"Perhaps they are incapable of maintaining that strength for very long, Captain," was Spock's comment. "Merely to pierce the cloud layer with such force once is a remarkable feat. To repeat it several times is almost beyond comprehension. Clearly there is intelligence of singular ability still active on the surface below."
Kirk looked to the helm. "Mr. Sulu, did you obtain a fix on the source of the beam?"
The helmsman studied his instrumentation a moment longer before replying. "Yes, Captain—as clear as I was able without actually having direct line of sight to the surface. I'm assuming it traveled outward in a straight line, though it could have been bent or otherwise distorted by some layer in the atmosphere."
"I think not, Lieutenant," countered Spock. "Any beam of sufficient intensity to penetrate that cloud layer and still retain its power of illumination at this distance, apparently undiminished, would likely not be affected by any cloud formation nearer its source."
"We have a destination, then," Kirk noted, rising from the command chair. "Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, you'll accompany me to the surface." He nodded at the young Lactran. "Together with our youthful friend, if his parents are agreeable."
Spock's eyebrows arose, and even the Lactran adolescent looked surprised. Kirk felt unaccountably pleased at having been able to startle the seemingly unshakable aliens.
"But how, Jim?" McCoy asked. "Scott's technicians are still working on the problem of life-support belts for Lactrans and—"
"We'll descend in the shuttlecrawler, Bones. It's spacious enough to hold four of us and our young guest, if not either of his much larger parents."
"They are concerned, Captain, but see no reason to object. It is important that they be represented in some fashion. They agree to let the young one go, even though it must remain in the crawler."
Kirk had no idea which gesticulations were indicative of pleasure among Lactrans, but it seemed certain that the youngster was performing some of them now.
He turned to communications. "Security, Lieutenant Uhura. I'll want Lieutenant Meyers to pilot the shuttlecrawler."
"Very well, Captain." Uhura moved to contact the crewman.
With the young Lactran aboard, the shuttlecrawler was loaded close to maximum. So much so that there was no room for the large, well-armed security team Kirk would have liked to take along—he hadn't forgotten the Lactrans' claim that the Boqus might seek to enforce their privacy. Instead, he had to count on the Lactrans' familiarity and former association with the race which now might still survive on the hidden surface.
The shuttlecrawler's descent to the coordinates plotted by Sulu and others was memorable, a welcome change from the convenience but monotony of the transporter. They soared down through an atmosphere structured like a cotton candy parfait.
Its outermost layers were thick, rich orange and gray and pink. These colors gave way gradually to bright red-orange, then kilometers of raging maroon, then to a wholly unexpected layer of brilliant blue-green, which merged in its turn into a lavish red.
Eventually they emerged into a relatively clear layer above the surface and were able to look up at the sky as the Boqus saw it. Overhead rolled a thick collage of mauve cumulus, while hundreds of kilometers off to the south-southeast the threatening hemispheres of argent nimbus seemed to bubble and collapse like shiny balloons in a bucket of blood.
Kirk forgot their mission momentarily as he, Spock, and McCoy stared raptly at the silver storm. Sequential flashes of many-fingered lightning bolts deluged the surface with millions of volts.
Rising to meet the shuttlecrawler was a dimly visible landscape of orange and brown. The ground was pock-marked with deep pores filled with liquid ammonia. Kirk would do no swimming on this world. Lieutenant Meyers remained professionally oblivious to this beauty as he skillfully guided the craft down through unexpected blasts of hurricane-force wind.
Vegetation became identifiable as Lieutenant Meyers dropped them still lower. It was predominantly yellow and orange, with isolated patches of sparkling white. Kirk thought he saw a multiple-limbed growth half as big as the Enterprise reflecting the light like a diamond and hinting of a composition other than cellulose.
Meyers spiraled in around the point plotted by Sulu. It was near the end of their approach that McCoy exclaimed in surprise and pointed forward.
Ahead lay a valley. One end was dominated by the glassy surface of a large lake of as yet unknown composition. The other was filled with an enormous fanlike artificial construction mounted on struts sufficient to make a millipede jealous. In the foreground was a city.
"Meyers?" Kirk inquired simply.
"Yes, sir. According to my coordinates, that should be the source of the light beam." Visual reconnaissance accomplished, he banked the awkward shuttlecrawler in the direction of the fan end of the valley. They began passing over the city, and the expectations suddenly raised so high vanished. Even the young Lactran appeared to droop.
Because it was dead. Dead as the hollow sockets of an old, bleached skull. Not that it was crumbling and broken like a hundred similar urban mausoleums Kirk had seen before. In fact, it looked remarkably well preserved. But nothing moved in its streets; no vehicles stirred between structures or above them. The silence below them was of the dead, or, at least, of the dying.
They flew on for a surprising distance over abandoned edifices, past towering spires and the gaping defunct domes resembling antique jewelry from which a patient thief had pried all the gems. As the city continued to unroll beneath them, Kirk began to sense its true size, and that of the fanlike structure they were nearing.
Almost as if in response to their filling spirits, a faint sign of life caught their attention, as well as that of the sensors.
From the far end of the valley, defining their destination, the light beam began to rise, this time but a feeble imitation, a shadow in light of the cloud-piercing shaft which had bathed the Enterprise in unexpected radiance. It barely rose above the valley, straining for an intensity apparently no longer attainable.
Once, twice, it flickered, the second time almost reaching to the lowest layer of orange clouds before dying.
But those on board the shuttlecrawler, who had begun to give up hope, it was as encouraging as a neon sign the size of a Starfleet station. Meyers swung the shuttlecrawler lower, cutting speed as rapidly as he dared in the tricky, buffeting winds.
"Ask our friend," Kirk told Spock, "to see if he can sense any alien thoughts nearby." In contrast to this world, the young Lactran seemed welcomingly familiar.
There was a short pause, at the conclusion of which Spock informed them, "There is nothing, but I am told it does not matter. It is only what was expected. According to the records relevant to Boqu, they were never able to communicate mentally with the inhabitants over any distance. A Lactran, to touch the mind of a Boqus, would have to be in its actual presence."
Kirk refused to be discouraged. "Something caused that beam to be generated, whether the Lactrans can detect the mind behind it or not. Something that wanted to signal the Enterprise and a moment ago attempted to signal us."
"It could have been automatic, self-sustaining machinery, Captain," Spock pointed out coolly.
"Always encouraging, that's our Spock," declared McCoy with false gaiety. The shuttlecrawler rocked in a gust of hot orange wind, and he put out a hand to steady himself.
"I wish you would refrain from overutilization of the possessive form, Doctor," the first officer replied. "I was merely pointing out that—"
"Later, you two!" Kirk snapped. "Have a look at that." He pointed out the side port.
They were nearing the metallic fan, as peculiar a conglomeration as Kirk had ever set eyes on. It resembled the work of some careful colossus of a spider. Not that of a web spider, whose miniature marvels of engineering follow magnificently mathematical patterns, rather the simple cobwebs of the less precise arachnid, which throws and tosses its strands of silk with seeming abandon in any convenient corner, creating a
less dignified though equally effective trap.
To the immediate right of this enormous arrangement of struts, beams, cables, and things Kirk couldn't name was a long, low building isolated from the nearest part of the city. Like the other structures they'd passed over, this one appeared relatively well maintained.
"Try to set down as close to that building as possible, Meyers," Kirk instructed.
"Yes, sir. I think there's enough clear space alongside."
As they commenced their final drop, Kirk gazed wonderingly at the huge construct. That it was the generator of the light beam he had no doubt. "It's not a mirror, Spock," he commented, "it has exactly the opposite of a smooth surface."
"According to the Lactrans," the first officer explained, "the peculiar light-metal and stone technology of the Boqus originated in a unique mind. The Lactrans do not find it unusual, therefore, that Boquian physics should find unique expression—"
"You can ask them yourself in a minute, Jim," McCoy broke in, settling himself tensely in his seat. "We're setting down."
Meyers made an admirable landing under difficult turbulence conditions. Once down, he engaged the ground engine, and the shuttlecrawler instantly became a vehicle for surface transport. They moved slowly toward the single large building near the fan construct.
Kirk saw that it was several stories high, with a gently curving roof. Totally devoid of windows or similar apertures, it appeared to be constructed of gray rock, though he did not doubt that on closer inspection the material might turn out to be something considerably more sophisticated. A race did not evolve and mature on a world like this, make contact successfully with an advanced people like the Lactrans, retain the technology capable of producing, even briefly, that atmosphere-slicing light beam, while building out of plain rock.
Gradually they neared the barnlike structure and began hunting along its edge for something that might be an entrance. They finally discovered one, facing the immense latticework of metal, which towered above them now like a forest of gigantic trees grown in free-fall and then transported to the planet's surface.
Kirk unstrapped himself and moved to the port, walking with considerable difficulty under the strong gravity. Beyond lay the vast enigmatic building, containing either aid for additional journeying or only a mechanical apologist for a dead civilization.
"I feel like I'm wearing lead boots," McCoy complained, fighting to keep from falling over under the increased gravity.
"At least we don't need armor suits, Bones," pointed out Kirk. "Be grateful for small favors."
"The only small favor I'll be grateful for is an indication we can return home," the doctor replied irritably, though his irritation was directed more at his own clumsiness in the one and a half g's than at the captain.
Like men drugged, Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Meyers spent several long minutes moving experimentally about the cabin of the shuttlecrawler, trying to acclimate themselves to their increased weight. The young Lactran watched with interest. His strange physical configuration enabled him to move about with relative ease, though there were no signs that might be interpreted as amusement as he regarded the awkward movements of the men. Possibly, Kirk mused, the trip was having a maturing effect upon him.
"It regrets being unable to accompany us, Captain, but will be in constant communication with us through me as we explore the building. It expresses anxiety for our safety."
Kirk made an effort at effortlessness. "Tell it we'll manage," he told Spock. "Life-support belts, gentlemen."
Each man donned one of the thick, self-contained belts which had long ago (excepting special situations) made the restrictive "space suits" of primitive times obsolete. Activation produced lime-yellow auras around them, whereupon they entered the lock of the shuttlecrawler and waited as machinery cycled the air and opened the outside door. Walking carefully but with increasing confidence, they moved down the ramp and found themselves standing on the densely packed, gravelly surface of Boqu.
"Anything from our young friend, Spock?"
"Nothing, Captain. He can sense nothing."
Kirk hadn't expected anything else. "Tell it to keep us informed of any change it can sense . . . and of any suggestions it comes up with as to how to proceed."
"Very well, Captain."
More than anything else, the featureless structure resembled an enormous warehouse, though Kirk doubted that was its actual function. It rose seamlessly above them and blended into the distant curving roof.
Directly before them what looked like several doors were recessed into the wall, scattered seemingly at random at various distances from one another.
"Might as well try the nearest one as any and go on from there," Kirk announced, his open communicator carrying his words to his companions.
Lightning flashed nearby as they began walking slowly toward the closest door. Spock's attention was still partially diverted by the giant jackstraw arrangement behind them. "A remarkable feat of engineering," he murmured. "The principles behind it imply a metallurgic technology radically different from our own. I wish I knew how it was built, let alone how it generates the radiance it does."
"Maybe the Boqus can tell you," advised McCoy, "if any are left."
They had all reached the wall and stopped before the first recess. The door was of an unmistakably different composition from that of the structure's exterior, and had the look of machined metal. The recess was narrow at the top and quite wide at the base, rather like a pyramid with a domed crown, and rose to a height of two and a half meters.
"Indicative of heavy-gravity physiology," observed Spock easily.
"That's assuming this entrance is designed for the Boqus themselves," argued McCoy. "For all we know, this could be a local livestock barn. Maybe the Boqus were tall and spindly and just raised squatty cattle."
"Unlikely, Doctor," countered a disapproving Spock.
Attempts to open the door which formed the far wall of the niche met with failure. Attempts to open succeeding doors met with successive failures. Not only did none of them show signs of opening, they betrayed no hint of how they might be opened. Inspect as they might, the little party could find nothing resembling a handle, knob, keyhole, depression-response pit, or anything else they would have recognized.
Kirk was about to try a swift kick on the sixth and last door, a gesture which would have been not just futile but dangerous in the heavy gravity, when it slid aside smoothly. Life-belt sensors carried a thick whine to them as powerful machinery shifted the massive door, fighting its inertia.
"Automatics?" Meyers asked rhetorically, regarding the dim interior with a professional's eye.
"Maybe," murmured McCoy, "though despite my first impressions I've got to admit it looks more and more like we're expected. After you, Spock," he said, gesturing.
Once past the door (which, Kirk was gratified to see, showed no inclination to close suddenly behind them), they found themselves in a long trapezoidal hallway. At regular intervals its walls and ceilings were lined with panels phosphorescent with orange light. It bent and wound confusingly, but the distance covered was less than it seemed (the gravity wearing on them again) before they emerged into a vast, brightly lit chamber.
The roof arched overhead, and the surrounding walls were filled with consoles and instrumentation as alien and unrecognizable as the material they were constructed of. Larger panels threw more light here, though it was still of that uniform orange hue. Kirk found the warm tint it lent to the metal furnishings very attractive, though it could never take the place of the familiar light of Earth's sun.
The greatest surprise, however, was not the instrumentation but the decor. On first glance, the chamber appeared to be lavishly landscaped, filled with strange bushes and small clusters of trees. McCoy had moved to feel the petals of a purple leafed growth, and drew back in surprise, apparently at the tactile sensation he received from the bush. For a fearful second Kirk thought the doctor had been stung.
"Are you hurt,
Bones?"
"What? No, Jim, it's this thing." He glanced around at the other growths. "It's all of them, probably. The surface is cold . . . and hard. Hard as rock."
Kirk moved to stand alongside him, and regarded the construction. "Interesting . . . is it mineral sculpture, or what?"
Nearby, Spock was studying a taller specimen. "If so, Captain, the imitation is carried to remarkable extremes." He gestured at the base of the tree-thing, where it disappeared into the open earth. "It seems to enter the ground, obviously drawing support from it. I wonder if it may not draw more than that."
"Oh, come on, Spock! It's stone, or something equally inorganic. Obviously it—"
A friendly, oddly prickling thought appeared abruptly in McCoy's mind—in all their minds.
"Nothing is obvious, everything is infinitely indeterminate," the thought explained sharply. "You look intensely, physician, but not well."
Kirk spun and glanced around the chamber. It still appeared deserted. "Where are you," he asked warily, adding almost as an afterthought, "man of Boqu?"
"Closer than you think, Captain Kirk."
One of the "trees" nearby started toward them.
Kirk found himself face to . . . well, to something, with one of the strangest creatures he had ever seen. By comparison, the bulky, limbless Lactrans appeared almost normal.
The being moved on a base two meters across, consisting of hundreds of long dark yellow limbs. Stiff and many-jointed, they rippled with an eerie clacking along the hard floor, like the march of millions of ants on a sheet of paper.
The centilimbs radiated from a thick central post twice as broad as a man's body, roughly circular in form, like an addled fence post. This main part was shaded a deep brown, almost the color of unpolished mahogany, and was veined with exterior vertical ribs of gold.
It rose in three jointed sections to the level of Kirk's nose, then tapered slightly before spreading out into a wide circular plate whose upper surface was plano-convex, like the upper half of the Enterprise's primary hull.
Star Trek - Log 8 Page 11