by Gene DeWeese
"What the blazes did we get into now?" McCoy's irritated voice filled the bridge.
"I have no idea, Bones, but—"
"Whatever it was, it knocked half a dozen people down here completely off their feet, including myself! They don't appear to have any permanent damage, but I'd just as soon we didn't have to go through it again, at least without warning!"
"I'll do my best, Doctor," Kirk said, irritation beginning to show in his own voice. "But since I haven't the faintest idea what happened, I can't give you any guarantees."
Swearing under his breath, McCoy broke the connection as Kirk punched up engineering. "Scotty, are we still in operation? The sensors—"
"I'll let ye know, Captain." The reply came sharply. "As soon as I find out myself. For a minute there, I was no' sure I was still in operation. What did ye—"
"If I find out what happened, I'll let you know. All I know now is that we're back in what may be normal space, but it's obviously not the normal space we left a half-hour ago. We need everything in top working order, Scotty. We may be stuck here for a while," he finished, glancing again at the blank auxiliary screen that, by all rights, should have been displaying an image of the gate they had just come out of.
Another momentary silence, then an in drawn, slightly ragged breath. "Aye, Captain, I'll get back to ye."
Kirk swiveled in his chair. "Any evidence of the gate, Mr. Spock?"
"None, Captain," Spock said.
"Could it be the sensors?" Kirk asked into the silence that followed Spock's words. "Could that shakeup have knocked the sensors out?"
"Their circuits are still performing precisely as they were before," Spock said, his matter-of-fact tone fully restored. "However, because we do not yet fully understand the functions of the Aragos modifications, we cannot be positive that the diagnostic programs are monitoring all the essential parameters."
"Which means what? That the gate really is gone but that you can't be sure?"
"That is essentially what I said, Captain. However, sensor readings immediately after our emergence from the gate indicated it was present—until approximately the moment impulse power was reversed and the Enterprise began to decelerate."
"So it was there. I wasn't imagining things when I thought I saw it on the screen, at least those first few seconds." Kirk shook his head. "If it hadn't been, we couldn't have come here in the first place! Without a gate to come through—"
Kirk stopped abruptly as a possible—and decidedly unwelcome—thought popped into his mind.
"We obviously didn't come back out through the same gate we entered," he said. "Is it possible that we came out through a gate like those others? Like the ones that have been appearing—and disappearing—in the Federation? Could we have come out through one of those and had it simply vanish behind us?"
"That is a possibility, Captain," Spock admitted. "The record of sensor readings simply indicates that the gate was present those first few seconds. There is no indication of its shape. But if your hypothesis is true, it would tend to confirm our original theory that those unstable gates are indeed connected to the system as a whole."
Kirk nodded grimly. "Not the pleasantest method of confirmation, however. But considering the way those gates looked—jagged and uneven, like 'rips in space,' someone said. Perhaps they're rips in the gate system itself. The system may simply be breaking down, which wouldn't be that surprising after more than ninety thousand years. It's springing leaks, and we just now slipped out through one of those leaks."
"It is a logical possibility, Captain, but by itself it would not account for the pain we experienced."
"It might. If we made our exit through a leak in the system, not through a gate, it could be the equivalent of being dragged out of a house through a broken window instead of walking out through an open door."
"An intriguing analogy, Captain," Spock said thoughtfully.
"Or it could have been caused by this friend of yours, couldn't it?" Kirk resumed. "This entity? If it can stir up raw emotions just by its presence, who's to say it can't do the same with physical sensation—or, rather, with a mental version of a physical sensation?"
"That, too, is possible, Captain, but I would tend to think it unlikely."
"Unlikely? Why?"
"Primarily because, while I sensed the entity's presence, I also sensed that it was experiencing pain similar to our own, perhaps even more intense. In addition, during my last encounter with it, I sensed what I can only describe as an exceedingly powerful desire to join with, perhaps even be absorbed by, some other sentient creature or creatures."
"You're saying it's lonely?" Uhura asked.
"That particular term is highly inadequate to describe the feelings that I sensed, but there is a grain of truth in it."
"If you're through shooting all this theoretical breeze," Commander Ansfield's impatient voice broke in, "maybe we can start thinking about more practical matters, like, for instance, where we are and what we're going to do."
Kirk laughed sharply, as much a release of tension as anything else. "You're quite right, Commander," he said, turning toward the helm. "Mr. Sulu, give us a view in some other directions."
"Aye-aye, sir."
Sulu's fingers touched the controls, and the indistinct images began to shift across the screen as the field of view moved.
More ships appeared.
In every direction, there were ships, dozens of them, then hundreds, of all shapes, all sizes, even one that looked very much like a Federation cruiser, except that the lettering across the top of the primary hull bore not the least resemblance to any symbols stored in the library computer.
Roughly one in ten showed signs of massive damage, as if something had exploded inside the ships.
Not one registered on the sensors.
And not one showed any sign of activity, any lights, any life.
"It's like a graveyard, sir," Lieutenant Woida, Chekov's massive, blond replacement, said, unsuccessfully attempting to suppress a shudder as he watched the ships move somberly across the screen.
Kirk frowned but did not respond. "Mr. Sulu, find a spot that's clear of ships and use maximum magnification. Even if we're in intergalactic space, there has to be something out there."
But they found nothing on the first try.
Or the second.
On the seventh try, an almost invisible string of faint specks appeared.
Patches of similar specks were soon found in a dozen other directions.
Kirk was the first to find his voice. "How far?" he asked.
"Without a detailed spectral analysis, Captain, it would be impossible to make an accurate determination," Spock said.
"Never mind accurate, just give me a rough idea. A million parsecs? Ten million?"
"Fifty million would be more likely, sir," Sulu said. "If those are galaxies, not stars, maximum magnification would give us definite shapes at anything under ten million parsecs. These are simply points of light."
"He is correct, Captain," Spock said. "It would appear that we are in the approximate center of a void at least a hundred million parsecs in diameter."
The leaden feeling returned to Kirk's stomach and intensified as the extent of their isolation suddenly became clear. The existence of such voids had been known for more than two hundred years, since the late twentieth century, when astronomers had begun their first serious attempts at mapping the known universe. As a Starfleet Academy cadet, Kirk had been required to familiarize himself with holographic maps of the clusters and super clusters of galaxies that stretched out nearly ten billion parsecs in all directions from the Milky Way galaxy and the voids that existed among those galaxies—bubbles of sheer emptiness hundreds of millions of light-years in diameter, where no galaxies, no stars, no matter of any kind existed.
But knowing of them, even striding through the holographic projections themselves with million par sec steps, could not prepare a cadet—or the captain that he became—for the reality of sudden
ly finding himself more than a hundred million light years from the nearest star.
However, he told himself abruptly, prepared or not, that was where he was. That was where the Enterprise and all aboard it were.
And that was where they would stay, the way all these hundreds of other dead hulks had stayed, unless he did something about it.
"Mr. Woida," Kirk said sharply to the navigator. "Lay in a course that retraces the path we've followed since we emerged into this space. Even if we can't see the gate on the Aragos detectors, there's at least a chance that it's still right where we left it."
For a moment, there was only silence, but then Woida pulled his eyes from the viewscreen with a visible effort. "Right away, sir," he said briskly, his massive fingers darting across the controls. "Course laid in."
"Execute, Mr. Sulu. Impulse power and caution."
"Impulse power, sir."
Slowly, the Enterprise turned, reorienting itself for the attempt. When it had achieved the proper heading, a dozen ships of a dozen radically different designs were scattered across the viewscreen.
The Enterprise moved forward toward them.
"The one ship no longer registers on the sensors, Captain," Spock announced a moment later.
Kirk's eyes darted toward the science officer but then returned to the viewscreen and the eerily indistinct images of the ships that lay ahead. "Continue scanning, Mr. Spock. Mr. Sulu, continue on the laid-in course."
After a minute, one of the ships, an almost perfect sphere with no visible means of propulsion, began to drift ever more rapidly off the screen, its apparent motion indicating that it was the closest. Though Spock had not seen it on the screen when they had first emerged from the gate, it must have been within a few dozen kilometers of their flight path. On the return path, the Enterprise would pass directly beneath it at the same distance. The other ships on the screen, hundreds or perhaps thousands of kilometers distant, were in all likelihood beyond the gate. Or beyond where the gate had been.
Suddenly, new readings appeared on Spock's instruments.
"Captain," he reported instantly, "the sensors have picked up the spherical ship at a distance of eight hundred seventy-three kilometers. Mass, two hundred eighteen thousand tons, no indication of any functioning power source. No life readings. No—"
"What was the distance of the first ship when the sensors lost it?" Kirk interrupted.
"Eight hundred seventy-four kilometers, Captain," Spock said, not needing to check the readings.
"Coincidence, Mr. Spock?"
"Not likely, Captain. For whatever reason, it would appear that the range of our sensors—"
Suddenly, the auxiliary screen flared into kaleidoscopic life.
The gate was back.
"All stop, Mr. Sulu," Kirk snapped, relief flooding through him.
"All stop, sir," Sulu acknowledged.
"Distance at which the gate reappeared, Mr. Spock?"
"Eight hundred seventy-three kilometers, Captain."
"Which means," Kirk said, "it's been there all the time. But our sensors, including the ones the Aragos modified, now have a very limited range and couldn't detect it, any more than they could detect any of those derelicts out there."
"That would appear to be the case, Captain," Spock agreed.
For a moment, Kirk's eyes returned to the main screen and the dozen ships that hung there in the darkness, some little more than fuzzy outlines. Curiosity and apprehension gripped him. Curiosity about what incredible secrets, what knowledge, could be gained from an exploration of those hundreds of hulks. And apprehension, even fear, about why these ships were still here, thousands of years dead, drifting within a few thousand kilometers of the gate, within easy reach of any ship with even the most primitive of impulse drives.
Why had they not returned through the gate?
The entity? he wondered abruptly. Had it—or something like it—infected all these ships and maneuvered them here, as the Enterprise had been infected and maneuvered? And had it then kept them from returning through the gate? Had the ships' crews simply killed themselves, as that of the Cochise had almost done? As so many other crews—and civilizations—had done in the past?
It was time to find out.
"Ahead minimum impulse power, Mr. Sulu. Mr. Spock, get what information you can from the sensors as we proceed."
"Of course, Captain."
Ahead, the gate swirled and flickered with its unknown energies.
Two hundred kilometers from the gate, the sensors picked up another ship, this one not visible on the main viewscreen. "Temperature less than five degrees Kelvin, Captain," Spock said. "Too low for even the wavelengths the computer is currently utilizing in imaging the other ships. Primitive atomic drive, totally nonfunctional. No indication of life. Readings indicate an age of approximately twenty-nine thousand years."
Kirk shivered. "And your insubstantial friend—is it still around?"
"To the best of my knowledge, Captain, it is."
"And it's not trying to prevent us from returning to the gate," Kirk said thoughtfully. "Put the gate on the main screen."
A moment later, the ghostly images of the dead ships were replaced by the vivid, kaleidoscopic colors of the gate as seen by the Aragos-modified sensors. Punching up the shipwide intercom, Kirk told the crew briefly what had happened. "We will be attempting to reenter the gate within the minute. There are no guarantees, however, so be ready for anything—particularly for the reappearance of the entity."
Without cutting off the intercom, he pulled in a breath and fastened his eyes on the swirling crazy quilt on the screen. "Take us in, Mr. Sulu," he said.
"Aye-aye, sir."
Tensely, Kirk waited as Spock counted down the distance to the gate. If the entity was going to act, if it was going to try to force them to stay, it would have to act now. It would have to attempt once again to enter Kirk's mind and control it. Or perhaps Sulu's.
But whoever it tried to attach itself to—
Suddenly, everything vanished.
They had entered the gate.
They were going to make it!
No matter what the reasons those hundreds of other ships had been trapped or abandoned, the Enterprise was going to make it!
But then, just as the exultation was racing through Kirk's bodiless mind, every nerve in his imagined body once again erupted in agony.
Chapter Fifteen
THIS TIME the pain was, if anything, more intense, but it was also much more brief. To Kirk, it felt like little more than a second before it vanished.
Almost simultaneously, the bridge reappeared around him. Once more, the Enterprise was hurtling out of the gate, directly toward the cluster of ships it had so narrowly avoided the first time.
But this time, perhaps because they had suffered through the experience before, perhaps because of the briefer duration, recovery was quicker.
Sulu, after only a single shuddering gasp, reversed impulse power and brought the Enterprise to a halt well before the ships ahead of them presented any danger.
Three more times, they reentered the gate. Once, they maneuvered around it and approached from the opposite direction. The final time, they entered it under full computer control at near warp speed.
The results were virtually identical each time: a moment of nothingness followed by a moment of intense pain followed by forced ejection into the lightless heart of the same intergalactic graveyard.
Following the fourth attempt, Spock leaned more closely over his instruments.
"Captain," he said as the bridge returned to normal around him. "During our last approach, the sensors detected a phenomenon I had not noted during our lower-velocity approaches. The Enterprise appears to be enclosed in—in something."
"'Something,' Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked, frowning. "That's a bit imprecise. What is it, a force field of some kind?"
"Negative, Captain. This is something I have never encountered before. It appears to be totally immaterial, totally
without energy, and yet it reflects a minuscule percentage of the sensor beams' energy. The phenomenon was much more pronounced during our last, more rapid approach to the gate, but it is still detectable." He looked up at Kirk. "It surrounds us at a distance of approximately eight hundred seventy-three point one kilometers—the same distance at which the sensors apparently cease to function."
"Spock, could this 'something' be what's limiting the range of our sensors?"
"It would appear likely, Captain."
"But you say the sensors don't tell us anything about whatever it is that surrounds us?"
"No, sir. They indicate its existence and its distance, but that is all."
"And it moves with us? Keeps us as its center?"
"As far as I have been able to determine, Captain."
Kirk grimaced, looking again at the screen and the ghostly hulks that floated there. "Whatever it is, it has to have a source. One of these ships? One that isn't as dead as the others? One that doesn't want us to find it?"
"That is, of course, a possibility, Captain," Spock said as Lieutenant Woida, still at the navigator's station, unsuccessfully tried to suppress a shiver.
"A possibility that we can at least check out," Kirk said briskly. "Mr. Sulu, take us on a tour, impulse power. Take us within sensor range—which is apparently now approximately eight hundred seventy kilometers—of every ship out there, one at a time if necessary. And keep the deflectors up."
Sulu acknowledged, and a moment later the Enterprise surged ahead, the first cluster of ships beginning instantly to grow larger.
"Mr. Spock, the instant you detect any life-form or any functioning power source—"
"Of course, Captain."
One hour and one hundred thirty-five lifeless hulks later, Spock announced that the sphere surrounding the Enterprise had begun to shrink.
"You're positive?" Ansfield asked, still hovering near Spock, reading most of the displays over his shoulder.
"Quite positive now, Commander. Its radius is approximately eight hundred seventy-two point two kilometers, a decrease of—"