by Dayton Ward
“But why risk beaming down at all?” asked Kirk. “Why not just activate the field generator from up here, like you did with the probe?”
Spock said, “The Transfer Key does not possess a scanning or targeting system that would be needed to locate anyone transported to the other universe. That technology is part of the transfer-field generator, to which we must have direct access. I also believe that our proximity to the generator once it is activated may facilitate our efforts to contact Sarek. If we establish a connection with the other universe, that may well provide a conduit through which my mother can sense him and communicate.” He paused, glancing to Amanda. “I also think the strain on my mother may be at least somewhat mitigated.”
She replied, “If it helps rescue Sarek and the others, I’m willing to try.”
Not for the first time, Kirk admired the courage this woman displayed. Her compassion was on par with her determination, and it was easy to see where Spock had acquired such traits.
“I appreciate your willingness to help, Amanda,” said Kirk. “I also know that Mister Spock isn’t prone to wild ideas. Even his most outlandish theories are based on whatever facts he’s able to collect. I trust him implicitly, but that doesn’t mean I’m thrilled with this plan.” He reached up to wipe his forehead. “That said, I’m hard-pressed to suggest a better one, and I don’t know that we’d even have the time to come up with anything else. J’Teglyr’s been playing nice to this point, but I think he’s just stalling while waiting for reinforcements to arrive.” Support was coming for the Enterprise, too, in the form of the Defiant, but it was still hours away. For now, Kirk and his crew were on their own, and the last thing he wanted was any of his people on the surface if a Klingon armada dropped out of warp.
“If the Klingons arrive before we are able to make contact with Sarek and use the transfer-field generator to retrieve them,” said Spock, “we may never get another opportunity. Either they will destroy the citadel to keep it from us, or we will be forced to do the same in order to deny them the Jatohr technology. We must therefore make our attempt before Captain J’Teglyr or any Klingon reinforcements elect to take action.”
The first officer’s justification was cold and businesslike, and to Kirk it was missing a key element. “I’m worried about you and your mother, Spock. Sending a civilian into a potentially hostile situation isn’t something I’m keen to do.”
“Funny how you never seem to have that problem when you send me,” said McCoy. The doctor offered a small smile to indicate he was attempting to lighten the mood.
Amanda said, “For the record, Captain, I’m volunteering. I can’t very well just sit up here and do nothing.” Her gaze dropped to the conference table for a moment before she once more looked at Kirk. “Besides, I’m the one who can contact Sarek.”
“I know,” said Kirk. In truth, he had known from the beginning, but had been hoping Spock, McCoy, or even Amanda herself might have discovered an alternative to carrying out this insane scheme.
I’m never that lucky.
Twenty-five
Aside from the sounds of birds and insects, along with the cry of what likely was some form of carnivore lurking in the nearby jungle, and the sound of water lapping at the base of the citadel, the area around the Jatohr construct was quiet. Farther away, Spock heard the sounds of activity from the encampment, which sensors had revealed still harbored more than a dozen Klingons who had yet to be retrieved by Captain J’Teglyr and the Vron’joQ. There were no clouds in the sky, and the sunlight of midmorning in this part of the world provided brilliant illumination to the lush vegetation and the gleaming hull of the citadel itself. The lake, though dulled by the rampant algae infesting its waters, still seemed to be more alive in the light of day.
“Even with the changes you say they made, it’s beautiful,” said Amanda Grayson, from where she stood next to Spock. They, along with McCoy and Uhura, now looked out over the chest-high parapet that formed one of the Jatohr citadel’s outer protective barriers and across the lake to the shoreline forming the Klingon encampment’s near boundary. “It’s a shame the Jatohr and the Klingons see fit to ruin it.”
Spock replied, “If we are successful here, neither the Jatohr nor the Klingons will have any further reason to remain here.”
Standing on the other side of Amanda, Uhura said, “Do you really think we can convince the Jatohr that we can help them, Mister Spock? Or that they’ll even let us help them?”
“There is but a single way to find out, Lieutenant.”
On Uhura’s opposite side, McCoy asked, “Do you think we can expect any trouble from the Klingons?”
Adjusting the equipment satchel he carried slung over his left shoulder, Spock shook his head. “Perhaps, though I doubt it. The remaining group appears to be in a state of disarray, following the loss of Professor B’tinzal and members of her science team. However, we should not rule out the possibility of whoever has taken charge of the group attempting to interfere with us.”
Spock had been surprised not to find a Klingon welcoming committee waiting for the landing party as they materialized in an open expanse along the citadel’s exterior. There remained components of Klingon technology scattered around the immediate area, including cargo containers and a field transporter pad. The first order of business after beaming down was to ensure the pad was disabled, which only partially countered the possibility of an armed Klingon party transporting over from their encampment or from the warship. Anticipating that scenario, Spock had brought along the Enterprise’s veteran security chief, Lieutenant Commander Barry Giotto, along with a team of five security officers to maintain watch. Giotto and his people had already deployed portable transporter scattering fields at key points along the citadel’s exterior, mirroring the tactic utilized by the Klingons during the Enterprise’s previous visit to the planet. Sensors had shown that those obstacles were no longer in operation, allowing the landing party to transport directly from the starship to this area within the citadel’s perimeter.
Gaining entry to the complex had proven only slightly more challenging, now that the alien fortress had activated its own series of protective countermeasures. The underwater docking bays that had been the primary point of ingress and egress were, at least according to Spock’s tricorder readings, no longer an option. That entire area of the citadel appeared to be sealed off, and the sizeable docking compartments were now completely flooded. Adjoining sections appeared to have been rerouted in order to facilitate the transfer of water from the lake to the structure’s interior sections. Scans also had revealed faint signs of Klingon biomatter in another part of the complex, but no life signs. It presumably was in that area that Professor B’tinzal and some of her people had met their final fates. That loss of life was unfortunate, but Spock also regretted not having the opportunity to talk with B’tinzal and perhaps learn from her what she and her team had discovered during their examination of the structure and its technology.
Forced to find another means of entering the citadel, Spock fell back upon the access codes they had acquired during the Enterprise’s previous visit to Usilde. Those codes had proven ineffective, likely due to the construct’s ongoing, seemingly automated internal reconfigurations, and Spock had needed time to scan the door locks and acquire a new cipher.
“I’m still waiting for those robot guard dogs to come after us,” said McCoy, his voice carrying a tinge of worry.
Spock replied, “I have detected no signs of their presence within the citadel, at least as far as my tricorder can penetrate the interior sections.” There had been a few moments of uncertainty while the landing party waited for any of the Jatohr sentry drones to come after them, but the roving devices seemed nowhere to be found. “I would advise caution as we make our way to the control room. I suspect whatever is overseeing security inside the citadel will take a very keen interest in our activities once we attempt to use the Transfer Key
.”
Sensor scans from the Enterprise had revealed that the transfer-field generator ensconced deep within the Jatohr fortress had already taken apparent note of the Key’s proximity even before the starship’s arrival in orbit. Spock did not yet understand the nature of that awareness, and how, or if, the Key was communicating with the base equipment. It was but one more mystery demanding further examination, provided time and opportunity presented itself.
Using his tricorder to relay the proper code sequence to the door’s locking mechanism, Spock watched as the massive circular portal dilated, offering the landing party unfettered access to the alien complex. He employed hand gestures to direct the rest of the group to follow him as he led the way through the door. Opting not to draw the phaser on his right hip, the first officer instead held his tricorder in both hands, aiming the device ahead of him as he proceeded down the cylindrical corridor. Though the entrance to the master control room was now cut off thanks to more of the citadel’s internal reconfiguration, Spock found another access point from the chamber above that area.
“This was the laboratory used by Eljor,” he replied when his mother asked him about the room. Thankfully, the ramp leading down from the lab had not been removed or otherwise blocked, and within moments the landing party found themselves in the alien complex’s control center. In the middle of the room sat the oversized cylinder that Spock knew from his previous visit contained the primary control component for the transfer-field generator and the interface for the Transfer Key.
“This is incredible,” said Amanda, standing a pace behind Spock. When he turned to regard his mother, he saw her unabashed expression of wonder as she beheld the room’s array of complex alien technology. He conceded that the equipment here held a certain beauty and succeeded in melding form with function.
Standing to Spock’s other side, Uhura said, “It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. You can feel the power being harnessed here.”
Spock nodded in agreement. As was the case the last time he was here, the immense mechanism seemed to pulse with energy, resonating throughout the chamber and the entirety of the citadel. He knew this central component had come online only recently, reacting to the arrival of the Enterprise in the Libros system and the proximity of the Transfer Key. Around the room, numerous stations and monitors were dark and inert, and Spock recalled that many of these consoles had only been active when the Transfer Key was connected to the transfer-field generator. As for the rest of the complex, it had carried on for years without that vital piece, executing its various automated tasks and preparing for . . . what, exactly? The Key’s return? How would it react when Spock restored the Key to its proper place?
We are here to obtain an answer to that precise question.
“I don’t mind telling you that I’m a bit frightened, Spock,” said Amanda after a moment. “This . . . this isn’t the sort of thing I’m used to dealing with.”
Feeling her hand on his arm, Spock turned and saw the trepidation on his mother’s face. She had never been one to conceal her emotions from him, even on Vulcan, where such displays by “outworlders” were discouraged. As a child, he had strived to learn and maintain strict control over his emotions, a tall order, given his mixed Vulcan-human lineage. When he was less than successful in that regard, his mother had always been the voice of understanding. Rather than simply tell him where he had failed to meet his society’s exacting standards and instruct him to strive harder, Amanda Grayson had encouraged him to embrace the best aspects of his dual heritage. It was a sentiment that would be echoed many years later by others, people he had come to trust, such as instructors and advisors at Starfleet Academy, Christopher Pike, Captain Una, James Kirk, and even Leonard McCoy, who stepped closer and placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Amanda,” said the doctor. “We’re right here with you.” He offered a knowing smile. “We’ve had some experience with things like this.”
Uhura added, “There’s an understatement.”
Moving to the master console at the center of the room, Spock removed his equipment satchel from his shoulder and laid it atop the workstation. It took him but a moment to reacquaint himself with the alien controls, which he had last seen used by Captain Una. He had reviewed her notes regarding the transfer-field generator’s operation, and while he had not invested the same time she had to understand the unfamiliar technology, he was comfortable he could operate the equipment well enough.
Satisfied with his assessment, Spock opened the satchel and removed the black protective case it held. Inside the case, cradled in a shock-proof cushion, was the Transfer Key.
“I guess this is the moment of truth,” said McCoy. The doctor, along with Amanda and Uhura, had moved to stand with him at the console.
Without replying, Spock extracted the Key from the carrying case and inserted it into the slot on the console that matched the component’s rectangular shape. The effect of his action was immediate, as the collection of dormant control stations and displays all activated in unison. Within the central column, swirling patterns of energy pulsed and rippled, and Spock heard a dull hum emanating from within the contained space.
“That was the easy part,” said Uhura. “Wasn’t it?”
Spock turned his attention to the alien control console. “Relatively speaking, yes.” He pointed to an adjacent console, which was out of reach from where he stood. “Lieutenant, I require your assistance. The upper row of controls will require manipulation. On my signal, please press the controls I indicate, in the order I prescribe.”
“Seems simple enough,” replied the communications officer as she moved to the workstation.
Recalling what he had studied from the tricorder readings and other notes collected by Captain Una during her initial encounter with the citadel, Spock began pressing a series of controls on his own console. The string of commands was lengthy, but Spock had memorized the sequence. In response to his actions, several of the monitors around the central column shifted to display images of a planetary landscape, depicted from different angles. Within the central cylinder, the harnessed energies were forming into a three-dimensional holographic representation of the same terrain.
“What are we seeing?” asked Amanda. “Is this . . . ?”
Spock replied, “If I am correctly operating this equipment, these are images of the last known location used by the Transfer Key to deposit individuals transported from this universe. Unfortunately, Captain Una’s reports do not include information on selecting new coordinates, so she transported herself to this location when she elected to search for her former shipmates.”
“And this is where you and Jim agreed to look for her?” asked McCoy.
“Affirmative.” Spock keyed one of the controls that he recalled from Una’s notes, and the images on the monitor began to pan from left to right. After a moment, he realized that whatever was supplying the visual feed from the other universe had made a complete circular sweep of the surrounding area. Aside from a distant mountain range, there was nothing but unyielding pale soil in all directions.
“They’re not there,” said Uhura. “None of them.”
Spock regarded the monitors and the holographic image. “It is as I suspected. We will have to attempt contacting Sarek again. He may be able to give us his location as well as that of the others.” Turning from the console, he looked to his mother. “Do you feel able to try again?”
Nodding, Amanda rested her hand on his arm. “Of course.”
“I’ll keep tabs on you the whole time,” said McCoy.
Satisfied with that, Spock looked to Uhura and pointed to her console. “Lieutenant, this station is used to scan the target area. It is not connected to the system that selects origin or destination points for transferred individuals, and I therefore believe we can alter its settings to search for our people and perhaps even the probe.” He held up his
tricorder. “I have the sensor data transmitted to us by the probe, which we should be able to use as a reference.” He was not altogether certain of this, given his earlier difficulties with interpreting the wash of telemetry sent to them by the probe, but it was a start.
“Just show me what to do, Mister Spock,” replied Uhura. “I’ll take it from there.”
A low, deep rumbling surged upward through the metallic flooring, and at first Spock thought the transfer-field generator might be engaging after having finally locked in on Sarek or anyone else trapped in the other universe. It was an additional moment before he realized that the tremors were coursing up through the bulkheads and even the console beneath his hands.
“What in blazes is that?” asked McCoy.
Spock saw that new displays were coming online at various workstations around the control room. Rows of indicators were shifting through a spectrum of colors, and the rumbling was continuing to build.
“Do you feel that?” Uhura reached for the adjacent workstation as though to prevent herself from falling to the floor just as Spock sensed the floor under his feet shifting. It was pushing against him, and his knees bent as he felt a twinge in his gut.
Now gripping his arm, Amanda said, “We’re moving!”
Steadying himself against the console, Spock activated his tricorder, setting the device to a wide scan field. It took him only a moment to confirm his mother’s statement.
“It appears the citadel is rising from the lake.”
“Rising?” McCoy glared at him, his eyes wide with surprise. “Where the hell does it think it’s going?”
With his tricorder to assist him, Spock moved to another of the workstations. “According to my scans, the entire structure is being pushed upward by thrusters using a form of hydrogen-based chemical propellant.”
“Our speed’s increasing, Mister Spock.” Holding her own tricorder, Uhura was pointing to a large circular indicator on the console. “At least, if I’m reading this right.”