by Susan Wright
Kirk activated the shield. A hum rose from the unit, and a faint pearlized sheen appeared. From the outside, everything would look exactly the same, with the shield unit concealed within. Or so Scotty said. Kirk sniffed. It smelled like hair was burning, but he could see no smoke coming from the unit.
“What do you get, Scotty?” Kirk asked.
“Sensors reading no life-forms, Captain. No power spikes. She did it!” His voice broke with emotion. “That’s a fine piece of machinery, sir!”
It didn’t take much to make Scotty happy. Just a few circuits and microchips did the job. “Good work. Kirk out.” He was pocketing his communicator. “Well, that will —”
The doorway slid down and the rock slab suddenly began to move. Kirk pushed Reinhart out of the way. They both ended up tight against the shield, with the rock slab passing inches in front of their noses. It stopped short of the shield unit.
“Sir?” Reinhart asked uncertainly.
Kirk hadn’t expected the rock slab to close until they were inside, but he wasn’t going to admit that to his security guard. The shield would let them step through, from the inside out. But then they wouldn’t be able to get back in again until someone inside the station deactivated the shield.
“We got in before, Reinhart, we’ll get in again.”
“Yes, sir . . . but how?” Reinhart was splayed against the rock slab.
Kirk was similarly stuck. Whenever he brushed against the shield, there was static discharge.
He tried to remember what had happened when the landing party had found the entrance to the Kalandan station. “We were tracking the power surge, and the indicator on my tricorder pointed directly to this rock outcropping.”
“Do you have your tricorder?” Reinhart asked hopefully.
“It’s inside.”
“Oh.” Reinhart shifted, sending up a few static sparks. He pressed his lips together against an unseemly exclamation.
“It was the only time the power surge didn’t disappear, so we were able to track it.” Kirk thought hard about what he’d done. “We walked right up this slab. The tricorder said the entrance was here —”
The rock slab shifted. Kirk peeled himself off the shield, pulling Reinhart with him. Then the doorway slid up, revealing the passageway into the station.
Kirk straightened his uniform. “An effective system, I’m sure Mr. Spock would say.”
“Yes, sir,” Reinhart said, in obvious relief.
As they reentered the main chamber, Spock glanced down. “Any trouble, Captain?”
“None, Mr. Spock.”
Reinhart took a deep breath. Whatever he had been about to say was lost in his shout. “Watch out! She’s back!”
The humming came from the wall behind Kirk, where Losira appeared. He saw right away that it wasn’t the deadly replica, but merely an image on the wall. Losira’s beauty always had the same impact. There was something very appealing about the way her eyes slanted upward at the outer edges. He even liked the streaks of pink and green, and that unusual purple uniform.
Reinhart had his phaser out, pointing it at the rock wall. Spock also turned, aiming his tricorder at the image.
Her lips opened briefly in a slight smile. “My fellow Kalandans, welcome. A disease has destroyed us. Beware of it. After your long journey, I’m sorry to give you only a recorded welcome . . .”
“It’s the same message,” Kirk said. “It must have been triggered by our entrance.”
Spock agreed. “Which means this image is controlled by other means than this damaged computer node.”
“Perhaps the computer is capable of repairing itself.” That wasn’t exactly a comforting notion, considering how the computer had operated.
“Unlikely,” Spoke replied. “I am not reading any energy emissions from this computer node. It is currently inert.”
The image of Losira was saying, “The computer will selectively defend against all life-forms except our own. My fellow Kalandans, I, Losira, wish you well.” Losira closed her eyes and stood impassively, waiting as she had for hundreds of years.
“Did your tricorder get all that, Mr. Spock?” Spock nodded affirmatively. “Send it to the Enterprise. I’ll include it in my subspace report to Starfleet. They must be informed that a weapon of this power exists.”
After a few moments, Losira’s image disappeared. Kirk figured that would be the last time he ever saw her. But if they could penetrate this station somehow, there might be more wonders to discover.
Kirk settled onto a folding stool near the lift unit while Security Guard Reinhart resumed his post, keeping watch on the entrance. With a minimum of words, Kirk recorded his message to Starfleet and filed his log on the communications unit. He added the log Spock had kept while he was in command of the Enterprise. As auxiliary documents, Kirk included Losira’s message and Dr. McCoy’s specs on the deadly organism.
Kirk concluded his message by saying, “I believe this station is worth further investigation, if only to ensure that the defense system is fully deactivated. Request permission to remain in this sector. Another ship can take over our diplomatic assignment in the Cister system.” They would be late reporting to that engagement now, at any rate. “I await your decision. Kirk out.”
Kirk sent the message to Uhura on the Enterprise, asking her to encode it at the top security level. No need to let anyone else know about the incredible technology concealed on this planetoid.
Kirk was dozing fitfully when Spock informed him that the Enterprise had signaled with a coded transmission that had arrived from Starfleet Command. Kirk stumbled up from the bedroll, noting that both Sulu and McCoy continued to sleep. Even Reinhart was snoring lightly, slumped in his post near the entrance. Only Spock continued to work.
Kirk sat down with the portable communications unit to listen to the message. It was from Commodore Enwright, which meant Starfleet considered this to be a matter of galactic defense. Enwright’s smooth, dark face was impassive as usual, giving no indication of his inner thoughts. But Kirk could guess at the commodore’s mood; Enwright was known for his sour temper and rigid adherence to duty.
“Captain Kirk, send a full report, including technical data regarding the interstellar transporter you have discovered. Do not, I repeat, do not allow that technology to fall into enemy hands, especially those of the Klingons or the Romulans. We must protect the balance of power in this quadrant. Understood?” the commodore demanded.
Kirk understood. The Romulans could use an interstellar transporter to send assassins into the very heart of the Federation. The Klingons would undoubtedly want to know the secret of cellular disruption, to incorporate it into their own weapons.
Armed with his orders, Kirk went to help Spock assemble the technical data they had acquired thus far. It was up to him to make sure the Kalandan station was protected.
Chapter Two
TASM OF THE Petraw scout ship Y8847 was on duty at the subspace post, monitoring sensors and communications. She methodically traced each of the hundreds of subspace messages their ship intercepted, rejecting each one when it originated in a location outside the targeted sector.
Then the computer flashed an alert. Finally, a subspace message from the targeted sector had been located. It was what the Petraw had been waiting for.
It wasn’t long ago that her pod-mate Kad had been on duty at the subspace post when sensors detected a power surge of immense strength. The magnetic burst had been too brief to give them much information, but Kad had traced it to its source in a sector seven light-years away. Luz, who was at the helm, had turned their scout ship toward that system, and they were proceeding there at full speed. Since most of their scout ship was devoted to engines, they could easily move three thousand times the speed of light. They had already left behind the territory documented by other Petraw scouts.
Tasm tracked the progress of the encoded message through their ship’s decryption nodule. It was a classified communiqué from something called the Federa
tion Starship Enterprise to Starfleet Command. Its origin appeared to be from precisely the same coordinates where the computer had pinpointed the source of the power surge.
It was absolutely silent in the small control booth, yet Tasm could tell that the others knew she had detected something. Her other pod-mates Pir and Marl, seated at the engineering post and navigational control, looked no different. Their expressions were rather blank, as usual. But she could tell by their tense shoulders and sidelong glances that they were eager for a new mission.
Tasm felt herself flush yellow, and she stood straighter at her post. Yet she did not intend to inform them that she had intercepted a subspace message until her analysis was completed. She was taking control of this engagement, as per their training. She and her pod-mates could assume any post, as they were equally adept at every ship’s function. The first member of the pod to make contact with an alien species or locate an opportunity for acquiring new technology became their leader.
Tasm had been the leader on a few engagements before. The last one had been when their ship encountered an Andorian merchant deep in the Beta Quadrant. After only one subspace discussion, Tasm knew that the way to get technological information from the Andorian was to let him take advantage of them in a trade. Their ruse had worked, and on completion of the engagement, they had acquired the Andorian’s unusual ship. They had sent it back to their Petraw birthing world via automated drone. The Andorian had been stranded on a Class-M planet, and would undoubtedly survive, living among the native animal-plants. If he didn’t die from lack of companionship. Tasm had never met an alien who liked to talk more than that Andorian. She rarely thought about him now.
Tasm downloaded the information gathered by previous Petraw scouts concerning “Starfleet Command.” There were two recorded Petraw engagements with Starfleet, and both had succeeded in a minor way. The Petraw had managed to conceal their identity, but had gained only a few technological devices.
Apparently Starfleet was the quasi-military arm of the United Federation of Planets. They weren’t particularly acquisitive, though they were curious. The other two Petraw leaders had found it difficult to acquire technology from the Starfleet officers they had encountered.
Key to understanding Starfleet was something called the “Prime Directive.” They were very possessive about their technology, excusing their unusual behavior by insisting it could interfere in the cultural or technological development of an alien species. But Starfleet could also be generous to a fault when assisting people in a crisis. It was an interesting combination, with plenty of characteristics that Tasm considered exploitable.
Tasm filed the information away for eventual dissemination to the two pods. Meanwhile, the decryption nodule accessed the specs of the Federation’s universal translator to assist in unraveling the code.
The decryption nodule performed flawlessly, as usual. Every Petraw scout was instructed to give priority to acquiring decryption technology. Knowledge was the basis of any successful engagement.
With the message decoded, the Starfleet symbol appeared on the clear polished surface of Tasm’s panel. It was followed by a verbal report from a Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. He was an ordinary bipedal life-form without any immediately noticeable physical characteristics. The computer indicated he was “human.”
The human was seated in a cavernous space very different from the lowering bulkheads the Petraw lived under. It looked like a starship, but on closer inspection, Tasm saw that the upper walls were made of rock. Yet her first impression was confirmed when he began to speak.
“Captain’s Log, Stardate 5726.4. While transporting down to an unexplored Class-M planetoid to investigate some puzzling geological conditions, there was an unexplained power surge that flung the Enterprise nearly a thousand light-years away. The planetoid was manufactured as an advance force station by Kalandan scientists approximately ten thousand years ago. Though the Kalandans died, their automated computer attacked my crew.”
The humanoid went on to summarize the recent events, including their encounter with a remarkable interactive replica. After considering the list of astonishing feats accomplished by the automated computer, Tasm still had her doubts.
She studied the human intently. Comparisons with other humans encountered by the Petraw revealed he was a mature member of that species. He had a decisive manner, and appeared determined to investigate the station even while he and his team were trapped there by a “deadly organism.” It was obviously a situation fraught with opportunities for the Petraw. Tasm wasn’t counting on anything — often aliens grossly exaggerated the capability of their technological devices. Yet it looked promising, nonetheless.
Tasm was not proud, exactly, to be the leader on this engagement. But she was satisfied to be able to fulfill her natural duty.
Included in Captain Kirk’s communiqué was a recorded message that he claimed was made by the Kalandan commander. It was a female humanoid, subtly different from the male human she had just seen. “My fellow Kalandans, welcome. A disease has destroyed us. Beware of it . . .”
The computer ran through a comparison to identify previous Petraw engagements with this species. The search was negative. Since the Kalandans had reportedly been dead for ten thousand years, Tasm was not surprised.
The Kalandan female finished her dire welcome speech, then faded from view. There was an assortment of other reports, one made by a crew member called First Officer Spock. This bipedal life-form was different from Captain Kirk. Again, Tasm’s search of the Petraw database was negative. So here was another new species for them to deal with . . .
Her pod-mate Pir made a slight sound, though his bland, yellowish face was expressionless. He was eager to get a new engagement. Who wasn’t? They lived for their engagements. Tasm knew her pod-mates as well as she knew herself. She knew their minor weaknesses, like Kad’s tendency to fall into meditation while working. Or the way Luz stared at the stars through the port on the docking hatch.
Periodically, when the other pod took over duty in the command booth and ship’s maintenance, she and her five pod-mates retired to their cells to meditate on the information feed relayed from their birthing world. Each cell was a deep hexagonal space, with six cells stacked three wide and two high. The other pod of six Petraw who also manned their ship used the same cells. Tasm could touch the ceiling of the cell while lying on her back, with her head cupped by the information feed at the end.
Their cells were exactly the same as the cells on their birthing world. Except back home, the cells were stacked hundreds long and high, filling the chasm adjacent to the underground tunnels. Tasm’s pod had worked hard as a unit soon after crawling out of their first cell. As they grew, they cleaned out cells’ afterbirths and helped maintain the vast system of life-support tubes that carried food to the young and adult Petraw. After duty shift, they had retired to their cells to be trained as scouts through the information feed.
When their pod was fully grown, they had duties in the training center and experimental stations, where they studied alien works of engineering. They had been involved in repairing, improving, and adapting acquired technology to the needs of the Petraw. Then they were assigned to build scout ships, and eventually they had built their own, with the help of their sister pod.
The twelve Petraw had launched their ship and left the tubes of their birthing world forever. As they ventured further and further away, they sent back technology, specs, and data to their birthing world via automated drones produced by their industrial replicator. It was their life’s work.
Despite Pir’s impatience, Tasm refused to be rushed. Still standing at her post, she went into meditation to determine their best course of action. She trusted her training, which had equipped her to excel at any duty post on their ship, including that of leader.
A dozen crons later, when Tasm opened her eyes, she had the answer. It was obvious what course of action they must take. They would pose as Kalandans, desce
ndants of the scientists who had created the station. They would claim the remarkable technology on the station as their birthright. That would neatly circumvent Starfleet’s Prime Directive. And by posing as Kalandans, they would give Captain Kirk what he so clearly wanted — contact with this long-dead species.
Tasm set the parameters of their mission and issued her orders through the information feed to each Petraw. Included in the information feed were the captain’s communiqué that he had sent to Starfleet and the message recorded by the female Kalandan. Tasm would determine their individual targets later. However, she intended to personally target their leader — Captain Kirk.
Pir was making small sounds of pleasure as he absorbed the information feed directly from his panel. The other pod-mates were in their cells, meditating on the feed.
Yes, it would be good to have an engagement again. Too many mega-crons had passed since their last one.
Tasm called Kad from the engineering monitors to take over the subspace post, while she went to complete the programming on the surgical unit. This engagement would require a slight alteration in their appearance for them to pose as Kalandans.
The medical alcove finished processing her final physical specifications for the Kalandan species. Tasm stepped into the half-circle niche off the main corridor. Their control booth, meditation cells, labs, access tubes, and replicator stations took only one-tenth of the entire ship. The engines and propulsion unit occupied the remainder.
Several of her pod-mates were waiting in the corridor, having absorbed the information feed in their cells. They were ready for the transformation. Like Pir, some were making slight noises indicating their pleased anticipation of the engagement.
Tasm closed her eyes as she sank her head into the support depression. The surgical unit emitted a glaring array of crisscrossing red lasers that reconfigured her face and hands. Her hands would retain four digits — it was seldom they altered this feature — but the bulbous ends were trimmed to a gentle point like Losira’s.
