by Peter David
"We have completed the autopsy on the two creatures which died," Selar said. "Computer: File Mass 1 Alpha."
A detailed chart of the disassembled creature appeared on the computer screen. "And just before lunch, too. Most appreciated, Doctor," said Calhoun.
Ignoring the comment, Selar said, "It does not have a standard brain as we understand it. Instead of one central cerebral organ, it appears to have a network of brain tissue throughout its body. Its skin is not a normal epidermis, showing a remarkable capacity for elasticity. It is little wonder that the creature, as a whole, is capable of such drastic shifts in its proportions. A conservative estimate indicates that the creature can swell to approximately five times the size it was here. Conservative estimate, as I said. It could possibly become even larger."
"But what causes it to change in size?"
"Its stomach."
Calhoun leaned forward, frowning. "I beg your pardon?"
"At rest," Soleta stepped in, pointing to the appropriate organ on the screen, "the creature's stomach is rather small. No larger than the size of the average fist. But its stomach has the capacity to expand immensely."
"Caused by its eating. What does it eat, though?"
"As near as we can determine, just about anything. It draws nutrients and energy from anything it consumes, and excretes the waste material," said Soleta.
"Here's another interesting thing," McHenry spoke up. "I decided to do some research into the migratory paths of the Black Mass …"
"You did?" said Calhoun.
"Very heads-up of you, Mr. McHenry," Shelby said approvingly. "You're usually not quite so … aggressive."
"That thing," McHenry said with uncustomary heat, "blinded me. Shut me down. I take that very, very personally."
"Good," Calhoun replied. "So what have you got?"
"Well, the problem is that a good deal of information about the Black Mass is anecdotal, as we know. So some of this is guesswork. Although it is solid guesswork. Some guesswork involves more guessing than others, and that of course could possibly undercut the reliability of the research. So I guess you could say—"
"Mr. McHenry … the point, please," Calhoun said with remarkable patience.
"Oh, right. Right. Okay, here's the thing: As near as I can tell—best guess—"
"Mark!" said an exasperated Burgoyne.
"They always travel a route with a pulsar on it."
Si Cwan blinked in confusion. "A pulsar? What would that be?"
There were soft chuckles from around the table. "Si Cwan, the knowledgeable guide around Thallonian space, doesn't know what a pulsar is?" asked Shelby.
"I'm unfamiliar with the term."
"Admittedly, it's not used much outside of earth," said Soleta. "It's a name for a type of neutron star— dense stars composed mostly of tightly packed neutrons."
"That is something I've heard of," said Si Cwan, sounding a bit defensive. "But a 'pulsar' …?"
"A term coined by earth scientists in the twentieth century. A pulsar is a neutron star surrounded by an extremely powerful magnetic field," McHenry explained. "The magnetic field produces a strong electric field that rips protons and electrons from the surface of the neutron star. The rotation results in detectable bursts, or pulses, of radio waves. Those pulses are what prompted scientists to term such stars 'pulsars.' "
"So what's the significance of all this, then?" asked Calhoun.
"We've put together a hypothesis," said Soleta. When she spoke, her hands moved in slow, lazy gestures as if she were painting a portrait with her fingertips. "The Black Mass resides in the Hunger Zone, like … like a great serpent which has devoured a cow. It sits there digesting its meal, a process that takes many years. Eventually, however, the food supply in the stomach of the Black Mass dwindles to a noticeable degree. At that point …"
"They swarm?" said Si Cwan.
"Correct," Selar stepped in. "By discharging energy plasma, they are able to move quite quickly. At first, this rapid—albeit utterly normal—speed served the needs of the creature. But the Black Mass consumed all the usable stars and systems in its immediate vicinity over the centuries. And so it developed a new means of propulsion to get about."
"By all means, don't keep us in suspense," said Shelby.
"In the heart of the Hunger Zone," said Soleta, "it is our theory that there is very likely either a pulsar or neutron star. The way that the Black Mass is able to move at faster-than-light, as an entity, is that they essentially surf the event horizon of the pulsar and, using a modified version of the slingshot effect first pioneered by the starshipEnterprise, move off at warp speeds. By this means, they find a useful system and eat the planets first. This provides them with needed mass. They then regurgitate the mass into the star, consuming the star in its entirety as well, thus giving them the plasma they require. Their stomachs now massive, they move through space by discharging the plasma."
Selar's and McHenry's heads were bobbing in agreement. Calhoun managed to keep a poker face, but Si Cwan could not keep the incredulity out of his expression. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. This creature, this Black Mass—the single most feared entity in all of Thallonian space, a monstrosity that has been used to scare recalcitrant children into going to bed—you are sitting here and telling me that, in essence, it gets around by … by …"
"Passing cosmic gas, yes. Mildly amusing, I suppose."
"Oh, I'm sure the notion will provide hours of hilarity for the billions of beings who have died because of it," said Si Cwan.
"To continue," Soleta said, clearly not wanting to dwell too heavily on the Black Mass' means of propulsion. "the Black Mass maintains its course until it comes upon another pulsar, which it then uses to whip around once more and hurtle back to the Hunger Zone …"
McHenry picked up the narrative. "We think their need to 'hang together' stems from evolution. Not all of the Black Mass can get to a particular destination, you see. Some of the unit sacrifices itself in order to get the rest of the Mass to a given point. Biologically co-dependent, over the centuries they've become linked at such a core level that it's become a biological imperative. They cannot exist individually."
"I get it," said Shelby, leaning forward. "They need to function as a unit. They can split into smaller units and function independently, but if they're split from one another into individuals … they die."
"Exactly," Selar said.
"And sound seems to break them apart," Burgoyne pointed out. "You saw the effect the harmonic dissonance generator had on them. So all we have to do is …"
Then s/he paused, seeing the problem. Then they all understood it, exchanging glances that underscored the fact that their difficulties were just beginning.
"All we have to do is what?" asked Si Cwan.
"All we have to do," said Calhoun, "is change the laws of physics by getting sound to travel in space."
The High Priest was discovering that he was becoming rather fond of sunsets on Fenner.
In his hiding place, deep in the Fennerian jungle, far away from any of the planet's residents, he had a good deal of time for contemplation, deep thought, and general pondering of the way of things. He felt somewhat aggrieved that the Overlord had given his oath to the inhabitants of this world that they would be forever "safe" from being redeemed. A tragic concept, that. It was like being safe from one's own heart. Nevertheless, it had been the Overlord's decision to make, and so not open to question.
But Xant would have liked this world. That much the High Priest was quite certain of. The jungle was indeed lush, the local animals quite harmless. And that sunset … undoubtedly the single most beautiful that he had ever seen. He couldn't get over it. Who would have thought that a planet such as this would be possessed of such a remarkable sunset? The way that the rays filtered through the horizon, and in turn illuminated the flora and fauna surrounding him.
He hoped he wouldn't have to annihilate everyone on this world.
That would be a sa
d thing, truly a sad thing. After all, the Fennerians actually had the opportunity to witness the sunsets as well. If they were all dead, why … it was almost as if the sunsets wouldn't matter anymore, for who would be there to see them? A thing of beauty is only worthwhile if there is someone there to witness it.
The High Priest had been carefully selected for this duty. He was a very light sleeper, unnaturally so, in fact. As a result, in the event that anyone from Starfleet actually managed to track him down, day or night, he could still take his life and—consequently—end the lives of all those on Fenner. Obviously it was not his first choice, but he would still do it. He also had detection devices in his cabin. If any small vessels came within range, obviously searching for him, he would act on the assumption that his capture was near and, once again, he would kill himself. One did what had to be done.
He heard a rustling in the trees nearby. His dagger was comfortably on his hip, and his hand strayed toward it, just in case.
The brush parted … and the most curious creature that the High Priest had ever seen peered out at him. It was large, about twice as big as the High Priest. It was covered with white fur, and had an odd, wrinkled face. It looked anthropoidal.
Considering the size of the thing, the High Priest touched his thigh to make sure that his blaster was secured to it. If the thing rushed him, or appeared the slightest bit hostile, he wanted to be prepared for it.
But instead, far from hostile, the creature seemed genuinely curious and certainly seemed to have no intention of attacking the High Priest. Instead it moved toward the Redeemer, grunting softly, tilting its head with interest. "Oooff? Oooof?" it asked.
Still maintaining his guard, the High Priest said, "Well, hello … and who are you?"
The creature watched him for a moment more … and then backflipped. It turned a somersault right in midair, and then flipped back again.
The High Priest laughed. The creature was trying to entertain him. Certainly it was a simplistic beast, but despite the initial appearance it had, it was obviously harmless.
The white-furred creature did a backward roll, then laughed in an odd grunting fashion and applauded for itself, banging its large padded hands together in clear triumph, pleased at its own cleverness.
"Very good! Very good!" said the High Priest, clapping his hands in approval. Then he laughed again, struck by the amusing irony that the mindless creature had taught him a trick, rather than the other way around. "Can you do this?" The High Priest proceeded to bounce up and down in place.
The creature watched him for a moment, tilting its head quizzically, and then it imitated the bouncing.
"What a sight we must be, eh?" called the High Priest to his newfound friend. They bounced up and down for a few minutes and then the creature placed a hand on the ground and started to run in a circle. It did so with great excitement and another series of "Oooof! Woooof! Woooo ooof oooof!"
Then the creature flopped back onto his hind quarters. It looked a little tired.
"Wait. Wait right here," said the High Priest of the Redeemers. He ran back into his makeshift cabin and emerged a moment later with some foodstuffs. He had no idea whether the thing would consume it or not, but it was certainly worth a try. He held it up, waving it in the direction of the creature's face, and said,
"Here. Here. Want to try it? You might like it. Hmm? Like it?"
Clearly the creature, for all its size, was still tentative around the Redeemer. It approached slowly, head cocked, apparently hypnotized by the sight of the food being dangled in front of it. Obviously nervous, but overcome by its hunger, the creature slowly reached up and, ever so carefully, took the food from the High Priest's outstretched hand. It was now seated bare inches from the High Priest.
"Very good," said the High Priest approvingly, "very good." And then, more for his own amusement than anything else—for naturally he didn't expect a reply— the High Priest added, "What do we say?"
The creature looked up at him and said, very clearly, very crisply, "Night night."
"No, we say thank y—"
The High Priest's response was so automatic that it didn't dawn on him at first that the animal had spoken. Then he caught himself in mid-reply and gasped,
"What did you say?"
"I said night night. Is your hearing defective?" inquired the creature.
No words were coming out of the High Priest's throat.
"The reason I'm saying night night, by the way, is because I've just jammed a hypo into your leg. I'd estimate another three seconds before it takes full effect. Frightfully sneaky trick, I'm afraid, but then again … these are dangerous times, as someone once said."
The truth of what had happened was filtering through the High Priest's brain. He tried to pull out his knife, but his arms weren't functioning. He suddenly realized that his legs weren't working either, and he started to sag to the ground. The white-furred creature caught him on the way down.
"I said 'full effect.' However, even the partial effect is enough to make you harmless to everyone … yourself, me, everyone. Oh, but I've been a frightful boar and haven't introduced myself. Ensign Janos, attached to the StarshipExcalibur. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I've had the devil's own time tracking you here. You were very well hidden. Very well. So good for you, I suppose, but you know, you couldn't hide forever. Oh … oh dear. You seem to have gone all unconscious."
Which he had. The High Priest had passed out. The only thing stopping him from falling was Janos' arm.
Slowly Ensign Janos lowered the High Priest to the ground. Then he walked into the makeshift cottage and discovered transmitting equipment there that the High Priest had been using to keep in touch with the other Redeemers. It would be merely the work of moments to reconfigure it so that Janos could get word to theExcalibur and let them know that the planet Fenner was safe. Then something caught his eye. Something quite pretty and, truthfully, rather magnificent. He sat down next to the insensate form of the High Priest and, gazing at the sky, said, "Smashing sunset tonight, don't you think?" And he proceeded to keep up a steady stream of chitchat with the unconscious Redeemer as the sunlight dwindled on the horizon.
X.
"YOU'VE GOT ME COMPLETELY CONFUSED NOW!" said Xyon.
He was sitting on the deck of his ship, theLyla. Specifically, he was sitting on the floor of the vessel, while Kalinda sat in the pilot seat nearby and regarded him with open curiosity. "Why do I have you confused?" she asked. "What is there to be confused about?"
"This whole situation! The things that your brother said—!"
"What things did he say that were so terrible?" she asked. "He offered to have us be together. Don't you see, Xyon? We won! We have what we want …" Then she hesitated. "Or do we? Well, that's really the problem, isn't it."
"No. The problem," said Xyon, stabbing a finger at her, "is that everything was going fine until your brother suddenly started piping in with this business about marriage. That suddenly changed expectations…"
"What expectations?" she asked, blinking her eyes like a blinded owl. "I told you what my expectations of you were …"
"Yes, you told me. But they changed once you got your brother's encouragement, didn't they. Suddenly—"
"Suddenly nothing," she shot back. "If anyone's changed in all of this, it's you. All of a sudden you're saying I want things that I didn't ask for … didn't even think of asking for, because I know you're not capable of giving them."
"How do you know that?"
"Are you saying you are?"
"I'm saying …" Xyon moaned and gripped his blond hair on either side as if he were ready to tear it out of his head … which he more or less was. "I don't know what I'm saying."
"Well, that much I believe."
"I wasn't thinking ahead, Kalinda. When you and I became involved, I wasn't … I mean … I never think ahead. You know? Life's too short."
"And it gets shorter if you make a full time profession of risking it," she told him. She s
lid off the chair and took his hands in each of hers. "You could stay here, you know."
"Oh, yes, of course; starships are always in the habit of taking in strays."
"This isn't just a starship, and you know it. Your father is the captain. And he wants to be more of a father to you, we both know that. He won't turn you away."
"Kalinda … I …"
"But, of course, think of everything you'd be giving up." She spoke with an edge to her voice, a trace of bitter anger that he hadn't heard before. "Your freedom. Your life of adventure. It's not as if you'd be gaining anything from it—security, me—none of those things matter."
He blew air impatiently through his lips. "Are you going to bother to listen to anything I have to say, or are you simply going to have this entire discussion by yourself?"
"Fine. I'm listening. Go ahead. Say what you want."
He stared at her. "I don't know what to say," he admitted.
She released his hands and stood, shaking her head in a discouraged manner.
"Kalinda, it's just… it's a lot to process at one time. A lot to deal with. I don't want to rush into anything, I don't want to make any mistakes, I don't want—"
"Me?"
"Yes, I want you." He tried to sound teasing as he got up, went to her and took her hand. "Haven't I been pretty obvious about that?"
"But you want me on your terms."
"I didn't know any terms had to be set. That was your brother's idea. He's trying to push us into something that neither of us is ready for, in hopes of pushing us apart."
"Tell me something, Xyon. If you were going to leave, right here, right now… and I said I wanted to come along with you, be with you. The only 'term' attached is that we be together, for however long it's something we both desire… would you want that?"
"Of course," he said without hesitation.