Purgatory's Key

by Dayton Ward

  Una looked upon Anadac’s alien features, realizing that s/he carried within hir the same selflessness and nobility that had driven Eljor during their first meeting on Usilde. The professor also had lauded hir people’s normally peaceful nature and how some among the Jatohr had become so consumed by the ever-present crisis of their dying universe that they were willing to cast aside their values and respect for all life and even one another in a desperate bid for survival. Anadac, on the other hand, was prepared to freely hand over hir own life in service to hir people.

  We have to make sure that’s not in vain.

  “We’ll do what we can,” she said. “I promise.

  “That is all I can ask,” replied Anadac. The Jatohr took hir leave, after which Sarek instructed a pair of Usildar rangers to escort hir away from the camp and ensure hir safe passage from the forest.

  Once s/he was gone, Una turned to Sarek. “Well, how about that?”

  “Yet another piece added to an already intricate puzzle,” replied the Vulcan.

  Nodding, she said, “Speaking of that, you said you knew Gorkon was dead. How?”

  “His perceived injuries were too great for him to accept the possibility of survival.”

  “So, he’s like Holstine and the others?”

  “Perhaps,” replied the Vulcan, “but there is no way to be certain. At least not without more information.”

  Una gestured toward the forest where Anadac had made hir departure. “Maybe we have a way to get more information. Do you think hir portal device will work?”

  “What I believe,” replied Sarek, “is that there is only one means of finding out.”

  Seventeen

  Spock entered the astrophysics lab to find Chekov and Uhura already waiting for him. He had arrived ten minutes ahead of the scheduled launch of the probe expecting to find the lab unoccupied. He was pleased to see that the other two officers had exercised their own initiative and were already at work.

  “Mister Spock,” said Chekov, nodding in greeting from where he sat at one of the control stations along the lab’s forward bulkhead. Across from the ensign, Uhura turned from where she was scrutinizing a bank of monitor screens set into the wall above the lab’s primary computer interface.

  The communications officer smiled. “You’re early, sir.”

  “As are you, Lieutenant.”

  Chekov said, “I just checked with Mister Scott, sir. The probe is ready to be launched whenever we’re ready.”

  Spock nodded in approval. Given the uncertainty of what they were about to attempt, including how the probe might react to being relocated from one universe to another, he and Captain Kirk had agreed that the safest course of action was to launch the probe away from the ship before attempting to lock on to it with the Transfer Key. To that end, a pair of Enterprise engineers under Montgomery Scott’s supervision had taken the probe from the astrophysics lab to the cargo bay from which unmanned survey drones and other probes were launched.

  “I have reviewed the final set of diagnostic results,” said Spock. “All readings are well within our anticipated parameters.” He moved to the station where Uhura stood, which was still opened to reveal the improvised power cradle Montgomery Scott had fashioned to house the Transfer Key. The panels of controls and indicators were of a configuration similar to his own workstation on the bridge, though mounted higher on the bulkhead and affording him access to its controls and hooded sensor viewer. As for the alien device, it was little more than an unassuming rectangle, fitted with an array of translucent controls that presented a simplicity belying the true complexity of its intended function.

  Uhura said, “The computer’s analysis shows the same thing, sir. Ship’s sensors and communications systems are operating normally, and I’ve completed the configurations for detecting gamma ray transmission.”

  “Excellent,” said Spock. Holding up the tricorder he had brought with him, he aimed the unit at the improvised patchwork of cables and other components in which the Transfer Key was positioned. The power readings were within the acceptable range he had determined would allow the alien device to function while drawing energy directly from the Enterprise’s warp engines, but in a manner that would not subject the starship to dangerous feedback or power surges.

  Satisfied with the scan results, Spock deactivated his tricorder and laid it on a nearby worktable. “I believe we are ready to proceed.” He reached across the workstation to press its intercom control. “Spock to Mister Scott.”

  “Scott here, sir,” replied the chief engineer, who Spock knew was manning his station on the Enterprise’s bridge. “We’re standing by to launch this wee beastie at your command.”

  Spock replied, “You may launch at your discretion. Lieutenant Uhura and Ensign Chekov will monitor all onboard systems.”

  “Aye, sir. Here we go.”

  Another voice, Captain Kirk’s, added, “Keep this channel open, Spock. We’re all keeping an eye on everything from up here anyway.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Turning from the console, Spock looked to where Chekov was manning an adjacent station. On the bulkhead before the ensign, an image on the large viewscreen depicted the underside of the Enterprise’s secondary hull. As they watched, a circular hatch opened and a small object appeared. The modified sensor probe, propelled from its launch bay inside the ship, shot into open space. Maneuvering some distance before its own small impulse engine flared to life, the probe surged forward, away from the Enterprise.

  “All systems functioning normally,” reported Chekov.

  Spock nodded. “Thank you, Ensign.” At his own station, he studied the indicator that monitored the probe’s distance from the ship, waiting until the automated device executed its preprogrammed instructions and brought itself to a halt after traveling one thousand kilometers.

  “The Klingons are getting curious,” reported Kirk over the open communications frequency. “We’re picking up their sensor scans of the drone. They’re holding their position, and they haven’t activated their weapons.”

  Uhura said, “If they’re interested now, just tell them to keep watching.”

  “Indeed.” Spock moved his hand to one set of controls, which so far had been left ignored, and pressed a blinking green button. “Activating Transfer Key.”

  The alien component’s response was immediate, emanating a pale glow from within as its control interface came to life in shades of blues and greens.

  Over the intercom, Scott said, “Aye, it’s drawing power from the warp engines. Nothing too severe. Looks to me like it’s working just as you anticipated, Mister Spock.”

  “Mister Chekov, activate the probe’s onboard sensor transceivers,” ordered the first officer. “I am initiating the transfer.” He pressed another control.

  On the viewscreen, a white flash of light enveloped the probe, the effect seeming innocuous, as it lacked sound in space. The effect lasted less than two seconds, by Spock’s reckoning, before the expanding sphere of energy dissipated, leaving behind nothing but the void of open space.

  The probe was gone.

  “There was a small power surge,” said Chekov, “but it’s gone now, and all warp power levels are steady.”

  “We all saw the probe disappear, Spock,” said Kirk. “Anything yet on whether it survived the transition?”

  Spock replied, “According to the readings from the Transfer Key, the transition itself appears to have been successful. We are waiting for the probe’s modified communications protocols to initiate and begin transmitting telemetry.”

  “Hold on,” said Chekov. The ensign was leaning forward in his chair, hunching over his controls. “I think I’ve got something.” A moment later he tapped his fists on the console. “Sensors are detecting a new power reading. It worked!”

  Uhura was smiling. “Well, how about that?”

  “Capta
in,” said Spock, “the transition was successful, and we are receiving initial telemetry from the probe. Its onboard power systems appear to be functioning normally.”

  Having returned to her own workstation, Uhura reported, “Scanning all communications frequencies.” She was holding a Feinberg receiver to her left ear and using her free hand to enter varying series of instructions to her console. After a moment, she nodded. “There’s a spike in gamma radiation on a modulated frequency. It’s definitely one we programmed into the probe.”

  Chekov asked, “That’s good, right?”

  “Affirmative, Ensign.” Turning from his station, Spock said, “Are we recording all incoming transmissions?”

  Uhura nodded. “Absolutely, sir.”

  “What can you make of the sensor data?” asked Kirk.

  Raising her voice so it could be picked up by the inter­com, Uhura replied, “This is going to be a rather slow process, Captain. Slower than normal, I mean. Gamma-radiation properties don’t make them the most effective carrier waves for information. The computer will have to receive and translate any incoming signals into something we can understand, but the rate of transmission is much slower than we’re used to. There’s also the possibility that we might lose some of the data during the transfer. We won’t be sure until we’ve collected enough for the computer to give us an idea of what exactly we’re receiving.”

  “Captain,” said Spock, “I have dedicated a significant portion of computer high memory to processing the incoming data, but it will still take some time to interpret it.”

  As he spoke, the science officer studied the streams of computer data scrolling across two of his workstation’s display screens. Pieces of the probe’s data puzzle were already beginning to coalesce into recognizable patterns, though he knew it would be some time before he was able to fully understand what the computer was giving them.

  “Keep me informed,” said the captain. “Excellent work, everyone. Kirk out.”

  With the communication ended, Spock left the computer to decipher the incoming data stream. “Mister Chekov, what is the status of the probe?”

  Shifting in his seat, the ensign replied, “Its structural integrity appears sound, Mister Spock. All sensors are active, though of course Lieutenant Uhura has already explained why we’ll be waiting a bit.” His report was interrupted by a beeping tone from his console, and Spock watched as the young officer turned to inspect the new reading. After a moment, Chekov frowned.

  “Is there a problem, Ensign?”

  “I’m not sure, sir.” He gestured to the status indicator. “This suggests the probe is consuming power at an elevated rate. If I’m reading this correctly, its power cell will be drained in less than an hour.”

  Spock’s gaze shifted to the monitors on Chekov’s console. It took him only a moment to confirm the ensign’s conclusion. “Interesting. The onboard power cell should be sufficient to support the probe for at least twenty-four hours, even with the energy requirements of the equipment we added.”

  “The power utilization protocols we programmed into the onboard computer will prioritize sensor data collection over transmission back to us,” said Uhura. “Those procedures have likely already kicked in. We need to calculate how much time we have based on this revised power curve.”

  Spock replied, “I have already done so, Lieutenant.” He had performed the calculations while continuing to study the incoming sensor stream. “Communications should cease within twenty minutes.” However, he realized that was only an approximation, as the data indicated the probe’s energy consumption was not increasing at a steady rate. There were surges that served to complicate such an estimate.

  “Obviously,” said Chekov, “the probe will continue to collect sensor data until it powers off altogether.” He pointed to one of his station’s displays, which was providing a complete breakdown of the probe’s internal systems. “The backup battery is still showing a full charge. We may be able to rely on that for the comm system to receive our signal when we attempt to retrieve the probe.”

  “Perhaps.” Spock had not anticipated this turn of events. Then again, it was hard to plan for every contingency when dealing with the physical laws of an entire universe that was separate from this one.

  Stepping away from Chekov’s console, Spock turned his attention to the continuing stream of still unreadable sensor data being received by the probe. Where had it journeyed? What might it be seeing? Had it found Sarek or any of the others? What else might it encounter?

  Could they retrieve it?

  Eighteen

  “So, should I keep this phaser you pulled out of the ground, or do you want it back?”

  Una did not realize Joanna McCoy was speaking to her until the nurse tapped her on the arm. Blinking several times, she turned her attention to the younger woman. Joanna lifted her shirt to reveal the weapon tucked into the waistband of her trousers.

  “You should probably keep it,” said Una.

  It was the first time they had spoken since abandoning the camp following the Jatohr attack. Una had made no attempt at conversation as they made their way from the forest, heading for the salt plains. Their numbers were now drastically reduced. Sarek was leading the column, and following her and Joanna were Commander Martinez and Ensigns Shimizu, Stevens, and Le May. Only fifteen Usildar had survived the skirmish.

  Following their unexpected meeting with Anadac, Una and Sarek had determined that their best chance for leaving this place was to return to the wasteland that had heralded their arrival. The obvious concern was that Woryan also would see the virtue of that location when he decided the time had come for him to test Anadac’s transfer device. If that were the case, then at least it would simplify the task of finding the Jatohr leader.

  Well, it’s about time we got a break.

  “You didn’t have these the whole time, right?” asked Joanna. “I mean, if that’s the answer, then that’s good enough for me, because it’s a lot easier to believe than what I know I saw.”

  After considering possible responses for a moment, Una replied, “You know what you saw.” She gestured around them. “This place . . . it’s obviously quite different from our own universe.” As they continued to walk, following Sarek as he led a path through the thinning forest, Una took several minutes to explain her experiences since transporting here from Usilde.

  “Even Sarek can’t explain it,” she said after detailing the peculiar abilities she had learned to harness.

  “Can we all do this?”

  Una shrugged. “I’m not sure. At least, not without practice and probably some kind of advanced mental disciplines.” She gestured to Sarek. “Vulcans and other species who have telepathic and other mental abilities seem best-suited, but my Illyrian upbringing seems to have given me a slight advantage.”

  “But the phasers,” said Joanna, tapping the weapon concealed beneath her shirt. “Ensign Shimizu and I were able to fire them.”

  Una nodded. “I’ve thought about that. Simply taking a desired action here—one that might normally be ­impossible—seems simple enough, but the idea of being able to manifest objects or remove others? That looks to be at least a bit more complicated.”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen Sarek try anything like . . . like what we saw you do,” said Joanna, nodding to the ambassador who walked alone and in silence ahead of them.

  “He believes it might be a dangerous practice,” Una replied, “but it obviously has a few advant—”

  The rest of her response was lost as her body seemed to freeze in place. She felt her muscles tightening and an odd tingling sensation beginning to course across her flesh. A wave of nausea swept over her as well but faded as quickly as it came. Within moments, it seemed that all of the abrupt effects had disappeared, with the exception of what Una perceived as a low whine in her ears. Looking to Joanna, she saw that the nurse appeared similarl
y troubled, and even Sarek stopped his advance toward the salt plain that now was visible through the dwindling expanse of forest undergrowth.

  “Did you feel that?” asked Joanna. “It happened before, when Sarek and I first arrived here.” She reached up to her right ear. “I’ve got this odd ringing in my ears.”

  Una replied, “So do I.”

  “Any idea what it is?”

  “It seems to happen whenever someone or something is transported here from our universe,” Una said. “After the first time I felt it, Ensign Shimizu said he believed that to be the cause. I’ve felt it enough since that I’m sure he’s right.”

  Her eyes widening, Joanna said, “But the only people who can send someone here have to be in possession of the thing . . . the Transfer Key, right?”

  “Supposedly.” If that was still the case, and Una had no reason to believe otherwise, then it might possibly mean that Captain Kirk and the Enterprise had returned to Usilde. They might be hard at work at this very moment, trying to retrieve her and everyone else trapped here.

  Echoing her thoughts, Ensign Shimizu called out as he approached them, “Did you feel that? Somebody’s here, but that’s the strongest I’ve ever felt it.”

  “Maybe it’s because we’re closer to the source,” suggested Una. Rubbing her ears, she added, “That might explain this persistent ringing too.”

  Something above them caught her eye, and she looked up to see a brilliant, multihued tendril of energy shooting across the clear blue sky. A second strand of similar iridescence cut its own swath, followed in rapid succession by still more wisps of dazzling color.

  “What the hell is that about?” asked Joanna.

  Una, seeing Sarek staring up at the sky, called out, “Ambassador?”

  “The transfer generator,” replied the Vulcan. “It has been activated.”

  Worried about the possible implications of such a simple statement, Una said, “It couldn’t be Woryan, could it?”