Heart Of The Sun Star Trek 83

by George Zebrowski

  “Solar orbit achieved,” Spock said from his station.

  “Very good,” Kirk said. Time to relieve the personnel now on duty; Rand, Sulu, and Tekakwitha would be especially in need of rest. He could use some rest himself.

  “Captain,” Spock said then, “the object is returning to its previous course.”

  “Aye,” Scotty confirmed from engineering. “It’s just put a brake on our push with its … whatever it is. I don’t understand its field drive at all!”

  Kirk slowly rose to his feet. He thought of how sluggish he had felt inside the worldlet, and that a thing this alien might never be affected by the efforts of human beings. “Trigger the impulse booster again, Scotty,” he commanded.

  “Impulse booster exerting its force,” Scotty’s voice said.

  “It’s moving into a safe orbit again,” Ali Massoud murmured “Wait a second—what’s going on?”

  ‘The alien is resisting,” Spock said. “And it is returning to its original heading … and still accelerating.”

  Myra Coles turned toward Kirk. “If you can’t divert it,” she said in a low but hard voice, “you’ll have to destroy it.”

  He gazed into her angry gray eyes. She was afraid for her world—he could see that in her face—but the political part of her mind was probably already weighing possible courses of action. If the worldlet continued toward the sun, if its mysterious field did perturb the star and consequently altered her planet’s climate, the Tyrtaeans—those who survived—would probably blame the Federation, perhaps with reason. It would be on record that Myra had objected to entering the alien worldlet, and Kirk would have no way of proving that his actions had not precipitated the outcome. A court-martial would be called. Even if the Starfleet officers judging him found his actions to have been reasonable, the Federation would need a scapegoat—especially if any climatic changes made Tyrtaeus II far more inhospitable.

  He did not even want to think about the possibility, however remote, that the Federation colony might have to be evacuated. The mere threat of that would probably be enough to bring more Tyrtaeans, perhaps most of them, into the anti-Federationist ranks. Even Myra Coles and her aide might come to believe that their trust in Starfleet and the Federation had been misplaced. Evacuation to another planet could easily convince them to sever their ties for good.

  “We still have time,” Kirk said, “to consider other options, Mr. Spock, how soon will it strike the sun?”

  “Assuming that its acceleration remains constant,” the Vulcan replied, “in three days’ time.”

  “Then destroy it now,” the Tyrtaean woman said, “while there is still time.”

  “I’ve made my decision, Miss Coles. We will wait a bit longer.”

  “It would be a pity to lose this artifact,” Spock said, “without making further attempts to divert it into a safe orbit.”

  Myra Coles spun around to face the science officer. “You tried diverting the asteroid.” Her voice had risen to a higher pitch. “It didn’t work. It isn’t going to work. Only a fool—”

  Spock calmly raised one hand and said, “I advise against any precipitous action, Miss Coles.”

  “It would be the safest course.”

  “True,” Spock said, “in a general sense, but akin to killing the patient to cure the disease. There is also this to consider. If we destroy the object, we lose not only the chance to learn about it, but may also precipitate other events over which we have no control. This mobile is clearly the product of an entirely alien civilization. Therefore, we have no way of knowing what its destruction might bring about. And the attempt may fail, with unforeseen consequences.”

  “Nothing outweighs the potential danger to my world!” Myra Coles shouted.

  “Agreed,” Spock said, stepping toward her. “Be assured that we will not deny ourselves the opportunity of destroying the object, if it proves necessary. Self-defense—in this case protecting your world—must take precedence.”

  “But what will you do before destruction becomes necessary?” Warren asked. “Keep trying to divert it and hope that will work? It might. Maybe we just haven’t been persistent enough.”

  Kirk saw the resentment in Myra’s eyes as her aide spoke, as if she thought that even Warren was siding against her.

  “We can keep trying,” Scotty’s voice said over the communicator.

  “I have another suggestion,” Spock said. “Since I was the least affected of those who were inside the alien mobile, I propose to return to it and attempt to locate a control area. Only a change in an inner directive can alter the mobile’s course, short of destroying it.”

  “And what if you fail?” Myra Coles asked.

  Spock was silent.

  “Then we will destroy it,” Kirk said.

  The Tyrtaean woman glared at him. “If you still have time, Captain.”

  “There’s something else,’ Scott’s voice said. “We could lose Mister Spock if we canna’ transport him back to the Enterprise through that thing’s intermittent field.”

  “You’re right, Scotty.” Kirk frowned. “Spock, we won’t beam you in. You’ll go in a shuttlecraft, so you’ll be able to get out later on.”

  “I had already concluded that, Captain.”

  “But where are the entry points?” Scotty asked. “They’re not exactly standing up and announcing their presence. I canna’ say how long—”

  “Find one,” Kirk said firmly, “and fast.”

  “Aye, be certain I will,” the engineer replied. As always, Scotty was overly fond of stressing difficulties he did not really believe in.

  Myra Coles sighed, then turned her back to Kirk. Warren glanced at him and shook his head slightly, as if apologizing to Kirk for her behavior. Spock was already heading toward the lift. Everything the Vulcan had said had been eminently reasonable, but Kirk knew that Spock had an additional motive for returning to the mobile, for trying to postpone its destruction for as long as possible: the alien object was highly advanced, representing knowledge that should not be lost to the Federation. And to Spock, personally, such knowledge was as flame to a moth.

  Kirk did not object to Spock’s motives, and never expected to, as long as all competing interests dovetailed, as they now clearly did. Spock always made sure of that. Exploring the unknown was a Federation directive, but it did not say “at all costs,” especially not at the cost of Spock’s life.

  “Spock,” Kirk said, “I want you back here on my order.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Kirk nearly smiled at the formality, to which Spock always paid precise obedience; but he also knew that his friend would do as he wished, with great care, of course, and that he would not underestimate the danger—even if he, like Kirk, stretched regulations to the breaking point.

  Chapter Seven

  THE ASTEROID SWELLED as the shuttleeraft approached. Inside the craft, Spock noted the position of the entrance on his display panel. The lock was midway on the long axis of the artifact, in agreement with Lieutenant Commander Scott’s coordinates, set down after a complete scan of the alien.

  As the shuttlecraft came in on automatic, Spock prepared himself anew to enter the alien. He had restrained his inner turmoil well during the first exploration of the mobile’s interior. The lurid green and black environment with its eerily designed walkways had affected the mental states of his companions, but had left his Vulcan mind relatively untouched. His Vulcan physique had also been resistant to the dizziness and disorientation that had so disturbed his fellow officers. But he knew that part of him—his human half, presumably—had been affected by the alien artifact, perhaps deeply. His imaginative capacities, with which his reason had always struggled, had been stimulated and brought to greater wakefulness. The black pathways that seemed to have been designed for insects of some kind had set his suggestible inner vision to conjuring up images of loathsome insectlike creatures, even in the absence of evidence that insectoid beings had constructed the mobile.

  Yes, it
was logical for him to return to the mobile alone. It was also reasonable to do whatever possible to save the mobile from destruction. Still, his most private self had been unwilling to speak to his compatriots about why he felt such a strong impulse to return alone.

  He had wanted to confront it privately, without the distraction presented by companions. Now, alone in the shuttlecraft, he again faced his need for an exclusive audience with the alien, and once more found it surprising that he should have such an impulse and be so willing to obey it. He again put it down to his human half.

  His desires were irrelevant, Spock told himself as the shuttlecraft attached itself to the place that seemed to mark an entrance. The need to divert the mobile from collision with the sun was paramount, outweighing any of his inner motivations.

  The helmet of his protective suit was equipped with both a display readout from his emergency subspace transmitter backpack and a tricorder readout from the portable case hanging on his shoulder. As he rose from his seat, determined to find the mobile’s control center, he again considered the plan that he and Lieutenant Commander Scott had devised. Once the shuttle was attached, and waiting as a means of ultimate retreat, he would search the alien interior in sections, dividing it into six roughly equal parts. As he completed a search of each section, Scott, now stationed in the transporter room with Lieutenant Kyle, would lock on and bring him to another section. This would save some time; there was no way he could search the vast interior on foot.

  As his shuttlecraft lock opened, Spock found himself facing an indented, flat, rocky surface that had all the appearance of an air lock. Scott had not had an easy time finding it; the task had taken three scans and some analysis of the data. The possible entryway was closed.

  Spock reached for the tricorder that hung from his shoulder. “Mr. Scott,” he said.

  “Scott here.”

  “I may not be able to get inside from here. I am scanning the mechanism right now, and there seems to be no obvious way to trigger it to open. It may be that it will open only to identification patterns of some sort, ones that I am not equipped to provide.”

  “Try a series of different frequencies,” Scott said. “That might do it.”

  Spock thumbed the tricorder, running from low pitches to high frequencies even his Vulcan ears could not hear. “I have done so, but they are ineffective.”

  “Spock,” Captain Kirk’s voice broke in, “we don’t have time to try cracking an alien safe combination. Have Scotty beam you inside from your position.”

  “Captain,” Spock said, “I remind you that I may not be able to beam out if the mobile’s field comes on.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Kirk said, and Spock heard the concern in the captain’s voice.

  “If it becomes necessary for me to make a hasty exit from the mobile, I would then have to try to open this lock from the inside, with my phaser, if need be.”

  The captain was silent for a moment. “You could use your phaser now, and leave yourself with a ready-made way out—but we don’t know what such an action might trigger. Don’t do it.”

  “I agree that it is unwise to do damage to the mobile now, Captain. It is possible that its systems may interpret such an action as an attack. We would be wise to wait until there is no other choice. Beam me inside, Mr. Scott.”

  “Do it, Scotty,” Kirk added.

  The flat, metallic surface of the mobile’s air lock faded from Spock’s eyes for a moment, and was replaced by the green and black alien interior. He scanned the area with his tricorder, and again his scan suggested life-forms somewhere nearby. It seemed to him suddenly that there were a great many of them, whispering in an incomprehensibly alien language, preparing to hunt his thoughts.

  “I am here,” he said aloud. If they could not understand his words, perhaps they could somehow sense the warning in his mind. “There is an approaching danger from which you must save yourselves. Your vessel is traveling rapidly toward this system’s sun, and we have been unable to alter its course. You must act very soon, or you will perish.”

  The whispering grew louder in his mind, as if insects were invading his brain. He felt almost as if tiny creatures were crawling around the inside of his skull.

  Then, suddenly, the whispering stopped, as if a great wave had broken on some inward shore and slipped back into the deep. His tricorder readings still indicated that there were life-forms nearby.

  Spock moved forward through a jagged passageway, wondering what waited for him.

  * * *

  “Spock,” Kirk said at his station, “report.”

  “Still no sign of any kind of control center, Captain,” the Vulcan’s voice replied. “I am beginning to think that it may not have one, as we understand it.”

  Myra Coles and Wellesley Warren had come back on the bridge shortly after Sulu and Riley had returned to duty at their stations. The Tyrtaeans might have rested in their quarters for a longer time, since they weren’t really needed here; but they would be thinking of their world’s safety.

  “Speculations, Mr. Spock?” Kirk said.

  “I surmise that control may be exerted over this vessel by mental means, perhaps originating in various centers of mentality, possibly a mixture of both artificial and biologically rooted intelligences, linking to power capacitors.”

  “Interesting,” Cathe Tekakwitha said. She sat at the library and computer station, where she was now on duty with Ali Massoud.

  “That might explain,” Spock’s voice continued, “why I’m picking up life-forms, always nearby but never seen. Perhaps they are everywhere, extended throughout the structure. It might also explain why we experienced so much psychological unease.”

  “Do you mean that they might have been trying to contact us?” Tekakwitha asked.

  “Quite possibly.”

  “Or that they were deliberately trying to scare us off?” Kirk said.

  “That is another possibility,” Spock replied.

  Myra Coles sighed. “But then our only hope for diverting their mobile is to get them to do it. And if they fail …”

  “Yes,” Kirk said, accepting the conclusion. “Then we may have to destroy it.”

  “Mister Scott,” Spock said, “transport me to the coordinates for the second sector.”

  “Aye,” Scott’s voice replied from the transporter room. “Here you go!”

  “He must not give up too soon,” Wellesley Warren was murmuring to Myra Coles. “Spock still has five sectors to search.”

  “Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, “what do you see now?”

  “More erratic passageways and the same green and black color configuration.”

  Kirk frowned at the sound of his first officer’s voice. Maybe he was imagining it, but was it possible that Spock’s voice sounded awed, even humbled? Perhaps the artifact was slowing the Vulcan’s mind.

  “Captain,” Myra Coles said, “this is getting us nowhere. You should get him out of there and decide if this thing is going to be destroyed.”

  He turned toward her. “As a last resort, Miss Coles, as a last resort. We’ll continue to keep pace with it as it moves toward the sun, and destroy it only when we have to.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Do you think this is easy for me, insisting on its destruction? Destruction is waste, and we Tyrtaeans hate waste.”

  Kirk stood up slowly. “I said that I would act when necessary.”

  “The time is now, Captain Kirk. Take no chance at all. Bring Commander Spock back and destroy it now while you still can.”

  “Miss Coles has a point, Captain,” Spock said. “Only our scientific curiosity prevents action. But I still concur with you that curiosity must override caution for now.”

  “We may be destroying intelligent life,” Kirk said as he sat down again. “More to the point, if you insist on being practical, we may destroy something that could retaliate for our action. That could mean a much worse problem than a possible climatic change for the people of your world.”


  “I did say earlier,” Spock murmured, “that we might set in motion an unforeseen chain of events, but I am somewhat doubtful that one such event would be retaliation. The life aboard this mobile has taken what seem to be defensive measures, but has not moved aggressively against us. This may be an egoless artificial intelligence, standing outside ethical judgments.”

  “I appreciate your dispassionate observations, Commander Spock,” Myra Coles said. She turned to Kirk. “With something that alien, you may be taking more risks than you realize by waiting. Bring him back now and destroy the thing.”

  “Mr. Spock still has time to search more of the interior,” Kirk said as calmly as he could. “I prefer to stick with that plan for now.”

  “I am in agreement with you, Captain,” Spock said, “but in the meantime, you might try the impulse booster again.”

  Myra Coles’s gray eyes narrowed, and her thoughts were clear: You Starfleet officers all stick together.

  “Mr. Scott,” Kirk said, “try the booster again.”

  “Aye, Captain. Scott to engineering—fire booster.”

  “Activating now,” said the voice of Lieutenant Lund.

  It might work this time, Kirk told himself. Maybe they just hadn’t been persistent enough, and this time there would be no resistance from the alien mobile; in which case, the problem would be solved in the simplest way: the asteroid would continue in a sun orbit and could be explored at leisure.

  Myra Coles was gazing at the viewscreen, and he saw his own look of hope in her eyes.

  “Course corrected,” Lund said from engineering. “Projection shows a free and clear sun orbit, cometary.”

  “Confirmed,” Massoud said from his station on the bridge.