“But they did see it, as it was”—Sulu hesitated as something seemed then to click in his brain—“leaving, after the attack.”
Scotty nodded encouragingly. “After, but not before. What if this newborn was never detected approaching Thraz because it was born on Thraz? What if, instead of blasting a hole in the planet, it dug itself out?”
Sulu’s eyes widened in comprehension. “Like a sea turtle laying eggs on a beach. It could have been there years before the Andorians arrived. You really think that could be what happened?”
“It’s easy enough to tell a blast crater from an excavation,” Scotty said. “I suspect, in the confusion of the immediate crisis, no one on Thraz has taken that close a look, but once we do…”
“Gentlemen, excuse me,” McCoy interrupted, a frown furrowing his brow, “but something occurs to me. Sea turtles don’t tend to bury one egg at a time.”
Sulu blanched. “The tremors.”
As did Scott. “Dear God…”
Hovering just on the edge of the flowing energy field that called to the deepest part of its still-forming consciousness, the alien watched confused as the adult flew away, in the wrong direction. Unable to understand, it eventually let its instinct guide it back into the streamer, which would take it where it was meant to go.
The Enterprise dropped out of warp on the outskirts of Thraz’s star system and slipped neatly into orbit above a moonless, blue-white planet. Crossing the terminator to the planet’s lit, starward side, the Andorian settlement came into view: a small city of close-built structures sitting just south of the equator, straddling the banks of a river that wound through a broad savanna. Other than the relatively small sinkhole left by the alien hatchling, the colony appeared, at a glance, a pleasant, tranquil settlement. With more than just a glance, though, they found trouble stirring below the surface.
Ensign Frank frowned into the sensor hood, then turned to Scott and Sulu. “I count at least fifty of the aliens, buried across a five-kilometer stretch of land, running right under the colony…almost all of them moving toward the surface.”
Sulu leaned in to take a look for himself. Ghostly blue images generated by the ground-penetrating sensors outlined several dozen small spherical masses—more closely analogous to larvae than eggs, in his judgment—deposited in what had been a deep furrow dug by their progenitor decades earlier. As Frank said, the majority of them were now animate and preparing to emerge from their nest, heedless of what lay between them and their freedom.
“Sir, we’re being hailed again,” Uhura said, her voice calm, but also conveying the impatience that was no doubt part of the message from the planet. It was more than an hour past their original ETA, and they’d been in orbit now for five minutes without responding to planetary hails.
“Stand by, Lieutenant,” Scott answered, sounding not a little impatient himself. He looked to Frank then. “Are you sure we can’t just beam them out?”
“No, sir, I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But every species I know of where their young are incubated and born in any way similar to this, the struggle of freeing themselves is an important part of their development. If you dig a sea turtle out of the sand, it won’t be strong enough to get to the water on its own, or avoid predators if it does. We have to go on the assumption that the same holds true for these creatures.”
Scott sighed. “Then all we can do is try to minimize the damage they do. Come on, lad,” he said, moving toward the turbolift. “You’re with me.”
“Mr. Scott,” Uhura said again as he and Frank brushed past her, the frustration in her voice coming now more from her own emotions.
“Mr. Sulu,” Scott called over his shoulder, “you can deal with the Andorians.”
The turbolift doors began to slide shut, but suddenly Sulu was across the bridge from the science station, with one hand holding the car. “Mr. Scott, with all respect, they aren’t going to be happy if I’m—”
“I suspect they’re not going to be happy, no matter what,” Scott said. “But I trust you’ll be able to handle them.”
“I really don’t think—”
“Lad…don’t be modest. You got a way of speaking, of making others see your way, despite themselves,” Scott said, giving the younger man a self-effacing smile.
Sulu gave him an apologetic grin back. “They’re bound to come back to their senses eventually.”
Scott chuckled at that. “If this works, we’ll only need a few minutes.”
“I’ll do what I can, sir.”
Scott nodded and said, “Mr. Sulu, you have the conn,” as the doors slid shut.
After a moment’s reflection, Sulu moved down the steps and lowered himself into the captain’s chair. He stared forward, fingers steepled beneath his chin, and said, “Uhura, open a channel.”
The image of the planet was replaced by that of a blue-skinned, antennaed, fiercely scowling alien. “Well, it certainly took you people long enough to respond!” the Andorian said in a surprisingly high, reedy voice that did not quite match his cragged face and short white hair.
Sulu, holding himself steady, replied, “Our apologies. We were delayed due to a number of factors. I am Hikaru Sulu, commanding the U.S.S. Enterprise.”
“Did Starfleet send us a cadet training ship?” Sulu realized that, holding his arms as he did, the single lieutenant’s braid on his uniform sleeve was clearly evident. “Why are we part of this Federation with you Earthers if this is the level of respect we are afforded?”
Resisting the instinct to drop his hands to his lap, he said, “I’m sorry you feel disrespected by our presence, Mister…?”
The Andorian’s scowl deepened at that. Sulu wondered briefly if he’d given more offense by misjudging the alien’s gender. “You may address me as Director Shrevan.”
“Director Shrevan,” Sulu said with a nod. “You need to immediately evacuate your relief teams and any remaining residents from the area around the blast site to a safe distance of at least five kilometers.”
Now Shrevan smiled at him, but it was anything but a friendly expression. “I don’t take orders from Starfleet officers, especially not ones as ill-informed as you. We’ve determined the alien did not blast the residential quarter as first reported, but instead excavated some object beneath the surface. Now, Lieutenant Sulu, I’m transmitting a list of medical and reconstruction supplies, which you will beam down immediately. Then you will set out in pursuit of these thieves, and recover that which they stole from us.”
Sulu considered Shrevan’s supposedly intimidating expression for a moment in silence, and then turned to Uhura to signal for the transmission to be muted. “Are you receiving Shrevan’s lists?” he asked once she indicated the Andorian was no longer privy to their conversation.
“Yes, coming in now.”
“Forward them to sickbay and ship’s stores, and tell both to stand by.” Sulu paused to collect his thoughts, then turned forward again. “Put the director back onscreen,” he said.
Again, Shrevan’s visage appeared on the screen. “Lieutenant Sulu, I don’t know what they teach about proper diplomatic protocol—”
“Director Shrevan,” Sulu interrupted, his voice raised just a notch above a polite level, “is Thraz Outpost still experiencing the unexplained tremors you reported earlier?”
Shrevan was slightly surprised by the sudden role reversal between intimidator and intimidated, but held his composure. “Yes, we are. But our top scientists are studying—”
“Our science officers have already determined their cause,” Sulu interrupted again, in a tone that seemed to send shivers up the length of Shrevan’s antennae. “And we’ve devised a way to put an end to them, while minimizing any further damage to your colony.”
Shrevan’s eyes widened. “Then what are you waiting for?”
His voice rumbling slowly, Sulu said, “I am waiting for you, as I asked before, to evacuate the area within five kilometers of the excavation site.”
“I…I’ll
have my people get to it immediately.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Director. Enterprise out.”
The screen again changed back to the image of Thraz from orbit, and Sulu allowed himself a wisp of a smile as he leaned back into the captain’s chair.
A dull thud, followed by a muffled curse, reverberated from inside the open Jefferies tube. “You all right in there, lad?” Scotty called, grinning in spite of himself.
“Fine, sir,” Frank’s echoing voice replied. “I just need one…more…second…There!” The younger man dropped onto the deck of the tractor beam master control room, as if he had leapt down the sloped conduit. “I think we’re all set,” he said as he joined Scott at the main control board on the far side of the room. Both started checking system readouts against the figures jotted on an electronic clipboard that lay on the console between them. “I sure hope this works.”
Silently, Scotty hoped so, too. The tractor beam was designed to manipulate large objects, along the lines of other ships or asteroids, in the zero-g environment of space. There were precious few situations where one would apply a ship’s tractor to a planet, and none of them involved the targeting of living creatures.
But what Scotty said instead was, “Have a little confidence in yourself, lad. You convinced me and the rest that your plan makes good sense; don’t be telling me now I should have doubted you.”
Frank smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Scott. For giving me a chance to make up for that first impression I made.”
“A wise man once told me, most of us are capable of more than we might suspect at first. Come on, lad, let’s get up to the bridge and see just how well this works out.” Scotty led Frank out of the control room toward the nearest turbolift.
Sulu turned at the sound of the ’lift doors opening. “We have an all clear, Mr. Scott,” he reported as the engineer walked onto the bridge.
“Any trouble from the locals?” the engineer asked as he stepped down inside the circular rails.
“None worth mentioning,” Sulu said.
“Grand. Mr. Frank, how do things look from there?”
Frank was already hunched over the sensor hood at his station, bathing his face in blue light. “Situation is approaching critical, sir.”
Scott gritted his teeth, then nodded. “Tractor beam is at your control. Mr. Chekov, make sure we don’t end up pulling ourselves into the planet with this stunt.”
“No crash landings,” Chekov confirmed. “Aye, sir.”
Frank was heard taking a deep breath, then saying, “Engaging tractor…now!”
A beam of tightly focused energy lanced out from the Enterprise, piercing through the atmosphere and striking the sinkhole on the planet surface with near-pinpoint accuracy. A thin mist of loose dirt and small bits of debris were pulled skyward…but no more than that.
“It’s not working,” Frank said. “Something’s off…”
“Have you compensated for atmospheric distortion?” Sulu asked. “Or interference from Van Allen radiation?”
“Retuning beam harmonics now…Wait. I think that’s doing it.” Frank’s voice rose with excitement. “I think…Yes! They’re moving!”
On the surface of the planet, there was no observable change in the tractor beam’s effect. But underneath the surface, the neonate aliens paused in the powerful stretching and flexing movements of their still-soft carapaces. They had been struggling to free themselves from their dark, dense surroundings, with only inborn instincts and the pull of gravity to guide them. Now a new stimulus impressed itself on their still-developing consciousnesses, one that overrode everything else. To the most basic elements of their beings they understood: Go to this.
The second alien to push through the surface of the planet emerged right at the edge of the crater the first one had made. At first, it held close to the tractor beam as it pushed itself skyward. Out in the open, though, it soon became aware of another beacon, of which this artificial energy wave was merely a pale simulation. It peeled away while still rising skyward, in the direction of the tachyon streamer, while at the same time two of its siblings also freed themselves in quick succession.
“My God, will you look at that?” Leonard McCoy said, awed. The whole bridge crew watched the main viewer as the alien hatchlings started streaming out of the ground, like a string of beads being pulled loose. They destroyed two more abandoned buildings in the process, but amazingly, that was the extent of the additional damage done to the colony. When the last one burst free, they all climbed together in a swarm past the Enterprise. Several slowed in their flight as they moved past the ship in orbit, as if curious, or even grateful.
Scott watched, mouth slightly agape in wonderment as the creatures surged past the ship. His head shook slowly as he absorbed the remarkable sight, and he caught Sulu, out of the corner of his eye, wearing an identical expression. Noticing the stare, Sulu turned to face him, a broad grin breaking across his face. Scott returned the smile, and after a few seconds, both men turned their eyes back to the viewscreen, watching the newborns move off toward the stars.
The trill and hum of the transporter fell silent, and Captain Kirk stepped down off the platform, with Spock a half step behind. “Welcome back, Captain,” Scott said as he moved out from behind the control console. Likewise, Sulu offered his welcome as he stepped forward from his position by the corridor doors.
“Thank you, gentlemen. It’s good to be back.” Kirk appeared rumpled and tired, though to nowhere near the degree he did in the aftermath of many of his other missions. Yet the relief he expressed now seemed to suggest that facing the Pentamian Assembly was more harrowing than facing a Gorn.
“How did the negotiations go?” Scott asked.
Kirk grimaced. “Don’t ask.”
Before Scott or Sulu could react, Spock clarified by adding, “We were successful in securing dilithium mining rights for the Federation.”
“Twenty-seven hours of debate. Twenty…seven…hours…without interruption, without…The Pentamians only eat and sleep one day out of four. Did you know that?” Though the question sounded rhetorical, Kirk seemed to be demanding an answer from the two junior officers.
To their relief, Spock was the one to offer a response. “That information was in our briefing, Captain.”
“But what wasn’t in the briefing is that they only purge their bodily waste one day out of four, too. A culture for whom the very concept of ‘a short break’ is beyond—” Kirk stopped himself in mid-sentence, closed his eyes, and drew a silent breath. When he opened his eyes again, they had a look of chagrin in them. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Yes, the negotiations were successful. And what about that Andorian colony, their distress call?”
“Ah, we ended up with quite the surprise, sir. You see, the Thraz Outpost was set up to study—”
“Scotty, forgive me,” Kirk interrupted, pressing the first two fingers of his right hand to his forehead. “I’m sure there’s plenty you have to report, but…please just tell me, was the mission successful?”
“That it was, sir.”
Kirk nodded. “Anything else I absolutely need to know right now?”
“We can brief you at your convenience, sir,” Scott assured him.
The captain sighed quietly at that, clearly relieved. “Thank you, gentlemen. Spock, I’ll be in my quarters.” He gave them all curt nods before turning and walking out of the transporter room.
Once the doors closed again, Spock turned to Scott and Sulu. “If there is nothing else to report, gentlemen…We are expected at Starbase 14 in fifty-one hours, forty-seven minutes. And if you will excuse me as well, I have some…personal matters to attend to.” Vulcan stamina was superior to that of humans, and Spock masked his fatigue even better than the captain did. But it was rather clear that his “personal matters” included sleep, or else a period of deep meditation. Spock followed Kirk out of the transporter room, leaving Scott and Sulu facing one another alone.
“Well,” Scott said, with a shrug, “I’m sure the
anticipation will only heighten their appreciation of our tale.”
“Undoubtedly,” Sulu said with a smile, while Scott moved back behind the transporter controller to fully power down the systems. “Mr. Scott,” Sulu said after a moment’s silence, “it just occurred to me that Mr. Spock didn’t specify which of us was to resume the conn.”
“Oh?” Scott looked up from his board, his eyes meeting Sulu’s, both men trying to read the other’s thoughts. “Well,” Scott said finally, “I suppose it’s my role to make the command decision…”
Sulu nodded slowly as Scott reached across his console for the intercom mounted at its top edge. “Scott to bridge.”
“Chekov here, sir.”
“Set course for Starbase 14, and engage when ready at warp five. And you have the conn, Mr. Chekov. If y’ be needing Mr. Sulu or m’self, we’ll be in my quarters.”
“Acknowledged, sir.”
Scott cut the channel and looked to the helmsman with a roguish grin. “The captain and Mr. Spock aren’t the only ones who have earned themselves a short break. I think a toast to commemorate the end of a successful mission is in order, don’t you agree, Hikaru?”
Sulu looked from the now-silent intercom to the chief engineer. “That’s not proper protocol, is it, sir?” he asked, deadpan, watching the older man’s expression fall before breaking into a broad smile of his own. “I’d be honored, Scotty.”
Scotty laughed and clapped Sulu on the back, and the two crewmates headed off to celebrate their shared victories.
Devices and Desires
Kevin Lauderdale
Kevin Lauderdale
Born and raised in Los Angeles, Kevin Lauderdale grew up watching reruns of Star Trek every night during his childhood. He watched The Next Generation in college, Deep Space Nine in graduate school, and Voyager and Enterprise while shuffling papers in the real world. During those years, he also took William Shatner’s advice and got a life. He is married, has two children, and now lives in northern Virginia.
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