Kirk remembered the peculiar meat dish he had been given at the greeting feast on Syhaar Prime, patterned after his own genetic data. It all clicked into place. Tormid had used the same technology to explain away Rumen’s absence.
“That one bore your punishment,” hissed Ead’Aea, shifting from foot to foot. “But now your crimes are revealed to all, known-killer Tormid. We have images of your callous acts. We will show them.”
And at that, Tormid found his voice again. “This is trickery,” he insisted, a momentary tremor in his voice soon left behind by a rising snarl of fury. Anger was all he had now that his mendacity was clear. He glared at Hoyga, as if warning her not to dare to speak against him, and the Syhaari engineer visibly recoiled. “That person is not Rumen, it must be . . . it is some fake! These are aliens, the depths of their abilities are barely known to us!”
Kirk caught the sense of disbelief rising in Gatag and the other Syhaari survivors.
The elder’s doubt faded as he spoke. “Tormid, enough of this. You must answer now. Is it true?”
“I left Rumen behind because . . . he betrayed us!” Tormid shouted, discarding one lie for another. “These creatures, I . . . I protected you from them, you fools!” He backed off a step, searching the faces of his kinsmen for some measure of support, but finding only confusion. “Do you understand?” Tormid became more desperate by the second as Kirk watched his scaffold of deceit fall apart around him. “I gave us the keys to the stars!”
“You took us into fire and destruction,” said Kaleo. “And for what? Only your glory, not for the children of Sya.”
Tormid’s strangled expression shifted, becoming ugly and full of hatred. “You ignorant, ungrateful whelps!” He flicked back his arm, and too late the captain realized that security’s search of those attending the meeting had not been thorough enough.
A metallic strip of material, that until this moment had simply seemed to be some sort of decoration on Tormid’s sleeve, now slid down his forearm and into his grip, stiffening into a blunt-tipped blade as it went. Kirk had seen memory-metals before, but never one like this, morphing into a short sword before his eyes.
Tormid swung it wide in front of him, and Kirk ducked, feeling the rush of air over his face as it slashed at nothing. A breath closer, and it would have cut him open from brow to mouth. “I will not submit to these lies, alien! I will not—”
Then as suddenly as the attack had begun, it ceased. Tormid’s body went rigid and he became as stiff as his trick weapon, his gaze turning glassy.
“That will be quite enough,” said Spock, his right hand clamped firmly over a series of pressure points at the nape of Tormid’s bare neck. All energy fled from the Syhaari, and he sank to the deck, eyes fluttering closed.
Kirk brushed absently at a speck of lint on his tunic and beckoned the red-shirted security guards who had burst in at the first sign of trouble. “Put our guest here in the brig.”
“No!” cried Ead’Aea. “Inadequate! The crime is spoken and known. Even this one’s kindred see it now. Give him to us. Blood cost and punishment will be taken.”
“Blood cost,” echoed Zud’Hoa, hands flexing to reveal short, dark talons beneath their flesh. “Punishment.”
Xuur stepped forward to stand directly between the Breg’Hel and the Syhaari. “We will not allow that. No blood will be shed in this place. Captain Kirk granted the Enterprise for this meeting in the spirit of peace.”
Kirk nodded. “It’s up to both of your people to decide what to do with Tormid. He should have a fair trial, in public, so that what he did wrong is made clear to everyone. But until that happens, he stays in Federation custody. ”
“Agreed,” grated Ret’Sed. “What say you, Syhaari?”
Gatag hesitated, then bowed slightly. “Agreed, Breg’Hel. If we are to end the cycle of destruction and anger between us, we must begin with this.”
* * *
“It is agreeable to hear that declaration,” said Spock as his captain gestured for him to carry on. “But I am afraid a more immediate problem faces all of us, one that must be resolved.”
“The leviathan,” said Kirk, glancing at the Breg’Hel. “Your weapon.”
“The creature was commanded by our aura-techs through a nexus of inductors,” said Ead’Aea. “We drew it from a herd grazing the gas streams surrounding the outer nimbus of the home-nebula.” The Breg’Hel paused, blinking. “It was not a deed done lightly. In light of the gravest possible threat from outsiders, we believed we had no choice. Punishment to be done.”
“All future threat to be neutralized,” added Zud’Hoa. “So in high aggression we came to attack.”
“You succeeded,” Kaleo said bitterly. “Too well. How do we stop its rampage?”
“Unknown,” replied Ret’Sed. “We have never taken an act to these lengths before. The compulsion we transmitted, the incitement. When deactivated, docility should have returned. It did not.”
Spock nodded. “I have a hypothesis. I suggest that the continued application of your compulsion effect has pushed the planetoid life-form beyond the point of rationality.”
At his side, McCoy’s expression darkened. “They drove it mad?” The doctor shot an acid look at the reptilians. “A peaceful creature goaded into rage and violence. What the hell did you think would happen?”
“Bones,” said Kirk with a shake of the head, “not the time.”
It was a rare moment that Spock found his thoughts in line with McCoy’s, but in this they shared a similar disgust—although the Vulcan kept his feelings to himself. “Given the leviathan’s recent behavior patterns, I predict that it will continue to attack all high-mass targets within range of its sensorium.”
“Our homeworld . . .” muttered Zond.
“To begin with,” continued Spock. “Then the inner planet Neliin and, finally, it will likely be drawn toward the star Sya itself.”
“Wouldn’t that destroy it?” said Kirk.
“Indeed. The subspace waves being broadcast from the life-form suggest it is in pain as much as it is enraged. Eventually, it will seek a respite from that agony. Through its own death, in a final suicidal impulse.”
Ret’Sed nodded. “This is so. The creatures plunge into the hearts of protostars when they reach the end of their life spans, in a great dying.”
“But that thing out there isn’t at the end of its life!” insisted McCoy. “It’s not fading away, it’s gorged itself on displaced matter and energy. And if Spock’s right, it’ll keep on doing so until it chokes on it!”
The captain’s jaw set as he guessed what dark possibilities lay at the end of the logical progression that Spock had already determined. “If the leviathan interacts with a star’s energy, what will be the result?”
“A critical mass of subspace fields. The most probable outcome would be an explosive interaction of cosmic forces, enough to obliterate the life-form and resonate into several tertiary spatial domains.”
McCoy scowled. “Less technical, Spock.”
He took a breath. “The star Sya would undergo immediate collapse into a forced supernova. All planets in this system would be annihilated, and the resulting gamma-ray pulse would not only penetrate the Veil, but affect local space out to a radius of several light-years. Including the territory of the Breg’Hel.”
Envoy Xuur’s hand went to her mouth in shock, and nearby Zud’Hoa made a weak, fluting sound in its throat. “We . . . have destroyed ourselves,” it whispered.
“Not yet.” Kirk gave his first officer a grim nod of agreement, and then turned to face the assembled group. Terse, half-muttered words were already being exchanged among the Syhaari, and Spock’s acute Vulcan hearing caught the sense of Tormid’s anti-alien anger being rekindled, even though the scientist was no longer present on the hangar deck. Kirk and Xuur seemed to sense it too. The moment was balancing on a knife-edge.
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It was the envoy who went straight to the heart of it. “This is not a time for blame,” she said firmly. “Even though that need is heavy in the hearts of both sides. That is something for tomorrow. The question that must be answered now is this: Can you put aside your need for reprisal and move forward together against this threat?”
“We will help you,” said Kirk. “My ship, my crew, every last iota of knowledge the Federation has at its fingertips. If we pool our resources, we can find a solution, but you must decide now.”
In silence, Ret’Sed and Ead’Aea bowed to the Syhaari, joined a moment later by Zud’Hoa and the others in their party. Slowly, Gatag and his people mirrored their action.
* * *
Time passed as the Enterprise continued its pursuit of the leviathan, and from Kirk’s perspective it seemed to move with that strange flexibility that only a crisis could bring. Minutes could drag on forever, hours could flash by in what felt like seconds, and inexorably, they were getting closer and closer to Syhaar Prime and the potential devastation of a world and its people.
Looking to clear his head, the captain found himself on the observation deck above the hangar deck, lost in the view of the void beyond the hull. The strange slate-colored sky within the Veil still unsettled him, used as he was to seeing only blackness and stars though the viewports.
“James?”
He looked toward the voice and saw Kaleo standing in the hexagonal entranceway. She cocked her head, watching him intently. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
She took that as an invitation and came closer. “If by that you mean, is something more wrong? Then, no. In fact, the discussions with the Breg’Hel are quite civilized. Your envoy and her aide have seen to that.”
“Xuur has her talents, that’s for certain.” He forced a smile, but couldn’t hold it.
Kaleo saw that and paused, becoming formal again. “I am sorry, Captain. I am disturbing you. I know full well how hard it is to find a quiet moment with your thoughts.” She turned to go. “We shall speak later.”
“No.” He held out a hand. “I think I could use another perspective. And I don’t want you going back down there to tell Xuur you found me brooding.”
“I would never say such a thing.”
Kirk beckoned her toward the exterior windows. “Come here. Take a look.” He pointed at something. “You see it? We’re just on the edge of visual range.”
The Syhaari peered out. “That shimmer, in the distance? Is that the creature?”
He nodded. “The leviathan . . . or more accurately, the gravity distortion effect around it lensing local starlight. We’re closing in on it, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to catch it . . .”
“Yes,” she said quietly, before he went on. “It is quite remarkable. That such a creature could exist, that it could travel through space like a starship.”
“I’ve seen a lot of very unusual things, and this ranks up there with them,” he agreed. “Spock tells me that the leviathan is a silicon-based life-form, possibly with primitive instinctual intellect. Its physical structure is heavy with dilithium deposits in the outer crust, and that’s what allows it to distort space-time to produce motion, through some kind of controlled energetic release.”
“A naturally occurring warp drive in a life-form that moves through space as birds move through air or fish through the water.” She made no attempt to hide her wonderment. “Incredible. We could learn so much from it.”
Kirk studied his fellow captain. “Yes, we could.”
Kaleo gave a low grunt. “You’re surprised to hear me say that. After all the destruction that creature has wrought on my people, you think I would only want to see it ended.”
“I’m not surprised,” he admitted. “I’m pleased. Someone like Tormid would never be able to see what you see when you look out there. That’s how I knew when I first met you, Kaleo, that we shared a kindred spirit.”
“We are both explorers at heart,” she agreed. Then a shadow passed over her face. “But fate has pushed us into a different role today.”
He nodded, feeling the edges of a bleak mood threatening to crowd in on him. “We may have to kill it, Kaleo. A being that has no control over its actions. A victim in this as much as anyone else. But it’s one life against countless millions.”
“It is not a matter of numbers,” she said softly. “Who knows that horrible equation better than us, James? We are captains, and with command comes the implicit truth that we must balance lives against lives, with each order we give.” Kaleo looked away, staring at the deck. “I have done so in the past, and I carry the scar that does not heal. I do not need to ask you if you have done the same, I know you have. I have seen it in your eyes.”
“It can be very lonely in that chair,” he admitted.
“Just so.” They stood in companionable silence for a while, before Kaleo stretched her arms and spoke again. “Would you accept advice from me?”
“I could use some,” said Kirk.
She went to the ports on the far side of the gallery, the inner portals that looked down on the hangar deck. “When the Enterprise answered The Explorer Beyond’s distress call years ago, you changed many things about my world when you came to our aid. Not just that you opened our eyes to the reality of a larger universe and the presence of other intelligent beings in it. You showed us where we could go. You gave me a glimpse of what we could one day achieve.” Kaleo paused, and past her Kirk saw the Syhaari and Breg’Hel parties mingling with Spock, Xuur, and ch’Sellor as they worked together. “But the most important thing was that.” She tapped on the window, indicating the group below. “The object lesson. That in unity, we can do great things. I believed it then. I believe it now.” She met his gaze. “And so do you. Don’t lose sight of that.”
He nodded. “Good speech.”
“I observed you closely and took notes.”
Kirk felt a grin pull at his lips. “I may not be the best example to follow. Just ask Xuur.”
Kaleo chuckled. “One day, I will let you read my personnel file. Then we shall compare who of us is the least obedient of commanders.”
The two-note tone of a synthetic bosun’s whistle sounded, and Kirk heard McCoy’s voice issue out of an intercom grille on the wall. “Sickbay to Captain Kirk. Respond, please.”
He tapped the activation stud on the wall communicator. “Kirk here. What is it, Bones?”
“Jim,” McCoy began, “I think I might have something that could help with the leviathan. Lieutenant Uhura came to me with a suggestion, and I think we can make it work . . . but it’s a little out there.”
“Right now, no idea is a bad one,” Kirk told him. “Tell me what you have.”
“It’ll be easier to show you rather then tell you. Get down here as quick as you can . . . and bring Ret’Sed. As much as I hate what they’ve done, I need a Breg’Hel eye on this.”
Kaleo frowned. “With all due respect, Doctor, we are preparing for a battle, not a medical emergency.”
“I don’t see it that way,” McCoy countered. “From where I stand, we’ve got a sick patient that needs treatment. It just happens that the patient is the size of a moon.”
Thirteen
Kirk entered sickbay and found McCoy and Uhura crowded around a screen. Kaleo and Ret’Sed followed him in; neither had spoken on the way down to the sickbay.
The Breg’Hel’s manner was glum, and it had not questioned why the Enterprise’s captain had requested its presence. But now the lizard-like alien became more animated, peering wide-eyed at the biomedical scanners and racks of working samples around the doctor’s work area. “You are the healer-parent for this entire craft?”
“I’m chief medical officer, if that’s what you mean,” McCoy replied. “And one of many healers. A parent, not so much. Although I have been known to dispense fatherly advice from time to time.”<
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“The crews of Breg’Hel ships are a single extended family,” Uhura noted. “Their doctor is probably a cousin or grandchild of the commanders.”
“Like the old Boomer transports from Earth back in the day, I suppose,” said the doctor. “I can see why that would make you take something so personally.”
“Bones,” prompted Kirk, folding his arms. “You said you’d both come up with something for us?”
“A theory,” he replied. “I’ll warn you now, it’s a stretch, Jim. But after seeing Uhura’s data, I couldn’t stand by and say nothing.” McCoy turned the screen before him to face the group, loading a data card into a nearby media slot. “I’ll be honest, I felt like a damned spare wheel ever since that creature showed up. Just waiting for the next attack, the next casualty, instead of doing what we were supposed to be here for . . .” He paused, cutting off his own train of thought. “Not relevant. So here’s the thing.” With a flick of a switch, the screen lit up and Kirk saw a cutaway anatomy diagram of a familiar dome-shaped life-form. “Janus hominidae, our friend the Horta.”
Ret’Sed gave a slow nod. “I recognize the similarities.”
“We’ve been looking at that planetoid out there and thinking of it like some kind of natural disaster,” said Uhura. “Thinking about how to react to it instead of being proactive. But then I remembered what happened on Janus VI with the Horta.”
McCoy tapped the screen with a stylus. “The Horta is the same kind of creature as the leviathan. And we . . . I . . . cured her of an injury. If we start looking at the leviathan like it is a sick animal instead of a force of nature, then the question becomes—”
“How do we heal it?” said Kaleo.
“Exactly.” McCoy nodded and switched images. The new display was a tactical scan of the rogue planetoid. “Uhura said that she and Spock detected multiple layers of subspace energy radiating throughout the structure of the leviathan, right?”
The Latter Fire Page 22
