Star Trek - Log 9

by Alan Dean Foster

  Docile as a dog, the six-legged colossus appeared to collapse in on itself. Its short, stumpy legs never moved, but the central body slumped to the ground between them, like a ship being lowered between six hydraulic lifts. Its stomach scraped the dirt.

  "Intriguing arrangement of ligaments and muscles," was Spock's observation at this unexpected physiological maneuver. "Both appear to be extraordinarily flexible." Using the thick fur for handholds, the first officer mounted one of the Pandronian saddles notched into the animal's backbone and seated himself as best he could. Kirk and McCoy followed, the captain envying the ease with which eb Riss and his six armed followers mounted their zintar nearby.

  Once everyone was properly seated—Kirk felt "aboard" would be a better term to describe mounting a creature this size—ab Af uttered another command. Kirk felt himself rising, a sensation not unlike that produced in one of the Enterprise's turbolifts, as the zintar raised its body between its legs again.

  Then they were on their way, moving at a surprisingly rapid pace through the wide streets of Tendrazin. McCoy had started in surprise when the zintar began to move. The movements beneath him were unique. It was a peculiar—but not necessarily uncomfortable—sensation, he reflected. Had he ever ridden a large camel, the motion would have been somewhat more familiar to him.

  Before Kirk had gotten his fill of the fascinating architecture around them—a curious and exciting mixture of archaic and ultramodern—they had passed through a very old, heavily guarded gate in the ancient city wall and were traveling steadily across a broad open plain.

  "Many of our crops," bn Bem lectured them from his position just behind ab Af, "are grown within old city walls, to protect the cultivators from incursions by wild Pandronian lifes. Space here and around most cities are clear kept for reason the same, Kirk Captain."

  "We are obviously headed on some predetermined course," Spock commented from two places behind Kirk. "Why this way? I thought you said you didn't have any idea where the thieves had fled, except into the very large area you called the varbox."

  "Are going that way now," bn Bem replied. "Have tried all sources in cities. Was one noncity theory which implicated varbox, but could not get Pandronians to try until you your weapons aid offered." His voice turned conspiratorial.

  "Several citizens of Tendrazin home returning from fraternal meeting one night reported encountering large group of nervous-seeming Pandronians leaving city by gate now behind us. Suspicious Ones were on coryats mounted. One citizen asked destination and Nervous One replied his group to Cashua going. Cashua a medium-sized city several hundred laggets to northeast of Tendrazin."

  "What's so suspicious about people going from one city to another?" McCoy wanted to know.

  "Not where—when," bn Bem told him. "No One travels at night near forests on Pandro if not in armored vehicles. Also, coryats good forest walkers, if protected well.

  "Only recently this report checked in detail," the commander continued. "Was found that time necessary to travel between Tendrazin and Cashua, even allowing for reasonable delays, should have shown travelers there within four daams. No party on coryats, or of similar number to that reported by citizens, ever seen arriving at Cashua or other nearby cities. Party not sighted by aerial surveyests.

  "So ground from Tendrazin outward hunted for clues. Many tracks of vehicles and animals near city, but few near forest. Found prints of coryats entering forest. Entering forest there," and he pointed ahead of them, to a slight break in the marching ranks of green and brown.

  "Is old hunter trail, one of many," he went on. "No other trail show signs of coryat passage. May not be significant. Many Pandronians enter jungle on own, some for reasons legal not. Few return after long stay. Maybe these not wish to return.

  "Is lucky dry season this is. If they did enter forest here, coryat tracks will remain."

  In a short while the zintars slowed, approaching the first fringe of jungle. A small group of soldiers was waiting to greet them, eb Riss's zintar did the body-slumping trick and eb Riss dismounted to confer with one of the soldiers, apparently an officer. There was a short, animated discussion during which both Pandronians studied something on the ground out of Kirk's vision. He could imagine what the subject of their conversation was: the coryat tracks, which these troops had doubtlessly been placed here to protect against destruction—intentional or otherwise.

  eb Riss confirmed Kirk's suspicions when he passed by them on the way back to his own zintar. "Tracks remain still," he called up to them. "Party of six to twelve entered the varbox here. Is more than first guessed. Too large surely it is for a larking group."

  "True that is," agreed bn Bem, while Kirk and the others wondered at the purpose of a larking party. "On our way to hurry."

  eb Riss gestured confirmation and trotted back to scramble monkeylike up the leg of his zintar. The expedition plunged into the forest.

  Immediately the usefulness of the zintar in such terrain manifested itself. Not only did the creature's size intimidate and frighten off potential attackers, but its bulk shouldered aside or smashed over much vegetation, some of which was dense enough to impede the progress of any ground vehicle. The Enterprise's heavy groundcraft could have done as well, but not nearly at such a pace.

  Kirk mentioned his opinion as he continued to study the uneven, swampy ground below, which was thickly-overgrown with alien roots and climbers. And this was supposed to be a trail!

  "I can see why the Pandronians prefer organic to mechanical transportation, Spock."

  "Indeed, Captain," the first officer agreed, eyeing a particularly wicked-looking cluster of thorny vines which the zintar simply strode through without apparent ill effects. "Even a powerful landcraft would sacrifice mobility for movement here. And there is also the matter of logistics. It is evident that the zintars can live well off the land."

  They were many hours into the jungle when the head tracker shouted back to them from his position on eb Riss's mount. Handlers halted their zintars while the Pandronian scrambled down one postlike leg and examined the ground. He gestured and babbled until several other troopers dismounted and followed him into the dense underbrush to one side of the forest path. The greenery swallowed them up quickly.

  bn Bem and eb Riss started to show signs of nervousness when the tracking party failed to call out or return some minutes later. The two officers were about to order the zintars into off-trail pursuit in search of their vanished comrades when the little group reappeared.

  The head tracker looked disheveled and tired, but the excitement was evident in his face. He walked to stand below eb Riss, began talking rapidly and with many gestures.

  "The tracker says," bn Bem translated for them as the discussion progressed, "that a small but definite animal path within lies. Is evidence also of coryats passing. Age of tracks," and now the commander was hard pressed to restrain his own enthusiasm, "is proper to correspond with time suspicious party was noted leaving Tendrazin. Is further confirmation to clinch in tracker's hand."

  Kirk leaned as far to his right as he dared, squinting. The slim tracker was waving what looked from this distance to be a torn bit of black fabric. At bn Bem's request, the incriminating cloth was passed up to him. A brief inspection and then he was conferring with eb Riss in Pandronian while Kirk, Spock, and McCoy waited tensely for information.

  eb Riss's zintar handler shouted and tapped his mount on its shoulder with the charged tube. One by one the three great creatures turned like seagoing ships to bull their way into the growths on their right. After a short walk the dense brush thinned somewhat, enough for Kirk and the others to see that they were truly traveling down a cleared and marked trail. It wasn't as broad or well used as the hunter's path they had entered the forest by, but a path it was.

  bn Bem turned in his saddle, passed the bit of black material back to Kirk. His face looked grim. "Is first possible explanation to part of puzzlings, Kirk Captain. Now things become clear a little maybe."

 
; "It's just a rag to me," Kirk told him, turning to pass it back to Spock. "Where's the significance for you?"

  "A popular color on Pandro black is not, Captain. May again mean nothing. Is little to be gained by to conclusions hopping, but still . . ."

  "But still—" Kirk prompted.

  "Is on Pandro," the commander explained, "a small society of"—he paused for a second, hunting for a proper translation—"best I can come is physiological anarchists. They believe that holding integration to form perpetuating species is against natural orders. Would have all Pandro lifes, including This One, return to separate integrators and recombine as do wild forms. Mad Ones believe better integration than present developers of Pandronian civilization will eventually result.

  "Very young and stupid most of them are. But they believe strongly in their madness, Kirk Captain. Have been troublesome in few incidents past, but not really dangerous. Is conceivable they could react violent enough against Pandronian heritages to perform heinous deed like theft of Tam Paupa. If any Pandronians could, would be them for sure.

  "Part of their belief is to wear heavy black clothing, as if to hide the shame of their integration from universe."

  "I take it the Tam Paupa was always well guarded," Spock said.

  "Well guarded truly, Spock Commander," concurred bn Bem.

  "I am puzzled, then," the first officer confessed, "as to how a small coterie of mildly annoying revolutionaries could suddenly jump from being youthfully irksome to executing a deed as elaborate as the Tam Paupa's theft."

  "Agree wholesomely—no, wholeheartedly," bn Bem replied after a moment's consideration. "Is most strangeness. Would indeed not give group credit for such talents." He performed the Pandronian equivalent of a shrug.

  "May be more than anarchist types after all. Into place pieces beginning to assemble. Still is missing important integers."

  Kirk, Spock, and McCoy could only agree.

  An urgent beep sounded in the Main Transporter Room on board the Enterprise. Transporter Chief Kyle stared blankly at it for a moment, then moved quickly to the console intercom when the beep was repeated.

  "Transporter Room to bridge, Engineer Kyle speaking."

  "Chief Scott here. What is it, Mr. Kyle?"

  The engineer waited until a third beep confirmed the previous message and reported, "Sir, I'm receiving a direct nonverbal emergency signal from the surface on personal communicator frequency. There seems to be," and he hurriedly checked two readouts, "sufficient strength to indicate that the signal is being generated simultaneously by two—no, by three communicators."

  A short pause, then, "It must be the captain, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy, though I canna imagine why they're usin' nonverbal signalin'. They can tell us soon. Home in on them and stand by to beam 'em up, Mr. Kyle. We'll find out what happened soon enough."

  On the bridge Scott turned to face Communications. "Lieutenant Uhura?"

  "Mr. Scott?" the communications officer replied.

  "See if you can raise any of the landin' party and get an explanation of what the trouble is."

  "Yes, sir." Uhura turned back to her instruments and rapidly manipulated controls. She glanced back concernedly seconds later.

  "No response, sir."

  "Verra well." He directed his words to the command chair pickup again. "Beam 'em up quickly, Mr. Kyle."

  "Aye, aye, Mr. Scott."

  "Rematerialize slow as you safely can. I'm coming down." He rose from the chair. "Lieutenant Uhura, you're in command until I return with the captain."

  "Very well, sir." As a precaution, she buzzed for Lieutenant M'ress to come on duty, on the unlikely chance that she would have to vacate Communications and take up position at the command station. Safety procedures were good to keep up, even if certain key personnel lost a little sleep in the process.

  Moving at maximum speed, Scott entered the Transporter Room even as Kyle was bringing up the crucial levers.

  "They're coming in now, Chief," the engineer indicated, sparing the approaching officer the briefest of glances.

  "Carry on, Mr. Kyle."

  Three forms slowly solidified, began to assume definite outlines in the transporter alcove. The last flickers of transporter energy were dying away as Scott charged reflexly for the alarm switch.

  The paralysis beam projected by one of the forms standing in the alcove caught the chief engineer just above the knees. With a desperate twist and lunge, Scott was just able to fall forward far enough to slap a hand down on the red control.

  Klaxons commenced sounding all over the Enterprise. On the bridge, Uhura declared a general alert, then activated the command chair intercom.

  "Transporter Room—Chief Scott, Mr. Kyle, what's happening down there?"

  Kyle fought to reply even as he was dodging immobilizing beams from behind the shielding bulk of the console. Scott fought to pull himself out of the line of fire using only his hands.

  "I don't know!" the transporter engineer shouted toward the intercom pickup. "Chief Scott's been hurt." The three things in the alcove were rushing toward him, firing as they came. "Three boarders, bipedal, type un—"

  Transmission from the Transporter Room ceased abruptly.

  "Engineer Kyle—report," Uhura yelled into the intercom. "Report!" The intercom gave back a steady slight hiss—and faint sounds as of something not human moving about the chamber. She turned, spoke decisively to where a now wide-awake M'ress sat ready at the controls.

  "Lieutenant, contact all security stations. Seal off the entire deck around the Main Transporter Room and have security personnel close in."

  "Yes, sirr," M'ress acknowledged without thinking. "What arre they to look forr?"

  "Three invaders, bipedal in form. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine. Whatever they are, they've injured both Chief Scott and Mr. Kyle. Warn Nurse Chapel to stand by for casualties and to alert backup medical personnel."

  Uhura turned to face the helm as M'ress relayed her orders through the ship. "Mr. Arex, maintain orbit and begin attempts to contact the landing party. Mr. Sulu?"

  "Yes, Lieutenant?"

  "Take over security operations. You will personally assume charge of the rescue of Chief Scott and Mr. Kyle."

  Sulu was out of his chair and heading for the turbolift. Uhura watched him leave, wishing she could go in his place. But she had been left in command, and personal reasons were no reasons for altering orders—especially in an emergency situation. But, she thought furiously, if the three who had beamed up weren't the captain, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy, then who were they? More important, why weren't the Enterprise crew members responding from Pandro?

  In the Transporter Room below, Scott rolled over onto his back and pushed himself to a sitting position against a wall. Kyle, he saw, had been completely paralyzed by the strange weapon which had so far only affected the chief engineer from the waist down. Around him the general alert continued to sound, but it didn't appear to panic or otherwise affect the three figures standing over Kyle and conferring among themselves.

  Each was clad in a long black robe. Black hoods covered their heads. At the same time as Scott recognized their chatter as Pandronian they flipped their hoods back and began to disrobe. They were Pandronians, all right.

  Somewhat to the chiefs surprise, Commander Ari bn Bem wasn't in the group. He was glad of that. Had bn Bem been one of the belligerent boarders, it would have meant that the captain and the others were in serious trouble below. They still might be, but the wild-eyed, disorganized appearance of these three gave Scott some hope that at least the Pandronian government wasn't involved.

  But if that was the case, how had these creatures managed to board the Enterprise so neatly?

  All were sullen and grim-faced. One pointed at Scott, then jabbered at his companions. A second replied curtly and they bent to examine Engineer Kyle.

  Scott ground his teeth in frustration and anger as they roughly turned the body over. With relief Scott saw that Kyle's eyes were open and
functioning, even if the rest of his body was frozen into immobility.

  Further discussion in the alien tongue and suddenly the three Pandronians became nine. Each split into its three component parts while Scott gaped. He knew of the Pandronian ability from the report of what had transpired on Delta Theta Three, but this was the first time he had actually seen the process in action—not to mention in triplicate.

  Each section grasped a sidearm in various hands, toes, or cilia, and the three heads, three torsos, and three lower bodies ambled out the Transporter Room door. As it shut behind them, Scott moved, fighting to drag himself toward the intercom.

  He had no idea what the Pandronians were up to other than that it was inimical to the good health of the ship and its crew. And, he realized with a start, he had reported three of them. Without knowing that the invaders were Pandronians, Uhura and everyone else would be hunting for only three shapes, leaving six sections to stroll freely about the ship.

  Hopefully they would be detected as sections of mature Pandronians, but Scott had no intention of leaving that identification to others. Despite the fact that the paralysis seemed to grow worse the more he moved, he continued hunching and pulling himself across the deck. The tingling numbness had reached his waist by the time he reached the console.

  Exhausted by the effort, he started to shout. The intercom should still be open, since the Pandronians hadn't bothered to shut it off. If so, the directional pickup should gather and transmit his voice.

  But the tinging moved rapidly now, creeping eerily up his arms and chest and into his throat. He couldn't operate his voice. Screaming furiously with his eyes, he slumped to the deck, falling across the legs of the motionless transporter engineer and rolling slightly to one side.

  Apparently the paralysis left the higher functions unimpaired, for Scott found he could still see and hear, could still think clearly. Moving his eyes, he saw Kyle staring helplessly back at him. With silent glances the two men managed to communicate a wealth of emotions to each other. Not least was a mutual anger at their inability to warn the rest of the ship as to the nature of their attackers.