The Face of the Unknown

by Christopher L. Bennett

  Spock furrowed his brow. “The message was beamed to the Enterprise, Captain—not to the Fesarius. Perhaps the message was meant to have some specific meaning to us.”

  Bailey scoffed. “What message? One word—‘hide.’ What special meaning could it have?”

  The answer came to Kirk in a flash. Not “hide”—“Hyde! Remember, Bailey? When we first met the real Balok, and he explained his deception with the Dassik puppet?”

  Bailey’s eyes widened. “The Hyde to his Jekyll!” He chuckled. “I remember. Balok’s got a thing for alien legends and lore—his family cell generally specializes in ethnology. While we thought we were fighting for our lives, he was happily rummaging through the literature and folklore he’d scanned in the Enterprise’s data banks. Jekyll and Hyde resonated with him for obvious reasons. Though if he’d come across The Wizard of Oz first, who knows?”

  “That does resolve an outstanding question,” Spock pointed out, “but we should focus for now on the significance of the character of Edward Hyde in this context.”

  “Right. Sorry.” He paused in thought. “Well, there’s the obvious. Mister Hyde is the opposite of Doctor Jekyll. May I, Ensign?” At Chekov’s nod, Bailey reached down and entered new figures into the astrogator. “There . . . the exact opposite vector from the one Balok gave.” He ­studied the chart. “No . . . still nothing anywhere near First Federation space. Maybe if I enter the negative ­values of every number.” He tried again. “Nothing!” Glancing at Spock, he took a breath and gathered himself.

  Kirk stroked his chin, pondering. “That’s not it. Hyde wasn’t Jekyll’s opposite. He was Jekyll’s inner self unleashed. The darker side of his own inherent nature, brought out through . . .” Realization dawned, and he turned to Spock. “Through a transformation.”

  The first officer took his meaning. “You suggest a coordinate transformation.”

  Bailey frowned. “You mean, like polar to cylindrical? That’s just two ways of expressing the same vector.”

  “Then perhaps some other geometrical transformation, such as translation. We have already ruled out reflection.”

  “We’re dealing with spherical coordinates,” Bailey said. “Rotation?”

  “That seems the most logical option. However, we would need to know by what amount we were meant to transform each coordinate.”

  “Nine coordinates,” Kirk muttered. “Something Balok knew we would associate with him.” His eyes widened, and he laughed. “Of course! Corbomite! Nine letters!”

  Spock nodded. “Would Balok be aware of the numerical values of the English alphabet?”

  “Yes, sir,” Bailey said. “He likes to play word games with me to help him master English.”

  “Then presumably we would either add or subtract the numerical values of the letters of the word corbomite to each of the nine figures. Three for C, fifteen for O, and so on.”

  Chekov tried both possibilities. Only one produced a result. “There, sir! A G9 star with a planetary system, three point four parsecs away.”

  “That has to be it,” Bailey cried.

  “Rather, it is the only valid possibility we have as yet determined,” Spock corrected. “We will not know for certain until we investigate.”

  “With your permission, Captain,” Bailey went on, “I’d like to accompany the Enterprise. If we find Balok, I intend to get some real answers out of him.”

  “You are the ambassador, Lieutenant,” Kirk acknowledged. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  * * *

  Kirk decided not to inform Linar of Balok’s message before parting ways with the Fesarius. The orbship’s crew did not particularly want their help, and it appeared that Balok did. As usual, the boyish commander’s motives and goals were cryptic; but this time, at least for now, Kirk was willing to play along with his game.

  It took a day and a half to reach the G9 system. They happened to approach it at a high angle to its ecliptic plane, essentially seeing the whole array of planets, asteroids, and comets face-on and allowing for a more efficient scan. “No vessels or outposts detected among the outer planets,” Spock reported after a time. “Entering scanning range of inner system.”

  Not long thereafter, Ensign Chekov leaned forward and said, “Will you look at that!”

  Kirk sat up in his chair. “Have you found something?”

  “Ahh, no.” Chekov blushed. “Nothing like that, sir. I was just noticing . . . the configuration of this system. Look.” He called up an astrometric graphic on the main viewer. “In the third orbit . . . there are two planets. A hot Jovian—well, warm, for it is in the star’s habitable zone—and a Class-K planet in the L5 position.”

  Kirk’s eyes widened. “Now, there’s something you don’t see every day. Spock, how does something like that even happen?”

  “It is not unprecedented,” Spock said. “The Lagrangian points are regions of gravitational stability where—”

  “Yes, Spock, I’m familiar with Trojan points. But this . . . not just asteroids clustering around an L5 point, but a whole planet!”

  “In fact, Captain, Earth once shared its orbit with a planet called Theia in its L4 point,” Chekov said. “Eventually it grew unstable and collided with Earth, and the Moon coalesced from the debris.”

  “I know, Ensign. That’s just why this is so startling. That it’s still stable after . . . Spock, how old is this system?”

  “Approximately five point eight billion years, plus or minus point seven.”

  “Five point eight billion years,” Kirk echoed, trying to absorb it. That was a good twenty-five percent older than Earth. “How does a planet stay stable in a Trojan orbit that long?”

  “Jovians in this orbital range tend to form in situ rather than migrating, and are thus more likely to retain nearby companions. This Jovian is quite massive, so its gravity would have protected a Trojan planet against perturbation. The emergence of such a formation is improbable, but once formed, it would remain stable.”

  “Even so . . .” Kirk examined the readings. “That’s fairly large for a K-class planet. At that distance, it should be able to hold an M-class atmosphere and oceans. Any life signs?”

  “No life readings,” Spock said. “Planet appears to have been Class-M once, but lost its atmosphere in an ancient bombardment. Decay of surface features suggests a ­bombardment date approximately . . . twelve thousand years ago.”

  “Natural or artificial bombardment?”

  Bailey now chose to step forward. “Captain, with all due respect, may I remind you that we’re here to find Balok, not conduct scientific surveys?”

  “Balok sent us here for a reason, Mister Bailey,” Kirk told him, his voice an exemplar of patience. “Unless or until he chooses to show himself, we can’t know what clues he intends us to find.” The lieutenant took his point and offered no further objection.

  Within one orbit, Spock had assembled a good picture of the planet’s conditions. “The surface was bombarded by a series of asteroids,” he reported. “However, the craters all appear to have been created in quick succession, judging by the overlap patterns and equal degree of decay. And their distribution is consistent with a targeted planetary bombardment. The bulk of the craters center on regions where one would expect a technological civilization to place its cities, manufacturing centers, and so forth.” Spock compressed his lips, then gave a stark conclusion. “This world was murdered.”

  It was a sobering verdict. Kirk searched for a ray of hope. “Are there any signs of habitation anywhere else in the system? Maybe they escaped to space. The Jovian is nearby—any habitable moons?”

  “The moons are barren, sir. Any atmosphere and liquid water they may have once possessed has been long since stripped away by the Jovian’s intense radiation belts.”

  “Sir,” Uhura ventured, “could this be Balok’s people’s homeworld? It could expl
ain why they live in space . . . and why they’re so wary of strangers.”

  “What if the whole sector is like this?” Sulu asked. “That could explain the lack of habitable worlds.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Bailey insisted. “Yes, they live on ships and stations, but I’ve seen people and cargo traveling to and from somewhere else.”

  “We have questions,” Kirk acknowledged. “Something in this system may give the answers. The natural place to look next is the Jovian itself. Chekov, Sulu, take us there.”

  The helmsman chuckled. “You don’t have to tell me twice, sir,” Sulu said. “That’s one hell of an impressive planet. What is it, twice the mass of Jupiter?”

  “One point eight six times, Lieutenant,” Spock said. “Though slightly smaller than Jupiter in diameter due to the greater compression of its core.”

  In moments, Sulu was flying the Enterprise on a chord across the orbital path shared by the Trojan planet and the Jovian—or, looked at another way, one leg of the equilateral triangle they formed with the system’s sun. But they had only made it two-thirds of the way when the red alert klaxon sounded.

  “Warp incursions, sir!” Sulu announced. “Two—no, three vessels closing at high speed on an intercept course! They’re Dassik, sir!”

  “Shields up! Arm all weapons!”

  “Aye, sir,” the helmsman said with grim determination beneath his outer calm.

  Spock soon placed a magnified image on the viewer. These Dassik ships were significantly larger than the fighters that had attacked the Fesarius. Their individual polyhedral modules appeared the same size, but there were far more of them clustered together in uneven clumps, like the products of a small child’s building-block set. Yet Kirk knew better than to underestimate their power.

  “Uhura, hail them,” Kirk said.

  “Channel open, sir.”

  Kirk rose from his command chair. “Attention, Dassik vessels. This is Captain James T. Kirk of the United Starship Enterprise, representing the United Federation of Planets. We have no hostile intentions toward your people.”

  “They’re responding, Captain,” Uhura reported.

  “On screen.”

  The face that appeared on the viewer was familiar—gaunt, sallow, skull-like, with a fearsome snarl. Yet this time, there was no simulated atmospheric distortion to conceal the artificiality of an animatronic scarecrow. This Dassik was clearly alive and mobile, striding belligerently toward the imager pickup. Kirk could see that its apparently male body was lanky, powerful, and covered in leather and metal armor. “You know our name,” the alien said, his voice a rough basso even deeper than that of Balok’s scarecrow.

  I thought that might get their attention. “Yes, but very little else. We would like to learn more. Ours is a peaceful mission of exploration—”

  “Lies! You fought alongside the betrayers against our ships. You share their name. One of you was in their crew—he stands beside you now.”

  Bailey stepped forward, his gaze seeking Kirk’s leave. When the captain nodded, he spoke. “My name is Bailey. I’m an ambassador from my Federation to theirs. We defend ourselves when attacked, but we don’t seek conflict with anyone. If you’ll talk to us, explain your grievance—”

  The Dassik snarled. “I am Force Leader Grun of the proud and undefeated Dassik nation! I explain myself to no one. You will tell me where the betrayers’ homeworld is or you will be destroyed!”

  Kirk traded a look with Bailey. “This has a familiar ring, doesn’t it?” he murmured. The lieutenant gave a gallows smirk in return. Despite the similarities to their first encounter with the Fesarius, they both knew that this was no mere test.

  Facing the viewer, Kirk raised his voice. “We cannot give you information we don’t have.”

  “You are in this system for a reason. Tell me what you know!”

  “You can scan the system for yourself, Force Leader Grun. There are no habitable worlds here. There haven’t been for a very long time.”

  “You waste your breath, Captain. So I will relieve you of it and take the information from the carcass of your ship!”

  Grun’s visage vanished, and the screen now showed the three ships breaking formation and opening fire on the Enterprise. “Sulu, evasive maneuvers!”

  The helmsman was already initiating the move before Kirk ordered it. Even so, he managed to dodge only the majority of the enemy fire. “Return fire, all phasers! Stand by torpedoes.”

  The lights and the steady hum of the bridge computers fluctuated. “Power drain, Captain,” called Gabler.

  “They are attempting to disrupt our power systems,” Spock said. “A similar method to that used by Balok three years ago. Deploying countermeasures.”

  Fortunately, three years had been enough time for Spock and Scott to develop improvements to the ship’s power systems, allowing them to counter the effect. Still, three against one was not a fair fight, and the Enterprise took a pounding despite Sulu’s best efforts. The Dassik ships took damage in return from the Enterprise’s phasers and torpedoes, but they sustained no critical damage, and they dodged nearly as well as Sulu. It would take only one lucky shot to change the balance. Unfortunately, the Dassik got lucky first. A shield fluctuation triggered by one ship’s barrage opened the door for another ship’s disruptor fire to penetrate, tearing into the flank of the secondary hull and causing power loss throughout the port side of the ship. “Port thrusters failing,” Sulu announced. “Cutting starboard to compensate. Switching to impulse power.”

  Thrusting on impulse gave them speed and power, but less precision in their maneuvers. It gave them some distance and a brief lull, which hopefully would give Scotty’s teams time to reroute power, but which reduced their ability to alter course swiftly enough to dodge the Dassik’s fire. The three boxy craft were able to flank the ship from multiple directions, circling like vultures and making it impossible for Sulu to keep the weakened port shields away from them. That is, until he somehow managed to adjust the impulse vernier fields to vector the thrust directly sideways and fly the ship port flank forward, keeping ahead of the pursuers. Three ships only defined a plane, and as long as Sulu kept the sideways Enterprise ahead of that plane, all fire would fall on their starboard side. Of course, that meant the navigational deflector was useless; the weakened shields would have to bear the brunt of any micrometeoroids they might collide with. Hopefully they wouldn’t hit anything that would do more damage than a disruptor bolt.

  But flying sideways made the Enterprise an ungainly beast, and soon the Dassik ships took advantage of that in an unexpected way: They broke apart. “Each large vessel appears to be an agglomeration of smaller craft,” Spock announced. Soon, the Enterprise was facing eleven ships of various sizes, and the smaller ones had an advantage in speed and maneuverability, managing to slip ahead of the Starfleet vessel and bombard her weakened side. “We’ve got most of the portside shield power back up,” Scott reported from below, “but it’s a temporary patch. The less of a beating we have to take, the better the chance it’ll hold.”

  “Not an option right now, Scotty,” Kirk told him as the deck shuddered under the barrage of disruptor fire.

  The sound of an explosion came over the open comm line. “Scotty, are you all right?”

  “Ah, bloody hell, and we barely had it fixed! Sorry, Captain, there goes your deflector patch!”

  The ship shuddered under renewed fire, more of which was penetrating the shields. “Sulu, evasive at your discretion! Concentrate fire to port!”

  “Aye, sir.” The helmsman multitasked efficiently, temporarily abandoning his attacks on the largest ships to direct all the Enterprise’s fury at the ones that posed the greatest threat. The fierce barrage spattered against the nearest ship’s deflectors until they were left in tatters, allowing deadly energies to tear through. Several modules were critically struck, their connecting
struts severed until one octahedral module sheared off, exploding a moment later. The remaining hulls of the vessel were largely intact, but it was no longer able to maneuver or pose a threat. Sulu followed Starfleet rules of engagement to the letter, promptly abandoning the attack and redirecting fire to the other hostiles.

  But the other ten ships merely intensified their bombardment with their plasma bolts and power disruption fields. And soon another wrinkle was added. “More cubic missiles, sir,” Spock said. “Attempting to overwhelm us with radiation.”

  Kirk could see the spinning cubes on the viewer. Unlike the highly visible buoys, they were dull gray, their lethal emissions invisible to the human eye. “Captain, we can’t take much of this radiation in the shape our deflectors are in,” Scotty told him over the open comm line.

  “Can we break to warp?” Kirk asked. A part of him hated to retreat from a fight, but he had no desire to risk his crew when he didn’t even know what they were fighting for.

  “Even if we could get past them,” Scotty said, “we’ve got cracked crystals in two dilithium relays. Between that and the unstable power systems, even odds we’d be lost in a wormhole.” A new barrage struck the ship. “My team’s preparing to swap out the crystals now, but it’ll take at least six minutes.” Again the vessel shuddered.

  “All right,” Kirk said. “If running’s not an option, that leaves hiding. Sulu, before they can complete their englobement, get us to the Jovian, maximum impulse.”

  As Sulu acknowledged, Bailey moved forward to face Kirk. “Captain, what are you planning?”

  “We’ll hide within the Jovian’s magnetic field. It’ll disrupt their shields and sensors.”

  “And ours as well!”

  “Then at worst, we’ll be even again. And if anyone can get our sensors to work in that soup, it’s Spock and Uhura. If we have to, we’ll just scare up a telescope and look out a window.”

  “With respect, Captain, you’re taking an enormous chance ceding the high ground to them. You put our back to that planet and we’ll be well and truly trapped.”