by Dayton Ward
“How do I do that?” Even as she asked the question, she sensed a new presence that also was familiar; more so than Sarek.
“Tim?”
“I’m here, Number One,” said the voice of Ensign Timothy Shimizu.
Una felt a rush of renewed hope and confidence washing over her. “It’s good to hear your voice, but damned if I know how this is happening.”
“I don’t have a clue either, but I don’t care,” replied Shimizu. “For now, I’m trusting in you and the ambassador. I knew you’d find a way to pull us back. All this time, I never gave up.”
Sarek’s voice sounded in her mind. “The others, Captain. Go.”
Driven by new resolve, Una pushed herself into the void, seeking out any familiar presence. How could she find them, among all these uncounted perceptions? She visualized images of each of her former Enterprise shipmates, their faces playing across her consciousness. No sooner did she consider an impression of Ingrid Holstine than she was sure she felt the lieutenant looming somewhere nearby. It took Una only a moment to find her form, drifting in repose in the gray ocean.
“Holstine,” said Una. “Ingrid, can you hear me?”
“Lieutenant Una? Is that you?”
Una forgave the outdated reference to her rank. “I wish I had time to explain, but right now I need you to follow me. Can you concentrate on staying with me?”
There was a pause, and when Holstine replied, it was with an air of uncertainty. “I think so. I don’t . . . I think I understand what to do. It’s good to see you.”
“Likewise. We’ll explain everything later. Follow me.”
Repeating the exercise one by one, and with Sarek helping to guide her, Una retrieved each of her comrades. With every addition, she felt the collective consciousness growing stronger and more confident. Voices and thoughts intermingled as reunions took place, at least on some level. How had her friends been trapped here so long without any concept of time’s passage? Or perhaps their minds simply rejected that reality in order to preserve their sanity. There was no way to know, at least not until they all returned to their own universe.
Her familiarity with each of her people made the process much easier, and it was interesting to Una how they bonded together as each new person was added to the group. The security officers, Cambias, Le May, and Griffin, found one another with ease, their energies melding together as though forming a security perimeter in order to protect the rest of the group. Then there were Stevens, Craig, and Goldberg, the members of the Enterprise’s bridge crew, who, along with Holstine, chose to connect, remaining together in this universe in the same manner in which they had been pulled from their own.
Then there was Raul Martinez.
She sensed from the beginning that the commander would prove to be the greatest challenge. Even with Sarek’s help to guide her through the void, he was difficult to locate. Unlike the others, Martinez did not respond to her calls, forcing her to rely on conceptualizations of past memories they shared. It was disconcerting, not being able to hear the strong, confident voice of the man who once had been her superior officer and a gifted leader respected by all who served under him.
Finally, after what seemed like interminable silence, she sensed a faint presence she knew to be his. He was weak and his mind disjointed, but there nevertheless. Una delved ever deeper into the void.
“It’s gone,” said a voice, barely registering in her consciousness. “All of it. I can’t take this anymore.”
“Raul?” She flailed in the gray abyss, trying to reel him closer. “Where are you?”
She became aware of a small, feeble point of light, and followed it. The closer she approached, the stronger the sense of familiarity. A figure began to take shape before her. Martinez, floating limp in the void.
“Raul, it’s me. Una.”
“I can’t,” replied Martinez. Defeat laced his voice. “I’m tired. I tried to stay strong, but it never ended. I can’t fight anymore.”
Sarek said, “We can still save him, but we must work together.”
“I’m not leaving him,” said Una. “Not after all this.”
“We are not leaving him, but his mind is not up to the task of assisting us. We must join the others and combine our self-energies. Then we will come back for Commander Martinez. We cannot proceed without you, Captain.”
Another voice said, “I can stay with him.”
It took Una a moment to recognize the new arrival. “Joanna?” She drew strength from the warmth of the new consciousness, recognizing the comforting, soothing presence of Joanna McCoy.
“It’s nice to see you,” said the nurse. “I have no idea what the hell is going on. Hopefully one of you big-brain types can explain it at some point.”
“Can you help Martinez?” asked Una, directing her perceptions to her friend. His body remained lifeless, his expression flat. She could sense his thoughts, weak as they were. Still, there was something she could grasp.
Joanna replied, “I don’t know if I can help him, but I can at least be here for him, and make sure he knows he’s not alone.”
Una could already feel Joanna’s consciousness reaching out to embrace Martinez’s, two minds weaving together as two filaments of pulsing energy. Almost immediately, she thought she felt a small spark of life from her old friend.
Yes!
“I can feel him getting stronger,” said Joanna. “Just a little, but it’s there. We won’t lose him, Una. We’ll get him home.”
“We’re getting all of us home.”
With a final probe of Martinez’s thoughts to assure herself that he was not lost, Una turned her attention back to the void. She now had the tools to reach her goal.
“All right, Ambassador,” she said, seeking out Sarek’s consciousness. “We’re all yours. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Thirty
Spock turned at the sound of the running footsteps outside the master control room in time to see Lieutenant Commander Barry Giotto and his five-person contingent of security officers coming through the doorway. At first, Spock thought the security chief and his team might be under attack, and he reached for his phaser. The group, consisting of three men and two women, all human save for a single Vulcan, Ensign Valren, followed Giotto into the room and began spreading outward in a semicircular formation facing the door.
“Commander?” prompted Spock as he pulled his phaser from his waist.
Giotto replied, “Sorry, sir. We ran into one of those sentry drones you warned us about. We took it out, along with another one that showed up out of nowhere. That’s when I decided we should get here and make sure you’re okay.”
“You could have contacted me by communicator,” replied Spock.
“I prefer the personal touch, sir.” Turning to Ensign Nick Minecci, the next most senior member of his team, Giotto said, “Minecci, you and Hawthorne on this hatch.” He gestured toward the ramps leading to the expansive room’s upper levels. “The rest of you spread out up there. I want this entrance and the one from the upstairs lab covered. Keep your eyes open, and call out if you see or hear anything.”
His team dispersed in accordance with his instructions, leaving Giotto alone with Spock. “I’m sticking with you and the others, Mister Spock.”
“Your prudence is appreciated, Commander.”
The first officer had been expecting some kind of reaction to the landing party’s presence, but nothing had presented itself even after the citadel’s launch from the planet. Now that the alien structure had achieved its low orbit over Usilde and had begun expelling the terraforming compound into the atmosphere, Spock was surprised that there had not been more active resistance to the landing party being in the control room. They had not faced constant harassment by the sentry drones during their previous visits. He could only guess that the automated security protocols overseeing the citadel
’s interior were monitoring the intruders in their midst and determining the most efficient measures when circumstances warranted taking action. Perhaps the fact that Spock and his people had confined themselves to this single room and their activities to the transfer-field generator had mitigated their threat potential. That seemed odd on the face of it, but then Spock considered that the primary purpose of the citadel was to facilitate the transfer of the Jatohr from their universe to this one.
“Any luck finding Captain Una and the others, sir?” asked Giotto.
Spock shook his head. “Not yet, Commander.” He made his way back to the center column where Lieutenant Uhura, Doctor McCoy, and his mother still stood before the control consoles, their attention fixed on the array of status monitors that now were divided between depicting the odd, barren landscape from the other universe and views of Usilde from orbit. One angle showed the citadel’s underside and the white plumes being directed toward the planet. The effect of the terraforming chemicals was already evident, with the atmosphere in the immediate vicinity of the citadel adopting a faint yellow hue.
“Mister Spock,” said Uhura from the adjacent console, “these readings are confusing.” When he moved to join her, the communications officer pointed first to the tricorder in her left hand and then the workstation. “According to the data on life-form readings we received from the probe, I’m able to understand this equipment’s scans of the other universe, and it is detecting life-forms. Most of them are Jatohr, but there are also other readings these sensors don’t seem to understand. Based on my count, there are thirteen anomalous readings. Those have to be our people, sir. Captain Una, Ambassador Sarek, Doctor McCoy’s daughter—everyone.”
“All alive?” asked McCoy.
Uhura nodded. “Yes, Doctor.”
“Why can’t you retrieve them?” Amanda stepped closer, and Spock noted the deepening concern on his mother’s face.
“I’m not sure if we can or can’t, ma’am,” replied the lieutenant. She gestured to the screens and the holographic representation of the landscape. “This is where Captain Una said we should look, and according to the scan readings, we’re picking up life-forms that may or may not be in that area.” She frowned. “The Transfer Key seems to be locking on those readings, but we’re still not seeing anything. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Why not just try to pull in whatever this thing is supposedly scanning?” asked McCoy. “Wait. That would mean the Jatohr too.”
Spock replied, “It would seem so. The process appears to share only some similarities with our own transporter technology, but there are obvious differences, owing to the nature of transferring individuals and objects across dimensional planes.”
“But I thought the Transfer Key could target specific individuals,” said Uhura.
“That was the case in our universe. Apparently, things work somewhat differently in the other realm.”
Pausing, Spock examined the readings as conveyed by the alien status indicators and gauges. “One set of sensor data informs us that life-forms are in this location, while others show that the region is unoccupied. Logic suggests that at least one of these readings is inaccurate. That, or we are simply missing a key piece of information as we attempt to understand what we are seeing.”
“I think my head hurts,” said Giotto.
The sound of his communicator chirping for attention interrupted Spock’s reply. He retrieved the device from his waist and activated it. “Spock here.”
Kirk’s voice sounded clearly. “Things are starting to get tense up here, Spock. It’s looking like the Klingons have decided to make a move. Scotty’s still trying to come up with a way to get you out of there, but it’s not going to happen before the Klingons are on us. Any luck finding Una and the others?”
Spock said, “We have encountered difficulties with the Jatohr technology, Captain. Apparently, retrieving someone from the other universe is far more complicated than sending someone there.”
“Of course it is. So, what do we do?”
“We could activate the Transfer Key, and allow it to do what it is already programmed to do.” Spock studied the readings. “If I understand these readings, the transfer-field generator seems poised to do just that. However, that would mean any Jatohr selected by the Transfer Key would be included in the transfer.”
“You’re not talking about all Jatohr, everywhere, are you?”
“Not if I understand these readings correctly,” said Spock. “The number is actually rather limited, but I am also concerned about the unknown risk to any non-Jatohr life readings.”
“Spock, if the Klingons press the issue, there may not be time to be picky later.” The tension in the captain’s voice was becoming more evident. “For all I know, they’re thinking if they can’t have the citadel, then no one can, and they’ll just destroy it rather than leaving it for us.”
Feeling a hand on his arm, Spock looked down to see Amanda, her eyes wide with concern. “Spock.”
“It has to be worth the risk,” added McCoy. “If we lose this chance, we might never get another one.”
Their emotional appeals were not lost on him. Spock understood the desire to retrieve Sarek and the others. His loyalty to Captain Una was equal to what he felt for James Kirk and his predecessor, Christopher Pike, and gave him insight to what McCoy and his mother were feeling, but he could not make a decision of such importance based purely on emotion.
Not purely, Spock reminded himself. The risks appear to be negligible and are outweighed by the real danger we now face. What does logic dictate?
“Very well. We will make the attempt.”
Uhura said, “Where will all those people end up when they’re transferred?” She looked around the room. “It doesn’t make sense that they’d all show up in here.”
“A reasonable conclusion, Lieutenant,” replied Spock. “There are areas within the citadel that are large enough to accommodate such numbers. Any of those are logical destinations.”
“Is that supposed to be a guess?” asked McCoy.
Spock shook his head. “A deduction, based on available facts.”
“Where are these larger areas?” Giotto gestured to his two security officers at the doorway. “I can send people to check.”
“Lieutenant Uhura will provide that information.” Spock moved to the console that held the Transfer Key. Still holding his communicator, he raised the unit back to his lips. “Captain, we are proceeding with the transfer.”
“I’ve got my fingers crossed.”
Without further discussion, Spock pressed the controls on the Transfer Key.
The immediate effect was the noticeable increase in activity within the room’s central core. Swirls of contained energy pulsed and flared, mixing in and around one another as the hum of large equipment increased. All around the room, lighting as well as various workstations blinked and flickered as though power within the citadel was being directed away from them and fed to the transfer field generator, which hummed even louder as it absorbed this increased energy. The noise continued to grow until it became uncomfortable, followed by what sounded to Spock like a single, massive burst of compressed air rushing forth through an opened valve.
And then the noise faded. The chaos unfolding inside the center column abated, and the room’s illumination returned to normal.
“Okay, that was pretty annoying,” said McCoy. “Let’s try to not do that again.”
Spock turned from the console and saw that his mother looked pained. “Are you all right?”
Nodding as she rubbed her temples, Amanda replied, “It felt like a spike being jammed into my ears.”
“Mister Spock,” said Uhura, who had returned to the console he had instructed her to oversee. “According to these readings, the transfer was successful.” She tapped one of the controls as he had instructed her to do. “The large concent
ration of life-form readings is gone. I mean, from the other universe. I think.”
“We’ve found them,” said the voice of Captain Kirk over the still open communicator. “They’re down on the planet. There’s a glade west of the Usildar village, between it and the lake where we originally found the citadel. Looks like everyone was transferred there.” There was a pause before the captain added, “Hang on. Chekov’s scanning that site. The only life signs he’s picking up are Jatohr. No human, Vulcan, Klingon, or Izarian readings.”
“Where are the others?” asked Commander Giotto.
Moving back to the console with the Transfer Key, Spock inspected the workstation’s cluster of status readings, before using his tricorder to collect more detailed information.
“The Key appears to have worked in response to its programming,” he said. “That is to say, its default, preprogrammed instructions.”
McCoy grunted in irritation. “Meaning only the Jatohr.”
“It would appear so.”
“What do we do?” asked Amanda. “We can still reach out to Sarek, can’t we? Find him and get him to where he and the others can be rescued?”
“The probe,” said Uhura. “If you can contact Sarek, maybe we can get him to alter the probe’s harmonic frequency again and give us something to lock on to.”
Spock nodded. While their experiments with the probe had showed promise, they had failed to retrieve it with this method before the device deactivated, presumably from a power drain as an effect of its presence in the other universe. Even if Sarek could find the probe, there was no guarantee the device would be functional.
There seems to be no alternative.
From his communicator, Kirk’s voice said, “Spock, check your readings over there. The citadel looks to be increasing the rate it’s spitting out the terraforming compound. Can you confirm that?”
“Just a moment, Captain.” Spock moved to another console, which he and Uhura had determined was a station with many displays and indicators devoted to a number of onboard systems. Their tricorder readings had shown that a small collection of such controls was devoted to the conduits feeding the compound to the vent systems, but their attempts to interrupt that process had to this point been unsuccessful.
