Star Trek: The Original Series - 147 - Devil’s Bargain
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Finally, the last weld was put in place, and the Horta reported that they were finished. After checking the readings, Scott repressurized the shuttle bay. There was the rushing of air as the shuttle bay was oxygenated. Spock heard what he believed was a collective sigh from the Horta outside, but it was more like a rumble of thunder. The Horta could survive in a vacuum, but their time limit for exposure had approached maximum. All readings soon returned to nominal, and Spock took off his EV helmet. The other members of the repair team did likewise, and at last the airlock door opened.
The Horta aboard the Enterprise were safe.
As to those who had been sucked out—their fate remained to be determined.
Eleven
The Horta known as Slider Dan to the humans was fascinated by what was happening to him and around him. There had been the moment of decompression, followed by the enormous tug of the atmosphere pulling his massive body toward the open doors. Before he could dig in or establish a chemical hold—he was floating in space.
It was like surfacing on Janus VI—but so much more. More everything. More sky. More space. No gravitational tug. There were several others with him who had almost instantaneously been pulled out just as he was. The tumble from subspace into normal space was a rush like none he’d experienced.
First of all, there was the physical sensation: the tumble and roll of being in a place where no gravity, either natural or artificial, existed. A Horta always knew the way up and down, but these directions ceased to apply with the suddenness and profound completeness that shocked the system like nothing had done before.
And then crossing the bubble of subspace into normal space had shaken his mind as forcefully as falling out had shaken his body. There was a moment where both bubble universe and larger universe coexisted, where the stars were both near and far away at the same moment, and there was a double perception of everything. This was not merely a change in infrared perception but a change in awareness. It was like being in two places at once, like carving through rock and being at rest at the same time.
There was the shudder in the digestive cavity and the feeling of reality caving in all around him and then reestablishing itself, like one of his bad dreams of a tunnel collapse. When he’d first had those dreams, he’d gone to the All Mother and told her about them. She had explained that they were not that unusual among his kind and that a dream could teach you something, even if it wasn’t something that you could use directly. Dreams were ways of exploring feelings, and feelings must be mastered by a young Horta. Feelings were what had nearly destroyed the clans in the past, and while feelings were necessary, immature Horta needed to know how to keep them in check and use them in moments of need, and to not be overcome by them.
Then came the overwhelming sense of complete aloneness. So much of a Horta’s existence was spent pressed up against walls or against other Horta, and being shaped by those contacts. Slider Dan for the first time felt nothing pressing in or pulling him from any side. His mind was also free of the hive, completely free, for the first time.
He knew himself in that moment. He was a very small thing in the universe, but something that was alive and full of thoughts and perceptions, and, Slider Dan realized, in that moment, he was somebody.
Somebody who wanted to stay alive.
Slider Dan sent out his thoughts to discover if there was any possibility of connection with his kin. To his immense surprise and relief . . . someone answered.
• • •
Around Slider Dan were the thoughts of four others who had been sucked out with him. He could not see them in the darkness, for there was no light to reflect off of them except the light from stars hundreds of millions of kilometers away. But he could feel the minds of the others, their presence within telepathy range. He realized that this told him something.
They must be fairly close by. For the telepathic contact would stretch only a short distance, a quarter kilometer or so. They could draw near to one another by gauging the increasing or decreasing strength of their own ability to communicate telepathically.
Come to me, brothers and sisters, thought Slider Dan. Don’t be afraid. This is not a catastrophe. It is an opportunity. This is a chance to go where none of the people have gone before.
But we’re going to die, said Missile-in-Rock, who, true to her namesake, was a very quick borer, but she had been shy and timid in personality when dealing with other Horta. She was not of Slider Dan’s clan but was of the Sand Blaster Clan. This did not trouble Slider Dan. He had always felt that his being a Horta was more important than his clan affiliation, and now he sensed this truth even more profoundly. Yet his own clan, the Tunnel Borers, remained extremely meaningful to him, as one is proud of a birthplace or place of schooling. One of the others was of the Sand Blaster Clan and the other was of the Melter Clan.
None of that mattered now. If one considered the odds, it was probable that they would be floating here forever. How long could a Horta live in space? They would perhaps be the first ever to find out. They would be the pioneers who knew the answer. Perhaps they would never be able to communicate this answer, perhaps they would.
The future was entirely uncertain—although the physical discomfort he was beginning to feel now was probably telling him something.
And then another thought occurred to Slider Dan: Was there a reason he and these others had been sucked out together, a greater meaning?
No. There could not be.
But perhaps there was a chance for a greater meaning. Perhaps he could make it mean something that they found themselves together.
Why not? When this was over they would have shared something that no other Horta had shared.
Space, the final frontier.
Let us try to move closer together, Slider Dan thought to the others. This is the only way we will form a hive mind with so few of the people present. Let’s attempt a simple formation.
What? We’re stranded out here, and you want us to fly around as if we were on recreational leave? thought the Horta from the Melter clan.
That is exactly what I believe we should do, Slider Dan replied. Not for the sake of entertainment, although it will be entertaining, but for the sake of maintaining your sanity.
I feel like I have indigestion—this is probably the effect of the vacuum. Furthermore, what you propose seems insane to me, said Missile-in-Rock. But then all options seem insane at the moment.
That’s the spirit! replied Slider Dan. Let us try something crazy, then. Let us try to move about by expelling the cut-juice from our underbellies. The All Mother has taught us that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. I did not truly understand what she meant at the time, but it seems as if this might be a good time to try the theory in practice and experience it for ourselves.
They did just that, experimenting with expelling bits and pieces of their self-generated cutting solution from their undercarriages. They discovered that they need not expend much mass, only the equivalent of a few pellets ejected—but with the rail gun–like speed the Horta were capable of generating, it was enough to move them closer together. The telepathic field grew stronger among them. They were doing it. And moving through space felt almost . . . natural. Like sliding through rock.
Could it be that the people are made for space? thought Slider Dan.
Let us try a crystalline arrangement, say a pentagon, Slider Dan enjoined them. There are five of us, let us form five points and see how we do.
After a few miscues and mistakes, that is exactly what they did.
Now let us determine if we can rotate, Slider Dan continued, the urgency in his formed thoughts pushing them on.
And it worked. The Horta formation began to spin. The hive mind grew stronger and stronger among them the more they interacted. And there was a point when this hive mind grew stronger than the lines that separated them as clan members. There was a point when they became as one.
And in that moment, a new clan was born.
The Star Clan.
• • •
On the bridge, Pavel Chekov was busy tracking down every last Horta that had been pulled out of the shuttle bay hatch and beaming those Horta back aboard. This took much longer than the captain liked, but space is vast, and although the Enterprise’s sensors were very powerful, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Even more fortunate was the fact that when small bodies fell from subspace, they did so in dribs and drabs, as it were. There was a buildup until enough mass pressed against the space-time boundary, and then the dump into Newtonian space happened all at once. This meant that most of the Horta had dropped within a few kilometers of one another, and within that tiny space they were distributed in even smaller clumps of three to five.
Fortunately these groups were the equivalent of a very hot needle in a very cold haystack, so thermal long-range sensors proved to be effective, and the Horta were located down to the last one.
Toward the end of Operation Horta Overboard, as Kirk had heard Chekov name it sotto voce to Sulu, Spock reappeared on the bridge. He reported that the saved Horta were being reintegrated into the crowd in the shuttle bay, and that there were many Horta equivalents of tearful reunions.
“The speaker of the Horta, the one I communicated with most effectively before, Slider Dan, is still among the missing. Do we have a report on any remaining Horta in space?” asked Spock.
“Our sensor tally and the Horta’s own count of their missing members match up,” said Chekov. “We’ll be in range to beam aboard the last five Horta within minutes.”
“That includes Slider Dan,” said Spock. “Captain, I suggest that we meet him in the transporter room and welcome him back aboard. The other Horta listen to him. He is the most individualistic of them, and the Horta with whom I have the greatest rapport. His mind is very strong and strategically oriented. In fact, it reminds me of another mind, one I have come in contact with in the past.”
“Who is that?” asked Kirk.
“You, Captain,” said Spock.
Kirk accompanied Spock to the transporter room, and they were standing by when Slider Dan was beamed aboard. He had a crust of what must be frozen atmosphere on his carapace, but he immediately began shuffling about in a Horta-like fashion after he materialized.
Spock established a mind meld immediately. This was becoming an easy procedure with practice. There was, of course, the danger that he might at some point be absorbed into the Horta group mind and not be able to extract himself. But the Vulcan had found that the telepathic link that he shared with the Horta was much more casual and superficial than the more profound link he shared with other Vulcans, and yet not so much the jarring experience he’d experienced mind melding with the utterly alien.
“Spock, please express my regret about what’s happened, and ask them if they’re all right,” Kirk said.
Spock relayed the question and Slider Dan, after a moment’s hesitation, was able to answer in a sprightly manner that might have included a chuckle were it spoken aloud. Hail, Spock! I am fine. Do not worry yourselves in that regard.
“He reports that he is doing well, Captain.”
“Very good. Tell him that we have tracked down one of the miscreants who sabotaged the shuttle bay hatch and that we will see that justice is done. When he has had time to rest, I will consult him and the other Horta upon this matter.”
Spock passed along the thought, wordlessly.
Speaker from the Stars, tell your captain that I am none the worse for wear, and that I was able to remain in contact with several of my fellow clan members. While we were floating in space, we found that we could use the effluvia of our undersides as reaction mass and fly about in any manner we chose. We expected rescue, or at least we had hopes for it, and we thought that the best use of our time was to enjoy ourselves while we were floating in the vastness of the galaxy. This also took our thoughts off the pressure discomforts. Such an opportunity will probably never come again, and we wished to make the most of it. That we did. We flew in formation, we flew separately, and we attempted various tricks and maneuvers. This we did to occupy ourselves and keep ourselves from worrying overmuch about rescue. In short, we had a wonderful time, and we believe that space may be in our future, at least for some of us.
I am glad to hear this, Spock thought. Perhaps you will also now be in a position to rethink your offer to me to become your new All Mother. You understand that I feel the same way about space exploration as you now do. Vulcans lack many emotions, but we are filled with a burning curiosity, and there is nothing like seeking out new worlds and new civilizations to fulfill that need.
The Horta was silent for a moment, and then in Spock’s mind the thought of total understanding coalesced.
We would like to present a new clan to you, Speaker from the Stars.
Fascinating, thought Spock. Please do so.
Here is the Star Clan, Slider Dan intoned in thought. We are your children, Speaker from the Stars
“What’s going on, Spock?” asked Kirk. “What are you two thinking?”
“We are coming to an understanding,” said Spock. “Our similarities are greater than our differences, and I believe both myself and the Horta truly understand this now. They are a remarkable species. And it would be an honor to become the new All Mother, should that ever come to be.”
“You’re seriously considering this?” asked Kirk
“Not really, Captain,” said Spock. “But, as I believe the saying goes: It is an honor to be nominated.”
• • •
Rescuing the Horta proved to be challenging, but now every last one of the castaways was collected. Kirk and Spock accompanied Slider Dan back to the shuttle bay, and there they met McCoy, who had been standing by to check out all incoming Horta and to treat any ailments from vacuum or extreme cold.
“I told you before,” said McCoy. “I’m a doctor, not a veterinarian or construction worker. What I don’t know about these creatures’ physiology could fill volumes.”
“And I told you before,” said Kirk, “you’re a healer, so heal.”
“Well, the truth is, as far as I can tell, I’m not needed here,” McCoy grumbled.
In the shuttle bay, the several hundred Horta who had not been spaced were gathered in a large circle around those who had. Spock quickly touched a Horta and joined in the common mind meld of the creatures. He reported back that what was going on was a storytelling session.
“They seem to possess the resiliency of teenagers,” said Spock. “They’re not fazed by change and uncertainty the way an older creature might be. I don’t know whether to attribute this to the species itself or to their relative youth.”
“Or to both,” Kirk said.
“Quite,” replied Spock. “In any case, I do not believe the doctor’s services will be required on this occasion.”
“Thank the powers that be for little favors.”
“I don’t know what I was going to do if they had needed my help,” muttered McCoy. “I filled up that phaser wound on the All Mother with thermoconcrete. This time I thought I may have to coat them in hot tar or something equally bizarre.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Kirk said to McCoy’s retreating back. “Spock, the Horta are not even the slightest bit upset by this mishap?”
Spock shook his head. “They are concerned about their safety. And when they experienced the loss of the castaways, it was as if a wound had opened up in their collective mentality. It is hard to express in terms a human would understand, but it is as if you experienced a sudden amputation of an extremity. The loss was felt in an almost physical sense. Now that the missing Horta are returned and reconnected to the group mind, there is a sense of rejoicing and happiness, and, most of all, of completion. While I cannot share in their joy, I sense its presence. It is a feeling of profound
relief on their part.”
“Better than profound anger,” said Kirk. “All right, we’ve heard from our returned Horta, but what did they do while they were waiting to get picked up?”
“As I understand it from Slider Dan, the Horta are capable of producing reactionary ejecta from carapaces. They were able to experiment with various maneuvers. As we discovered, groups fell out very near together, and, while they were frightened that they would not be rescued, as sensible creatures they decided to make the most of the situation. They began flying about together, conjoining in formations. Furthermore, they looked around and took in all they could of the sky—something they almost never see on Janus VI. For some of these Horta, the experience was extremely moving, verging on sacred. And they want more of it.”
“When the job is done,” Kirk said.
“Yes, I believe they understand this,” Mister Spock answered.
Kirk smiled. It was as he suspected. Once a sentient species experienced the wonder of space flight, they seldom wanted to give it up. And some among them would always yearn for it thereafter. The Horta were no different than humans in this respect. It wasn’t inconceivable that a Horta might become a Starfleet officer, as a matter of fact. Maybe even a captain.
That was the future. For now, Vesbius was one day away at warp eight. The asteroid was drawing closer and closer. There was no guarantee that Spock’s and Scotty’s plan would work. The captain was sure that it could be modified along the way. But time was pressing and there was little room for error. This one would be close—and a world and its people hung in the balance.
Twelve
Sulu sat back from the computer screen in his quarters and shook his head in dismay. The history of the Deneb II brush wars was an extremely unsavory and disheartening subject for research, and he’d spent a couple of hours immersed in it. Both sides in the conflict had behaved abysmally, and this was compounded by the fact that the ideologues on both sides had defined the other as inhuman.