“A chuck wagon, pulled by a single mule. But on one occasion, on a steep uphill grade, that mule couldn’t do the job by itself.” In his mind’s eye, Kirk saw the chuck wagon again, all old, rough wood and heavy iron fittings, and that brown mule with the big ears and the teeth that had seemed gigantic to him. It had tried and tried to get that wagon up the hill, until finally the cook had to jump down off his bench and tell it to quit before it had a heart attack. The mule had sat down, glaring back over its shoulder at the wagon and braying.
“In a sense,” he continued, “that job was like this one. Everybody knew their job. If a wagon wheel broke, someone could fix it. If a calf was trapped in a thorny thicket, someone could coax it out and someone else could dress its wounds. They went where they had to go and did what they had to do to get the job done. At night, around the campfire, there was complaining and grousing and stories and songs. It was beautiful.”
“So, like this,” Bunker said. “But without the need for astrophysics or advanced quantum mechanics.”
“Right. The experienced hands decided to hitch a second animal to the wagon. They picked my horse, a big stallion named Champ. What one mule couldn’t do on its own, the mule and Champ accomplished. They put their backs and legs and hearts into it, and they got that wagon up the hill.”
“Which is where the old term ‘horsepower’ comes from,” McCoy offered. “Champ added just enough horsepower to get the job done.”
“Your plan makes perfect sense now, Captain,” Bunker said.
Before Kirk could respond, the comm crackled and Uhura’s voice sounded. “We’re in place and ready to go, Captain,” she said.
“Let’s get it started, Uhura. We’ll do what we can on this end.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Places, everyone,” Kirk said. He kept his seat at the captain’s chair, and Spock took his usual place at the science station. Bunker took the helm and Romer, her shoulder wrapped in a bandage, sat at the navigation station.
“We’re ready, Uhura,” Kirk said.
• • •
“Easy, now,” Scotty warned. “Not too sudden. We dinna want to tear the McRaven apart.”
“Aye, sir,” Chekov said. “I must point out, we don’t know how hard the Ton’bey is pulling.”
Scotty wished he were handling the tractor beam controls. If it became necessary he could relieve Chekov and take over. He didn’t doubt the ensign’s abilities, but he was an engineer at heart and he preferred to do it himself. Delegating did not come easily to him.
“Just ease it out of there,” Scotty said. “The captain said they don’t have much power, but he’ll add thrust when he can.”
The engineer watched the viewscreen, which the McRaven’s image had been magnified to fill. “The trouble is, she’s attached to that big ship,” Chekov said.
“Aye, lad,” Scotty said. “We all understand Sir Isaac’s first law.”
“I’m trying to maintain a lock on the McRaven, but there’s so much extra mass.”
“Steady,” Scott ordered. That’s why the Ton’bey is also pulling, Scotty thought. Captain Kirk had told them where to position the two ships, and at what angle to pull from. The captain had said something about horsepower, but Scott attributed that to the poor communication link—the pull of a starship’s tractor beam was far too powerful to be measured by such primitive standards. The idea was to wrench the McRaven and the Ixtoldan ship away from those clustered around them.
It was all made more complicated by the uncertain nature of the dimensional fold. The reverse tractor beam had worked initially, pushing the shuttles into the fold; therefore, it should work to draw the ships out. But from Scotty’s limited understanding of the fold, the pair of tractor beams might be converted, once inside the boundaries of the fold, to something entirely unhelpful.
“We have movement,” Sulu declared suddenly.
Scott had taken his eyes off the screen for a moment. He looked again and saw that Sulu was right. The McRaven was shuddering—not, his experienced eyes told him, breaking apart—and so was the Ixtoldan ship joined to it. Some of the other vessels around them were also being pulled out, but that was to be expected.
“Easy,” he said. “Easy does it, lad.”
“Aye, sir.” Chekov said, his hands shaking with the strain of controlling the beam.
Scotty slumped back in the captain’s chair. This had to work.
He wouldn’t allow himself to conceive of any other possibility.
Thirty
The noise was awful.
The McRaven was joined to the Ixtoldan starship, and other ships were connected to that one as well, as if they’d been welded into one gigantic sculpture. As Bunker goosed the thrusters, applying brief bursts that they hoped would help the dual tractor beams pull the McRaven and its Ixtoldan counterpart free from the mass, the sound of groaning, straining metal reverberated all through the ship. Kirk felt it in his bones.
Come on, girl, hold together.
The captain allowed himself a fleeting grin. The noise meant something was happening. The tractor beams were having an effect.
He checked the bridge’s main viewscreen. The nose-in configuration in which the McRaven had joined with the Ixtoldan ship meant that the screen was mostly filled with the other vessel’s battered exterior. Its surface looked like something that might have dated from Earth’s Industrial Ages, pitted and rusted, scraped and scarred. At the upper edge of the screen, some of the other ships were partially visible.
As the horrendous racket continued, Kirk could see movement. The Ixtoldan ship shifted noticeably, causing a ripple effect. “More thrust,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Bunker said, adjusting the controls.
The Ixtoldan ship shifted, moving toward the McRaven. It completely filled the viewscreen, to the point that his crew members were leaning back from their stations. At the last instant, it stopped with a deafening squeal. At the top of the screen, Kirk noted, one of the previously attached ships had been jarred loose from the rest and was beginning to drift away.
“We’re making progress,” he said. “More thrust.” Activating the comm, Kirk said, “Enterprise. Mister Scott, can you increase the tractor beam output?”
“We’re givin’ you everything we got, Captain,” Scotty answered. “But I’ll see if I can find you a wee bit more.”
“Understood, Enterprise. McRaven out.”
“Mister Bunker, can you get any more out of the McRaven’s thrusters?”
“I’m trying, sir, but it’s a delicate balance. We’re liable to tear the ship apart.”
“Give it a good burst and then shut them down,” Kirk said. “See if we can’t rock her free.”
The ships gave another mighty groan, and the Ixtoldan craft loomed closer. When it heaved back, the ancient Romulan bird-of-prey had torn loose.
“What was that?” McCoy asked.
“The pull of the tractor beams, I believe,” Spock answered. “We are only marginally in control of this effort. The Ixtoldan vessel, caught between us and the mass of other starships, has its own momentum now and is rocking back and forth.”
“We need to try to rip the Ixtoldan ship away from those other vessels without letting it smash too hard against us,” Kirk said. “If it destroys the McRaven, we’re trapped here.”
“We’re counting on whatever the force joined the McRaven to it a few days ago being stronger than whatever seals exist between that monster and other ships that might have held for hundreds of years?”
“That about sums it up, Bones, yes.”
McCoy shook his head. “The things I let you talk me into.”
“Mister Bunker, sharp acceleration now, then shut down,” Kirk ordered.
Bunker complied. The McRaven pulled with the Ixtoldan ship’s roll. The thrust was accompanied by another terrible screech of metal against metal. Then the Ixtoldan ship completely filled the viewscreen and made contact with the McRaven’s upper saucer section. The s
ound of impact was the loudest yet, a crash like all the thunder Kirk had ever known roaring at once. The force knocked people from chairs, threw others to the deck. Sparks flew from instrumentation around the bridge.
“Status report!” Kirk commanded.
“There is some instrument damage,” Spock said after a brief diagnostic check. “But the systems in use appear to be operational.”
“Thrusters are still on line,” Bunker reported.
“We’ve moved, Captain,” Romer said. “Not a significant amount, but measurable, and in the right direction. Toward the Enterprise.”
Uhura’s voice sounded over the comm system again. “McRaven, are you all right over there?”
“We’re fine,” Kirk replied.
“I don’t know if you can see it from there, but you and the Ixtoldan ship have separated from most of the vessels around it. There are still a handful hanging on, but that’s all.”
“That’s good to know,” Kirk said. “Keep those tractor beams pulling.”
“Roger. Enterprise out,” Uhura said.
“We’re getting somewhere,” Kirk said. “We can’t let up now.”
“Sir,” Bunker said, “the McRaven might not hold up to another hit like that.”
“That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Kirk replied. “Give us another quick thrust. Let’s try to jar the rest of those ships loose.”
Bunker swallowed and obeyed his captain’s orders. The McRaven tugged and the Ixtoldan vessel followed, faster without the weight of the others holding it back. And again it made impact, although without as much force behind it. The starship shook and complained, but held together.
“Keep it up,” Kirk said. “Keep rocking her. Once we’ve shed enough weight, those tractor beams will do the rest.”
“Aye, sir,” Romer said. “The sooner we’re out of this anomaly, the better I’ll like it.”
“That,” Spock replied, “may fairly be said of us all.”
• • •
Miranda Tikolo’s head was pounding, and she kept hearing sounds like the fiery breath of dragons. After a while, she realized that she had been asleep, and that wakefulness was just on the other side of a thin but resistant veil. She struggled toward it, writhing and moaning with the effort.
“Easy, Miranda,” a gentle voice said, close to her ear. “Take it easy. You’re safe now.”
“Is she waking up, Doctor?” another voice said. Both voices were familiar, though she couldn’t place them.
“Looks that way.” She felt a firm pressure on her shoulder. “You’re all right.”
“Miranda,” the second voice said. “Miranda, can you hear me?”
Tikolo tried to answer, but all she heard issue from her mouth was a squeak. She tore at the veil. Another roar sounded and the floor beneath her shuddered. “Whuh?” she managed.
“Don’t pay that any attention,” the first voice said. “That doesn’t concern you, Miranda.”
“She’s coming around, isn’t she?”
“Yes, Stanley. She’s coming around. But don’t push her. Let it happen at her own speed.”
Stanley. She knew that name. His was the second voice, and the first one belonged to . . .
She blinked, and a lined, friendly face hovered before her. Doctor McCoy; his was the first voice. She opened her eyes again, held them that way for several seconds before her eyelids fluttered closed again.
Someone—Stanley, she thought—gripped her right hand. Doctor McCoy was on her left. She was on her back, lying on something hard. And her head would not quit throbbing. Her stomach churned, and she tasted bile.
“You’re going to be just fine, Miranda,” McCoy said.
She forced her eyes open once more. McCoy was crouched on the floor beside her. Turning her head made the throbbing worse and her nausea flare, but she saw Stanley sitting on her right, cross-legged on the floor, clutching her hand in both of his. His face was creased with worry.
“Miranda!” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”
“Th . . . the doctor says . . . I am,” Tikolo replied. It took all the effort she could muster to force those words out.
“You were stunned, that’s all,” McCoy said. “It’s a shock to the system, but there won’t be any permanent effects.”
“That’s . . . good,” she said weakly. “Because head . . . hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.”
Vandella barked a sudden laugh. “That’s my gloriously blunt Miranda,” he said, crushing her hand in his.
“You’re perfectly safe now, Miranda. How much do you remember?” McCoy asked her.
Panic shot through her. She tried to fight it back. Vandella and McCoy were right beside her, flanking her. There had been Romulans, but they appeared to be gone. She shifted her head, trying to ignore the queasiness, and took in a Constitution-class bridge. Somehow she knew it was not the Enterprise.
“That other ship,” she said. “Romulans . . . attacking us. Are they . . .?”
“All gone, Miranda,” McCoy said. “Nothing to worry about now.”
Memories flooded back to her then. The fight against the Romulans, when she and Bunker were pinned against a wall and facing overwhelming odds. Before that, she had been someplace close, tight, and looking at a vast battlefield. Tikolo remembered, although she had not at the time, that the battlefield was one from nightmares she’d had as a child and a teen, a recurring dream that had never failed to leave her gasping for breath, twisted in sheets she had soaked with sweat. She had forgotten the dream, couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had it, but she suspected it was before she entered Starfleet Academy. This time she had not been asleep, she was certain of that, but her mental state had been confused. There were gaps in her memory, places she couldn’t recall what had happened, and her time on the Ixtoldan ship was a series of flashes, like life viewed under a strobe light.
“Can I . . . sit up?” she asked.
“I’d rather you didn’t yet,” McCoy said. He pressed a hypo against her neck. “But if you take it real easy, then okay.”
The doctor and Vandella helped her to her elbows, but that was as far as she could go. Even with the hypo she felt dizzy; the bridge swam before her in sickening waves.
She saw familiar faces: the captain, Mister Spock, Eve Chandler, and others. There were some she didn’t see, however: Greene, Ruiz, Beachwood, O’Meara.
“Paul?” she said. “Where’s Paul?”
“I’m afraid he didn’t make it,” McCoy replied. “We’ll talk about that later. The important thing is that you’re safe. You’re—”
A terrible grinding noise drowned out whatever the doctor said next, and the floor jerked beneath her. She lost her balance and her head dropped toward the floor, but McCoy’s hand was there first, catching her and easing her down gently. She smiled up toward his kindly face.
“We have a lot to talk about, Miranda,” he said. “First we have to get back to the Enterprise, and when we do that, we’ll have a nice long chat.”
“That . . . sounds good,” she said. Her eyelids fluttered again, and she let them close.
Thirty-one
The viewscreen told the story. Their last thrust had succeeded in breaking the McRaven free from the Ixtoldan vessel, and that one from the rest of the pack.
“Steady on the thrusters, Mister Bunker,” Kirk said. “Enterprise, keep those tractor beams locked on us and the other ship.”
“You’re making good progress, Captain,” Uhura replied. “Just a few more minutes and you will clear the anomaly.”
Kirk hoped she was right. The dimensional fold had not played any of its tricks for a while, but he remembered how unsettling it had been on the way in.
He had other concerns, as well. “Environmental suits on. We don’t know how much damage was done to the hull when the ships separated, but it’s entirely possible that our atmospheric system will fail at any moment. We’ll stay suited up until we’re safely on board the Enterpris
e.”
What was left of the landing party complied with his instructions. McCoy and Vandella put on their own suits, then helped Tikolo into hers.
Kirk had just taken the center seat again when the viewscreen went blank.
“What was that?” McCoy asked.
“The screen is fully functional,” Spock said.
Kirk stared at it. It was not quite white, not black, not exactly gray. He couldn’t pin a color to it. As he held his gaze on it, it came to him that this might have been what the end of the universe looked like. No, not that—beyond the end of the universe. The universe was full of stars and dark matter, pulsars and cosmic rays, red giants and white dwarfs and black holes and unexplained anomalies. But this—the view outside the McRaven, if the screen could be believed—was nothingness. Empty. Simply . . . absence.
Looking at it chilled Kirk to his core. He tore his gaze away and saw that it had the same effect on the others. They watched with eyes wide, mouths agape, and more than a few were trembling at the sight.
Although it lasted less than a minute, it was a sight he would remember for the rest of his life. Reality, Kirk was learning, was surpassingly strange stuff. The physics he had studied only scratched at the surface of what was out here. The Enterprise was on a five-year mission of exploration, but that mission could be extended to five lifetimes, five millennia, and still there would be more to discover.
Without warning, the nothingness beyond the universe’s edge was replaced with a view back toward the Ixtoldan ship, only the ship was corkscrewing on itself, and flares of bright pink light were shooting past it faster than the eye could follow. Then that image reversed—not into a mirror image, but an actual reversal, as if the McRaven had skipped to the other side of the Ixtoldan ship in the blink of an eye. The pink flares were going in the opposite direction, and the ship itself was coming out of its impossible twist. Finally, the screen went briefly black, then returned to its normal view. The Ixtoldan ship had drifted a little farther away, but both vessels continued on the same course.
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