The Rings Of Tautee

by Dean Wesley Smith

  KerDaq crossed his meaty arms over his chest, but he said nothing more.

  Spock, however, hadn’t taken his gaze off Prescott. He stood slowly and approached her, as if she had said something that resonated for him. “What type of energy experiments were you conducting?”

  A slight tremble ran through Prescott. Kirk could feel it underneath his palm. Spock made her uncomfortable, but she gave no outward sign of it. Instead she met his gaze like an equal. “We created a fusion reaction in the center of the moon, contained by a magnetic shield and the moon’s natural crust.”

  Spock glanced at Kirk and then back at Prescott. Kirk knew exactly what he was thinking. Such an idea had been tried successfully in hundreds of systems throughout known space. It would not have had the power to break apart the moon, let alone the entire system.

  KerDaq snorted in disgust and then said, “We tried such things a thousand years ago and we did not destroy our system.”

  “Yes,” Spock said, ignoring KerDaq. “Fusion power is a tried and reliable power source for many pre-warp cultures.”

  “Pre-warp?” Prescott’s friend, Folle, asked.

  “It’s a term for cultures at your level of advancement,” McCoy said. Then he raised his head slightly, giving the Klingon a sideways glance, of a kind that always made Kirk wary. “So you think, Prescott, that your experiments had something to do with this destruction.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think it, Dr. Leonard McCoy. I know it.”

  “A runaway fusion reaction could not cause this kind of destruction.” KerDaq said. “Any child knows that is not possible.”

  “Let her finish, KerDaq,” Kirk snapped.

  Prescott moved out from under Kirk’s hand. She moved into the center of the upper deck, as far from the others as she could get. It was as if this subject was so painful, she could not take in anyone else’s presence, anyone else’s warmth.

  Kirk let her move away. “Prescott,” he said softly, carefully, unwilling to let the moment pass. “A runaway fusion reaction might have destroyed the moon, but nothing more. There was no method that could have spread a fusion reaction through space.”

  Prescott wrapped her arms around herself as if she didn’t hear him. Folle walked up behind her. She stepped away from him. “Prescott,” he said, “we didn’t do it. Just like I told you.”

  She shook her head.

  Spock’s attention hadn’t wavered from her. “The destruction is, however, centered on the location of the ninth planet. We rescued you from a base inside the moon of the fifth planet. What were you doing there?”

  “Our base was the control central,” Prescott said. “The first energy was to be projected to our moon. From there it would have been distributed throughout the system.”

  “Projected?” Kirk repeated. Suddenly he knew what had happened. He glanced at Spock, who looked almost visibly shaken. Spock knew too.

  KerDaq took a step toward Prescott. “You projected it?” Even KerDaq had guessed what was coming next.

  Kirk put up a hand for KerDaq to stop and he did.

  Prescott held her ground, even though her eyes looked like those of a stunned deer. Color rose in her cheeks. Folle stood behind her like a pillar, giving her support.

  Kirk swallowed. “What method,” he asked slowly, “were you planning to use to project the energy?”

  Prescott turned to Folle, who stepped forward. Kirk knew instantly that it had been Prescott who was behind the fusion power idea. But it was Folle who championed the method of transportation to get the energy to the inner planets.

  “A form of microwave transmission,” he said. He held his head high and there was no evidence of shame in his posture. He still didn’t understand what had gone wrong. Nor did he accept the blame. What had he said a moment ago? Prescott, we didn’t do it. Just like I told you.

  Just like I told you.

  She had known all along and believed she had caused the death of all her people.

  Kirk felt a wave of compassion run through him, despite all the destruction. She had lived for weeks with the knowledge that she had destroyed her people, and everyone around her had denied it. Denied it all.

  “Microwave transmissions cannot carry or contain the power you would have received from such a fusion reaction,” Spock said. “How did you solve the problem of containment?”

  Folle frowned as if something in the tone of Spock’s question bothered him. “We created a feedback loop, using part of the power of the beam itself to contain it.”

  KerDaq spit out, “Fools!”

  Two dots of color appeared on Folle’s cheek, but if Kirk were to wager on the cause, he would guess that Folle was angry at the accusation, not at feeling as if he were the cause.

  But Prescott’s gaze met Kirk’s. “I know something went wrong. What was it?”

  “Spock,” Kirk said, indicating that he should explain.

  “Your idea for energy was sound, but your delivery system was flawed,” Spock said. “A microwave carrier beam is not a container. It is a strainer filled with water. Instead of carrying the water from one place to another, it runs out through the thousand holes that compose the strainer. Or in your case, your beam dripped power. It lost more power than it carried.”

  Folle’s frown deepened. But Prescott looked vaguely relieved, as if knowing what had gone wrong helped her somehow.

  “And that caused the destruction?” she asked.

  “By creating a feedback wave from the lost power, you created a loop within the containment field.” Spock was still explaining. He seemed to believe she needed the in-depth understanding as well as the short answers. “The loop became far more powerful than the energy it contained.”

  “We knew that would happen,” Folle said. “We had a method of draining the containment field at the receiving end.”

  KerDaq snorted. “Such stupidity should be rewarded with death.”

  “It has been,” McCoy said softly.

  Kirk shivered.

  And for a moment the bridge was deadly silent.

  Kirk was getting a clear picture of the problem. It was nice to know the cause, but that wasn’t enough. The magnitude of the destruction terrified him, and he still didn’t understand why it was increasing.

  Spock ignored KerDaq and McCoy and went on. “The containment field would never reach the destination. It would instantaneously feed back down into the power source itself the moment the beam was turned on.”

  “Setting up a feedback loop inside a fusion reaction,” Kirk said.

  “In essence,” Spock said, “melting a hole through known space and into subspace.”

  “A hole that sends out destructive waves of subspace interference,” KerDaq said. “Waves that destroyed my ship.”

  “A hole,” Kirk said, “that we somehow have to close.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE EMERGENCY BACKUP SYSTEMS had kicked in.

  Captain Bogle liked the darkness. It reinforced the sense of urgency, and his crew always worked well when things were tough. He had diverted the main power to the shields in the last skirmish with the Klingons, but even that was failing.

  The red-alert lights were blinking in the background, bathing the bridge in rotating red. The eerie color made his officers look as if they were bleeding, something that no one seemed to notice but him.

  Bogle would have disconnected the red-alert lights if he could have.

  But he couldn’t. It seemed they were as essential to a starship as air.

  On the screen before him the remaining operational Klingon ship hung silent and deadly, its green looking sick and pale against the livid red of the bridge.

  “Our shields are at forty percent,” Science Officer Lee said. “Not enough to withstand the coming subspace wave.”

  Bogle clenched his fists. The Klingons had targeted his shields. They had recognized that weakness and had gone for it. If he couldn’t get more power to the shields, the Klingons would succeed in destroyin
g the Farragut.

  “How long do we have?” Bogle demanded.

  “Two minutes,” Lee said.

  Bogle punched his intercom button to get his chief of engineering. “Projeff, we need more power to the shields.”

  “I’ve already diverted everything I can think of.” Bogle could tell from Pro’s voice that he knew the importance of the problem.

  “Well, divert everything else. Including the damn red-alert lights.”

  “Aye, sir.” Bogle thought he heard a chuckle in Projeff’s voice. Pro knew how much Bogle hated those lights.

  “Good,” Bogle said. “Bogle out.”

  Four members of his bridge crew were attempting to divert power as well. Those shields were crucial, especially since the wave strength was increasing for reasons none of them could yet figure out.

  And, beneath it all, he was worried that the Klingons would attack again just as the wave hit, when the Farragut would be at her most vulnerable.

  Bogle swiveled his chair.

  Lee was hunched over his science console, monitoring everything. He didn’t know what he’d do without Lee.

  “What’s the status of the Enterprise?” Bogle asked.

  “They seem to have taken very little damage,” Lee said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Bogle shook his head, too. He didn’t know how Kirk managed it. If Bogle were to lay odds, he would guess that Kirk would be the only officer in the fleet to retire without losing a ship. If he didn’t get tossed out first for breaking rules.

  The red-alert lights shut off, leaving the bridge in near darkness. Bogle blinked, grinning to himself. Nice going, Projeff.

  “Sir,” Gustavus said, “the Enterprise is hailing us.”

  “And sir,” Lee said, “that Klingon ship off our bow is powering up.”

  “Wonderful,” Bogle said. Just as he had predicted. The Klingons would attack when the wave hit. He hoped Pro repaired those shields in time. “Put the Enterprise on screen.”

  The screen flickered and then an image filled it. Bogle resisted the urge to rub his eyes. The Klingon commander stood beside Kirk, looking as at ease on the bridge of the Enterprise as her own captain did. A tiny woman stood beside them. The men dwarfed her and yet she seemed to belong in their company.

  “Captain,” Kirk said, a slight smile crossing his face. He knew what impact he was having and it was clear he was enjoying it. “I’d like to introduce you to Commander KerDaq.” Kirk indicated the Klingon standing beside him on-screen.

  KerDaq nodded, but said nothing.

  Kirk’s smile disappeared. Bogle saw the determination in Kirk’s eyes. Even though Kirk gave the appearance of enjoying things, he knew how serious the situation was.

  For all of them.

  “I understand you’re having shield problems,” Kirk said. “Mister Spock is sending a heading and timing so that you will be able to run with the coming subspace wave to reduce its impact.”

  “Understood,” Bogle said.

  “As do I,” KerDaq said. “Now I must warn my ships.”

  Kirk nodded. “Kirk out.”

  The screen went dark and then came back with the picture of the Klingon battle cruiser off their bow.

  Bogle sat staring, not totally understanding what he’d just seen. Kirk and the Klingons working together. And behind them a woman had been standing silently.

  An alien woman.

  An obvious Tauteean survivor.

  “I have the heading and coordinates,” Lee said. “We have fifty seconds.”

  “Transfer them to navigation and be ready to initiate on the correct timing.” Bogle turned to Lee. “Mister, I want a double check on those calculations within twenty seconds or we’re going to jump to warp to outrun the subspace wave. I won’t take any chances with this crew and this ship.”

  “Working, sir,” Lee said.

  Fifty seconds to repair the shields and to hold on. Bogle let out his breath. At least the Klingon attack he had been expecting probably wouldn’t come. Not if KerDaq was on the bridge of the Enterprise.

  “They are correct, sir,” Lee said, and he actually sounded confident. Bogle couldn’t see his face in the dimness, and didn’t know if Lee’s tone was a sign of true confidence or not.

  “Explain,” Bogle said.

  “If we follow the course and speed given to us by the Enterprise, the impact of the subspace wave will be reduced by almost sixty percent. With our shields at sixty percent, we will sustain no damage.”

  “Understood,” Bogle said. “Stand by.”

  “Captain,” Rodriguez said. “Our shields are now at seventy percent.”

  Bogle grinned to himself in the darkness of the bridge. He knew those red-alert lights were wasted energy. “Good work, Pro,” he muttered.

  “Follow the Enterprise instructions, Mister Lee.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lee said. “Mister Rodriguez, I want you to go to one-fifth impulse on my mark.”

  On the screen the Klingon ship was turning and aiming itself in the same direction they were heading. Bogle shook his head. How Kirk did it, Bogle would never know.

  “Now, Rodriguez!” Lee said. “Impact in five seconds.”

  Bogle held on as his starship surfed a destructive wave.

  Off the port side of the Farragut a Klingon battle cruiser did the same thing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  MCCOY WAS STARTING to measure time with the Enterprise’s collisions with the shock waves.

  After Prescott made her revelation, he had left the bridge. He had arrived in sickbay when the next shock wave hit. Then a complement of crew members arrived, sporting minor bruises. He had Nurse Chapel tend to them while he mended the broken Tauteean bones, and cleaned the gangrenous wounds.

  Then the next shock wave hit. He didn’t really notice it, only its effects. He treated all the minor bruises and had time to help the Klingon doctor treat a seriously injured Klingon who had been burned in the fight.

  The only benefit he could see to the waves was that the influx of battered crew members always brought new information: The Farragut and the Klingon vessels made it through the waves; Captain Kirk and the Klingon were working side by side; Mr. Spock, in what seemed like exasperation, asked that the Farragut’s science officer join them in an attempt to close the rift.

  The ensign who had imparted the last bit of information had seemed surprised that Spock would be exasperated. McCoy, on the other hand, felt no such surprise. He had known Spock for years, and it had always seemed as if their relationship had been based on exasperation—on both sides.

  The waves continued, but the crew was finally catching on. During the last wave, only a few bruises had arrived. Nurse Chapel could handle them. McCoy wanted to be on the bridge. He told himself he wanted to contribute to the discussions, to see if he could provide some solution to closing the rift. But the truth was that he wanted to see Prescott.

  He arrived to find the bridge crowded.

  Kirk, Scotty, and KerDaq circled the science station behind Spock.

  Uhura was monitoring communications, Sulu and Chekov were conferring on ways to better “surf” the wave, but Prescott was nowhere to be seen.

  McCoy walked closer to the cluster of people around the science station. Prescott was seated beside Spock, her tiny hands stretched over the console. Another science officer, recognizable by his blue uniform, sat on Spock’s other side. Apparently the Farragut’s science officer—Lee, if McCoy remembered his name correctly—was a big redheaded man who had a joviality that made Spock seem positively morose.

  It was very clear to McCoy that they had made no headway at all.

  McCoy stopped beside Kirk. The captain moved aside for him, and McCoy stared down at the computer screens, the scope, and the buttons that marked the tools of Spock’s trade. Prescott glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. It was an absent smile—her mind was clearly elsewhere—but it warmed him all the same.

  Spock looked up from his scope. “The subspace w
aves are gaining in intensity, and the rift is widening.”

  “How long do we have?” Kirk asked.

  “Not long,” Lee said. His voice was deep. McCoy glanced at him in surprise. Spock would never have been satisfied with such a vague answer.

  “I agree,” Spock said. And then he gave the correction McCoy had been expecting. “If we do not find a solution within two hours and ten minutes, no starship will be able to approach the rift. We will be unable to close it.”

  Prescott leaned back. McCoy could feel the warmth of her skin against his leg. “I don’t understand. There has to be a source for all this power causing the waves. Can’t we just shut down the source? Maybe destroy it?”

  KerDaq snorted and rolled his eyes. McCoy never realized that the Klingons could be so expressive without saying a single word.

  Rather like human teenagers.

  Science Officer Lee shook his head as if he couldn’t believe her stupidity. Spock ignored her.

  But Scotty looked at her with compassion.

  “There is a source, lass,” he said. “The universe is like a person’s body. A person—” He glanced at KerDaq. “—well, a human at any rate, has a heart that is the main source of power within the body. The universe has a heart, for lack of a better word, an energy source that keeps the universe running. Your fusion reaction tapped that source of universal power. The problem you gave us, though, is that there is now a hole between universes, allowing the power of Universe A to spill over into Universe B at an ever-increasing rate. We just happen to be in Universe B.”

  The analogy wasn’t as precise as Scotty had thought it was, but it still set mental bells ringing for McCoy. He had never pictured the universe like a being, with a heart and lungs, and all. If he tried to stretch the analogy, it failed. But when he first pictured it, he got an image.

  And an idea.

  “Jim,” McCoy said, stepping forward. “What Scotty is saying, if I hear this right, is that this hole in space is very much like a bleeding cut on a human?”

  “The analogy is, in fact, faulty,” Spock said, “because a human does not bleed into another—”