by Dayton Ward
At the edges of his perception, Sarek sensed light beginning to infiltrate the darkness. The black turned to gray and then to white, but there was nothing else. He saw nothing of substance, but instead only variations in brightness or shadow. Still, the change was enough to provide him with a new confidence to reach out into the void—not with his arms but with his mind. Listening to the voices he had permitted beyond his mental barriers, he sensed what he surmised were memories, each laced with an emotional resonance. Others offered beliefs or theories about their own existences. There were many questions, Sarek realized, but no answers.
Emerging from the chorus of disjointed murmurings and thoughts, most of which were muffled and indistinct, was a single voice that seemed to beckon for attention.
“Hello. Hello . . .”
It did not feel incoherent, or lacking of purpose, Sarek decided. Instead, it carried an insistent tone, as though refusing to fade away while going unanswered. A reply seemed the logical course of action.
“Hello,” he said. At least, he thought he did.
“You have joined us,” replied the voice, now much stronger and closer. To Sarek, it seemed focused directly on him and his mind. He could not be sure if it was verbal communication or a form of telepathy, noting also that the void seemed to brighten with each word.
“I am called Sarek,” he offered. “I am not of your planet or your universe. I am from a world called Vulcan.”
The voice replied, “I am Edolon. I am of . . . this place.”
“And what is this place?”
Instead of a direct response, a rush of unbidden thoughts coursed across his consciousness, as though hundreds of Edolons were speaking simultaneously. Almost overwhelmed by the sensation, Sarek instinctively restored his mental defenses. The voices dimmed, along with his perception of the void’s brighter illumination.
“You are not of us, Sarek.” When Edolon spoke this time, it was as a single voice delivered in a low, soft pitch. “I distinguish as I discover. You are not yet ready, but I know you can be.”
“Ready for what? To be of you? Of this place?”
“No,” Edolon said. “You are not of us, but you are not of them. You cannot be of us because when I am not this, I am instead this.”
Sarek’s mind filled with disjointed images of spotted and glistening skin, pairs of writhing tentacles, a large, flat foot gliding on its own secretions, and other randomized parts of what he knew to be the genderless gastropod Jatohr. The indiscriminate sequencing led him to conclude that Edolon’s sense of self was quite distant from what he surmised it would be outside of this realm. It was an insight Sarek found most curious. To return the gesture, he projected a mental image of himself that he hoped Edolon might perceive.
“I am instead this,” he offered.
“Yes,” replied Edolon. “You are of the others, but unlike them. You are unlike any of them, Sarek. This pleases me, as you bring balance to this. You bring good to this as the object brings bad.”
Confused, Sarek tried to parse the statement, but could make no sense of it. “I do not understand. What is this object that brings bad?”
“It came to this as you came to this,” replied the disembodied voice. “The object has no life. It has no being, and it spreads pain through this. We must end the pain.”
Edolon’s thoughts confirmed to Sarek that something had changed for the worse here, but what? How was it able to influence not only the space he now occupied, but the place from which he had come? Seeking answers, Sarek lowered his mental defenses. The void around him brightened once more, though he remained unable to see. He searched for Edolon, hoping to strengthen that connection, and was rewarded with a new, greater sense of clarity.
“I was correct,” said the Jatohr. “Unlike the others, you are able to acclimate. I have a better sense of you now, Sarek.”
“And I perceive you as well. What I do not understand is what distinguishes this place from where I was before. Was that merely illusion?”
Edolon replied, “It is a difficult concept to comprehend. It is a point of transition, intended to assist the minds of the newly transferred. Moving from one realm to another can be traumatic for the unprepared or the unsuited. For the Jatohr, this is helpful as we prepare for transition, but such is not the case for those unlike us. Your kind seems most ill-suited for this place, which is why they remain in the other space. Or their minds eventually give up, and they are reunited with their physical forms, all of which are separate from time as we experience it outside of this place. You, however, appear to be unique.”
“Perhaps I can assist their transition,” said Sarek. “However, I must admit some confusion. What of the Jatohr we have encountered there? Do they exist both here and in the other place?”
“As we have awaited a time for transition, some of us have become adept at moving between the two spaces. Others, like you and your kind, become immersed in that place, to the point that they perceive everything that occurs there as being akin to reality. Complicating matters is the fact that there are some among us who dread the intrusion of those like you. There is concern that you may become even greater masters of our universe than the Jatohr, and that we then would be at your mercy.”
Sarek said, “We are not your enemy. We seek only peace. The people I represent would offer to assist the Jatohr in their transition from this universe. We would find a world suitable to your species. You would be allowed to live your lives as you see fit, and we would welcome new friends.”
“That may be possible, provided those who live in fear can be convinced. First, we must end the pain from the object. This place can accommodate the living, but not the inanimate. It arrived from beyond our realm, the place from which you came. We are attempting to deplete its energy so that the pain can end.”
Sarek asked, “May I examine this object?”
“At your own risk,” replied Edolon. “It is too painful for me to do so again, but I can show you the way.”
At the Jatohr’s prompting, Sarek lowered his mental barriers and cleared his mind. In a moment, he sensed Edolon’s consciousness mingling with his own, though not merging as he might expect with a mind-meld. After a moment, the white haze dominating his perception began burning away. He found himself suspended within a vast gray ocean that harbored innumerable life-forms. Most of the beings appeared to be Jatohr, at least from his vantage point, though he did also see the occasional Usildar humanoid interspersed among them. Slicing through the abyss were filaments of writhing, twisting light that spanned the color spectrum. Each string seemed to emanate from the head of a Jatohr, although there also were specimens with no such tendrils who appeared left to drift in the emptiness. The strings weaved among one another, entwining in groups of varying sizes. At an instinctual level, Sarek understood that each multihued strand somehow represented a distinct consciousness separate from its physical self, unencumbered to explore not only this place but also the distinct awareness of each of the realm’s other occupants.
“Fascinating.”
Edolon said, “This is but a representation we have constructed for our own understanding. We exist in a community of shared concepts and insights, and each of our minds perceive all the others to the extent that we personally desire. You could also share in this, Sarek. You could reach greater levels of understanding than you ever imagined. First, we must deal with the object. You should be able to find it.”
Following the Jatohr’s direction, Sarek opened his mind, pushing outward in all directions. His consciousness began to expand, spreading like ripples on a still pond. As he encountered other beings, he sensed their thoughts but did not engage them. Still he was able to perceive expressions of aspiration and heartbreak, fulfillment and passion, and even failure. When he sensed a familiar presence, he moved to explore it and was surprised to find some of his companions here, as well. Captain Una and Joanna McCoy, driftin
g as though in limbo. He found Beel Zeroh, his military adviser, and pondered whether the Izarian’s mind had found peace in this place. There were the other Enterprise crew members, those Una had come to rescue, also floating listless in the void, and here too was Gorkon. For his comrade in diplomacy, for the warrior willing to die in order to protect him, for the Klingon who carried what might be a singular vision for his people, Sarek diverted from his quest.
Rather than the soiled, bloodied, and battle-weary Gorkon of the Jatohr’s psychically applied environment, here the Klingon appeared just as Sarek had last seen him on Centaurus. The white coarse-napped cloth of his outer robe contrasted with the thick leather covering his shoulders and accenting his sleeves. His eyes were closed, giving him a look of serenity that to Sarek seemed at odds with a Klingon’s typical disposition. Was he truly at peace, or was this merely a fabrication of the void?
A pulse of energy called to him, and Sarek realized he must be nearing the target of his search. The mental energies of numerous inhabitants of this space seemed affected by this new sensation, and Sarek realized with some effort that he could use their reactions to locate the source of this discomfort. Emerging from the void’s dull gray mist was a mass of amber tendrils, coiling and twisting around a dark, cylindrical object. As he drew closer, he saw that the tube possessed many components affixed to it, highlighting its obviously artificial construction.
“It is a sensor probe,” he said. Specifically, he recognized it as a model employed by Starfleet. Did that mean Spock was on the other side of whatever barrier separated the two universes? That would seem to be a logical deduction.
Edolon, silent to this point, replied, “What does that mean?”
“This is a device used by my people to collect information. It is dispatched into space, perhaps to orbit a planet or other spatial object or phenomenon and study it in detail. What it learns is recorded and transmitted back to the probe’s origin point.”
Realizing he could examine the probe without benefit of physical form, Sarek pushed his thoughts into the device’s computer memory core. How intriguing, he decided, to merge sentient thought with stored information, without any discernible line of separation. How was that possible? Was it a byproduct of this realm or something that might be duplicated in his own universe? It would, he thought, be an interesting topic of conversation with his son.
There were others present, Sarek realized. His was not the only consciousness.
“Who are you?” said an unfamiliar, strained voice. “You must not stop us.”
“I believe I can help,” replied Sarek. “End your attack on this object. It is not a weapon.”
“We cannot,” said a second voice. “It is poison. Its emanations burn through our thoughts. We must cease its function.”
“Wait,” Sarek said, knowing the probe’s continued operation might be his only hope for returning him, his companions, and others displaced to this dimension. “I may be able to assist you without damaging the probe.”
He considered that Edolon had referred to the probe’s activities as “emanations.” It was safe to assume that such a device, if it had been delivered by Spock and the Enterprise, would not be intended to cause deliberate harm. Either the Jatohr were misinterpreting whatever signals the probe was transmitting, or else the device’s actions were disruptive to this realm. Did carrier wave signals work differently here, with different causes and effects? Might such effects be hurtful or even hazardous to the Jatohr and others in his universe? It was possible, Sarek reasoned. It might also explain the discomfort suffered by Captain Una and the others, and even the mild irritation he had experienced prior to his transfer to this space.
“I do not believe it necessary to destroy the object,” he said. “Instead, we can cease its transmissions to prevent further pain to your people.”
Channeling his thoughts into the device, he envisioned its components. Circuitry, and energy moving between conduits and processors and storage modules. In short order he found an energy pattern that was both constant and aimed outward, away from here. The probe’s sensors, it seemed. Collecting his consciousness, he directed his perceptions on that signal. He was about to focus on ending it when he realized that an opportunity had presented itself, though he was uncertain how to exploit it. Might he be able to co-opt the signal? That seemed beyond his abilities, at least for any sizable measure of time, but how much did he need? Even a short message, some clue offered to whoever was receiving the transmission, could be of benefit, but what to say?
Amanda.
Just as he had been trying to call to his wife, to somehow reassure her that he was alive and searching for a means of returning to her, so now did he compel the probe’s signal to act on his behalf. He sensed the device accepting his command and felt the merest twinge in the constant flow of energy as his small message was added to the stream of transmitted information.
And then everything faded.
“What have you done?” he asked. For the first time, he recognized the toll his interaction with the probe had taken on his mental energies. Fatigue was already clouding his thoughts, urging him to sleep, but he fought to keep the impulse at bay.
“The matter is finished,” said Edolon. “The emanations are no more.”
His energy and awareness fading, Sarek once more tried listening to the probe, but it was now silent. He detected some residual energy, but it was limited. The device’s power cells were almost exhausted. It might be possible to reactivate it, but he suspected he might have but a single opportunity. If he chose that course, it would have to be at the right time, and for the right reason. For now, his only other option seemed to be learning about this new realm, his place in it, and what might assist him in escaping from it.
Had his message gotten through? There was no way to know. As his remaining awareness dissolved, he reached out with a last, feeble attempt at connection.
Amanda.
Her name echoed as Sarek’s consciousness surrendered to darkness.
Twenty-three
Despite hir best efforts, Anadac could not keep hir eyestalks fully extended in the face of the intense, blinding spotlight shining down on hir from above.
Standing on the dais in the Grand Hall and flanked by two armed guards and stripped of hir protective shell, Anadac was unable even to shield hirself from the unforgiving light. S/he could only stand, vulnerable and quivering, before an enraged Woryan. Throngs of similarly outraged Jatohr filled the platforms surrounding hir as well as the atrium floor below. This exposure was just the next phase of an extended session of psychological torture to which s/he had already been subjected while being held in an interrogation cell. There s/he had not been subjected to questioning, but instead endured an emotionally draining process in which s/he had been forced to experience an unrestrained flood of memories incomprehensibly woven together from numerous Jatohr and pushed directly into hir mind. Death would have almost been a preferable alternative.
“I do not understand. Why am I being treated like this?”
Before hir on the dais, Woryan shifted hir enormous bulk on the dais and gestured toward Anadac. “Why? Because you have failed your mission, you have betrayed your supreme leader, and you have doomed your entire race!”
The charge struck Anadac with the force of a physical blow. “This is outrageous! I have done no such thing!”
“You have!” Woryan shifted from hir perch on the dais, gliding across the smooth floor toward Anadac. “What have you brought upon our kind?” Hir voice, amplified into to a raucous baritone that resonated throughout the massive chamber, seemed to bore directly into Anadac’s consciousness. “You decimated our invasion force. How do you explain this treachery?”
“Treachery? How could I have done such a thing?”
“Your meddling has unleashed an unstoppable force upon us!” Woryan screamed. “Half of my invasion legion—half of
our kind—is dead, because of you! What have you brought upon our land? What have you done to destroy our minds?”
Anadac struggled to connect the scant pieces of information to be mined from Woryan’s tirade. Was it possible that the psychic turmoil s/he had experienced was not a torture method? Had it been a phenomenon that reached much farther than hir cell, inflicting damage upon uncounted Jatohr? Whatever had happened to wreak such havoc, s/he concluded, evidently it was beyond Woryan and hir advisors to comprehend or explain.
“Is this about the portal?”
The portal had been Woryan’s foremost priority, superseding all other concerns. It had driven the Jatohr leader to bring before this very Hall Una and two other outsiders—“humans,” as Una had called them—for interrogation and judgment. The entire proceeding now seemed as humiliating and pointless to the detainees as hir own treatment. Despite that, the questioning did serve to yield information Anadac had used to refine the transfer portal’s process of exploiting the enormous energies initiated in the other dimension. In that regard, Una had assisted in creating the device Woryan now intended to use for leading hir legion of Jatohr soldiers to the other realm, saving them from the destruction of this one.
Was Woryan blaming the portal, and by extension Anadac hirself, for some catastrophic event?
“I am loyal to our people, Woryan. I have done nothing to harm anyone. Also, have you forgotten that I have been in your custody since the incident with my research team? Even then I thought I was upholding your wishes and carrying out your orders. If I could be allowed into my laboratory, I assure you I can find answers to—”
