by Dayton Ward
It was that joint nature, and his connection to both his mother and his father, which would now serve them.
Beyond the image of Amanda that now was fully formed in his mind, Spock once again saw the barren plain representing the other universe. In the distance, standing alone on the wasteland, was a figure. Spock could not discern any recognizable features, and yet he sensed a familiarity.
“Father?”
Spock heard nothing from the figure, but there was another voice.
“Sarek? Do you hear me?”
I hear you, my wife. Is Spock with you? I think I sense his presence.
“Yes,” said Amanda. “He’s here. Sarek, you must come. Time is running out. If you don’t leave soon, you and the others will be trapped. We tried to find you, and here you are, but we can’t get the transfer field to lock on to you.”
I am not where you think I am. Nothing here is what it appears to be. All that we see here is illusion. We must fight to break through to reality. It is difficult.
Though he heard Sarek’s words, Spock felt none of the connection he shared with Amanda. It was as though a wall had been erected between them, blocking his consciousness from that of his father’s. There was no joining, no connection. It was like hearing an echo carried forth from a vast abyss.
“You have to try, Sarek,” said Amanda, and Spock sensed her plea resonating in and around his own thoughts. “There isn’t much time.”
* * *
“Now, everyone! The time is now!”
With Amanda Grayson’s impassioned entreaty still ringing in his mind, Sarek summoned each of the dozen minds he had woven into this joint consciousness. All responded to his call save Commander Raul Martinez and Beel Zeroh, his military advisor whom Sarek had thought dead upon finding him in this realm. He was grateful to have been proven wrong, as was the case with the other members of Captain Una’s former landing party. All were alive, the transitory thoughtspace having never allowed them to pass through to the Jatohr universe and possibly saving them from irreversible mental trauma and death. However, it remained to be seen whether any or all of them would suffer lasting effects from their time trapped here.
First, we must leave this place.
Sarek felt himself wavering under the mental strain, but before him was the manifestation of his achievement: the multicolored strand of psychic energy he guided through sheer force of will. He sensed the group mind lurching into motion, already accelerating as each mind resolved itself to their mutual success.
Among the cacophony of disjointed thoughts running the gamut of emotions, he heard a single, clear voice.
“I feel your exertion, Sarek. Let me help.”
Of all his companions, Una with her advanced mental acuities was the one most able to assist him. It was she who had come forth to help him complete the task of amassing her former shipmates and the rest of the group, including Joanna McCoy and Beel Zeroh. Once they were assembled, she had guided her companions into the joint link, their thoughts weaving together and forming a single commune. This had freed Sarek to prepare for the trial of navigating them all through the thoughtspace. Now they were under way, and he relaxed his thoughts, allowing her to advance until they were united within the twisting, undulating filament of drive and desire.
Pushing outward, he sought the probe. It was there, where it had remained since its arrival in this place. Sarek’s thoughts still echoed with the pain the device had caused, and its reaction to the realm in which it found itself. In order to leave this place, the probe would once more be required to disrupt it.
“We are here,” he said to the commune as the probe solidified before him. The group responded with an outpouring of thoughts and emotions Sarek almost found difficult to absorb. Pushing aside the distracting perceptions, he concentrated instead on the new task before him.
“We have to work together,” he heard Una say. “Concentrate on the probe.”
The inert cylinder hovered at the forefront of his consciousness even as Sarek sensed the collected push of his companions, amplified by the thoughtspace itself, aiding him to focus on the probe. He delved into the artificial construct, visualizing its internal systems, which were inert, but there was energy in abundance here, now that he knew how to employ it. His companions were a prime source, as was the ambient, encompassing glow of the thoughtspace itself. Even he could direct a flow of purpose, translating it for the probe’s use.
“I can sense it,” said Joanna, her voice distant. “I feel a warmth.”
Sarek conjured images of electrical current flowing across reenergized power cells. He made himself a conduit, channeling life into the inert systems and willing them back to life.
Then he sensed a surge of presence forcing itself into his thoughts.
“You seek to restore the pain, Sarek of Vulcan.” The voice, like the consciousness, was familiar.
“Edolon,” said Sarek, struggling to remain centered on the probe. “I can stop the pain, as I told the others.”
“Why do you do this?”
“As you have already determined, we are not meant for your realm.” Sarek pushed ahead, directing his self-energy forward. “This is our way home.”
Edolon replied, “You dismiss this too quickly.”
Ignoring the rebuke, Sarek concentrated on solidifying his visualization of the probe’s internal circuitry. He felt the same warmth Joanna perceived, and a dim glow now teased the edges of his perceptions, but it was weak. Sarek realized he was losing his focus, due to his unwelcome companion.
“This place offers much. You simply do not see it yet.”
Sarek said, “I do see it.” He also noted the strain on his psyche. There was an urge to raise his mental barriers to thwart Edolon’s insistence, but he knew that would come at the expense of his link with the probe. Only Una, bringing her own mental discipline to bear, prevented him from losing his connection to the group. He sensed her calming Joanna and the others, and for a moment he even felt Gorkon’s haughty presence attempting to rumble forth.
“I see it, Edolon. More clearly than you know.”
“You are without question a unique being, Sarek. There is so much we could learn from one another.”
Edolon’s admission was enough for Sarek to draw renewed purpose, and he called upon every remaining reserve of self-energy he could muster. Una and the other minds in his commune were there, supporting him, and he sensed their moving to surround him and offer even more of themselves to their joint effort. The probe became more distinct, its own presence growing more overt, and Sarek imagined power flowing across circuits and conduits.
“The others are waiting, Sarek,” said Edolon.
“Waiting to see if we are successful?”
Edolon replied, “Waiting for me to put an end to this before you bring more pain.”
“Then stop us.” It was a bold challenge, but Sarek’s consciousness was set on his goal. There would be no further uncertainty.
“What makes you so dedicated to that realm?”
Instead of answering, Sarek summoned images of his home world, Vulcan. Stark, gray mountains clashed with harsh, red deserts. Lava boiled and belched across the Fire Plains. The Voroth Sea churned foam along the shores of Raal. Sand-fire storms swept and raged through its deserts. Heat baked and cracked its plains, and yet all of it possessed undeniable beauty.
Images of a life spent in service to others, of the even greater collective that was the Federation, and his people’s place in it. A commitment to peace, to the expansion of knowledge, to the cooperation of countless beings representing myriad beliefs and purposes.
Amanda, his wife, and their steadfast, loving bond. How her thoughts and perspectives informed his own, and his greatest desire to enrich her life as she did his.
His son. Even with their past differences and conflicts, Spock was the one thing in the univer
se about whom Sarek was most proud. Such emotional confessions were not the Vulcan way, but that did not mean he did not harbor them. His pride at his son’s accomplishments warmed his heart and even his soul, as Amanda had once said.
“We are so different,” said Edolon, “and yet so alike, in many ways.”
Sarek imparted his commitment to Kol-Ut-Shan. Infinite diversity, to be celebrated within the universe’s infinite combinations. Differences in thought and being were aspects to be honored, even celebrated among all life, wherever it may be. To believe such could be achieved at the exclusion of even a single individual was illogical. Consideration of all perspectives through communication of belief and mutual respect was the path Sarek saw toward advancement and improvement for all.
“All of this awaits us,” said Sarek. “You would deny it to us?”
Once more, he felt himself weakening. Sharing with Edolon had left him empty and vulnerable, but Una and Joanna McCoy and even Gorkon along with the others were rallying to his side. The unified thoughts pulsed and surged through him, but would it be enough?
“You have shown us much, Sarek.”
He sensed Edolon pulling away, extricating hirself from Sarek’s perceptions even as he sensed power emanating at long last from the probe. Energy pulsated, chasing away the darkness.
“You should not be denied this home of yours, Sarek of Vulcan. Go.”
“Come with us,” said Sarek. “Salvation awaits you.”
Edolon replied, “Our time has passed. Others have made the transit, but there is no fleeing our fate.”
Before Sarek could respond, the probe came fully to life. It resumed its transmissions, casting its signal into the void, striking out across the limits of this universe and perhaps even to points beyond. Had they been successful?
“Sarek,” said Una. “Can you feel it? I think—”
Her voice, along with the thoughts of her companions and Joanna McCoy and the others, vanished as the psychic link connecting them all exploded, cascading outward in an explosion of blinding white light.
Thirty-three
Amanda Grayson gasped, jerking backward and pulling away from Spock’s hand, the fingers of which had been placed along the mind-meld contact points on her face. Sensing the shock to her mind but unable to explain it, Spock reached for her as she threatened to slump all the way to the floor.
“Mother,” he said, holding her steady. “Are you all right?”
Drawing a deep breath, Amanda opened her eyes, which were reddened. “I’m so . . . weak. Sarek. I felt him and then something blocked me. I don’t . . . I don’t know what happened.”
Still seated in front of her on the floor of the control room, Spock looked up as McCoy approached, already kneeling next to his mother and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy, Amanda.” With his other hand, he retrieved a small medical scanner from a compartment on his tricorder and activated it. The compact device made a warbling sound as he held it before Amanda’s body. “Pulse, respiration, and blood pressure are all elevated, and she’s had a form of neurological shock.” He deactivated the scanner. “The strain of that mind-meld, Spock. It’s too much for her.”
“I understand,” replied the first officer. Pushing himself to his feet, he said, “Mother, I sensed you were able to contact Sarek. Was he able to make the adjustments to the probe?”
Amanda’s expression darkened. “I . . . I’m not sure.”
“The field generator acted up while you two were under,” said McCoy. “Nothing like before, but it was still something.”
Behind them, Uhura turned from the console that still hosted the Transfer Key. “I think it worked, Mister Spock. I’m showing a reading here that’s very similar to the gamma-ray emissions we picked up from the probe during our trial runs.”
The beep of his communicator punctuated her report, and Spock retrieved the device and activated it. “Spock here.”
James Kirk’s voice burst from the communicator’s speaker. “We’ve got them, Spock! Fourteen life signs on the planet, near where the Jatohr were put down. Everyone’s accounted for.”
“Captain,” said Amanda, leaning close to Spock, “my husband. He was injured on Centaurus.”
“We don’t know everyone’s condition,” replied the captain, “but I’ve already got a medical and security team heading to the transporter room. They’re being taken care of, and now it’s time to get you the hell out of there.”
“Amen to that,” said McCoy. “What do we do?”
“Scotty’s finalizing his adjustments to the transporter. It’s our only shot. Start heading for the location we gave you.”
Having located the selected compartment with his tricorder, a location near the citadel’s outer hull and in an unshielded section of the massive structure, Spock had also determined the shortest route to that point from the control room. With only minutes remaining, the landing party would be cutting it very close.
“Commander Giotto,” said Spock. “Take your security team and head to the extraction point. If Mister Scott is able to modify the transporters, there will be precious little time to waste. You should be at the designated location and ready to beam out at a moment’s notice.”
The security chief frowned. “Sir, my job is to protect you and the other senior officers.”
“We’re right behind you,” said McCoy. “But I don’t want to have to wait in line to get off this thing.”
“The doctor is correct, Commander.” Spock gestured for the door. “Proceed to the extraction point.”
Though obviously displeased with the directive, and no doubt motivated by a sincere desire to oversee the safety of those in his charge, Giotto offered a curt nod. “Aye, sir, but don’t make me regret not disobeying your orders.”
“I second that,” said Uhura.
With Giotto and the security team running ahead of them and McCoy and Uhura flanking him, Spock took hold of Amanda’s arm and ushered her out of the control room.
Walking at a rapid pace next to Amanda so that he could support her by holding her other arm, McCoy said, “Spock, remind me not to tag along with you the next time you decide to go traipsing around inside an alien contraption.”
* * *
Kirk’s grip on the armrests of his chair was so intense that he noticed a dull tingling sensation in his fingertips. Lifting his hands, he watched the tint of the skin on his fingers go from pale to pink as blood flow was restored.
Control yourself, Captain.
“Coming up on target,” reported Sulu from the helm. Under his skilled hands, the Enterprise had braved the turbulence that came with low-orbit maneuvering and guided the starship beneath the citadel for a second time, providing access to the massive structure’s underside and the vents that continued to discharge the compound. It was not a smooth ride, as indicated by the buffeting to which the ship was subjected as Sulu navigated the limits of the planet’s upper atmosphere.
Seated next to him, Lieutenant Rahda said, “Firing.” She tapped her controls, and another barrage of phaser fire spat forth. Both beams struck the target vent and Kirk watched the brief puff of fire and expelled air as its housing was destroyed.
“Incoming fire!” warned Chekov.
Kirk did not have to say anything as Sulu piloted the Enterprise away from the citadel. Within seconds the low rumbling of the ship’s hull faded as the starship returned to normal space.
“This is taking too long,” he said. On the bridge’s main viewscreen, the citadel still hovered over Usilde, continuing to vent the terraforming compound into the planet’s atmosphere. There were too many vents to address and not enough time. Meanwhile, sensor readouts were still processing the effects of the chemical composition on Usilde’s natural environment, and the fact that such calculations were taking so much time was all Kirk needed to know about how much damage the Jatohr technolog
y was inflicting on this innocent world.
In truth, the citadel’s imminent destruction was something of a blessing, as it would occur well before this aspect of the terraforming process could be completed. Kirk hoped whatever changes had been introduced to Usilde’s ecosystem could be mitigated if not reversed, for the good of the planet’s indigenous population. He had no doubts that the best scientific minds in the Federation could be called upon to resolve this situation, no matter the level of difficulty or the time required to accomplish that goal.
We’ll fix it. We owe it to the Usildar, but first things first.
“Chekov,” he asked, “where are they?”
Glancing away from his sensor readouts, the ensign replied, “The landing party is within fifty meters of the extraction point, sir. Sensor readings are much clearer than they were even just a minute ago.”
Kirk nodded. The adjustments to communications and sensors needed to circumvent the citadel’s dampening field had taken time, but not as much or with the same level of difficulty as the transporters. Because of that, he was able to see and hear his people as they moved through the Jatohr ship even while standing powerless to help them.
“How much time do they have?”
“Just over two minutes,” replied Sulu. The helm officer was hunched over his console, his hands resting on the controls and waiting for the order to take the Enterprise on yet another run toward the citadel. Their previous pass had given Montgomery Scott an additional opportunity to evaluate his transporter modifications by beaming a test cylinder to the location designated for the landing party’s extraction. That experiment had occurred with the starship taking fire from the citadel just as it had during its attack runs, and Kirk knew that his luck for taunting the Jatohr ship’s weapons had to be running low.