Kirk stepped forward alongside the helm station, and Sulu could see him stroking his chin. “And we know of a certain civilization that makes a habit of concealment . . . and has a knack for building monumental structures.”
“Indeed,” Spock replied. “The modules do appear to be arranged in a hexagonal lattice not unlike the domes of an orbship—though on a far more immense scale, of course.”
“Then we may have found what we were looking for,” Kirk said. “Though we never could’ve imagined it would be like this. Lieutenant Uhura, open hailing—”
The Enterprise trembled as it was dragged to a halt. “Tractor beam,” Spock called.
“Everyone stay calm,” Kirk said. “We know they’re wary of strangers, and we’re not here to provoke them. Uhura, hailing frequencies.”
“Open, sir.”
“This is Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise, to those responsible for seizing our vessel. If you are affiliated with the First Federation, please be aware that we carry the ambassador from the United Federation of Planets aboard this vessel. Our mission here is peaceful, and we mean you no harm. Please respond.”
The only response was a screeching feedback and a flickering of the lights and console indicators. “Powerful sensor beams,” Spock reported. “Scanning every system. Again consistent with the Fesarius’s technology.”
“You’d think Balok would’ve called ahead to let them know we were coming,” Sulu muttered to Chekov.
“Do you think this is another test?” McCoy asked. “Maybe they want to see if we can break free.”
“They have issued no threats, Doctor,” Spock replied. “And logically, if they tow us to a containment facility, we shall encounter them in person, which is our goal.”
“Bones does have a point, Spock,” the captain said. “Balok didn’t trust our declarations of our good intentions until we got the upper hand and still didn’t become aggressive.” He returned to his seat. “Mister Sulu, full impulse. Try to break us free. Mister Chekov, modulate the deflectors.”
Sulu poured on all the power he could and every trick he knew, trying to rotate the ship to present the minimum profile to the beam, giving it as little as possible to grab on to. But it made no difference. “It seems to be coming from all directions, sir!” he called over the rising whine of the engines.
“Modulation not working!” Chekov called. “This is not a conventional tractor beam. Some kind of magnetic effect . . . drawing on the planet’s own magnetic field. We cannot fight a whole planet, sir!”
“Sulu, stand down,” Kirk said. “Let’s save our power until we get a chance to use it. Maybe once we get to where they’re dragging us, we’ll be able to knock out their emitters.”
Soon the tractor effect directed them toward a smaller module than the others, similar in shape but only (only!) a few dozen kilometers across. Unfortunately, there were no specific tractor emitters to target. “The entire web of connecting conduits appears to play a role in generating the field effect,” Spock declared. “We cannot compromise enough of the system to free ourselves.”
A hatchway opened for them, its six triangular leaves unfolding much like the larger ones within the Fesarius’s hull. The ship passed through into a vast, mostly empty hangar. Sulu could make out exotically shaped but recognizable mooring facilities for hundreds of ships, and that was just in the nearer portion of the yawning chamber. But few of the visible docks were occupied. Perhaps they had deliberately brought the Enterprise to a place where few other ships would be around?
The ship trembled a bit as the hangar’s own tractor beams took over from the external beam. Sulu jumped at the opportunity, firing up all thrusters, but the transition was too smooth, and the new beams were from so close at hand that their pull was just as strong. “Can we target their emitters now?” McCoy asked once Sulu explained this.
“And go where?” Kirk countered. “The hatch is closed. I doubt we could blast our way out without endangering the ship, and if we did, we’d still be at the mercy of the external tractor field. Besides, I’m no longer sure this was meant to be a test. Balok’s game gave us a chance to win. This is as unbeatable as the Kobayashi Maru.”
The doctor chortled. “Says the one man who ever beat it. I thought you didn’t believe in no-win scenarios.”
“I believe in choosing the right game. Right now, I don’t think we’ll score any points if we resist them any further. If this isn’t a test, then we need to try to put them at ease.”
More power fluctuations struck the bridge. “How are we doing so far?” the doctor asked.
“Compensating,” Spock said. “But the interference beams are even more powerful than those of the Fesarius. They are disrupting our deflector shields.”
“Kirk to engineering. Scotty—”
“Detecting a transporter lock on the bridge,” Spock interrupted just as sparkles of light began to appear in the air beyond Sulu’s helm console.
“Security to the bridge!” Kirk ordered as the guards already present drew their phasers. The swirling points of light coalesced into a boarding party of at least half a dozen burly creatures of various species, not all of them humanoid—but all of them armed.
The rules of engagement when an armed party boarded the bridge were clear: stun first, ask questions later. The guards fired as soon as the confinement beams faded, but the boarding party was already in motion, dodging the beams deftly. The largest one merely stood there, letting the phaser energy bounce off its armored carapace before returning fire and felling one of the guards.
Sulu spun his chair and kicked out at one of the boarders, knocking the gun from his hand. He then pushed to his feet and jabbed at the attacker’s face, but the sleekly built, blue-skinned alien dodged the blow and spun, swinging at Sulu with a strong, whipping tail. He blocked it like a high kick, but realized his mistake as soon as he began his follow-up move—a move predicated on the assumption that the opponent was on one leg and unbalanced, which this fellow wasn’t. Rather than falling to the deck, the alien grabbed Sulu’s arms and flipped him. He came down hard against the bridge rail, banging his head and shoulder on the deck.
Sulu tried to stay conscious and drag himself back to his feet. Through the flashes of light in his vision, he could see Kirk and Spock holding their own in hand-to-hand, with Spock using some impressive Vulcan Suus Mahna moves to send one opponent over the rail in front of the science console. But Gabler and the guards were already down, McCoy was covered and offering no resistance, and Chekov fell to an enemy weapon a moment later. The aliens controlled the sole entrance to the bridge, preventing reinforcements from arriving. Kirk and Spock were surrounded, back to back . . .
“Stop!”
The unfamiliar voice drew Sulu’s gaze toward an alien he’d missed before: a female, daintier than the others, attractively humanoid but with a sleek, short-furred, elongated head, silvery-gold skin, and enormous, deep blue eyes. She was at once compelling and intimidating, instantly commanding the scene with a single word. All the boarders held their fire, and even the bridge crew fell silent, waiting.
The blue-eyed female strode through the bridge slowly and deliberately, pausing to transfix every conscious member of the crew in her gaze. When her eyes locked on Sulu’s, they seemed to fill his vision and he lost track of time . . . of space . . . of himself for an uncertain interval.
Finally, after surveying Kirk, McCoy, and Uhura, her gaze settled on Spock and held there for several moments. “They are not enemies,” the female finally told the other boarders. “They are like us—pursued and in need of sanctuary.”
She moved in closer to Spock, gazing even more deeply into his eyes. “Especially this one. He has no place he considers a home.”
“Madam,” Spock said. “If I may ask . . .”
“Do not fear,” she told him. “You need not be alone any longer.”
> Four
“Sensors still detect no sign of the Enterprise, Force Leader,” Dral reported.
“Keep searching,” Grun ordered.
“Sir . . . the ships have searched everywhere. They are nowhere else in the system.”
“Then they are below,” Grun told his second, gazing out at the pale blue-white orb that taunted him like his father’s ruined and sightless eye.
“We have taken optical sightings on the gas planet’s orbital space from every angle, with no detections. Force Leader, is it not more likely that the enemy escaped to warp already?”
“Rrah!” Grun flung out a hand, striking Dral across his narrow face. “All your sensors and simulations. A hunter relies on instinct, Dral! You must know your prey!”
He rose and stepped toward the viewscreen. “This Kirk is fierce and devious. Even with his weak and primitive ship, he was able to bloody one of ours and escape our englobement. Such a warrior will not flee from a battle. He lies in wait, plotting some infernal strategy against us.”
“Against three cluster ships? More than fifty of our finest hunters? He would have no chance!”
Grun cuffed him again. “If we are ready! But if we grow complacent . . . if we trust in instruments and readings, decide he is not here and turn away, exposing our backs to him . . . that is when he will have his chance. We must deny him that chance, do you see, Dral?” He pointed to his two good eyes. “Our hunters already skirt against the territory of this . . . this second Federation. Further confrontations with their Starfleet are inevitable. Even if they are a separate power from the betrayers, they are still allied with them, and so they will oppose us. So we must show them we are strong! We must not yield if we wish the powers of the galaxy to respect us. Therefore, we must remain vigilant, however long it takes. This Kirk is bold, to use a giant world’s radiation for cover. But bold fighters are not patient fighters. He will grow tired of hiding, and he will strike rashly, exposing his throat for us to slit!”
Dral bowed. “As you say, Force Leader.” But Grun could tell he was not convinced. Dral belonged to what Grun considered an overly intellectual breed of Dassik, too cold, calculating, and cautious to have the hearts of true hunters. Grun despised their type, and Dral had confirmed all his beliefs about them. For all his pretentions of intelligence, his overly analytical mind made him a fool. At least Grun could rest assured that Dral would be too inept to challenge him successfully for control of the pack.
But that would only happen if this mission failed. And Grun was determined to succeed. Patience was the key. The Dassik understood patience. For millennia, his once-mighty people, the former masters of this space, had been stranded and toothless, stripped of the mobility and power that had once been theirs. Yet they had remembered. Through their hate, they had kept their history alive, their tradition and commitment unforgotten. All Dassik remembered there was a galaxy they had conquered through hard struggle and then had stolen from them through an act of treachery—an act that had left their great race imprisoned, humiliated, and abandoned to extinction.
Yet the Dassik would not settle for oblivion. Their dedication to winning back the stars remained, even as the millennia passed. The crucible of their exile had made them more determined, more shrewd, more inventive, until finally they had achieved the power to reclaim their birthright and rebuild the means to reach the stars. Dral and his ilk would say it was their own science that had achieved this, but they would have been useless without the predatory focus and hunger of the ancient Dassik soul. Patience and unyielding commitment had brought them the power to reclaim what they had lost—and to punish those who had stolen it from them.
Yes, Grun understood patience. It was a skill a younger brother needed to master—the ability to watch and wait for one’s opportunities. He had been a dutiful junior member of the pack led by his elder brother, Grnar, and though he had seduced his brother’s females on many an occasion while Grnar was away in space, he had remained discreet about it, taking his pleasures where he could and making no attempt to challenge Grnar for control. Instead, Grun had waited for Grnar to achieve a heroic death at other hands, then rightfully claimed his brother’s holdings and concubines as his own. He had hunted down and slain Grnar’s killer with vigor so that none would question his loyalty, but the secret truth was that the alien had done Grun a favor. Grnar had inherited their father’s cruelty toward his own blood kin. Half of Grun’s scars had been inflicted in his youth before he ever saw combat. Yet he had still triumphed in the end, for he understood how to wait.
Smiling, Grun met the gaze of the giant blue-white eye before him. He knew he would not fail. Kirk would strike soon. He could not have the patience of a Dassik, the patience of a younger brother. He must be getting very bored right now, with nothing to do but wait.
* * *
“I am Chief Protector Nisu Miratuli,” the golden-skinned female told Kirk once he had identified himself as the commanding officer. “You may address me as Nisu. I apologize for our use of force, but we must always remain vigilant against invaders. Would you do less if you detected an uninvited presence aboard your vessel?”
Kirk studied her. “You have a point, Nisu. But it goes both ways. You weren’t invited here. And we didn’t try to get inside any of your . . . habitats. We were attempting to hail you when your tractor beam seized us.”
Nisu nodded. “These are fair objections. But please understand. We have taken great care to shield our Web of Worlds from outsiders, so the sudden arrival of a vessel in our midst naturally provoked caution.” She looked around. “But you may rest assured that your personnel are only stunned.” McCoy, never one to take strange aliens at their word when it came to medical matters, was already bending over the fallen personnel to make sure. “And now that I am confident your intentions are not hostile, there need be no further conflict between us.”
“I’m glad to hear it. What changed your mind?”
“You’re speaking our language,” Uhura said, stepping forward to study Nisu more closely. “Captain, the translators aren’t engaged. She’s speaking English.” To Nisu again: “Are you a telepath?”
The alien woman bowed her sleek, furred head. “I am a Kisaja. My people’s gifts allow us to bridge gulfs of understanding. I cannot read your inner thoughts without your cooperation, but by your willingness to communicate, you have opened the language centers of your minds to me. Indeed, that is part of what told me you are not invaders.”
“A shame you weren’t aboard the Fesarius three years ago, then,” Kirk said. “It might have avoided a good deal of inconvenience.”
Nisu seemed discomfited for the first time. “My first responsibility is to this community.”
“She’s right, Jim,” McCoy interposed. “They’re heavily stunned, but nothing serious. Without knowing the details of how their stunners work, I’m more comfortable letting them sleep it off than trying to bring them around with stimulants. But I’d like to move them to sickbay for monitoring.”
“Of course,” Nisu said. Despite her professions of friendship, she still acted as though she was the one in control of the situation—which, admittedly, she was. “My protectors will assist you in the transfer.”
“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary,” McCoy said, not trying very hard to keep the edge out of his voice. Not that it would’ve made much difference with a telepath, Kirk thought.
But Nisu merely stepped back in acquiescence. “As you wish.” Still, she monitored the operation as McCoy’s medics arrived to begin the transfer.
Though she seemed well-intentioned, Kirk disliked the ease with which the Kisaja woman and her boarding party had taken the bridge. That had happened too many times on this tour. Kirk resolved to speak with Commander Scott about installing additional bridge defenses. Perhaps some kind of automated phaser module . . . and possibly a secondary entrance, to make it more difficult for intruders to control ac
cess to or from the bridge.
Once the doctor had escorted his patients into the lift, Nisu approached Kirk again. “I think we should start over, Captain Kirk. And so I welcome you to the planet Cherela—safe haven for the First Federation.”
Kirk gave her a diplomatic smile. “On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, I thank you for your gracious welcome—and for your use of the stun setting.”
Nisu’s smile grew sardonic. “I can see it will take some time to make amends for this rough beginning. Perfectly reasonable; we of the First understand caution toward strangers.”
“But we aren’t strangers, Nisu,” he told her. “As I said in our initial hail, we carry the United Federation’s ambassador to your First Federation.”
It was a moment before the Kisaja replied. “Yes, Captain, I am aware of Commander Balok’s outreach efforts.”
“Balok’s efforts,” Kirk repeated. “Are you suggesting that he did not have authority to act as he did?”
Another hesitation. “Let us just say that building a relationship must go in stages. We did not expect a circumstance in which your representatives would arrive at Cherela before we deemed the time to be right. Thus, we were not prepared to welcome you. Again, I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
He offered a diplomatic smile. “I find that communication is the best antidote to misunderstandings. If we could meet with your leaders and discuss our reasons for being here . . .”
Those vast eyes transfixed him for a brief moment, probing. “Yes . . . I see you have questions that weigh heavily upon you. Cherela has always been a haven for those in need; we cannot turn you away now. I will arrange a meeting.”
The Face of the Unknown Page 7