The Latter Fire

by James Swallow

  “Mister Spock, am I right in thinking that these veins of mineral are crystalline in nature?”

  “Correct,” said the first officer, standing close by at one of the lab’s input consoles. “A type-four isotope of dilithium, to be precise.”

  “It couldn’t be anything other than that,” she said to herself. “The dispersal pattern of these veins is remarkable. It’s so even. I don’t have to be a geologist to know that’s not how these things usually occur.” Uhura traced lines of the crystal around the circumference of the opened sphere. “And the latent energy detected by the sensors? It’s collected in these subsurface structures?”

  “A great amount, but not all,” Spock noted, and he highlighted several large vault-like caverns. “The deeper layers of the object exhibit many of these under­ground chambers, each filled with a chemical sea of electroactive elements. I believe they may function as a kind of colossal liquid battery.”

  “So, it can channel raw natural energy into these dilithium concentrations at will?” Uhura’s eyes widened at the thought, and she followed it to its conclusion. “That means, if it is capable of doing that with any degree of control . . .”

  “The leviathan may possess a naturally occurring variety of warp drive.” Spock seemed to lose himself in the possibility. “Fascinating.”

  “That would account for why we didn’t detect it on our approach,” said Uhura. “It wasn’t in range of our sensors at the time. It warped here on its own!”

  “Very possible, Lieutenant. It may have been dismissed as an inert planetoid on the extreme edge of scanner range.”

  She took a step back, folding her arms. “All right. We have a working theory as to how it got here. Now we need to build an understanding of why it reacted as it did.”

  “And there, the question becomes problematic,” Spock admitted. “Extrapolating our theoretical model from the closest extant example of a silicon-based life-form in our data banks—”

  “The Horta?”

  He nodded. “There are a number of key physiological similarities, but our estimations of a behavioral structure are incomplete. According to my conjecture, this creature should be highly unlikely to behave in an adversarial and intrusive manner.”

  Uhura frowned. “But the Horta was capable of violence, sir. It attacked mine workers in the tunnels of Janus VI.”

  “Agreed, but only in the most extreme situation, when it believed its nest and its eggs were under threat. We have seen nothing to indicate the Syhaari or the presence of the Enterprise pose a similar threat to the leviathan. On both occasions, it attacked without apparent provocation. In addition, it appears to have come to this star system specifically to do so.”

  “It came looking for a fight?”

  Spock raised an eyebrow. “An overly colloquial, if accurate, analysis, Lieutenant. And therein lies the issue. While the leviathan is dangerous in one sense, simply because it possesses great mass, I find it hard to characterize it as a predatory organism. I would hypothesize that such a life-form would exist more like the extinct whales of your planet. It seems more suited to a life cycle of cruising peacefully through the outer reaches of nebulae, most likely sifting interstellar dust for sustenance.”

  “And we are close to that protostar nursery, relatively speaking,” Uhura noted. “If that’s where it originated, why did it cross open space to get here? Not to feed? It would have more than enough to eat at home.”

  The Vulcan highlighted a different section of the alien orb, a fuzzy rendering of what could be determined of the leviathan’s core. “The composite structure of the being, the lattice of crystal and rocklike materials. It has a much greater degree of flexibility than a normal planetoid’s crust. A strong gravity well would exert a powerful deleterious effect on its physiology.”

  “You mean . . . cause it pain?”

  “Indeed. In fact, I would posit that close proximity to a planet or a main-sequence star would distress the leviathan greatly. It is evolved for life in extrasolar space. All the more reason why this close approach to the Sya system is highly unusual.”

  They both fell silent for a long moment before Uhura spoke again, dismay in her tone. “Mister Spock, the deeper we look into this, the less answers we have and the more questions we find.”

  “It would seem so.” He examined a data slate. “There is clearly more to this conundrum than we know. But until we can gather additional data on the object, we can only continue to speculate on the leviathan’s motivations.”

  Uhura nodded, frowning at her own lack of results. She went back to the console she had been using to analyze the spatial-distortion patterns, this time displaying them in a different context, hoping to find something in them she had missed the first time around. “If it is like the Horta,” she ventured, “do you think we could communicate with it?”

  Spock paused. “In that instance, I was able to make direct mental contact with the mind of another being.” He shook his head. “At the end of my most recent duty shift, I entered a meditative state in my quarters and attempted to reach out with a telepathic probe. I sensed no such centralized intellect in the leviathan. It is likely a creature of pure, animal instinct.”

  “Maybe this one is a true rogue, then,” said Uhura. “A man-eater.” The Vulcan gave her a questioning look, and she went on. “When I was a child, my uncle would always get into trouble with my aunt for telling us scary stories about the lions of Kenya. He’d spin tales about the rogues that would split off from the pride and come chasing after humans instead of wildebeest or zebra, even if it meant risking death at the hands of hunters.”

  “A cogent parallel, Lieutenant,” Spock agreed. “Such aberrant actions in animals occur because of starvation, old age, or infection. We may be observing something similar here.”

  “Well, I just hope . . .” Uhura’s words faded on her lips. Suddenly, all she could see, all she could think about, was the pattern moving on the screen in front of her. She couldn’t explain it; somehow, the act of replaying the data anew had triggered a flash of insight. She saw something there she hadn’t seen the first time around, and quickly Uhura ran the simulation again to make sure it wasn’t a mistake.

  “Lieutenant?” Spock noticed her change of manner. “Is something wrong?”

  The thought, still half-formed, spilled out of her. “The spatial distortions. What if we have been looking at them all wrong? You and I, we approached the data thinking this was some kind of random side effect of the leviathan’s internal energy matrix, a waste product of its life cycle. Like an exhaled breath or surplus body heat. What if it isn’t that at all?”

  “You are suggesting the distortions are not a random consequence? I am intrigued. Go on.” Spock watched her expectantly.

  Uhura migrated the display on her tri-screen to the viewscreen. She assembled a matrix of patterns, one building on the next, and slowly but surely, something resembling a coherent signal began to emerge. Buried in the middle of the data was a regular pattern that appeared to repeat itself at a steady interval. “I was wrong before, I don’t think we’ve caught the sound of some alien heartbeat here. Sir, I think these patterns may be deliberately generated.” Her breath caught in her throat. “Mister Spock, this could even be a message being broadcast from the leviathan itself!”

  The Vulcan eyed the screen coldly. “This may also be an artifact of the sensor relays. Ghost echoes rebounding off the Veil. Perhaps even trace signals from the wreckage of the Syhaari patrol ships. I would urge caution.”

  Uhura matched his gaze. “With all due respect, Commander, if this thing is still out there, and still hunting, do we have that luxury?”

  * * *

  When the Enterprise finally limped into a wide orbit around the third planet of the Sya system, her crew was greeted with a sky full of silver darts and long, skeletal-frame orbital platforms. Above the craggy, rust-red world, vessels of
every tonnage were resting at anchor in mustering zones or chained out in long lines as they took turns docking at supply stations and work yards. Glitters of bright laser light flashed here and there where many of the craft were receiving last-­minute refits, as weapons pods were welded to hardpoints.

  Beneath the lone Starfleet ship, Gadmuur’s orbital space resembled a quiver of arrows ranged together in anticipation of bloody battle. The stark import of that image lodged in James Kirk’s thoughts as he materialized in the command atrium of the primary star dock. Kirk had seen preparations for war in other places and at other times, and he knew that only death could follow them.

  At his side, Kaleo tensed as she took in the room. Everywhere they looked, Syhaari were moving back and forth with grave focus, each crew member doubtless engaged in some element of the military operation to come. The tension of the moment, silent and invisible, was palpable.

  “Look sharp,” said the captain from the side of his mouth, gaining a nod in return from Lieutenant Sulu. Along with his subordinate officer and the Syhaari captain, the rest of Kirk’s landing party comprised three security personnel, each of whom visibly wore a type-2 phaser on their hips and a hawkish cast to their faces. If the Assembly see that as an insult, he told himself, then let them. The captain of the Enterprise deemed the situation too fluid to take more risks than he needed to.

  “Sir,” said Sulu, with a nod of the head. “Here they are.”

  Kirk turned to see Tormid approaching, with Envoy Xuur and her Andorian aide close behind. Other Syhaari supernumeraries walked with them, but he concentrated his attention on the alien commander. Tormid seemed to be carrying himself differently from the last time they had met: then, the scientist-explorer had moved with a kind of lazy confidence; now, he was stiff and formal.

  Kirk’s thoughts returned to his conversation with Scotty in engineering, to the other man’s doubts and concerns, and in that instant the captain decided on a course of action. He fixed Tormid with a hard eye. “You understand what you’re doing?”

  The Syhaari hesitated, for the moment wrong-footed by Kirk’s flat, challenging statement, his lack of preamble.

  He didn’t allow Tormid the time to frame a reply. “I’ve spent my entire career face-to-face with unknowns like that object out there. I’m telling you now, you send your ships into battle with it without stopping to measure your steps, and they will not come back. More lives will be lost.”

  Tormid found something he could grasp, and his heavy lips curled in a thick sneer. “Again you underestimate us, offworlder. You denigrate our skill, our knowledge, now our courage?” He gave an angry snort of derision.

  Kirk glanced at Kaleo. “I know Syhaar courage very well. I don’t doubt your people have it. But what you need now is restraint. You’re reacting, sir, with instinct instead of intellect.”

  “What Captain Kirk means to say,” Xuur broke in, with a painted, unmoving smile, “is that the Federation’s concern is not just for its own citizens, but for all others. No one wants more casualties.”

  “Your concerns are noted,” Tormid grated, glaring at the envoy. “Once again. But the choice has been made.” He gestured to Kirk. “Your people are returned to you. I bid you to do the same with mine.”

  Xuur and ch’Sellor crossed toward the landing party, but the captain noted that they never fully joined the Enterprise group, instead electing to stand between Kirk and Tormid. Was the ambassador trying to show a deliberate neutrality in the situation, or was it that she wanted to keep the two of them from breaking into a full-fledged argument?

  “Captain,” said Xuur in a low voice that didn’t travel. “I see you came prepared.” Her gaze raked across Sulu and the security detail. “I’m disappointed.”

  “For all we knew, you might have been kidnapped,” Kirk said, equally quiet so only she could hear his reply. “And frankly, I’m starting to think the polite approach isn’t getting much traction.”

  Kaleo took a wary step away from the group, holding up a small container as she went. “This is the data from the humans,” said the other captain, cracking open the lid. Inside, there were two glassy cubes studded with interface sockets, each filled with the fluid memory media used by Syhaari technology. M’Ress and Raines had worked together to pull all the sensor information from the Enterprise’s memory banks across to the alien format; but for all his earlier insistence on having it, Tormid barely gave the cubes a second look, instead directing Hoyga to relieve Kaleo of them.

  “Where is Duchad?” demanded the Syhaari engineer. “He should be here.”

  “I asked Captain Kirk’s crew to use their matter-transit device to send him directly to the hospital complex,” Kaleo replied. “He was in no condition to be interrogated.”

  Tormid turned his annoyance on her. “That was not your decision to make.”

  She cocked her head. “And yet I did.”

  Kirk realized that Kaleo was of the same mind as him, pushing at Tormid to make him justify himself. Now that he was looking the alien commander in the eye once more, the wrong note that had been ringing ever since their first meeting sounded loudly in Kirk’s mind. Over whatever gulf of species there was between them, there was one intuitive conclusion that Kirk could not dismiss. He’s hiding something. Why else would Tormid push so hard for a military response?

  “Very well,” Tormid was saying. “Then I would suggest—with respect—that the Starship Enterprise and all Federation citizens depart Syhaari space until such times as we have dealt with our current problem.”

  “For reasons of safety,” Hoyga added.

  “We’ve been hearing that a lot,” muttered Sulu.

  Tormid continued, giving Xuur a bland nod. “We may choose to reestablish diplomatic contact at that time.”

  “I must speculate, is that for the best?” Xuur replied, the question devoid of weight. Kirk wondered how much of her reluctance to leave was based on the same concerns he had and how much was the Rhaandarite’s desire to keep her assignment from turning into a failure.

  “Whatever decision you make,” Kirk went on, “it’s a mistake to send us away. We came to help the Syhaari people, and we can still do that.”

  Tormid eyed him. “Is that so? I confess, Kirk, with all your much-vaunted advancement over our civilization, many of the Learned Assembly wished to petition you to destroy that monster for us. But you proved unwilling and unable. So unless you are willing to turn over that ship of yours to my command, or failing that, share with us the secrets of your weapons technology, there is little you can do for us now. Stand aside!”

  Kirk went for the question that was pressing at his thoughts. “Why do you want us gone so badly, Tormid? Are you afraid we’ll happen on something you’d rather we didn’t?”

  For the briefest of instants, Tormid’s expression was one of shock and dismay. He covered it quickly, but no so fast that Kirk could miss it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Xuur react to the moment as well. She saw it too. I hit a raw nerve there.

  But in the next moment, the envoy was turning on him. “I think you’ve said enough, Captain Kirk.”

  “I don’t agree.”

  She leaned in, her voice dropping again. “Tormid is being groomed by the Learned Assembly for high office,” insisted the envoy. “I won’t allow you to jeopardize the diplomatic groundwork I’ve laid here by browbeating him. Let me do my job, Kirk!”

  “Let me do mine,” he snapped back. “Before we all regret it.”

  Xuur’s eyes flashed. “You—”

  A grating alarm tone sounded once across the command atrium, drawing everyone’s attention to a cluster of video screens on the far wall. Kirk caught a quick exchange of gruff Syhaari speech that was too fast for his universal translator to parse.

  “Your ship is hailing us,” explained Kaleo. “They say it is a matter of urgency.”

  The fact that Scotty
was contacting them in this way, rather than directly over a communicator, did not bode well. Tormid barked out an order, and the screen cluster shifted from dozens of scrolling information feeds to a visual of the Enterprise’s bridge. Scott rose out of the command chair to address them, and Kirk felt an odd sense of dislocation, for once being the person on the other side of such an exchange.

  “Captain, d’ye hear us there?”

  Tormid glared at Kirk and made a brisk “hurry-up” motion with his long fingers.

  “We’re here, Scotty. Go ahead.”

  “It’s back, sir,” said the engineer gravely. “Sensors just registered a large warp-effect deceleration inside the system. Now we know what to look for, it was easy enough to find. Mister Spock’s on his way up to the bridge now, but he didn’t want me to wait before warning you.”

  A ripple of fear washed over every Syhaari in the atrium, and it was only Kaleo who broke their silence. “What is the intruder’s location, Mister Scott?”

  “It’s on an intercept course with the fifth planet, the ice world.”

  “Hokaar,” said ch’Sellor. “Is it . . . inhabited?”

  “There is a small outpost on the surface,” said Tormid, grim-faced. “And a wing of our fastest rangers in orbit.”

  Kirk’s blood chilled. “You sent more ships out there? After what happened to the patrol vessels, you sent more?”

  “What other option was there?” said Tormid, daring him to disagree.

  Kaleo reached out and touched the other commander’s arm. “Tormid, tell me you sent them to evacuate the Hokaar complex . . .”

  He shook her off. “They were dispatched as a defense force. Their crews know what is expected of them.”

  “Captain,” said a familiar voice, and Kirk looked up at the screen once again to see that his first officer had arrived on the bridge. “I took the liberty of deploying more sensor probes along our route as we returned to Gadmuur. I have telemetry incoming from the unit closest to the planet Hokaar.”