by Gene DeWeese
"Who are you?" It was Kremastor, his words filled with a mixture of anger and terror. "Why did you interfere?"
Masking her unsteadiness, Ansfield got to her feet. The very featurelessness of the spherical room was disorienting. Despite near-normal gravity, it was an effort to keep from swaying.
"Why did you try to kidnap the captain?" she asked, scowling as she looked around. "Send me back before you make an even bigger fool of yourself than you already have!"
"I cannot send you back! I can have no further contact—"
"I thought you needed our help, Kremastor—or whatever your real name is! Was that all a lie? Just so you could get close enough to use that broken-down transporter of yours?"
"No! I do need your help! Everything I said was true, but—"
"Then why did you pull an idiotic stunt like this?"
There was a shuddering silence, and then: "The creature that accompanied you through the nexus—are you its allies?"
"You know of it, then?"
"Of course I know of it! Are you in league with it?"
"With that thing? Of course not! Why—"
"If that is true, why were you not fighting among yourselves? Why have you not destroyed each other, as all the others have done?"
"Because we've got better things to do!"
"That is not an answer!"
"It's all you're going to get until you send me back!
It's all you'll get from anybody, so there's no point in trying to snatch someone else in my place!" Clamping her lips closed, she folded her arms in rigid defiance.
"But you must answer! I must understand what is happening! I must be certain that you are not in league with that creature! No one in the last twenty thousand years has been able to withstand its influence, but you—"
"Twenty thousand years?" Ansfield looked around her, searching for Kremastor. "What are you? A computer?"
"It doesn't matter what I am. All that matters—"
"If you want any answers, it matters! Now, what are you?"
Suddenly, the ship shuddered around her.
"What is it?" Ansfield asked sharply. "What's happening?"
But there was no answer, only the continued shuddering, growing increasingly violent until it seemed about to rip the ship apart.
But then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.
And from somewhere came a moan, wordless and agonized.
"Kremastor? Was that you? What happened?"
But there was no answer, no sound of any kind, for at least a minute.
Then the air started to glow and crackle again. Was she being sent back? she wondered abruptly. Were they going to try for Kirk again?
"It won't do you any good to send me back and kidnap someone else!" she shouted. "No one on that ship will give you any more than I have!"
The glow intensified and began to pulse. The crackling grew louder.
And from somewhere came, not Klingon words, but words from a language apparently beyond the capability of her universal translator. But to her own ear, no matter what the language, there was shrill desperation in the high-pitched voice.
Closing her eyes to a slit against the increasing intensity of the pulsing light, she waited.
The instant the alien ship raised its shields and vanished from the screen and from the sensors, Sulu hit impulse power, aiming the Enterprise directly toward the ship's last known position.
But it was too late. The ship did not reappear on the sensors, and by the time the computer reverted to the far-infrared imaging necessary to pick up the bulk of the derelicts, the fuzzy, irregular sphere was nowhere to be seen.
"What happened?" Kirk snapped. "Where is it?"
"It ran, Captain," Spock said, studying the record of sensor readings. "While we were distracted by the display its transporter made, the ship moved to within ten kilometers of the limits of our sensor range. The last sensor readings, taken virtually the instant the transport of Commander Ansfield was completed, indicate a maximum application of impulse power. In addition, our own sensor range took another quantum leap downward as the ship departed. It dropped to six hundred fifty-seven kilometers and is now shrinking at an increasing rate."
"How long until the range is zero?"
"At the present rate, Captain, approximately sixty-eight point three minutes."
"Mr. Sulu, initiate search pattern at maximum warp factor consistent with this—this junkyard we're in. Deflectors on full."
"Aye-aye, sir."
"Mr. Scott, have a tractor beam ready to lock onto the alien ship the instant the sensors pick it up."
"Aye, Captain."
And the derelicts vanished from the screen, replaced by an eerie blur as the computer drove the Enterprise outward in a mad spiral. Only the computer's virtually instantaneous reactions kept them from colliding with the hundreds of derelicts scattered randomly for at least a million kilometers in every direction.
Suddenly, less than two minutes into the search, the Enterprise dropped out of warp drive and doubled back on full impulse power.
"Visual contact," Sulu announced seconds later. "We overshot, but the computer is bringing us back to within sensor range."
On the viewscreen, the fuzzy, irregular sphere had reappeared among the derelicts. It was growing rapidly.
"Within sensor range, Captain," Spock said seconds later. "Impulse engines driving ship on heading zero five one mark zero zero eight."
"Match velocity, Mr. Sulu."
"Matching, sir," Sulu said a moment later, and the fuzzy sphere was centered on the screen, motionless while the other derelicts flashed by.
"Tractor beam, Mr. Scott, but gently. We want to hold it, not destroy it."
"Aye, Captain, making contact—now."
"Impulse engines increasing power, Captain," Spock said. "It is trying to pull away."
"Keep with it, Mr. Sulu, but no sudden moves. If—"
"Sensor range decreased to four hundred seventeen kilometers, Captain. It is possible that the range of the tractor beam—"
"Closer, Mr. Sulu! Keep us within sensor range."
On the screen, the fuzzy sphere ballooned. "Fifty kilometers, sir."
"Life-form readings, Mr. Spock."
"Two, Captain—the alien life-form and a human, presumably Commander Ansfield."
"She's alive, then?"
"Alive and conscious, Captain."
Some small part of the tension eased, and Kirk returned his attention to the screen. "Lieutenant Uhura, resume transmitting our friendly intentions on all frequencies, but use only the Klingon dialect the alien itself used. But add that though we still mean Kremastor no harm, we will be forced to take action unless Commander Ansfield is returned—immediately and unharmed."
"All frequencies, sir."
For nearly a minute, there was no response.
Then, without warning, the alien's shields vanished, leaving the tiny ship glowing brilliantly in the center of the viewscreen. Instantly, the computer adjusted the image, and the other derelicts vanished, leaving the alien ship alone in the surrounding blackness.
An instant later, the bridge was filled once again with a pulsing, sourceless light and a deafening mixture of hiss and crackle.
"A similar form of transporter energy, Captain," Spock said, raising his voice above the din. "But it is even more unfocused than before."
"From the alien ship, I assume," Kirk shouted back, and Spock only nodded his reply as the crackling continued to grow even louder and the light began to coalesce once again into a column.
But before the form was complete, while independent fragments and streaks of light still pulsed everywhere on the bridge, the hissing and crackling was joined by a piercing whine, like a high-speed motor suddenly gone out of control.
And the embryonic column flared outward.
And vanished.
The fragments remained a moment longer, but then they, too, flared and vanished.
The whine peaked, sending hands to cover
painfully assaulted ears, and then it, too, was gone.
And finally, the hissing and crackling changed momentarily to a rasping buzz and then cut off abruptly.
"Transporter energies no longer present, Captain," Spock said into the sudden silence. "But the sensor scan has returned. And both life-forms are still present in the alien ship."
"Response from alien ship, sir," Uhura broke in, and an instant later the stiffly accented Klingon dialect filled the bridge.
"I tried to return the one you call Commander Ansfield," it said, "but my transporter has failed."
"Then you will have no objections if we use our own transporters to bring her back," Kirk said flatly.
"You have trapped me." Kremastor's voice was resigned, empty of all urgency. "I can do nothing to prevent you from doing whatever you wish."
"Very well. Once she is safely on board the Enterprise, we can discuss your request that we accompany you to the vicinity of the nexus."
"There is no longer any need."
"What? Why not?"
"The dead space surrounding your ship no longer has the effect it did earlier. It is impossible now for either of us to reenter the nexus."
Or you want us to think it's impossible, Kirk thought silently. "Nonetheless, we will discuss it," he said. "In the meantime, we will transport over to your ship and bring Commander Ansfield back with us."
Signaling for Uhura to cut off the transmission, he punched the button that connected him to engineering. "Mr. Scott, do all systems check out?"
"Aye, Captain, so far as I can tell," Scotty's voice came back a moment later. "Whatever brought us here, it does no' seem to have had any effect on the equipment."
"Very well, Mr. Scott," Kirk said, and he went on to outline the events of the last few minutes. "Kremastor's shields are down," he finished, "but Commander Ansfield doesn't have a communicator to lock onto."
"We could bring her back wi'out one, if the coordinates were precise enough and the other ship does no' so much as twitch."
"I know, Mr. Scott, but considering Kremastor's behavior so far, I wouldn't count on it. But I assume there would be no problem in transporting someone to his ship."
"None, Captain. The remote materialization circuits—"
"To the bridge, then, Mr. Scott. You have the conn. Mr. Spock and I will beam over with an extra communicator. Bring Commander Ansfield back immediately, then, but don't bring Spock and me back until one of us gives you the word."
"Aye, Captain, but—"
"I'm not convinced Kremastor was telling the truth when he said it was no longer possible for us to reenter the gate," Kirk explained, "so Spock and I will try to find the device he told us about originally. If we do find it and can get it operating, you be ready to head back through the gate. I hope there's time for you to bring one or both of us back after we've activated the device, but if there isn't, don't jeopardize your chances of getting out of this graveyard."
Cutting off the intercom before Scott could reply, Kirk turned to Spock. "How much time to zero sensor range?"
"Approximately sixty-two point five minutes, Captain, if the shrinkage continues to accelerate at the present rate and if there are no more quantum changes."
"Then we had better get a move on," Kirk said briskly, standing up and heading for the turbolift. "We have to assume that the range of the transporters is no greater than that of the sensors. Kremastor himself stayed within sensor range while kidnapping Commander Ansfield."
Gesturing to Lieutenant Denslow to take over the science station, Spock joined Kirk at the turbolift. "Good luck, Captain, Mr. Spock," Uhura said as the doors hissed open, and before they closed, her words had been echoed by everyone on the bridge.
In the transporter room, they stepped into the transporter circles. Kirk's eyes met those of Lieutenant Crider at the transporter controls.
"Energize," Kirk said.
"Energizing," Crider acknowledged as he began to slide the transporter controls down.
A moment later, as the warble of the transporter built in his ears, Kirk felt the distinctive tingle of the transporter energies as they gripped him and held him motionless for scanning.
Quickly, the tingle reached its peak, indicating that the scanning was complete, and the transporter room began to fade from view.
But even as it did, he realized that something was wrong.
Chapter Eighteen
AT THE TRANSPORTER CONTROLS, Lieutenant Crider frowned. The readings weren't right. Dematerialization had gone normally, but rematerialization at the destination, in the alien ship—
The energies of the transporter beam were being scattered somewhere between the Enterprise and the other ship! Rematerialization had not yet begun, but if it did, if those unfocused, incoherent energies were converted back into matter, there was no way of even guessing at the results!
Controlling his panic, Crider sharply reversed the controls, trying to draw the scattered energies back into the transporter matrix.
"Mr. Scott!" he called into the intercom over the repeated warble of the transporter controls. "Something's interfering with the transporter!"
"What's happening, lad?" Commander Scott's voice crackled back.
"I don't know, sir. I'm trying to get them back, but—"
"On m' way!" Scott snapped.
His heart still pounding, Crider moved the main controls slowly, carefully, in the reverse direction, watching the readouts, ready to instantly adjust any of the dials if he saw the slightest sign that the energies he was trying to retrieve were again being scattered or in any way interfered with.
But whatever had happened during the attempted transmission was not repeating its interference, at least not yet. Even so, retrieving objects or people from an aborted transmission was tricky at best. Slowly, the energies flowed back into the matrix, and the readings all inched toward stabilization, until—
The transporter-room door hissed open, and Commander Scott burst through. Glancing at the still vacant transporter platform, wondering if he had overlooked something during the checks he had completed only minutes before, he raced across the room to the controls. In the moment before Crider stepped aside, Scott took in the readings and their significance almost instinctively. He nodded as his own hands touched the controls, and he forced himself to be calm.
"Looks like ye've done everything humanly possible, lad," he said, continuing to ease the controls back even more slowly, more cautiously, than Crider had done. "It's like reelin' in a trout in a highland stream," he breathed, tight-lipped, half to himself. His eyes flickered back and forth between the readouts and the transporter platform. "Ye don't dare let them slip the hook. If ye do …"
His voice trailed off into silence as the warble of the transporter grew louder until, finally, the air above the transporter circles began to shimmer and then grow brighter with agonizing slowness.
For a moment, the glittering snowflake glow started to fade. Scott, his face grim, eased off entirely on the controls for an instant, then darted one hand to the side to make a minute adjustment to one of the dials. After another moment of wavering, the glow stabilized and then resumed its progress toward solidity.
Like ghosts, the forms of the captain and Spock gradually came into view, transparent at first, then translucent and shot through with the same glittering snowflakes he had seen a thousand times before. But now there were specks of multicolored light interspersed, as if some other form of energy were interfering with that of the transporter beam.
Scott's eyes widened momentarily. He felt the tension knot his stomach, but there was nothing he could do that he and Lieutenant Crider hadn't already done. The captain and Mr. Spock were coming back, or they weren't.
They had slipped the hook, or they hadn't.
With a touch that bordered on tenderness, he slid the controls the last few centimeters.
As the tingle faded and the transporter room vanished from around him, Kirk's first startled thought was that he must have som
ehow been transported into the limbo that existed within the gates.
But this was different, vastly different.
Instead of sheer nothingness, an overwhelming dizziness gripped him, as if his body still existed and was being whirled madly about, spinning helplessly in free fall with nothing to hold on to, nothing to even provide a visual reference.
But wherever he was, whatever was happening to him, he realized with a sudden stab of fear, it must be the doing of the entity. It had to be.
In the moments before Kremastor had snatched Commander Ansfield from the bridge, the entity had been returning, reexerting its power.
And, despite what Spock contended, Kirk was rapidly becoming certain that the entity, whatever its nature, whatever its motives, was behind everything that had happened to them since they had first encountered it.
One of the entities had boarded the Enterprise and had at first tried its conventional tactics, attempting to possess Kirk and a number of others, but that hadn't worked. They had been able to resist it, had been able to control the fear and paranoia that had destroyed countless other ships, countless other civilizations. As a result of the crew's successful resistance, the entity had been forced to adopt new tactics. It had attempted to lull them into a false sense of security by withdrawing, but it of course had not withdrawn entirely. It had remained attached to them somehow, attached to the Enterprise, but distantly, cautiously, its presence detectable by no one but Spock.
But it had obviously continued to influence them the whole time. It had even come out in the open and stirred up the temporary chaos on the bridge of the Devlin, the chaos that had allowed-forced?—the Enterprise to slip through the gate.
And into the trap toward which the entity had been leading them all along.
And now?
Now that it apparently had them where it wanted
them, what would it do?
And where was this place it had brought them? What was this alien ship that had apparently been lying in wait for them? This field that was inexorably closing in on them? Was the entity in control of it all? Or was the entity a pawn in the hands of those who had built the gate system, those who had perhaps built the entity itself? Was it—
