by Dayton Ward
“Silence!” Woryan shouted. “Do you believe for a moment that I would give a traitor such as you the means to attack us again?”
“Woryan, please!” Anadac could not keep the quaver of confusion and fear from hir voice but s/he did not care. While s/he at first had wanted to understand the nature of this questioning and the treatment s/he had suffered, s/he now began to fear for hir life. “I ask again: Does this involve the portal? Was it activated without my supervision?”
“My portal has nothing to do with your betrayal.”
It was the first of Woryan’s statements that made sense, Anadac realized. A psychic wave of the magnitude to which the supreme leader had alluded would be impossible for the portal to generate. Without a transmission from the other dimension to provide power, the portal could not even have been operational.
“Countless cycles of work adapting our technology for the other universe, training pilots and soldiers to fight the outsiders, all of it for nothing. Was this your plan all along, Anadac? Did you intend to betray me at your first opportunity?”
“How can you believe that?” Anadac felt as if s/he were pleading for forgiveness when what s/he wanted to do was ridicule Woryan for such irrational thought. “Why would I betray my people this way? Are we all not working toward the same goal? Saving our people from annihilation?”
Woryan glared at hir, eyestalks boring into Anadac. “I used to believe that. Then, I saw the evidence for myself.” S/he turned hir gaze to the assembled audience, hir voice carrying across the Hall. “Behold for yourselves, the truth of Anadac’s treachery!”
The chamber’s interior dome flashed to life, with swirls of colors coalescing into an image s/he quickly recognized. It was the outsiders’ encampment, likely recorded by sentry drones sent to covertly monitor the strangers. S/he watched the image sharpen and enlarge until s/he could see Una and others moving about the area, just as Anadac had observed from her sled. After a few moments, the scene shifted to depict Anadac hirself, in the camp and speaking to the outsider Sarek. The two were joined by Una.
A chorus of disapproving calls echoed through the Hall, and Anadac turned to see Woryan’s reactions to the images. The supreme leader unleashed a deep, muffled groan that shook the entire chamber, serving not only to hush the crowd but to further unsettle Anadac’s internal sensations.
“You see betrayal, Woryan, but I tell you that is not what happened!”
Woryan snorted. “Tell us, Anadac.” The leader’s tone was as derisive as it was contemptuous. “Explain yourself and your collusion with our enemy, that you had hoped to keep secret from your kind.”
“It was not collusion, as they are not our enemy!” Anadac felt hir entire body shivering with mounting fury. “I was attempting to negotiate with the outsiders, Woryan. Though they possess great power in their own universe, they also are quite benevolent, and they can even help us once we relocate there.” Grunting in frustration, s/he added, “If you attack them, they will fight back, and they may well destroy us all if they feel so threatened. They stand ready to assist us, but your pride and anger have blinded you into believing you can dominate the other universe as you believe yourself to dominate this one. You will be proven utterly, catastrophically wrong.”
In the wake of hir mistreatment at Woryan’s command, the effort to unleash hir frustration with the supreme leader and this tyrannical regime had all but exhausted Anadac. If s/he was to die, then s/he could no longer deny hir feelings of outrage and shame s/he had suppressed for so long.
Woryan said nothing for several moments. It was a far longer silence than Anadac might expect, given the circumstances. When the leader did speak, hir words were not carried with the reverberation or volume that s/he had been employing to this point.
“You appear to have great faith in your new friends, but that confidence is gravely misplaced. We will be using the portal to cross to the other universe, but before that, we will hunt down the outsiders who dare to pollute our realm.” Woryan returned to hir place on the dais, leaving Anadac with hir two guards.
“I urge you to reconsider, Woryan. Battle and conquest are not our only options. Please, for all our sakes, the action you are about to undertake is a decision you will regret.”
Woryan laughed. “Perhaps I will, but I can assure you of one thing, Anadac: you will not live to see it.”
S/he gestured to hir guards, and Anadac turned to see the soldiers stepping closer, each wielding a spear at hir. Anadac’s last sensation was one of agony before everything disappeared into brilliant white light.
Twenty-four
Ensconced within the solitude of his quarters, Spock sat at the chair behind his desk. With his hands clasped together before him, his forefingers extended and touching in a meditative pose, he allowed his mind to drift while scrutinizing the constant streams of sensor data scrolling on his computer monitor. Unlike the astrophysics lab and, in particular, the bridge, the atmosphere here was conducive to quiet contemplation. It allowed him to consider the volumes of information collected by the probe and unscrambled by the ship’s computer, and he could ponder not just the presented facts but also any deeper meanings to be found.
Of course, this presupposed that such significance existed in the first place, and based on his findings, Spock believed this to be true.
It had taken him hours to peruse the complete set of telemetry gathered by the probe’s sensors and transmitted to the Enterprise, that effort following several more hours spent just waiting for the drone to supply that information via the gamma-radiation carrier wave devised by Lieutenant Uhura. Additional data would likely not be forthcoming, as he and Ensign Chekov had come to believe that the probe’s power supply had been exhausted for reasons unknown following its transfer to the other realm. If there were answers to be found, they would have to be discovered within the volumes of information already at their disposal.
The sound of his door chime shifted Spock’s gaze away from the computer monitor. “Enter,” he called, then rose to his feet at the sight of his mother and Leonard McCoy entering the room. Amanda smiled when their eyes met.
“Spock. I hope I’m not intruding.”
The Vulcan shook his head. “No. I am merely continuing my analysis of the probe data.”
“Well, I’ve been analyzing the emptiness of my quarters. I thought a stroll around the ship might do me some good.” She nodded toward McCoy. “The good doctor was kind enough to accompany me.”
Glancing to McCoy, Spock said, “I trust there are no concerns regarding your health.”
“Nothing like that,” replied the doctor. “We’ve been catching up and passing the time while we wait for you to get us all the answers.”
Amanda said, “You’ve been working for hours, Spock. That’s not healthy. Would you like something to eat?”
“I do not require nourishment,” replied the first officer, though when he looked again to McCoy, the doctor offered what Spock recognized as a mock frown.
“According to my dietary records, you haven’t eaten since yesterday, Spock.”
Knowing that McCoy was prepared to take this discussion to its ultimate conclusion and order him to eat by virtue of his authority as the chief medical officer, Spock decided there was no logical reason to reach that point. “Very well, Doctor. I will eat following the end of this duty shift.”
McCoy nodded in apparent satisfaction. “Fair enough.”
“Have you found something?” asked Amanda as she moved to stand next to him.
Spock said, “I am not certain. Our analysis of the sensor probe’s data indicates unexplained energy patterns, which seem to intermingle on some level with the life-form readings we have detected. It is as though energy and living matter are interacting, though I am unable to determine to what extent or for what purpose.”
“What about the life signs?” McCoy asked.
“Jat
ohr and Usildar, of course, but there are also indications of human, Vulcan, Klingon, and Izarian life signs. As with the energy readings, these life signs seem to be intertwined in a manner that is . . . interesting. Some of the readings indicate individuals, whereas others present the appearance of a single, joint consciousness.”
“Sarek and the others,” said Amanda. “They’re alive.”
Nodding, Spock replied, “It appears so, though I cannot assess his current condition.”
“A joint consciousness, Spock?” asked McCoy. “How would that work?”
“I am unable to speculate without further information, Doctor.” Spock gestured to his computer monitor. “I am still reviewing the remaining data sent to us by the probe, in the hopes that a clue will present itself.”
Something amid the scrolling strings of data caught his eye, and he touched a control at the monitor’s base. “Computer, halt data review.” Not seeing what he now sought, he added, “Present previous three hundred blocks, one-half speed.”
“Working,” replied the stilted, feminine voice of the Enterprise’s main computer. Leaning closer, Spock reviewed the selected block of information with a more critical eye. To his surprise, the data making up one of the final recorded transmissions was logged not as a sensor reading but instead a communication.
“Stop,” he said after a moment. Using the terminal’s manual interface, he selected and highlighted a single line of encrypted data. Amid the encoded symbols that were decipherable only to the computer as well as anyone who had troubled themselves to memorize the complete character, a single word rendered in Federation Standard stood apart from the rest of the data:
AMANDA
Still standing next to him and watching as he worked, his mother pointed to the screen. “Spock? What is that?”
His gaze still focused on the highlighted text, Spock replied, “Aside from the obvious, I believe this to be a message from Sarek.”
“Are you sure?” asked McCoy. The doctor’s expression only punctuated the disbelief that was evident in his question. “How is that even possible?”
“Logic suggests Sarek must have found the probe and found a way to insert this message into its telemetry stream. One is left to wonder about the message’s brevity and lack of context.”
McCoy shook his head. “You can ask him all about that once we get him back, Spock, along with my daughter and the others.”
“That is our goal, Doctor,” said Spock, “but understanding the nature of this message may be critical to facilitating their return.” Had Sarek been operating with limited time or resources? How had he managed to add the message to the data stream in the first place? Each question begat others, with precious little information to help in formulating answers.
“Oh my god.”
His train of thought interrupted, Spock turned in his seat to regard his mother, who now exhibited a shocked expression. “Mother?”
“Sarek. He . . . he’s been trying to contact me.” Looking to McCoy, Amanda said, “Before, when you came to visit me in my quarters, I’d just woken up. I’d been dreaming, and in that dream I thought I heard Sarek calling to me. It wasn’t much, just, ‘My wife,’ over and over.” She gestured toward the computer terminal. “I don’t think it was a dream.”
“Mother,” said Spock, “are you suggesting Sarek called out to you via the bond you share?”
Amanda frowned. “I don’t know if that’s it, but what if it is? Sarek melded with me when we were first married, and we’ve had a connection ever since. It’s more him than me, of course, but when we’re close, I can read the thoughts he directs to me, and if we touch, I can share with him.” Her gaze fell back to her name on the screen. “He’s never contacted me like this before.”
“Interesting.” Spock pondered the implications of what his mother had told him. “Your bond with him would be stronger than anyone with whom he had previously joined. Even I do not enjoy such a connection, as we have never melded.”
“Why can’t you try reaching out to him now?” asked McCoy.
Spock shook his head. “The Vulcan mind-meld requires a physical connection, unless the participants have previously joined their thoughts. As I indicated, that link does not exist for Sarek and me.” To his mother, he said, “However, you alone may be able to reach him.”
“Do you really believe that?” asked Amanda. “I’m not sure, Spock. I’ve never tried anything like this. I don’t even know what to do.”
“I will guide you.”
McCoy said, “Now, hold on just a minute here.” He indicated Amanda with a nod. “Spock, after all she’s been through, I’m not sure she’s up for something like this.”
“Leonard, I’m fine.” Amanda reached out and took Spock’s hand. “If what Spock’s proposing can help find Sarek and the others, then I want to try.”
Spock added, “Your concern is noted and appreciated, Doctor. With that in mind, and even though a mind-meld is usually a very private experience between the participants, I would ask that you remain here to monitor my mother’s condition.”
Apparently mollified by this request, McCoy replied, “All right, Spock. I can do that. I appreciate your trust.”
“Excellent.” Still holding his mother’s hand, Spock guided them both to sit on the edge of his bed. Once situated, he touched her face with his right hand, the tips of his fingers moving to the points on her face that facilitated the physical connection.
“As Sarek and I have never melded, it is unlikely that we will be able to sense one another’s thoughts, even if you are successful in reaching out to him. You may well have to guide me through whatever you share.”
Amanda said, “I’ll try.”
Instead of replying, Spock pressed his fingertips against her face, and she closed her eyes. Drawing a deep breath, he focused his thoughts.
“My mind . . . to your mind. My thoughts . . . to your thoughts.”
Yes, Spock. I know you’re here.
“Mother. I see what you see.”
Smoke. So much of it.
“From Centaurus, the last time you were together.”
Yes. Sarek was with me, then he was gone. Gone!
“And now he calls to you.”
Yes, from the smoke. No. From somewhere . . . else.
“Call to him.”
Sarek? Are you there? Can you hear me?
“Do you hear him?” Spock probed deeper, but sensed nothing beyond his mother’s thoughts. If Sarek was there, he could not feel his presence.
I cannot see him. Sarek!
“Keep trying, Mother.”
Sarek. My husband . . .
“You can do this.”
I don’t hear him. I . . . wait. Sarek? Sarek!
Though he heard nothing save his mother’s thoughts, Spock was certain that he sensed for the briefest of moments another presence. It was communicated as little more than a ripple within the link he now shared with Amanda, appearing and fading in the space between two heartbeats. It had come and gone almost before he realized what had teased the very edge of his consciousness, but now it was clouded by his mother’s increasing emotional reaction at having apparently made contact with her husband.
Sarek!
His fingers lost their connection as Amanda slumped, her head and shoulders drooping. Spock caught her before she fell back onto his bed, holding her steady as McCoy moved in to help. Together, they assisted her in lying down.
“She’s exhausted, Spock,” said the doctor. “Mentally and physically. She needs rest, especially if you’re going to try this again.”
“Yes, of course.”
Looking up at them, Amanda said, “I’m sorry, Spock.”
“There is no fault, Mother. When you are rested, we will make another attempt.”
McCoy stared at him. “So, you think it worked?”
“I did sense something,” said Spock, “though I cannot be certain it was Sarek.”
Amanda replied, “It was him. I’m sure of it.” Releasing a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and shook her head. “He just seemed so far away.”
“That has to be enough to go on, Spock,” said McCoy. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get on with bringing them back.”
Spock said, “Ascertaining their status is one thing, Doctor, but using the Transfer Key to retrieve them requires more. We do not know where my father and the others are within the other universe. Our understanding of the transfer-field technology precludes conducting extensive tests, as we are uncertain how that action might affect anyone trapped there. We must be cautious.” He cast a glance to his mother. “If we do attempt another meld, then I worry for my mother’s well-being, but I know of no better way to contact Sarek.”
He just seemed so far away.
“I know that look,” said McCoy. “You’re thinking hard about something.”
The Transfer Key.
* * *
His forearms resting on the briefing room’s conference table, Kirk rubbed his temples. The headache he had been fighting for the past several hours showed no signs of fading, and listening to his first officer only made it worse.
“You want to beam down to the planet, while we have Klingons in orbit, Klingons on the surface, and more Klingons on the way, so that you can try mind-melding with Sarek?”
Seated across from him and between McCoy and Amanda, Spock nodded. “That is correct, Captain.”
“It sounded a little less crazy before we called you,” added McCoy.
Kirk pushed himself from the table and leaned back in his chair. “You understand that the instant he realizes we’ve sent down a landing party, J’Teglyr could very well head to the surface and attempt to take the Transfer Key from you.”
“I have considered that possibility, Captain,” replied the first officer. “The Klingons on the surface have already been forced from the citadel. Once we beam down, we can take protective measures to ensure they cannot return to it.”