by Dayton Ward
Looking to the Klingon scientist who was assisting the wounded soldier, B’tinzal said, “Tothar, what happened?” Even as she voiced the question, she suspected she knew the answer.
Tothar, with the other soldier’s help, moved their wounded companion to a nearby workstation and set him on the floor, propping him against the console. Now B’tinzal could see that the leg had been severed below the knee and a crude tourniquet applied above the kneecap. Blood stained the makeshift wrap—which looked to have been made from a towel or rag—and the Klingon’s trousers. The blood was a stark contrast to the dark, charred flesh that marred the soldier’s stump. Someone, likely his comrade, had performed a hasty cauterizing of the wound in the hopes of staving off traumatic blood loss. It was a practical if barbaric method of emergency medical treatment, doubtless keeping with some arcane clause of the Klingon warrior ethos of which B’tinzal was unaware.
“This infernal contraption!” spat Tothar, waving back the way they had come. “It confounds us at every turn. Just when we think we have made the slightest measure of progress, it lashes out as though punishing us for our transgressions.”
The Klingon who had aided Tothar with the injured soldier said, “We apparently triggered another of the mechanism’s internal security features. We had successfully opened an inner passageway, and our sensor scans showed the presence of a large power generation facility. When we attempted to investigate, the machine began sealing off access to that area. All interior hatches were sealed.” He gestured to his wounded comrade. “Kventok slipped and fell during our retreat and was caught by one of the hatches.”
B’tinzal moved to the wounded Klingon, inspecting his damaged leg before casting a glance to the soldier. “What is your name?”
“Komaraq, Professor.”
“Did you treat him in this manner?”
“Yes.” The Klingon’s expression did not waver. “It was the only way to prevent him from bleeding to death.”
“It was excellent initiative,” said Kvarel. “You likely saved his life.”
The soldier’s eyes narrowed. “To what purpose? His days as a warrior are almost certainly finished.”
“Take him to the physician,” said B’tinzal, gesturing to Komaraq and another soldier who had come in response to the alarm siren. “We will let him make such determinations.” As the soldiers assisted their comrade toward the portable transport pad that would beam them outside the citadel, B’tinzal turned to Tothar.
“What else can you tell me about the new section you explored?”
Having had time to compose himself, Tothar replied, “It is as Komaraq said. We were working in one of the secondary control hubs, attempting to gain access to areas beneath the central power generator. One of the computer technicians had discovered a means of accessing a protected memory core and was able to decipher some of the information stored there. This in turn led to our finding a means of unlocking several interior passageways.”
“But what might it be doing now?”
Tothar frowned, holding up his scanning device. “From what I can tell, a series of water-intake conduits has been opened at various points along the hull, beneath the lake’s surface. The water is being drawn toward this new section. It could be for filtration or cooling, or both. Without a means of accessing that area, I have nothing but guesses.”
“Is this the first time this has happened?” asked B’tinzal.
“The first since our arrival. It may well be a regular occurrence, at least as measured by the cursed beings who conceived and built this monstrosity.”
B’tinzal nodded, processing this new information. Aside from the citadel’s stubborn refusal to activate the universe-bridging portal mechanism that seemed to be its primary reason for existing, the alien construct had managed to defy almost all of their efforts to explore its inner sections. She had lost much sleep during her first few nights here, poring over the schematics compiled from the scans recorded of the citadel’s interior. Much of the structure remained a mystery, as she and her team discovered that entire areas of the machine were composed of materials that defied sensors. These sections, she believed, contained the main power plant and other critical systems, providing energy to the mechanism responsible for generating the bridge between this universe and whatever realm the Jatohr called home.
It made sense that such technology would be located in a secure area of the structure protected by sophisticated systems to prevent intrusion and tampering. No active intrusion countermeasures had yet been detected, but B’tinzal was aware that the Jatohr had employed a form of remote-controlled drones to keep the Usildar population in line. B’tinzal had yet to see or hear of those sentries being seen within the citadel, leading her to wonder if all of the devices had been destroyed or rendered inoperative. Perhaps they were of limited number and would be used only when other measures proved ineffective? There was also the possibility that other security features were waiting for her and her people as they progressed ever deeper into the alien structure. As for the transfer generator itself, although it was accessible—for the moment, at least—it continued to rebuff all attempts at reactivation.
“The effect was like an emergency protocol aboard one of our ships,” said Tothar. “Similar to a hull breach, which would trigger the sealing of adjacent compartments.” He waved toward the citadel. “There are countermeasures of this sort throughout the entire complex.”
B’tinzal shook her head. “It is as though this place knows we are here to conquer it. Rather than bow to us, it wishes to fight.” If the citadel had been a sentient being, she might even have admired it for its cunning. As it was, the fortress’s actions only served to anger her.
“We must have the Key,” said Kvarel. “Its creators appear to have been most thorough in this regard. It is obvious that this machine will continue to deny us until we provide the Key or some worthy substitute.”
No such alternative seemed to be forthcoming, B’tinzal knew, which left her—and the Empire—with but one option.
Take the Transfer Key from the Earther James Kirk.
Seven
His eyes closed, Kirk listened to the sounds of his ship. There was the ubiquitous murmur of the ship’s main engines, of course, which even with sound dampening carried through every deck plate and bulkhead, and reverberated ever so slightly across every interior surface. With his right hand laid flat atop the briefing room table, he could just barely sense that all but imperceptible tremor channeled across the surface.
There you are. Alive again.
Thanks to the untiring efforts of Montgomery Scott and his engineering staff over a period of more than seven hours, the Enterprise once again was soaring through space at a solid if not exceptional cruising speed. The chief engineer had cautioned against straining the engines, insisting on a cap of warp five until he could complete yet another thorough systems check. Scott, even more so than normal, was fussing over the ship with the intensity of a mother hen, but Kirk knew it was with good reason. The repairs, as effective as they were, were still not up to par with what the starship could expect on its next visit to a Starfleet repair facility. This point had been made repeatedly and with great passion on Scott’s part, and it was Kirk’s solemn wish that he would be able to respect his chief engineer’s wishes.
You probably just jinxed the whole thing.
The sound of the doors startled Kirk from his moment of solitude. Opening his eyes, he swiveled in his chair to see Spock, McCoy, and Scott entering the briefing room.
“Captain,” offered Spock as he moved to take the seat to Kirk’s left, where a computer terminal was positioned at the head of the table. McCoy and Scott claimed seats across the table from Kirk.
Leaning forward in his chair, the captain rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. “Mister Spock, report.”
The Vulcan nodded. “At our present speed, w
e should arrive in the Libros system in seventeen hours, thirty-four minutes.”
“She’s not exactly purring like a kitten,” added Scott, “but she’ll get us there, Captain.” The engineer looked tired after the long hours he and his teams had been devoting to the ongoing repair efforts.
Turning his attention to the engineer, Kirk said, “Well done, Scotty, getting the warp engines back online. How are your diagnostic checks coming?”
“We’re getting there, sir. Not that I like the results we’re seeing. I know what you’re about to ask, and I have to warn you that anything past warp five is begging for trouble. The engines will definitely need the sort of attention we can only get at a starbase.”
His arms folded across his chest, McCoy asked, “And what about you? How are you feeling?”
“Ridden hard and put away wet, Doctor.” Scott mustered a smile. “I promise I’m heading to my quarters for a few hours’ sleep before getting back to it.”
McCoy’s eyes narrowed. “At least five. Doctor’s orders.” Before the engineer could protest, he added, “They can call you if they need you, but not unless the warp engines are about to explode.”
“There’s still a lot of work to be done, Doctor, and I don’t like being away too long when my lads are still at it.”
“I already know you’ve got them rotating through so everyone can get some rest,” replied McCoy. “Now it’s your turn.” Then his voice softened. “You trained your people well, Scotty. Let them do their jobs.”
Kirk chimed in. “They can mind the store for a short while. Give yourself a break.”
He had reviewed Scott’s status reports while waiting for his senior officers to arrive, and so already knew most of what his chief engineer had just reported. He was not happy with the update, but he also was aware that Scott was not being overly cautious or melodramatic.
“What about the other repairs?” asked Kirk.
Scott sat up in his chair. “The major systems are back to full power. All the overloads in the shield generators, weapons, and life support have been addressed. We’ve still got a few handfuls of burned-out circuits to replace, but most of those are in noncritical systems, and we’re able to reroute power around them. We should have all of that taken care of before we reach Libros, Captain, but I’m still leery about what we might be up against once we get there.”
“I’m working on that.” Knowing he could not avoid it any longer, Kirk had transmitted a message to Starfleet Command, requesting help in the form of additional starships dispatched to the Libros system. With the Enterprise still not back to full operating capacity, he had no desire to take on alone any Klingon warships that almost certainly would be orbiting Usilde. He was still awaiting a response, which he knew would be packaged with all manner of questions regarding the actions he had taken up to this point, as well as his intentions. Kirk was not looking for a fight, but protecting the Jatohr citadel from being plundered by the Klingons was of paramount importance. Not only did the Usildar require protection from exploitation at the hands of the Empire, but the alien contraption was also the only means of retrieving Sarek, Joanna McCoy, Captain Una, and everyone else who had transported against their will into the other universe.
“All right,” said Kirk, “we’re going to get there, thanks to Mister Scott. What happens after that?”
Spock propped his forearms on the conference table, holding a pair of computer data cards in his hands. “Ensign Chekov and I have been continuing our study of the Transfer Key. We are limited, of course, in that we cannot disassemble the mechanism and risk being unable to properly put it back together. Even tricorder and sensor scans of the device’s internal components have proven inconclusive. It is our theory that due to its origins in the other universe, its technology is at least somewhat incompatible with our own. Indeed, our scans of it and the Jatohr citadel support our hypothesis that the other universe may well be governed by a different set of physical laws. Still, we believe we have made some progress.”
“Can it be adapted to our power systems?” asked Kirk.
Spock replied, “We will require Mister Scott to weigh in on our findings, but we feel that it is possible to adapt the Key to our warp drive and use it to power the device without the same ill effects that befell the Romulan vessel.”
McCoy asked, “Can we use it to communicate with anyone in the other universe?”
“Unknown,” replied Spock. “Analysis of our sensor and tricorder readings of the Transfer Key have so far revealed nothing that might be comparable to targeting or communications components. However, those systems are present in the transfer-field generator. Based on our findings, I believe the only way to locate or contact anyone in the other universe is via the field generator, using the Transfer Key as our means of direct access.” Spock placed the data cards on the table. “It is possible, perhaps likely, that our technology is incompatible with the physical properties of that realm. We are continuing to conduct further tests, including computer simulations that we revise as we learn more about the Transfer Key.”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t like the sound of that,” said McCoy.
While Kirk trusted Spock’s recommendations without hesitation, he was less inclined to put total faith in a computer’s conclusions on what they might encounter. Simply put, Spock, Chekov, and the ship’s computer needed more information from the source.
“What about a probe?” asked Kirk. Then, remembering to whom he was speaking, he offered a small smile. “Let me guess. You’ve already thought of this.”
The Vulcan nodded. “It is our hope that we can equip an automated or remote-guided probe with the proper sensor components to record the effects of the other universe on our equipment. Ensign Chekov proposed this as a possibility. Again, Mister Scott’s expertise will be most helpful, but that was to be our recommendation.”
This was more like it, Kirk decided, though there would be issues even with this option. “The Klingons will be watching our every move once we reach Usilde. It’s a safe bet that whoever’s there knows by now that we have the Transfer Key, but I don’t expect them to make any direct moves against us, at least not right away.”
Spock replied, “The Organian Peace Treaty allows ships from both sides to be present in a disputed area, so long as we do not engage in combat.”
“I’m not about to trust whoever we find there to play fair,” said Kirk. “Besides, we’ve already seen that the Organians don’t always take a keen interest in every little skirmish.”
“Do you think they’re even paying attention to any of this?” asked McCoy. “I mean, on the surface this seems like just any other disagreement about who lays claim to a single planet, but there’s so much more at stake here.”
“That’s a good question, Bones.” Kirk was grateful that his friend seemed to have regained at least some of his confidence and was once again making his opinions known, rather than allowing his concerns for his daughter to force him into silence and possible despair.
“Our mission to Capella IV made me rethink the Organians and the likelihood of involving themselves.” The Enterprise’s visit to that world and its subsequent encounter with a Klingon emissary seeking to undermine Federation negotiations with the Capellans had been enough to tell Kirk that the Organians were not interested in managing every squabble. “They seem content to let us settle small-scale disagreements.”
McCoy replied, “Right, but this is a little different. Maybe we just haven’t tested the upper limits of their patience yet.”
“Doctor McCoy’s point is valid,” said Spock. “This situation may well prove sufficient to test his theory.”
That was enough to make McCoy lean in the Vulcan’s direction. “You mean you’re agreeing with me?”
Spock’s eyes narrowed. “I believe I just said that, Doctor.”
“We’re obviously not counting on the Organians stepping
in,” said Kirk, “either to help us or tie our hands. Scotty, we’ll need weapons and defenses at peak efficiency, no matter what it takes. Be ready to route power from wherever you need it. Don’t even wait for my order, if it gets to that point.”
The engineer replied, “Aye, sir. We’ll be ready.”
“We also can’t forget the Jatohr.” Kirk eyed his friends. “The impact of their arrival seems limited to Usilde, but we can’t know for sure they’ll be content to remain there. There’s no way to know what the Jatohr might be planning, and they’ve had eighteen years to continue preparing for that door to open. Getting our people out is important, but we have to do it without aiding and abetting an invasion.” According to the reports Kirk had read as filed by Captain Robert April and then-Lieutenant Una, the Jatohr scientist they had met on Usilde, Eljor, was worried that his people would never cease attempting to replicate the Transfer Key or find another way to activate the transfer-field generator and provide them passage from their universe to this one. Add to that the Klingons and their ongoing efforts to unlock the secrets of the citadel, and it was a recipe for catastrophe.
Nobody ever promised me this job would be easy.
“There is, of course, another concern,” said Spock. “The Usildar.”
Kirk nodded. “Agreed. They didn’t ask for any of this, but we’re involved now. Whatever we do, we have to look out for their best interests. It’s not just what the Klingons might do to them and the planet, but also the damage that’s already been inflicted by the Jatohr.”
“Terraforming efforts to restore the planet’s ecosystem could take decades,” said Scott, “assuming we’re even able to reverse everything the Jatohr did to alter the environment to suit their needs.”
Kirk replied, “It doesn’t matter how long it takes. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Without question.” Spock straightened his posture, clasping his hands before him and extending his forefingers so that they touched, adopting what Kirk likened to a meditative pose. “However, any aid to the Usildar will be contingent on the Klingons and their intentions for the planet.”