by Gene DeWeese
The shuttlecraft obeyed, turning its bow toward the Enterprise.
In quick succession, then, he put the views from the shuttlecraft on the screen. The one provided by the Aragos-modified sensors showed only chaos, as if they were being overloaded or were receiving only static. The image from the shuttlecraft camera showed essentially the same scene that the Enterprise viewscreen had shown, except that the Enterprise itself, not the shuttlecraft, floated in the midst of the diffuse grayness that obscured everything else—if, indeed, there was anything out there to obscure.
Kirk punched the button for the engineering deck. "Status report, Mr. Scott."
"All systems fully operational, Captain," Scott replied, a touch of pride mixed even then with the tense uneasiness in his voice. "If no' for what I see on the screen, there'd be no way o' telling we'd been taken on this wee detour."
"It's nice to know that something is working the way it's supposed to. Thank you, Mr. Scott."
Switching off, Kirk glanced around the bridge. The two security guards still stood flanking the turbolift door. McCoy and the orderly were near the unoccupied engineering station. Commander Ansfield was watching Chekov at the science station. Lieutenant Uhura flicked a final switch and turned to Kirk.
"No activity on any frequency, Captain, subspace or otherwise."
"I can't say that I expected any in here. Wherever 'in here' is. Mr. Sulu? Do our sensors show anything?"
"Only the shuttlecraft, sir."
"Mr. Spock? You're the one who suggested the existence of this space. You also suggested it might be the home of whatever it is we've been dealing with."
"I cannot, of course, be positive, Captain, but I have reason to believe that is true."
Almost everyone on the bridge glanced around uneasily. "What reason, Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked.
"It is difficult to explain logically, Captain."
"Then do it illogically," Kirk said, a touch of irritation edging his voice. "But do explain it."
"As you wish, Captain." His voice as impassive as ever, Spock recounted his experience between the moment the ship had entered the gate and the moment "reality" had returned. Except for uneasy glances toward the viewscreen and the featureless fog it displayed, there were no reactions. Even McCoy only grimaced, saying nothing.
For several seconds after Spock finished, there was only silence.
Finally, Kirk glanced at the others. "My own impression of the time we spent in—in limbo was more on the order of minutes. Dr. McCoy? Sulu?"
"Only seconds, Jim," McCoy said.
"A minute, possibly two," Sulu added, and the others chimed in with other estimates. No estimate approached that of Spock himself.
"As you would say, Mr. Spock, fascinating," Kirk said. "Analysis? Comments?"
"Fascinating indeed, Captain. It has often been proven that, without external physical cues, one's perception of time is extremely subjective. It would seem logical that if even those cues provided by one's physical body—heartbeat and respiration, for example—are removed as well, the degree of subjectivity would increase even more. Our experiences would appear to bear that out."
Kirk nodded. "And this 'entity' you encountered—"
"I could not say that I encountered it, Captain, only that I was aware of its existence, as, to a much lesser degree, I am still aware of its existence. I did not encounter it in the sense that you and Captain Chandler encountered it."
"But you said it wanted something? But you had no idea what?"
"Correct, Captain."
"And there was no evidence, no feeling, of hostility?"
"None, Captain, nor of friendship. There was only a feeling of—perhaps need would be an appropriate description."
McCoy, listening silently until now, snorted. "What it probably 'needs' is another meal, the kind it got from Ensign Stepanovich!"
"Meal, Dr. McCoy?" One eyebrow angling slightly upward, Spock turned to the doctor.
"It's plain as the points on your ears, Spock. This thing, whatever the blazes it is, gets its jollies by scaring people to death. You must remember that—that obscenity on Argelius 2!"
"Of course, Doctor. That entity, similarly incorporeal, obtained its sustenance from the emotional emanations of humans that it frightened and killed, as it had done previously, while inhabiting a human body on your nineteenth-century Earth."
"The body of a bloodthirsty killer named Jack the Ripper!" McCoy snapped.
"Who was also, if I'm not mistaken, a physician," Spock pointed out.
"Before that thing took him over, yes!" McCoy sputtered. "After that, he was nothing but a butcher!"
"I was merely stating a fact, Doctor. I did not mean it to be taken personally."
"Bones," Kirk said warningly, cutting off another retort. "Spock."
McCoy scowled silently for a moment, then shook his head. "Sorry, Jim."
"Any opinion on Dr. McCoy's suggestion, Mr. Spock?"
"Only that it would appear to be invalid, Captain."
"Why, Mr. Spock?"
"There are too many dissimilarities, Captain. The being we encountered on Argelius 2 took over a body and then used that body to commit atrocities against other people. It absorbed the emotional emanations from its victims, not from its host. The present being appears to induce terror in its host simply by its presence."
"Terror that results in suicide or in attack on others," Kirk said. "I see your point. However, just because this being operates differently from the one on Argelius 2 doesn't mean that they can't be similar. Perhaps this one employs mental rather than physical means to induce the emotions it feeds on."
"I cannot logically deny that possibility, Captain. I can only say that, based on my own experience, there is no evidence that it feeds on these emotions."
"All right, then …" Kirk thought for a moment. "Do you find any of the other theories more acceptable? What about the suggestion that the gates are the cosmic equivalent of a rat warren, and the entities are the equivalent of rat poison, something to keep us lower life-forms under control?"
"That could be a more tenable theory, Captain. The entity or entities, with their ability to inspire fear and trigger suicidal wars, would appear to be a rather effective poison to virtually anyone using or even approaching the gates. That theory, however, would still not account for my distinct impression that the entity needs something from us."
"And since when have you Vulcans begun to believe in anything as illogical as impressions?" McCoy asked with a snort.
"Impressions are neither logical nor illogical, Doctor. They simply exist. It is only what one does in response to impressions that could be considered in those terms. If I were to—"
"And you have no theory of your own," Kirk broke in, "to account for this supposed need?"
"I do not have enough facts to justify the formulation of a theory, Captain. I can only state that, though the sensation I experienced could be described as fear, I experienced no accompanying sense of either malice or menace."
McCoy snorted again. "You're not saying this thing is harmless, are you, Spock?"
"Of course not, Doctor. I am merely saying that I sensed no intention to harm."
"Then I'm sure we can all die happy, knowing our killer didn't intend to kill us!" Turning, McCoy stalked off the bridge. The orderly who had accompanied him had barely enough time to dart into the turbolift before the doors hissed shut.
For a moment, Kirk frowned after the doctor, wondering uneasily if McCoy's sharp reactions were solely the result of his own rough-edged personality and the natural tension of the situation they found themselves in or if he had been influenced by the entity that Spock indicated was still nearby. For another moment, he searched his own feelings, looking for some trace of the terror he had felt and fought before.
But if it was there, it was too weak to be discovered by such a purely intellectual search through the welter of other emotions—tensions—that, though under control, were nevertheless a constant pressur
e. Whether his uneasiness over their present situation was any more intense than it would normally be, he couldn't tell.
"Mr. Spock," he said. "Bring the shuttlecraft in. I think it's about time we started looking into the possibility of getting out of here. It is possible, isn't it?"
"I have no way of being positive, Captain," Spock said as he began maneuvering the shuttlecraft toward the rear of the Enterprise and the hangar deck doors. "But we have no reason to assume it is not. As you know, we have apparently passed through this space twice before, only at a much more rapid pace. The obvious difficulty lies in determining the direction in which the entrance to the gate lies."
"And the difficulty of determining just when to go back through, assuming we can find it in the first place?"
"That may not be a problem, Captain, if what I suspect is true."
"And that is?"
Spock paused a moment, devoting his full attention to bringing the shuttlecraft in for a landing on the hangar deck. As the massive doors clamshelled shut behind it, he resumed.
"I suspect, Captain, that this particular space is permanently linked to the entrance we were drawn through. Do not forget that the gate had already begun its cycling when we entered. The shuttlecraft had entered during the so-called quiescent phase, whereas we entered approximately forty-seven seconds later, during an active part of its cycle. Even so, both the Enterprise and the shuttlecraft are here, together."
Kirk was silent a moment, glancing at the screen. "Very well, Mr. Spock," he said. "That's one difficulty we may not have to deal with. However—"
"Captain!" Uhura cut in sharply. "Something's out there! Something is trying to communicate with us!"
Chapter Eleven
"PUT IT ON the screen, Lieutenant," Kirk said instantly.
"It's not a visual signal, Captain. Or voice."
"That doesn't leave a lot, Lieutenant. What is it?"
"Apparently some kind of code, sir. And it's a—a standard radio frequency, not subspace."
"Standard radio?"
"Yes, sir, an old-style electromagnetic signal, of the kind normally limited to use in the immediate vicinity of a planetary surface."
"And the code?"
"Our communications equipment can receive it, but the computer will have to decipher it."
Spock moved quickly to the science station, while Sulu stepped aside and returned to the helm.
Spock inspected the readouts briefly and then called up another series. "The code appears to be a comparatively crude construct designed for direct communication between certain old-style computers, Captain," he said, one eyebrow angling minutely upward. "Federation computers have required nothing like it for at least a century."
"And the source? Another ship? A planetary body somewhere in here?"
"Unknown, Captain. Nothing physical registers on the sensors. The radiation is simply there, totally nondirectional. It is, literally, coming at us with equal strength from all directions, not unlike the background microwave radiation that permeates our universe."
"Can the ship's computer decipher it?"
"Also unknown, Captain. However, the computer can, of course, absorb the raw data into its memory banks and then attempt to analyze them for intelligible content."
"Very well, Mr. Spock, feed it into the computer. But monitor everything that passes through that link. And set the link to shut down automatically if information should start to flow the other way."
"As you wish, Captain." He worked the controls and then watched. "The data transfer rate is unusually slow," he observed after a few seconds.
For nearly an hour, the data continued. All efforts to locate the source failed. Their entry into the gate—into this bubble of seemingly real space in the midst of the nothingness—must have somehow triggered the transmission.
Finally, it stopped. For another few seconds, the electromagnetic signal—now an empty carrier—remained, like the blank leader tape at the end of an old-fashioned video or audio tape. Then it, like the code, simply vanished.
Spock watched the readouts as the computer began its analysis.
After less than a minute, one eyebrow again angled upward slightly.
"Yes, Mr. Spock?" Kirk prompted when Spock continued to watch the readouts silently.
Spock remained silent another few seconds, then straightened and turned. "It appears, Captain, that we have been given a map."
"A map?" Kirk frowned. "Of what?"
"I can only assume, Captain, that it is a map of at least some portion of the system of gates."
"Of more immediate interest, can it get us out of here—and back to the Sagittarius arm rather than a battle zone halfway across the universe?"
"If the computer analysis is reliable, Captain, yes. There is what appears to be a short series of navigational commands highlighted."
"Then let's do it, Mr. Spock."
"Of course, Captain."
Two minutes later, with the ship's computer using the highlighted navigational commands to control the helm, the Enterprise oriented itself. Or so the instruments said. Visually, there was no way of telling that it was doing anything at all.
Then, with quarter impulse power applied, the Enterprise surged ahead.
Everyone, particularly Spock, braced for another protracted bodiless passage through limbo.
It didn't come.
Instead, the trip was, as far as anyone, including Spock, could tell, as rapid as either of the two previous trips through the gate. One instant, they were surrounded by gray nothingness. The next instant, the stars of the Sagittarius arm surrounded them.
The chronometer showed that only milliseconds had been absorbed by the emergence.
Behind them, the gate put on the same spectacularly chaotic show for the sensors that it had before, while appearing to be totally nonexistent in visible light.
"Lieutenant Uhura," Kirk said when they were safely away, a billion kilometers from the gate. "Open a channel to Starfleet Headquarters."
"Right away, sir."
"Mr. Scott."
"Aye, Captain." Scotty's voice came from the intercom.
"Now that we're back in normal space, Mr. Scott, run a complete check—and I mean complete—of all ship's systems. I want to know if anything, anything at all, was affected in even the slightest way by our stay in that limbo inside the gate."
"Aye, Captain, but I dinna think—"
"Just do it, Mr. Scott," Kirk snapped, and then, his voice softening, he went on. "Between the stress of the gravitational turbulence that pulled us in and prolonged exposure to totally unknown conditions, anything could have happened. And if we're going to make use of this map we've been given, we'll be spending a lot more time in there. Before we go back in, I want to know if anything has changed, not just for the worse but if anything works better than before, or differently—in any way. I want all the information you can give me about the effect of our exposure so I can at least make an educated guess about what, if anything, even more exposure will cause."
There was a brief pause, and then, "Aye, Captain, I see what ye mean, but it'll take time."
"We're not going anywhere until you finish, Scotty."
"Aye, Captain. I'll let ye know."
Glancing toward Uhura as he punched the buttons to connect him to sickbay, Kirk saw that she was still waiting for a response from Starfleet.
"What is it, Captain?" McCoy's gravelly voice responded.
"Bones, Scotty is giving the ship a thorough physical. I'd like you to do the same for a few crew members."
"Did you have anyone particular in mind, or do I have them draw straws for the honor?"
"Pick some at random," Kirk said, ignoring the sarcasm in McCoy's voice. "Say, those due for their physicals in the next week anyway. But for the others, talk to as many as you can, find out how much subjective time each of them experienced during that period after we were pulled into the gate. Select your subjects to get a good sample from several points in the range, f
rom those, like Spock, who thought hours may have passed, to the ones who felt only seconds passed."
"No one I've talked to so far thinks anything more than a few minutes could have gone by, so if you want someone who thought he was in there for hours, you'd better send Spock down."
"If it comes to that, I will." He glanced at Spock. "Meanwhile, get the checks started. And make them thorough, everything your machines down there can do—and more, if you can think of a way."
"Aye-aye, sir," McCoy said, both the words and the stiff tone uncharacteristic of the doctor.
"If I might suggest it, Captain," Spock said when McCoy had signed off, "a check of Dr. McCoy himself would not be amiss."
Kirk nodded. "I know, Mr. Spock. I assume the changes are, if anything, the effect of this entity you tell me is still lurking in the wings."
"Or a residual effect of the disembodied state we experienced after entering the gate, Captain. I noted unexpected changes in my own outlook during that period, but I believe I have been able to compensate for them. Dr. McCoy, who can sometimes be exceedingly human, may not have been as successful."
"Captain," Uhura broke in. "I have a channel to Starfleet Headquarters."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said, turning sharply in the command chair. "This is Captain James T. Kirk of—"
"I know who you are, Jim," the familiar voice of Admiral Noguchi interrupted with uncharacteristic brusqueness. "Where have you been? We have been trying to contact you for the last three hours."
"We were inside the gate, Admiral, until—"
"Inside? You did not request permission for such a maneuver, Captain!"
Kirk frowned. "I didn't realize it was required, Admiral. The Enterprise was sent here to do a job. I assumed we were authorized to do whatever was necessary."
There was a long pause, longer than could be accounted for by subspace delay alone. When Noguchi spoke again, his voice was less harsh, still that of an admiral to a captain but with a touch of family friend and, to a lesser extent, mentor.
"You were, Captain, of course," he said. "Tell me, what did you find?"
"Most importantly, Admiral, we have what Mr. Spock tells me is a map of the gate system."