by Dayton Ward
Captain Una’s theft of the Transfer Key from Kirk’s quarters and her subsequent flight from the Enterprise had all been motivated by personal guilt. During their initial survey of the planet eighteen years earlier, Captain April and his crew, including Lieutenant Una, had discovered that the Transfer Key could also be used to remove individuals and small groups from this universe and send them to the Jatohr’s home universe. Una’s landing party, and later four members of the Enterprise’s bridge crew, were targeted. At the time, there was no way to know if they had survived the transition or if they could be retrieved. From that day forward, Una, who had narrowly escaped the fate that befell her landing party, felt responsible for what happened to her shipmates, whether they were dead or, at the very least, beyond any hope of rescue.
She might well have shouldered that burden for the rest of her days, but then she learned about the Enterprise’s encounter with a peculiar ion storm and the transporting of Kirk—along with McCoy, Montgomery Scott, and Lieutenant Uhura—into a parallel universe that in many ways mirrored their own. After reviewing Kirk’s detailed accounting of that incident, Una realized that her friends might well have been subjected to a similar experience.
Armed with this information and after her stealing of the Transfer Key, it had not taken long to surmise that she was taking the Key back to Usilde. Complicating matters was the fact that in the intervening eighteen years, that sector of space had become a point of dispute between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Tensions were high between the two powers, and any sort of incident might be enough to trigger an interstellar war. It also was arguable that Captain Una’s actions had alerted the Klingons to the presence of the Jatohr citadel and exposed its advanced technology as something worth the Empire’s interest. With the citadel and the transfer-field technology residing within the challenged region, it was paramount that neither Una nor the Transfer Key fall into Klingon hands. Kirk and the Enterprise had prevented that, but not before Una made the decision to transport herself into the Jatohr’s universe in a bid to find and retrieve her long-lost crewmates. Supporting her plan, Kirk also agreed to her request for the Enterprise to return in sixty days with the Transfer Key and activate the generator, in the hopes of retrieving her and her friends from a predetermined location.
“I only wish Una would’ve just asked me for help,” said Kirk. “She could’ve at least asked Spock, and he would’ve asked me. It’s not like we’re strangers to contravening Starfleet or going against orders to help a friend.” Spock had taken that concept to an extreme a year previously, when he had elected to transport his former captain to Talos IV, the one planet to which Starfleet forbade travel upon penalty of death. The details of that incident had been classified, but Kirk knew that Spock’s decision, no matter how contemptible it may have been toward Starfleet regulations, had been the correct one for Pike’s well-being. Would the Vulcan hesitate to help Una, another former shipmate whom he respected? Not for a moment, and neither would Kirk, if only he had been asked.
“And if she had asked,” said McCoy, “we might’ve avoided all that other trouble.”
Despite the complications offered by a Klingon presence in the system and on the planet, Kirk had vowed to honor Una’s request. Then the Key was stolen by a Romulan spy, Sadira, who had been disguised as a human, Lisa Bates, serving as Kirk’s yeoman. Sadira had escaped with the Key to a Romulan vessel that had been trailing the Enterprise from Chippewa Prime. Because of this, Kirk felt that he had failed in his duty and betrayed the trust of Captains Pike and April.
The Key had resurfaced far sooner than he expected, during the peace negotiations between the Federation and the Klingon Empire on the planet Centaurus. Sadira had used the alien device to remove key members of both delegations, apparently transporting them into the Jatohr’s universe and perhaps to the same place where Captain Una’s shipmates had been banished. This was followed by the removal of Ambassador Sarek along with Joanna McCoy. The revelation of the Transfer Key and the power it wielded had derailed the peace talks, bringing the quadrant that much closer to war as the Klingons accused the Federation of murdering their representative, Councillor Gorkon.
Though Kirk and the Enterprise were able to recover the Transfer Key following a pitched battle with Sadira and her Romulan warship, he was forced to reveal the truth of the Key and the transfer-field generator to the Klingons in order to prevent the Empire from seeking retribution for Gorkon’s loss. Any pretense of civility had been swept away as the Klingons realized the awesome military applications for the Jatohr technology. Though the Klingons had already seized the Jatohr citadel, without the Key, their efforts to take advantage of the technology would be thwarted. Still, Kirk did not rule out the possibility of Klingon scientists eventually finding a way to engineer a suitable replacement for the missing component. Left with little choice, Kirk had ordered the Enterprise back to Usilde in the hopes of keeping the citadel out of Klingon hands and preventing all-out war with the Empire. Failing that, he hoped to rescue Captain Una, Joanna, Sarek, Gorkon, and everyone else trapped in the parallel universe.
That’s not too much to ask, is it?
McCoy said, “I can’t imagine Starfleet Command’s very happy with you right now. Any word from them about your sudden change of plans?”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Kirk glanced to his computer terminal. He had reviewed the latest missives from Starfleet, demanding to know his intentions for returning to the Libros system. With Klingons orbiting Usilde and the planet still in dispute, the entire situation was a powder keg, and the Enterprise was the fuse. Things only grew more complicated after factoring in the Romulans and their intentions to sow chaos no matter what.
“They’re not happy that I’m holding on to the Transfer Key,” he said after a moment. “They understand why Usilde is important, and not just from a strategic standpoint with respect to the Jatohr technology. But we can’t wait to save Captain Una and the others.” He gestured toward the computer terminal. “One of the reports I read came from Starfleet Intelligence. It seems the Romulans are backing off, at least for now.”
McCoy frowned. “Backing off?”
“Based on a report sent from an agent working deep undercover within the Romulan Senate, the praetor isn’t very happy with how things turned out with Sadira.” Kirk sighed. “Losing one of their ships in a very public and embarrassing way and having nothing to show for it isn’t exactly what he had in mind.”
“Maybe we should send him some flowers.”
Kirk smiled. “Not a bad idea. Anyway, we know that sort of thing isn’t how the Romulans like to do things. According to the agent’s report, the Romulan government is taking a wait-and-see approach so far as Usilde is concerned, but they’re obviously very interested in the Jatohr technology.”
McCoy said, “Well, at least they’ll be out of our hair for a little while. This situation is sticky enough with the Klingons looking over our shoulders.” He shook his head. “Espionage and all that silliness isn’t why I joined Starfleet, you know.”
Turning in his chair, Kirk opened a small cabinet set into the low wall dividing the two rooms of his quarters and extracted a curved bottle and two glasses.
For the first time, a hint of McCoy’s familiar humor showed in his eyes. “Are you buying me a drink, sailor?”
“You’re not the only one with good prescriptions,” said Kirk, pouring a healthy dose of Saurian brandy into both glasses before offering one to McCoy.
Leaning back in his chair, the doctor replied, “You’re learning.” He downed the brandy in one swallow, drawing a deep breath and closing his eyes. After a moment, he said, “Nope. I still feel like hell.” He sighed. “I’m worried about her, Jim. I’m worried about all of them.”
“So am I.” Kirk leaned back in his chair. “We’ll find them, Bones.”
McCoy eyed him across the desk. “How can you be so sure?”
He hoped the words carried enough conviction to comfort his friend, but to Kirk they sounded hollow. Suppressing a sudden feeling of uncertainty, Kirk downed his own brandy.
They were alive. Kirk could feel it, but what could be happening to them in that other universe?
Five
Opening her eyes, Joanna McCoy was greeted by the twin suns of another world.
She flung her forearm across her face, attempting to block out the whiteness of the cloudless sky. Inhaling warm, dry air into her lungs, she coughed. Then she forced herself to take a second, slower breath, and this one hurt far less. After allowing her eyes to adjust to the bright light, she pulled her arm from her face and used her hands to push against the ground beneath, raising herself to a sitting position. Only then did she venture a second look at the strange environs in which she now found herself.
Nothing looked familiar. This was not Centaurus. Gone was the destruction wrought by the Romulan attack. In its place was nothing but a flat, desolate landscape. The ground itself was unremarkable, dry and salt-streaked, and the only visible terrain feature was what appeared to be a hazy, distant mountain range. Where was she, and how did she get here? The last thing Joanna recalled was the chaos of the attack. Like so many others, she had been rushing to help the numerous wounded people scattered around her. Then she remembered the odd sensation, washing over her body. What happened after that?
“Hello,” said a voice from behind her.
Scrambling to her feet, Joanna spun toward the voice, and found herself staring at a middle-aged Vulcan male. “Hello,” she blurted. As she scrutinized the Vulcan, whose dark robes stood in stark contrast to the plain’s arid, colorless soil, she realized she recognized him. “I’m Joanna. Joanna McCoy. Do I know you?”
“I am Sarek of Vulcan. I have only just awakened myself.”
Sarek. Joanna replayed the name in her mind. I should know Sarek. We’re supposed to be together. I think he . . . needs me for something. Why isn’t my brain working? “Ambassador Sarek, of course. Do you know where we are?”
“No,” replied the Vulcan, “though this is not Centaurus.”
Centaurus. The attack. Sarek. He was . . . wait . . .
“You’re hurt!” Joanna started forward, extending her hands to assist him, then stopped herself when she realized that neither he nor even his clothing bore any evidence of the injuries she knew he had sustained. “Well, you were hurt.”
“I appear uninjured. I assure you I am well, though I must confess that I am unable to explain why that is so.”
“On Centaurus, you were hurt. I was treating you for internal bleeding.” She reached up to wipe her forehead. “At least, I think I was?”
Snap out of it, Joanna. Think!
“You are correct,” said Sarek. “However, I assure you that I am no longer suffering from such injuries.”
“I don’t get it.”
Sarek replied, “Neither do I, but I am continuing to consider the possibilities.”
“I’m going to guess that we’re not dead.” Joanna studied their surroundings before her gaze returned to Sarek, who had not moved. “Are we?”
“I have no reason to believe that is the case,” replied the Vulcan.
Joanna nodded with new conviction. “Good. Okay, then. And you’re sure you’re feeling all right?”
“I am certain.”
Instinctively, Joanna reached to her hip. Instead of the portable medkit she normally carried while working the floor at New Athens University Hospital, her fingers brushed only against the hem of her tunic.
I didn’t have it with me. I had to borrow one from Nett to . . . to treat . . .
“What happened to the woman I was helping?” Joanna looked around, but only she and Sarek were here on the bleak plain. “She was injured too.”
Sarek said, “My wife. She is not here. I do not know where she is. I can only assume that she remains on Centaurus.”
Remembering that she was dealing with a Vulcan, Joanna took solace in Sarek’s self-control even in the midst of this bizarre situation. No doubt he had his own innumerable questions about their present location, how they had come to be here, and what had happened to everyone else who had been in close proximity during the attack. She did not doubt he was concerned for his wife, but his command of his emotions, like most Vulcans, was all but absolute.
“Well, if we’re not dead,” she said, “and we’re not on Centaurus, then where the hell are we?”
“Unknown,” said Sarek. “Without more information, speculation would be illogical.” He gestured to the soil around them. “However, we are not the first to be in this place. This ground appears to have been disturbed by foot traffic. Someone has been here, and recently.”
Joanna frowned. How had she not noticed that before? Now that Sarek had pointed it out, she saw light footprints marring the otherwise undisturbed dirt. There were several sets of tracks, with many looking as though someone had wandered in and around the immediate area, just as she had done while trying to orient herself. She imagined someone, another man or woman, attempting to get their bearings before seeing the mountains in the distance. With that in mind, it took her a moment to find the various trails of barely discernible footprints heading off in that direction.
“What are the odds that we’d wake up in the middle of this wasteland, where other people have traveled?” she asked. “Please tell me I’m not the only one who finds that just a little weird.”
“You are not alone,” replied Sarek. “It is most unusual.”
Gesturing toward the distant mountains, Joanna said, “Looks like they went that way. It seems as good a plan as any. Besides, we need to think about finding some shelter and fresh water, and getting ourselves out of the sun.” She glanced upward. “Suns.”
Sarek replied, “Agreed, though it may prove an arduous journey.”
“It’s not like we have a choice.” Drawing a deep breath, Joanna realized something else. “On the other hand, I feel fine. I’m not tired.”
“Like you, I do not feel fatigued, and neither am I hungry or thirsty.”
Frowning, Joanna pondered this. Her own throat was not dry. She glanced to the suns. “I don’t even feel hot. I guess things could be worse.”
“Indeed.”
The pair walked in silence, and Joanna used the opportunity to study their surroundings. She saw no vegetation, or even a rock formation, but instead unrelenting flat terrain. The sunbaked, pale gray soil was broken up by expanses of fine, white crystalline powder, in which the tracks left by unknown travelers were more visible. Might this once have been an immense ocean, gone to dust millennia ago for reasons unknown? Even a former seabed would feature some terrain features, she thought.
“How are you feeling, Ambassador?”
Sarek, who had established an efficient stride that was not too difficult for her to match, replied, “I am feeling well, thank you.”
“Me too, and that’s what’s odd.” It was not something she had realized until they had walked some distance. “I should be hot, or at least feeling some fatigue in my legs or back, but I don’t. I’m not even winded.” Casting a glance toward the Vulcan, she said, “It makes sense that you’d be fine. You’re a Vulcan.” She gestured to indicate their surroundings. “You’re used to these environs.”
“I am.” He regarded her. “I infer from your observations that you are similarly acclimated?”
Joanna chuckled. “Hardly. Centaurus is pretty temperate in that department.”
When Sarek said nothing in reply, she elected not to try to force further conversation, choosing instead to concentrate on keeping pace with the Vulcan as they proceeded across the plain. She guessed they had been wa
lking for less than thirty minutes, though without a chronometer there was no way to be sure. How long was a day on this planet? As far as she could tell, the suns had not moved since their arrival, but she could not be certain of that, either.
“My wife.”
The words, the first ones spoken by Sarek in some time, startled Joanna, and she jerked her gaze from the interminable pallid soil stretching out in front of them to regard the ambassador. His hands were clasped before him, and he held his arms by his sides as he continued to walk. For the first time, she realized that his eyes were closed. How long had he been doing that, and how had he managed it without stumbling or veering to his left or right and possibly stumbling into her?
“Ambassador?”
Instead of responding to her, Sarek continued walking, his eyes still closed. Joanna noticed his lips moving, though he said nothing else she could hear. Was this some kind of sleepwalking? She knew that Vulcans possessed exceptional senses of direction and awareness, but this was unlike anything she had seen before. It occurred to her that he might simply be lost in thought, trying to occupy his mind rather than be transfixed by the unrelenting sameness of their surroundings. Perhaps he was meditating, as she knew most if not all Vulcans did for a variety of reasons.
“My wife.”
So quiet were the words that Joanna almost missed them. Now he was beginning to worry her. Reaching out, she stopped just short of resting her hand on his arm. She noticed that his brow was furrowed, as though he was in deep concentration. Had he become so immersed in meditation or whatever he was doing that he did not realize he was speaking aloud?
“My wife.”
This time the ambassador stopped walking, and when he opened his eyes Joanna noted his confusion. He was acting as though he had emerged from deep slumber, and upon noticing her staring at him, he straightened his posture.
