STAR TREK: TOS - Enterprise, The First Adventure

by Vonda N. McIntyre

  She stared at him till he dropped his gaze. “Now,” she said. “The truth.”

  “The empress’s mercy is said to be expended. If I return, who would forgive me? I’m safer staying here. But I know my weaknesses, Koronin. I know your strengths. If you command Quundar, I may remain a free renegade. If I command it, I soon become an imprisoned renegade. Or a dead one.”

  “Did those aliens have a weapon? What happened?” Koronin slid her blaster beneath her belt. She would accept the Serjeant’s story, until the moment he overstepped his position and demanded her gratitude.

  “I don’t know, Koronin. It appeared to me that the surface of the sphere exploded.”

  “It defends itself.” The unfamiliar voice spoke in Standard.

  A Vulcan in black trousers, boots, a sleeveless black singlet—the remains of a Starfleet uniform—sat on the deck [291] on the far side of the command balcony. A restraining forcefield shimmered around him.

  “Can’t anyone in this benighted place speak a civilized language?” Koronin shouted. “Who are you? What are you talking about?”

  “I took him hostage,” the serjeant said proudly.

  “The worldship,” the Vulcan said. “It defends itself.”

  “Captain, here’s an odd reading.”

  The gray-green plain stretched beneath them, endless, featureless—except where Sulu had found the strange ground marking.

  “Let’s take a look.”

  Sulu guided the shuttlecraft to a landing.

  The patch of scorched succulents and the crushed places in the vegetation traced out the lines of Koronin’s fighter. The shattered sphere in the worldship wall added to the story.

  “She must have fired at something,” Jim said. His imagination set to work on the reasons Koronin might have used her blaster. He did not like any of the possible conclusions.

  “You say ‘fired,’ James,” Scarlet said. “This is a term associated with weapons?”

  “Yes. She probably had a blaster. Look, the beam exploded the whole side of the wall-sphere.”

  “If she directed either energy or a projectile at the worldship wall, her ship would be spread in pieces on the field. So would she.”

  “What? How? I thought you didn’t have any weapons.”

  “She forced the wall to react, and it reacted in a way commensurate with her actions. That is its design.” Scarlet’s tongue flicked over her sensory mustache.

  “But if she didn’t fire, what did she do? What did the wall react to? A fight? Could Spock ...”

  “I do not know, James.”

  Sulu picked up one of the iridescent fragments. Light streaked through the pearly surface. The dust of mother-of-pearl covered the ground. Sulu looked warily through the blasted hole. The wall-sphere was as beautiful inside as out, faintly luminescent, cool and mysterious. An opening in the [292] lower curve of the sphere led deeper into the wall. Curious, Sulu entered the sphere and peered down.

  A pale shiny thing reached out of the opening. Sulu yelped with surprise. He jumped back, by reflex grabbing his phaser. A synapse of caution kept him from drawing and firing. His boot slipped on the edge of the broken wall. He tumbled backward and bounced to the ground. In one-tenth g, he did not even fall hard enough for the broken shards to scratch him.

  “Sulu! What is it?”

  “I don’t know, captain—there’s something alive in there!” He climbed to his feet and brushed himself off. “It didn’t do anything—it just startled me.” He felt embarrassed. He returned to the opening. His boots crunched the shards. He touched his phaser again, then thought, If I’d fired it, it’d be me who was in pieces on the ground.

  “What is that thing?”

  Sulu peered into the sphere. The creature resembled the giant slugs he had seen on hikes across the northwest coast island where he had taken his vacation. But the earthly variety would barely span his hand. This one had oozed several meters of its length into the sphere as if it had every intention of filling the interior. Captain Kirk made an exclamation of surprise.

  “It’s only a builder,” Scarlet said.

  “A builder?” Jim said.

  “They help maintain the structure of the wall. This one will secrete several layers onto the interior of the sphere till it makes the wall whole. It is quite harmless.”

  Jim glanced at the slimy and thoroughly repulsive-looking creature, and wondered ...

  Scarlet spread her wings with a snap of the webs, leaped, and flew nearly straight up the worldship wall.

  “Wait!”

  But the flyer’s soaring climb never slackened.

  Behind him, Uhura began to hum.

  “Lieutenant Uhura?”

  She remained where she was, gazing after Scarlet.

  “Lieutenant Uhura! What about Dionysus?”

  She acted as if she heard him from a great distance. [293] “Stephen doesn’t answer,” she said. “He’s there. I know he’s there. But he’s silent.”

  Jim left her alone and sat on his heels beside the wall’s jagged opening. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, captain,” Sulu replied.

  Jim held up his hand in a quick “be silent” gesture.

  “Can you hear me? Can you understand?” Jim spread his hands in the gesture of peace he had used with the flyers. He tried to imagine how a creature like the builder might indicate friendship, but he could come up with nothing better for the moment.

  “No response,” Sulu whispered. His tricorder warbled: background noise. “Nothing outside our range of sight and hearing, no chemical reaction, nothing resembling pheromones.”

  Jim stepped over the shelf of broken pearl. The creature continued to ooze into the sphere, creeping over the curved floor. Jim touched it, thinking, We come in peace.

  He had to repress his gag reaction, for the touch of the creature was every bit as cold and slimy as its appearance hinted. He heard nothing and felt no response, except that the creature continued to expand. It pressed against him till it pushed him completely out of the worldship wall.

  “James,” Scarlet said, “what are you doing?”

  Slime covered Jim’s hands and his arm and his side, everywhere the giant slug had touched.

  “I was trying to communicate with the builders of the worldship,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because you said you didn’t create the worldship.”

  “I didn’t. How could I, or anyone else alive?”

  “You said that was a builder.” Jim pointed to the giant slug. Its slimy brown flank filled the broken segment of the sphere. “I don’t care if I talk to exactly the people who built the worldship. But I want to talk to their descendants, to people who have the ability to build it.” The slime hardened, taking on its pearly sheen. Jim rubbed his hands together. Dusty iridescent flakes drifted away.

  “People did not build the worldship. Builders built it. But [294] people created the worldship in their minds, and they created the builders to make it real. People created everything you see. I am among the descendants of the people who created the worldship. You have talked to me.”

  “But you said—” Jim stopped. The discussion had consisted of one misapprehension after another. “What I meant by my question was, did people like you create the worldship?”

  “Oh,” Scarlet said. “Yes. Of course they did. But that isn’t what you asked me.”

  “I understand that now. Do you know how it was made?”

  “Of course.”

  “Could you make another?”

  “Not while this one exists. Two entities cannot occupy the center of the universe at the same time.” Scarlet sang a trill that made Jim shiver. Lieutenant Uhura responded.

  Jim wondered what other misunderstandings lay hidden among his assumptions about Scarlet. He tried to think of a way to rephrase the question, but Uhura’s and Scarlet’s singing distracted him. He felt like he was trying to solve a difficult mathematical equation in his head while standing between the
tenor and the soprano during a passionate duet in a grand opera. He clapped his hands over his ears. “Could you two stop for just a minute? I can’t hear myself think!”

  They stopped. Jim could not read Scarlet’s expression, but Uhura’s was shocked and hurt.

  “I found this in the passage above.” Scarlet held something out to him. “But I saw no sign of Spock, there or on the land around us.”

  Uhura hummed again, the sound like a whisper.

  Jim took Commander Spock’s blue uniform shirt from Scarlet’s hand.

  Chapter 12

  THE DIRECTOR OF the oversight committee, pacing the command balcony of his fleet’s flagship, tossed aside the reports from his myriad of spy probes. In the past, he might have found their information intriguing. In the future, he might review it and use it to eliminate or co-opt the petty thieves and smugglers and the minor traitors it had exposed. So far, though, the information gave him nothing that he wanted.

  “Sir—!” His adjutant hurriedly saluted. “The captain begs your attendance.”

  “More reports?”

  “We’ve reached the Phalanx, sir.”

  The flagship captain hovered over the sensor stations, astounded by their findings but not quite ready to believe them.

  “The Federation has broken all agreements, tacit and stated, signed and unsigned. This is no natural phenomenon! It can have no purpose but as a staging area for war!” He turned in awe to the director. “Sir ... our intelligence had no hint of this. How did you know?”

  The director had spent his career taking credit for whatever would benefit him, even when it meant disguising luck, or lies, or uncertain information as preternatural knowledge.

  “I may not speak of state secrets,” he said.

  “Of course, director, I understand—please pardon me.”

  “What of the captured prototype?” the director said, trying to sound indifferent.

  “What?” The captain’s expression slowly gained [296] comprehension. “The new fighting ship? Oh, it’s there, director. This is its sensor signature.” He pointed out a small set of speckles among an enormous pattern. His brow ridges darkened with excitement. “We’ll soon punish the Federation for its arrogance.”

  The director regarded the image, wondering if the fleet captain really believed the Federation responsible for what they had found, or if he were being ingenuous. The director knew the Federation had nothing to match this.

  The display extended across the width of the command balcony. Its insubstantial edges flowed around the director, the captain, and the adjutant like a flood around small islands, and still it could barely contain the image of the incredible alien starship.

  On the bridge of the Enterprise, Chief Engineer Scott uneasily occupied the command position. He had only a little time left before he would have to make the decision about pulling back. His orders left him no leeway. He worried about the shuttlecraft. He had no faith in Mr. Sulu’s piloting ability after his performance back at Spacedock.

  Dr. McCoy came out of the lift.

  “Dr. McCoy,” Scott said, “should ye no’ stay in bed? Ye look terrible.”

  “Thanks,” McCoy said. “I’m glad to know I look better than I feel.” His smile was sickly. “It hurts just as bad lying down as standing up, so I might as well know what’s going on.” He rubbed his eyes, his temples. “Mr. Spock has a lot to answer for, when Jim brings him back.”

  “If Captain Kirk brings him back.”

  At the helm, Pavel Chekov tried to convince himself he did not want to yawn. He usually stood low watch, during quiet late-night hours. Today he had been called out of sound sleep to take Mr. Sulu’s post at the Enterprise’s helm. He was not yet quite awake.

  He detected signals headed straight toward Enterprise, and adrenaline wiped away every wish for slumber.

  “Mr. Scott—unidentified ship—no, ships—at scanner limits! Heading toward us, toward worldship, at high warp factor. From Klingon Empire!”

  [297] “Thank ye, Mr. Chekov,” Commander Scott said. He waited.

  “Scotty, you’ve got to warn Jim!”

  “Nay, doctor—’twould alert the fleet that Copernicus is within their realm. If we’re silent ... perhaps they’ll no’ detect the shuttlecraft.”

  The Klingon fleet dropped from warp-speed to normal space and swept toward the worldship.

  Scott held the Enterprise steady at the farthest edge of Federation space. The worldship drifted deeper into the Empire’s realm.

  Scott knew he would be challenged, and he knew James Kirk was right. He could not respond with force.

  “Starfleet invaders, retreat to your own territory.”

  “There are those who’d say we’re in our own territory,” Scott replied. It was only ninety-nine percent bluff. The boundaries out here really were carelessly surveyed. The Enterprise drifted along the indeterminate border.

  “Then they are fools.” The person who appeared on the viewscreen wore elaborate civilian attire. Scott wondered what that meant, for this was a military fleet.

  “I dinna catch your name,” Scott said. “Who do I ha’ the honor o’ addressing? My name is—”

  “Of no interest to me whatever. My name,” he said, “is a state secret. You may address me as ‘director,’ or ‘your honor.’ ”

  “We canna leave!” Scott said, winging it. “We’re on a mission o’ mercy.”

  “Ah. You have traveled to this interesting construct between us, with the intent of rescuing it?” He spread sarcasm heavily on his words.

  “I dinna know o’ the worldship when I responded to the distress call. Did ye no’ hear it? Did ye no’ come to help?”

  “The only one in need of help is you—because you’re caught making preparations for the Federation’s war.”

  “We came on a mission o’ mercy,” Scott said again.

  Scott sweated through an interminable silence from the director.

  “Your fantasies bore me,” the director said when he deigned to speak again.

  [298] A powerful jamming field settled around them, cutting off the Enterprise from the shuttlecraft and from its captain.

  “Mr. Scott, one of the fleet ships is changing course,” Chekov said.

  “I can see that, lad.” One of the director’s battle cruisers dropped toward the worldship.

  “Scott, we’ve got to stop it!” McCoy said. “The shuttlecraft hasn’t got a chance against a cruiser!”

  “I canna stop it, Dr. McCoy,” Scott said. “If ’twere offerin’ a direct threat ...” And if it were to leave its own realm ... Then he might justify a fight. But as things stood, Scott had no legitimate excuse even to object to the fleet’s presence. “I canna stop it. We can only hope it believes in mercy missions ... or canna take the trouble to notice Copernicus.”

  As Quundar thundered slowly over the land, as the land rose into abrupt crags, Koronin considered what the Vulcan hostage had told her. Good luck had saved her life when she struck the wall-sphere, for the worldship protected itself from impact by interstellar dust clouds, asteroids, stellar flares—or sword strikes—by turning the force back the way it had come. It possessed no intentional aggressive ability; in fact, its most extreme reaction was complete, irrevocable, annihilating retreat. It could be made to carry out a terrible revenge, once before it vanished. But that was for a last resort.

  If Koronin wished to rule the worldship, she must begin by asserting her authority upon individual inhabitants. Soon they would give up concealing their leaders, denying the existence of leaders. She hoped she did not have to kill too many of the flying people before they surrendered. They intrigued her. Besides, she despised waste.

  The Vulcan hostage slumped on the deck, his hands drooping at his sides, his knees pulled to his chest. He had not even tested the limits of the forcefield around him. He appeared uninjured, but he also appeared unwell.

  She scanned again, searching for a flock of the aliens. She planned to demonstrate her power by shoo
ting one down in view of the others.

  [299] “They’ve gone to ground, the cowards,” she muttered. “But where ... ?”

  “In the center.”

  She swung toward the Vulcan. He stared at her, strain and intensity in his gaunt face.

  “What did you say?”

  “They are in the center. Of the worldship.”

  “Who?”

  “The silent ones.”

  “Make sense, Vulcan, or I’ll rip the words out of you!”

  She fancied that his solemn expression hinted at a smile. The mockery angered her. She already knew better than to threaten a Vulcan with pain.

  “The silent ones are in the center of the worldship,” he said. “And they are waiting.”

  That was as direct a threat as the fate she had offered him. Koronin laughed. A threat was a challenge, and a challenge, if taken up, could be won.

  “They won’t have to wait much longer,” she said.

  The worldship was thinly populated, its people solitary. By the time someone paid attention to Scarlet’s request for help in locating Dionysus, Sulu had found the ship on scanners. Copernicus sped toward the location.

  “Captain, look!” Sulu pointed.

  High above them, soaring on ebony wings, Athene cavorted with one of the flying people. It skimmed beneath her, flicking a wingtip upward. She snapped at it playfully. It dodged and reversed to sail over her. She tried to follow it, turning so quickly she nearly stalled. The flyer noted her inexperience, stopped its aerobatics, and flew in a swift straight race.

  Below, Lindy and Stephen sat on the yacht’s skids, watching Athene fly. They waved as the shuttlecraft approached. Lindy met Jim when he opened the hatch.

  Scarlet sailed after Athene and the other flyer.

  “Can you believe her, Jim?” Lindy said. “She flies like she’s been doing it all her life!” She grabbed his hands and swung around with him. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “She is,” Jim said. “But can you get her to come down?”

  [300] “She’ll come back eventually, Jim. I hate to call her, she’s having so much fun—”