverish.
“I want the entire Vesbius party back on the ship,” Kirk said. “I have to look for Spock, and having you along will slow me down.”
Merling nodded. He was obviously quite content to get out of the confines of the mine and away from the Horta.
Hannah turned to Kirk with fire in her eyes.
“But I must go with you, Jim,” she said to him. “This is the reason you brought me here.” She turned to the bodyguards, Hox and Ferlein. “They will return.” She addressed them with a smile: “I do not think there is much you can do to protect me in this situation.”
Hox seemed disturbed by his surroundings, and he quickly agreed. He was ready to go. But Ferlein protested. “I have direct orders from your father, Chief Advisor.”
“To guard me from the factions of Vesbius,” said Hannah. “That has always been your mandate. Not to accompany me into tunnels looking for aliens. Besides, you are obviously suffering from the separation sickness.”
“We’re both natives, ma’am,” said Ferlein. “You know it’s going to strike you as well, and soon. I demand that you let me do my job. Your father will kill me if I let you—”
“Simon, I order you to go back to the ship,” Hannah said.
“No, I will not,” he said. “I will stay with you! It’s my duty to you and your father after the good you did for my family, you must—”
The strain was too much. The man fainted. Kirk and Hannah moved to catch him before he hit the cavern floor. Kirk motioned to Hox and Merling to come over and help. The other men had been watching with morbid fascination. Hox obviously wanted to get the hell out of this place.
Hox took Hannah’s place and held the other bodyguard under the shoulder, and Kirk allowed Merling to take his load. After a moment, Ferlein came to and tried to stand. He groggily looked up at Hannah. “Must come . . . with . . . duty . . .”
“You are going to bed,” Hannah said. She looked to Merling and Hox. “Get him to Doctor McCoy, please.”
“Of course, Chief Advisor,” said Merling. “The sooner we can get him away from these lifeless halls, the better.”
Hannah turned to Kirk. “I’m coming with you, Jim.”
“And what if your own rejection sickness suddenly strikes? What am I to do with you?”
“The immunosuppressant vaccine is working for the moment,” she replied. “I’ll be all right, Captain.”
Kirk nodded, but he wasn’t nearly as sure about this as Hannah seemed to be. Nevertheless, she had a point. She was the emissary from a world in distress. This was the reason she’d journeyed to Janus VI, to personally ask for help for her people.
That Kirk worried that he might be harming Hannah should not have been part of his decision. She had grown weaker by the day, and Ferlein’s collapse had alarmed him. The rejection sickness seemed to come on quickly and was completely debilitating.
He could order her beamed aboard. One word to Scotty, and there would be little she could do about it.
Except hate him forever for treating her like a child.
No, this was her decision.
“All right,” he said, and he flipped open his communicator. Kirk modified his transport order. Merling, Hox and the still groggy Ferlein dematerialized, to be quickly replaced by Sulu and Chekov.
• • •
The captain led the search party, which also included two expert miners Director Weisskopf had insisted accompany them, down into the depths after the Horta. Each was issued a hover light, a small but powerful personal headlamp that got its name from the way it hovered just off the shoulder and keyed off eye movement to cast a diode-generated light in a useful direction.
Kirk’s instinct told him to avoid all side tunnels and to go as deep as possible. The miners brought along phosphorescent markers that allowed them to blaze the trail back should the search party become disoriented or lost, and they were busy marking the walls as the party descended. The problem was, it wasn’t always obvious which paths would lead deeper.
Che
kov solved the problem by using his tricorder to ping the rock with sonic sensors and detect the best route. After a while, the side tunnels gave out, and it was obvious which way to go. They were deeper into the planetary crust of Janus VI than any human had ever been before.
Down and down they went. After what seemed an age of continuous stooped-over walking, the tunnel they were in grew larger. There were fresh signs—pointed out by the miners, who knew what to look for—that the Horta had recently passed this way. The miners were as confused as Kirk about the lack of Horta in the vicinity. They had never experienced a complete withdrawal of the Horta clans before this.
“They been underfoot since I came out to this rock to work,” said one. “Used to irritate me you couldn’t get away from a Horta. Now I kind of miss the buggers. Tunnels are lonely without ’em.”
And then the passageway in which they were traveling led out into a larger chamber—and there were Horta here. These were not normal-sized Horta, but smaller, about the size of large dogs. They were arrayed against the wall opposite Kirk and the search party, and they seemed to be blocking the only visible exit to the chamber.
“These Horta seem somehow . . . friendly,” said Sulu.
“Are they a variant species? Some kind of specialized caste?”
“Never seen anything like them before,” one of the miners answered.
“Captain, my readings on these Horta correlate with what we have in the xenobiology database,” said Chekov, gazing down at his tricorder readout. “They have the same internal structure, only smaller, sir. The same . . . everything. I believe this is the exact same species, sir.”
“It’s a nursery,” said Hannah. “Or a daycare center.”
Kirk nodded slowly. “Could be. Maybe they don’t all mature at the same rate. Maybe some eggs hatched later than others.”
“Baby Horta,” said Sulu. “Cute.”
“You may be right,” said Kirk. “But these children are blocking the entrance to that tunnel on the opposite side of the chamber. Let’s get through them.”
