Strange New Worlds VIII

by Dean Wesley Smith

  Spock raised an eyebrow. “It would be highly unlikely that weapons of that era would be accurate enough to take down a spacecraft.”

  McCoy glared at Spock. “It’s highly likely that you underestimate the marksmanship of the Confederate Navy, Spock.”

  “I would say he’s right, Mister Spock,” added Scott. “I canna think of anything else that’d do that.”

  “Do the controls look like something you can figure out?” asked Bancroft.

  “I don’t know, laddie, but I would sure like to try.” Scotty grinned.

  Spock stepped up to the craft and studied the hieroglyphics embossed on the metal. After a moment he recorded them in his tricorder.

  “Have you ever seen characters like that before?” Bancroft asked.

  Spock was silent for a moment. He raised an eyebrow. “I believe I have; however, I will need to consult the computer on board the Enterprise.”

  McCoy nodded agreement. “I might be able to track down that journal, but I can’t do it from this frozen wasteland.”

  Kirk grinned. “Too cold for you, Bones?”

  “Damn right it’s too cold. I’m a doctor, not Admiral Byrd!” he snapped back.

  Bancroft looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry, Doctor McCoy. I can take you back right now.”

  “Captain, I would like to stay and see what I can figure out,” Scott pleaded. “I might even be able to get this lassie working.”

  Kirk scowled. “I would have thought the salt water ruined everything.”

  Scotty shook his head. “It looks like all the seals and gaskets held against the water. Other than the damage from the cannonballs, she looks to be in prime shape.”

  Bancroft’s face lit up. “Everything you should need is here in the hangar. I even have a surprise for you in the cabinet in the office,” he said, referring to the expensive bottle of liquor that he had personally bought for the engineer.

  Scotty gave him a sly grin. “And what might that be?”

  Bancroft’s face blushed. “Um, let’s call it a bit of ‘hospitality.’ ”

  Scotty raised his hands in supplication. “See, Captain, I have to stay and partake of the foundation’s hospitality.”

  Kirk eyed him skeptically. “Are you sure you’ll be all right, Scotty?”

  “Sure, I’ll be as snug as a bug,” replied Scott.

  Kirk nodded. “All right, but contact the Enterprise if you need anything.”

  “He said he’ll be fine, Jim,” McCoy chided. “Now, let’s head for someplace warmer.”

  Bancroft opened the door to the hangar and motioned the trio outside. “This way, gentlemen. I’ll have you back to civilization in no time.”

  Scotty watched his friends for a moment, and then turned back to the spacecraft. “Now, where were we?”

  * * *

  Six hours and a hospitable bit of Scotch later found the damaged panels and equipment removed. Scotty had figured out the basic circuitry, including the power system. With a click, he shoved what he assumed to be a switch inward. There was no explosion, sparking, or even a puff of smoke. He was, however, rewarded with the steady hum of power. Somewhere deep within the craft there was a series of clicks, and the craft moved with a sharp upward motion, like Gulliver testing his bonds.

  Scotty took a tentative step back. “Easy there, lassie. I’m your friend.” Scotty took a reading with his tricorder and analyzed it. Making an adjustment, he heard a slight change in the pitch of the hum.

  “Are you singing me a tune, lassie?” Scotty chuckled. “Let’s see how you like this.” He pushed another switch home. The pitch changed once more. Scotty took his readings and found them not to be what he expected.

  “What the . . . ?”

  Suddenly he was bathed in light. Now realizing what the circuitry was designed for, he lunged for the control switch, but it was too late. The hangar bay turned to white and Scotty knew no more.

  The spacecraft computer scanned the area and found it to be devoid of any other life-forms. Following its programming, it took the next rung of logic and lunged upward against its bonds. The cradle was meant to hold the craft off the floor, not keep it from flying away, and the small straps separated with little resistance. Sensing a weak spot in the hangar roof, the craft continued its ascent, puncturing the rusty sheet metal like tinfoil.

  Free of the hangar, the craft rose rapidly until it was past the interference of the planet. Within a blink of an eye the computer had its celestial bearings. It aligned itself as programmed and, gathering all its power reserves, transmitted its cargo into the darkness of space.

  * * *

  Kirk was heading for the bridge when he got the call from Uhura. Within moments he strode through the doors. Spock was at his station, monitoring the progress of the computer.

  “What is it, Lieutenant?” he asked.

  Uhura turned. Her face was a sea of concern but her voice was steady. “Sir, Starfleet has monitored an unauthorized vessel leaving Earth.” Uhura’s voice choked for a moment. “It came from the Avalon Peninsula, sir.”

  “Spock, is there anything on sensors?”

  Spock turned his attention to the sensor readouts. “Sensors show a small craft in high orbit over Nova Scotia.”

  “On screen,” Kirk ordered. In a flash the screen held a small golden dot.

  “Magnify,” he commanded. The image jumped to the craft that they had left only scant hours before.

  “It would appear Scotty is a miracle worker,” Kirk said as he turned to Uhura. “Contact Mister Scott.”

  Uhura shook her head. “That’s just it, sir. I’ve been trying to raise him since Starfleet contacted us.”

  “Spock, do you get any life-sign readings aboard the craft?” Kirk asked.

  “None. Nor do I detect any in the hangar,” he replied.

  Kirk punched the com button and called sickbay. In a moment he had an answer.

  “McCoy here. What do you need, Jim?”

  “Bones, meet me in the transporter room,” Kirk barked. “Spock, you’re with me. Sulu, get a tractor beam on that ship and bring it into the shuttlebay.”

  Kirk spun on his heel and hurried out the bridge doors. Spock followed.

  * * *

  The three figures in Starfleet arctic gear materialized in the hangar. Two immediately started scanning the hangar with their tricorders. The third gazed at the mess. It didn’t take long for his patience to run out.

  “Is there anything on sensors?” Kirk demanded.

  McCoy pulled his hood back and pursed his lips. “Jim, I don’t see a body, dead or alive.”

  “Spock? Anything?” Kirk pleaded.

  “My readings are the same as the doctor’s,” Spock said as he searched the hangar.

  “He couldn’t have just vanished into thin air!” growled Kirk.

  “Maybe Doctor Bancroft came and got him,” offered McCoy.

  Kirk shook his head. “No, Bancroft had some business at Starfleet to attend to before heading back—” Kirk noticed Spock’s sudden increase in tricorder activity. “Spock, did you find something?”

  Spock kept studying his tricorder. “I am picking up traces of energy consistent with molecular transport activity.”

  “He transported out of here?” Kirk questioned.

  “Possibly, but to where is the question,” Spock replied. He turned a dial on his tricorder and then crossed the hangar. “I’m getting another weak energy pattern from here.” Spock shoved bits of tin aside to reveal a tricorder. Picking it up, he played back the recordings. His eyebrow rose slightly as the data passed before his eyes.

  “Fascinating.”

  “Dammit, Spock!” McCoy snapped. “Don’t be coy! Where’s Scotty?”

  “Possibly aboard the spacecraft,” Spock answered calmly.

  “Spock, you said there were no life signs aboard the vessel,” countered Kirk.

  “There were no life signs as we know them. I believe that Mister Scott may be held in transporter stasis within the ve
ssel.”

  “What are you talking about?” McCoy demanded. “Are you telling me that a four-hundred-year-old derelict craft kidnapped Scotty?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes,” replied Spock. “According to his tricorder, Mister Scott was able to get the vessel operational. It recorded the power buildup and transporter function.” Mister Spock placed the tricorder in his coat pocket. “It is highly likely that Mister Scott is in that craft, in one form or another.”

  Kirk flipped opened his communicator. “Then we need to get up there now and get him out. Enterprise, three to beam up.”

  In a twinkling they were gone.

  * * *

  They wasted no time getting to the shuttlebay. The spacecraft hovered, suspended in the tractor beam.

  “Spock, are you getting any readings?” asked Kirk.

  Spock held out his tricorder and studied the readings. “Minimal. The craft seems to have expended all its reserves. However, I am getting similar residual energy readings to that which I found in the hangar . . . but at a much higher density.” Spock lowered his tricorder. “That would indicate that the craft has emitted a narrow, high-strength molecular transmission.”

  “Cut the mumbo jumbo, Spock!” snapped McCoy.

  Kirk held up a hand. “Hold it, Bones. Spock, are you saying this thing has transported Scotty into space? That would take a transporter of immense power.”

  “It would take a transporter with power unlike anything in recorded history,” replied Spock. “Yet, there is a ninety-nine point three percent chance that it has occurred.”

  “Where did he beam to?” Kirk growled.

  Spock raised his eyebrow. “Unknown at this time. It would be safe to assume to another vessel or planet. Judging by the power involved, it could be anywhere within a hundred light-years.”

  “That’s like a needle in a haystack,” Kirk spouted.

  “Dammit Jim, we can’t just give up!” cried McCoy. “This is Scotty we’re talking about!”

  Kirk spun as if stung. “Doctor, I have no intention of giving up, Scotty or no.” Kirk hammered his fist on the spacecraft. “Spock, can we find out which direction it transported to?”

  “I will check on its original heading before we brought it aboard. If we could narrow down our search, the sensors might be able to pick up the residual transporter pattern, and indicate its direction.”

  Kirk nodded. “Do it.” The three headed for the bridge. “Bones, did you have any luck finding that journal?”

  McCoy gave Kirk a grim smile. “Yes, I did, for all the good it will do.”

  “Why do you say that?” Kirk asked.

  “Well, I read the part about the attack on the C.S.S. Raleigh. I didn’t see anything that would help us get Scotty back.”

  “What was the information?” asked Spock.

  “Why waste time with that, Spock?” McCoy asked angrily. “It’s old news now.”

  “Indulge me, Doctor McCoy. It might provide us with clues on the situation we are now in.”

  “Tell us, Bones,” Kirk said. “At this moment, anything might help.”

  McCoy sighed. “Something otherworldly came three nights in a row. The first two nights that it appeared, there was a blinding light and men would turn up missing—five the first night, seven the next. There appeared to be no feasible explanation.”

  “That would be consistent with what we know. It would appear that the craft transported men off the Raleigh.”

  “But why come back each night?” Kirk wondered.

  “Judging by the state of the vessel currently, it takes a full day to regenerate enough power to transmit the prisoners to wherever they were headed,” replied Spock.

  “So you’re saying this machine came in every night, like the boogeyman, stole away with some of their best men, and sent them to who-knows-where?” McCoy asked.

  “I would not have used those words, but you are essentially correct,” replied Spock.

  “Bones, what else did the journal say?” Kirk asked.

  McCoy shrugged as he thought. “They were ready for it on the third night. They had the cannon ready and did some sort of maneuver that pointed the guns right at it. They fired. The spaceship fell. They caught it.”

  “What about the wreck?” Kirk asked.

  “There wasn’t too much. They got caught in a hurricane, the ship sank. My ancestor, Vincent McCoy, was the only survivor.” McCoy added.

  “That explains why the alien vessel was found with the Raleigh, but it doesn’t explain where it came from, and why,” murmured Kirk.

  “I am researching those questions now, Captain. There are some obscure texts that are stored in the Vulcan Ministry of Ancient Alien Cultures—”

  “Imagine that, something obscure coming from Vulcan,” McCoy said dryly.

  Spock ignored the dig. “I am waiting for the data to be transferred to the ship’s computer. I believe it might prove useful on this subject.”

  “Useful, Spock?” Kirk jibed. “Knowing you, I’ll get a road map to Scotty.”

  The turbolift stopped at the bridge.

  “Chekov, I want the alien vessel’s last location and bearing transferred to Spock’s station.”

  Chekov nodded as he flicked a switch. “Aye, Captain. Coordinates have been transferred.”

  Long moments ticked away as Spock adjusted his station controls. Kirk’s patience was limited and his voice mirrored it. “Spock. Is there anything to go on?”

  “Sensors have picked up a trail,” Spock replied. “The computer has calculated a course, and I am transferring it to the navigation computer.”

  “Chekov, lay in a course. Helm, as soon as you have the course, go to warp factor six.”

  Sulu nodded. “Aye, Captain, warp factor six.”

  The U.S.S. Enterprise leapt past the speed of light, and in a flash was gone.

  * * *

  Sixteen hours later, the Enterprise was in orbit of a small, barren planet. Kirk stared at the viewscreen in disbelief.

  “Are there any life signs?” Kirk asked.

  Spock wasted no words and shook his head swiftly instead.

  “Are you sure this was the right trajectory, Spock?” he asked.

  “There is a ninety-seven point six percent probability that this is the intended target of the transmission.” Spock replied.

  “There’s nothing there but rock,” snipped McCoy.

  “Nonetheless, sensors detect trace molecular-transport residue.”

  Kirk smacked his fist into his palm in impatience. “Spock, can you pinpoint the location?”

  Spock bent over his console and scanned the scope. In a moment, he adjusted a slide switch. “I have traced it to a complex in the southern hemisphere. Readings indicate an energy buildup.”

  Kirk leapt from his chair. “We’re going down there. Sulu, you have the bridge.”

  When the turbolift doors opened, Kirk, McCoy, and Spock stepped in, leaving Sulu staring at the closing doors.

  * * *

  Minutes later the trio materialized inside an ancient chamber. Dust covered everything but didn’t stop the soft illumination of a thousand lights and indication meters. A soft hum reverberated throughout the chamber.

  Spock wordlessly wiped away some of the dust on a display and scanned it with his tricorder.

  “Somebody must have fired the maid,” quipped McCoy.

  Kirk ignored him. “What is it, Spock? What’s happening?”

  “A transfer relay. I believe it is building power to a point at which it will send the transport signature to the next destination.”

  “Can you stop it?” Kirk cried.

  “That would be unwise. I believe Mister Scott’s signature is held in memory. Any interruption might purge the contents.”

  “Dammit, Jim! We have to do something!” shouted McCoy.

  “Bones, don’t you think I know that?” Kirk shouted back. “Spock, can we direct the signal to the Enterprise? Maybe we can send it to the transporter there.�
��

  Spock shook his head. “The technology is too dissimilar to try it. Perhaps, with time, I could figure out how to adapt this equipment to our own.”

  “Time is something we don’t have,” Kirk growled. Then his face lit up with hope. “Can we send him to a transporter chamber here?”

  Spock wiped away more dirt from another display. “We may have a chance, if I could read the inscriptions, but randomly redirecting power without knowing the consequences could be fatal to Mister Scott.”

  Kirk waved his fist in the air, as if looking for a target to vent his frustration on. “I’ve never felt so helpless. If it was reversed and I was in there, Scotty would find a way to get me out.”

  “Mister Scott’s expertise would be most valuable. However, he is in there, and we are out here,” commented Spock.

  McCoy spun on his heel. “I think he just said that, Spock.”

  “I realize I have failed to release Mister Scott, but I am doing the best I can under the current circumstances.”

  Kirk’s face softened. He placed a hand on Spock’s shoulder. “I know that, Spock. There’s no one else I’d rather have here, now, to help me out.”

  “Sorry, Spock,” McCoy offered. “It’s just that Scotty is a good friend to me.”

  Spock nodded. “To all of us, Doctor.”

  Just then, the hum changed pitch. Indicators jumped to maximum. The chamber reverberated for a moment, and then stopped. The humming plummeted to a whisper.

  “What just happened?” Kirk demanded.

  Spock checked his tricorder. “I believe Mister Scott was just sent to the next relay site.”

  Kirk hung his head and slapped his hand against a panel, knocking some of the dust loose. “And we did nothing to stop it.”

  Spock inspected the panel next to Kirk. “Captain, I think you may have just uncovered a very important key. This appears to be a chart of the relay stations. We should be able to transpose it upon our star charts and find where Mister Scott is headed.”

  “Spock!” Kirk shouted. “I knew you could do it!”

  Spock raised a cautious eyebrow. “I have done nothing yet, sir. If we can get to the next station before the transmission arrives, I might be able to figure out how to rescue Mister Scott.”

  “How can we do that?” McCoy demanded. “It’s traveling as fast as we are.”