“Quite so,” Spock added. “But it is apparently like some huge animal grazing here and there in the pasture of the universe.”
That poetic phraseology caused Doctor McCoy to miss twelve full lines of computer biological analysis. He had to back up the tape and rerun the information.
“All right,” agreed Kirk, hand caressing chin. “Let’s follow that line of thought through. Bones, what about those antagonistic blobs?”
“Offhand, judging from the way they reacted to our presence, I’d say they perform essentially the same function as teeth, Jim. They break up the largest chunks of matter for easier digestion. Maybe they sensed us as being larger than we were, because compared to those chunks of planet floating around in here, we’re digestible-size already. Possibly our engines give off enough energy to fool them into thinking we’re more nutritious than we really are.”
Kirk nodded, turned to face Sum.
“Lieutenant, the computer scanners should have come up with something on the cloud’s internal composition and makeup by now. Let’s see it.”
“Yes, sir.” Sulu turned to his console. “Computer schematic readied. Coming on.”
He hit a switch. On the screen, for the first time, they had an overall view of the interior of their massive host.
In shape it was rather like a fat pair of disembodied human lungs, joined directly together. Instead of a trachea or esophagus there was a bottle-shaped bulge in its middle. Rising from the top of this pear-shape was another long, narrower cavity.
From the top of this area a long cylindrical passage appeared to open into space at the top of the cloud.
Thus reduced to screen-size and roughly drawn, the diagram looked insignificant, almost comical, like a child’s drawing. But after what had happened to Alondra, no one felt inclined to laugh.
The problem was that the chart put the alien into too-easy perspective. The tiny white dot representing the Enterprise, for example, could not be shown to scale. It was much too big. In reality the cloud was too big to comprehend. As a diagram, it was reduced wrongly to a harmless crude shape.
Still, there were things to be learned from it, and Kirk studied the drawing intently. For him, at least, the drawing induced no false sense of security.
The outlines of the cloud’s interior were not fixed, but appeared to flow and change as befitted a mostly gaseous organism. Anyhow, it was still solid enough for him to comment, “It seems to have some kind of regularized anatomy. That opening where we were first pulled in doesn’t show. It must have closed fast right behind us.
“But there looks to be some kind of permanent opening up near the top.”
“I don’t know, Jim,” chipped in McCoy, immediately picking up the captain’s line of thought. “If this thing also has some kind of colossal digestive system ahead of us, I don’t see how we could make it that far.”
“Three hours, five minutes, sir,” announced Arex dispassionately, “till the cloud reaches Mantilles.” Kirk nodded acknowledgment of this information. He’d already made his decision. If nothing else, time dictated a move at this stage.
“Since we appear to have only one way out, we must try it. Mr. Sulu, take us to that central core area.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Kirk put his right elbow on the arm of the control chair and rested his chin in the waiting palm. A slight smile parted his lips.
“And if this thing does have a stomach, we just might be able to give it a bad enough case of indigestion to make it turn from Mantilles—”
It didn’t take long for them to reach the edge of the area the computer had pinpointed as the cloud’s central cavity. There was only one bar to further progress.
The entrance to that cavity was closed.
Closed by a pulsing, vaguely irislike valve.
“We’ve reached the entrance to the central core, Captain,” confirmed Sulu. McCoy laughed nervously as he studied their intended path.
“What do we do now—knock?”
The ship gave a sudden lurch. But this one was bearable and no one was hurt. It was nowhere near as violent as the severe jolts that had pounded them when they were first drawn into the cloud mass.
“No need, Bones,” murmured Kirk tightly. “Here we go…”
The iris was opening.
Swept like a leaf on a tidal bore, the Enterprise was tossed into the core area, along with floating mist and several still gigantic chunks of the planet Alondra. Then the iris closed ponderously behind them.
The scene in the central core was as radically different from the areas they’d already passed through as it was from the naked blackness of space itself. This core section was a kaleidoscope of colors, a flaring, scintillating, rain-bowed chamber spotted with constant awesome explosions.
Huge slender pyramid shapes protruded from the side of the core wall they were drifting near. As they stared at the screen, a large section of planet drifted close by one, seemed to hesitate in space, touched—
A detonation that would have shamed anything smaller than a sunspot filled the viewscreen with blinding, pure white light. The glare faded rapidly. If the scanners hadn’t automatically darkened to compensate for the shocking flash their eyes could have been seriously damaged. As it was, they were only impressed.
When they could see clearly again the first thing everyone noted was that the section of Alondra had disappeared. But the slender pyramid it had impacted on was glowing incandescent with residual energy—energy produced by their meeting and the resultant explosion.
A shock wave struck the Enterprise soon after, but the first flash had given the ship’s computers necessary seconds to brace for the powerful side effects. After all, they were still operating at planetary distances from the wall. The ship wasn’t damaged.
Explosions continued to occur at regular intervals, some weaker, some more powerful than the first. While the Enterprise rode the resultant shock waves easily, the constant rocking and buffeting hampered observation and made accurate navigation increasingly difficult.
Still, the starship managed to pick a path through the central core. By keeping it in one piece and on course, a sweating Sulu and Arex were earning their rank.
Uhura watched the pyramid destruction/growth cycle wonderingly. “What are those things?”
McCoy had been making analogies as well as observations. “I’m going to make an educated guess.” He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I think we’re now moving in what corresponds in man to the small intestine. Those shapes growing out of the core wall seem to be somewhat similar in basic function to human villi.”
“Villi?” Kirk looked back questioningly at the doctor. Physiology, human or otherwise, had never been one of his favorite subjects. It seemed he’d spent too much time on spatial physics, astrodynamics, and administrative operations. True, a starship captain is supposed to have at instant beck and call only slightly less information than a ship’s computer banks, but even so…
McCoy nodded. “The human small intestine is lined with millions of them, although they are more or less permanent. They don’t destroy themselves on contact with food, as these seem to. They absorb nutrients into the body by—”
As McCoy droned on with his biological comparisons, everyone on the bridge had plenty of time to study the actual process. Though it was hard to compare the titanic forces at work on the screen to what was taking place beneath one’s own stomach.
A section of some great mountain was drawn to a villus and, following the now familiar pattern, disintegrated brilliantly on contact. The villus grew alarmingly as it absorbed the energy generated by the explosion.
At the same time the long pyramid shape disappeared. Or more accurately, shrank back into the core wall. Immediately, a new pyramid began to form and stretch outward slightly to the left of where the first had vanished.
That’s when Spock looked up excitedly from his position at the library.
“Captain, according to conclusive sensor readings, those villi-analogs a
re composed of solid antimatter! If the Enterprise should touch one…”
“…we’ll disappear faster than a piece of chocolate in a phaser beam,” Kirk finished. “Mr. Sulu, keep those shields up at all costs!”
“I’ll try, sir.”
Kirk returned his attention to the screen. The Enterprise continued to drift through the chaotic core. In some ways, the continuous mass-energy conversion cycle reminded him of a thermonuclear reaction—slowed down many times.
“Incredible, simply incredible,” he whispered. “So much power—” He watched another chunk of world vanish in a shattering display of energy. There was enough power being produced here to drive endless fleets of star-ships, to light entire inhabited worlds. All wasted.
However, he reminded himself, the creature would consider it otherwise. If it was capable of considering anything, which he sincerely doubted.
“The villi reabsorb with the energy they take in and immediately begin to regenerate preparatory to repeating the cycle.” Spock agreed.
“It is clearly all part of the natural digestive process in operation here. Captain. Sensors indicated when we first entered that a natural force-field of vast dimensions was in operation in this core area. At first I was unsure as to its purpose. Now it is perfectly clear. The field serves to contain the matter-antimatter contact/dissolution sequence and keep it within manageable bounds.
“Otherwise the creature would quite literally eat itself to death.”
A telltale on Uhura’s main board winked for attention, was instantly shunted to the main speaker.
“Engineering to bridge.” Kirk hit the reply switch.
“Yes, Scotty?”
“Keepin’ the deflectors this high is putting an enormous strain on the engines, Captain. Especially on our antimatter power supply. What with the continual maximum power demands on the shields as well, our reserve energy supplies are fallin’ fast. Too fast.”
Too fast, too fast—! Everything was happening too fast. Damn a universe which had infinity at its command and yet no time to spare!
“How much time have we got left, Scotty?”
“Twenty-one minutes, Captain—and there’s no safety margin figured into that. That’s everything. But if the power indicator drops below two antikilos, we’ll not have even that. The engines won’t have enough antimass to sustain reaction. We’ll lose motive power as well as shields and deflectors.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scott. I’ll keep that information in mind.” He snapped off the intercom and looked to the helm. “Push our speed, Mr. Arex. I know it isn’t easy to maneuver in here, but we must make our way through the opening at the other end of this core.”
Arex’s voice was tight in reply. “Yes, sir. We’ll make it, sir.”
Long minutes passed while the Enterprise picked its way at high speed through the weird jungle of gigantic villi, surrounded by unceasing detonations of unimaginable power.
For a while it seemed they’d make the core exit with no trouble. Then—perhaps Arex or Sulu miscalculated slightly, or maybe their speed was simply too great for a particularly tight passage.
Spatial gyros screamed in sudden protest as computer emergency overrides strove to correct position. They were drifting towards one of the waiting villi.
“I can’t hold it on course, sir!” Sulu yelled desperately. “I’m using full power!”
“Increase deflector screens to maximum.”
“Deflector screens to maximum,” Arex acknowledged.
The starship shuddered, straining to pull away. One of the huge slender pyramids seemed to leap out at them, reaching hungrily and growing gigantic in the viewscreen. Enormous—
It stayed enormous, but abruptly was growing no larger. And then it began to move, to shift out of view as the Enterprise shuttled pass.
Kirk tried to relax a little and found he couldn’t. His muscles were knotted tighter than a reaction coil. Another pass that close to one of the villi and the deflector shields would surely collapse under the immense load. Once that happened, so would every atom that comprised the Enterprise and her crew.
The speaker cleared again. Another call from Scott. Kirk was half expecting it. That last narrow escape had used up any safety margin they might have had.
The question now was, did they have any margin at all?
“Take over, Mr. Spock,” he said when Scotty had finished detailing their present status. “I’m going down to Engineering.”
“Very well, Captain.”
Scott was waiting for him when the elevator opened onto the main engineering deck. The chief said nothing, but went instead to a nearby console and indicated an especially eloquent gauge. The instrument said everything for him. It showed the level of reserve power currently available in the central antimatter reaction chambers.
Showed it hovering uncertainly right around the two-kilo mark.
“There it is, Captain. All the wishin’ in the world won’t change that level. If we don’t stop the excessive power drain right now, it’ll be the end of us.”
“It’ll be the end of us if we do, Scotty. You’re a master engineer—in many ways this is more your ship than it is mine. Think of something!”
“Well,” Scott’s expression showed that he’d been pondering an idea for some time but even now was reluctant to voice it.
“Come on, Scotty—if it’s anything more concrete than prayer, I’m willing to listen to it.” He’d already tried the former, to no avail.
“Captain, all our sensor reports indicate that those ‘villi’ pyramid converters are antimatter—antimatter of high energy potential, to say the least.
“If we could somehow obtain a bit of it—an infinitesimal amount to the creature—it might serve just as well as normal antimatter fuels. Put it in the engine, and unless it has utterly unique physical properties, it ought to regenerate reaction. We’d have enough power to drive the ship at maximum and hold both shields and deflectors at same.”
Kirk looked thoughtful. “That would take care of our lack of antimatter, sure. But we also need matter engines regenerated.”
Scott smiled. “Matter’s no problem, sir. I’ve already had my people working on beaming aboard some of the loose planet floatin’ free around us. There’s enough matter here to power a million starships.
“As for the antimatter, we can’t touch it—or let it touch anything solid, of course. I’ve considered the difficulties fully, Captain. It’s not like cuttin’ firewood. But I think there’s a good chance we could cut it with a neutral tractor beam and then transport it aboard.”
“Transport it aboard?” Kirk looked uncertain. “If it contacts the inside of the ship or any of us, for even a microsecond, it’ll be the finish just as surely as if we’d rammed one of the villi.”
“That won’t happen, Captain,” Scott objected eagerly. “I’m sure I can rig a force-field box that will hold the antimatter suspended in its center. A smaller, cruder version of the machinery normal fueling stations use. Then I can shift the whole thing by portable tractor beam into the antimatter nacelle. The small generator and controls for the field itself can be disintegrated the second the engines start to regenerate.
“Once we manage the initial transportin’, the rest should be a simple matter.” He noticed the odd expression on Kirk’s face. “Sorry, sir, no pun intended.”
“Don’t give it a thought, Scotty—it doesn’t matter.” They smiled together. Then Kirk gave the chief engineer’s proposal some serious consideration.
“Mr. Scott, this idea qualifies you for incarceration as a mental case. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir!”
“You’ve been under tremendous pressure lately and it’s affected your thinking. Obviously you’ve been operating with several circuits loose.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Let’s try the goddamn thing—”
Seconds later Scott was at the main engineering console, communicating his needs forward to Sulu. Th
en the two men headed for the transporter room on the run.
The Enterprise began to leave its weaving, bobbing course. It shifted as near as it dared to one villi. This protrusion had been selected because it was a little more isolated from its neighbors than most.
As Arex positioned them carefully, a tractor beam—its normal radiance lost in the glare of nearby eruptions—darted out from the ship and neatly excised a two-meter square chunk of the villi.
If the cloud-being felt this minute biopsy, it gave no sign.
“Got it, sir,” announced Scott. Kirk was standing next to him in the main transporter room. “Mr. Kyle,” Scott said to the transporter chief, “bring ’er aboard.”
Kyle nodded. A large, dull metal cube with handles set into two sides rested on one of the transporter disks. Another side of the cube was filled with dials, switches, naked components and generating equipment. These produced and regulated the invisible force-field inside. The field-cube was not impressive, but it would hold with stability enough antimatter to destroy a fair-sized continent.
A familiar little multicolored glow appeared just above the upper rim of the box. Kyle made a hurried adjustment of the controls. The glow vanished.
Slowly, he brought down the single transporter lever in operation and let out a relieved sigh as it hit bottom.
“Sorry, sir,” he said to Kirk. “Close. Almost materialized it outside the field.”
“Good thing you didn’t,” Kirk agreed calmly. Meanwhile his insides were still jumping. All the antimatter had to do was contact the air in the room. That would have been enough to set it off.
“I presume it is inside now?” Kyle felt secure enough to nod even without checking his instrumentation.
Kirk, Scott, and a pair of technicians moved forward towards the placid yet threatening box. Scott held a small control device in one hand. They mounted the transporter platform and one by one, took a look into the open cube.
Inside, floating easily in vacuum, was the loose piece of villus.
[Star Trek Logs 01] - Log One Page 17