Disclaimer/Credits: Star Trek is the property of Paramount. (The character of Phyllida Gaines was created by Marcia Ericson as published in her story “The Enchanted Pool,” in Star Trek: The New Voyages.)
Feedback is appreciated. If you have comments, e-mail me: acoleen2@aol.com
CHAPTER ONE – DISTRESS CALL
“Captain’s Log: Star Date 4163.8. While on a
routine patrol mission to Outpost 7, Enterprise has received a distress
signal from a Federation colony located on planet M64 in Sector 13.
Enterprise is the nearest ship in this sector and as such we have
responded to the call. The delay should, at most, be no more than a few
hours.” Captain James Kirk completed the recording, hitting the button
on the arm of his command chair and settling back. “Mister Spock,” he
said, turning toward the science station, “What information do we have
regarding M64 and the colony there?”
Spock swiveled his chair to face the captain. “All
Federation scans to this point have revealed the planet to be
uninhabited with the exception of lower animal life forms and for the
most part, it is highly vegetated and has a stable, temperate climate.
A Federation colony was begun there approximately one year ago to study
the indigenous plant and animal life. Most recent contact with the
colony was six months ago, at which time there were no reported
problems.”
“So whatever happened there probably happened very
suddenly and recently,” Kirk surmised.
“That is a possibility, Captain,” Spock replied,
“However, I would hesitate to make such presumptions without additional
information. Six months is a long enough period of time for any number
of things to have happened.”
“Klingons?”
“Possible, but not probable. This is far afield of
their usual sphere of influence. Even Romulan intervention, though more
probable, would likely not explain the situation.”
Kirk nodded slightly and turned toward the
communications station. “Lieutenant Uhura, play back the distress call.”
“Aye, sir,” she responded. Her slender fingers
played lightly over the keys and within seconds a nearly hysterical
voice sounded over the bridge com.
“This is Commander Martin of the M64 colony. If
anyone can hear this, please – please help us! We can’t get away – most
of our people are dead already! They mean to kill us all! You
must help us!” The message lapsed into static.
“It’s a recording, Captain,” Uhura volunteered.
There is no way of determining how long ago it was made. I have
continued to monitor and there have been no new messages.”
Kirk nodded in acknowledgement. Who was “they,” he
thought.
“Captain,” Spock announced, “We are approaching the
planet.”
“Thank you, Mister Spock. Engage forward view
screen.” A blue-green planet with a hazy cloud cover shimmered in the
distance and slowly filled the screen. “Standard orbit, Mister Sulu.”
“Aye, sir. Plotted and laid in.” Lieutenant
Commander Sulu set the coordinates with practiced precision.
“Spock,” Kirk said, rising from the command chair, “
I want you to head up a landing party to the surface. We’re going to
find out what happened down there.” Spock stood to face him, hands
folded loosely behind his back. Kirk continued. “Take a three-man
security team, a medical officer of McCoy’s choice, and that new
transfer from Yorktown…” he hesitated, “What’s her name?”
“Right.” Kirk turned to Uhura. “Relay the
coordinates of the distress signal to the transporter room and have
Lieutenant Gaines and the security team meet us there.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And tell McCoy I need one of his officers for a
landing party in 5 minutes in the transporter room.”
Uhura nodded and began making the calls as Kirk
moved toward the turbolift, his first officer following.
-----------------
Transporter room one bustled with activity as the
landing party assembled and checked their gear. The door hissed open to
admit Captain Kirk and First Officer Spock, and the crew came to quiet
attention.
“Dr. Wilson,” Kirk addressed the young, dark-haired
man who stood before him. “Dr. McCoy tells me that you can handle just
about anything that comes up.”
The youthful doctor nodded. “Yes sir. I specialized
in combat medicine.”
“Good. We don’t know what to expect down there.” The
captain stopped, taking in the landing crew. “As for the rest of you,
be on the alert for anything. The colonists were not specific with
their message; all we know is that a life-threatening situation exists
where six months ago there was none. Mister Spock is in command and can
fill you in on any necessary details.” He paused again, scanning their
faces. Good crew, he thought. He turned to his first officer. “Mister
Spock, keep us posted. McCoy is standing by in sickbay to receive
survivors, but use discretion; if there is any trouble I want you out
of there – understood?”
“Understood, Captain.” Spock motioned to his small
crew to take their positions on the transporter pads. Lieutenant
Phyllida Gaines, standing on the pad nearest Spock, flashed him a
smile, which he chose to ignore.
“Nice to see you again, Mister Spock,” she whispered.
“Energize,” came the Vulcan’s command.
----------------
The landing party materialized inside a small room
that seemed more than anything like the aftermath of a tornado.
Assorted crates and machinery lay scattered about amid rubble from a
ceiling that seemingly threatened to fall at any moment. Though signs
of struggle were evident, there were no inhabitants and no bodies to be
seen. In the corner, Spock’s tricorder registered the presence of a
small terminal buried beneath the rubble; its insistent flashing
indicated a message was still being sent. He switched it off.
Spock glanced around the room, taking in the eerie
silence, and addressed the crew. “We will separate into groups of two
and scout the colony area, taking complete tricorder readings. Ensign
Davis,” he indicated one of the security men, “You team up with Doctor
Wilson. DuPuy and Echols, you make another team. Lieutenant Gaines, you
are with me. Keep your communicator frequencies open and report
anything the least bit unusual; we will meet back here in half an
hour.” A chorus of acknowledgements followed as the crew spread out and
began their search.
------------------
Kirk had not been back on the bridge for more than
20 minutes when Chekov reported from the science station that a large
ion storm was approaching.
“ETA, Mister Chekov?”
“I vould estimate 2 hours at its present course and
speed, Keptin.”
That doesn’t give Spock much time, Kirk thought.
“Very well, Lieutenant. Maintain surveillance of the storm and let me
know of any change.”
“Aye, Sir.”
-----------------
On the surface, Spock and his party had turned up
nothing remarkable except one small detail. Despite a search of the
immediate area surrounding the beam-down point, there were no bodies;
no trace of the colony could be found apart from the abandoned and
ruined instruments. Checking his tricorder readings yet again, Spock
moved toward the doctor. “Dr. Wilson, you can locate no
disease-producing organisms? Anything that can account for our
findings?”
The young doctor looked at him with puzzled eyes.
“No, Commander. It’s strange, too, that they should just disappear like
this. I really am at a loss to explain it. If I could just find some
physical remains I might be able to determine a cause.”
“Yes – fascinating. Carry on, Doctor.”
“Yes, Mister Spock.”
In answer to the beep that had just sounded, Spock
flipped open his communicator. “Spock here.”
“Spock,” came Kirk’s voice, “We have a large ion
storm on our scanners moving rapidly in this direction. Don’t stay down
there any longer than you have to. ETA is 2 hours.” There was a pause.
“Revise that ETA to 90 minutes, Mister Spock. That storm is really
bearing down on us. I want you up here within 40 minutes.”
“Acknowledged, Captain. I shall take the necessary
precautions. Spock out.” He strode quickly toward the others. “I have
just been informed of an ion storm heading this way. Please continue
your research as efficiently and quickly as possible. Meet back here in
half an hour.” The crew acknowledged and once again split into their
assigned groups to finish gathering data.
Phyllida Gaines stood a few feet away with her back
to him, taking tricorder readings. Her golden hair cascaded around her
shoulders in an almost non-regulation style. Two years had passed since
the incident on Mevinna; years during which Spock had set aside all
memory of the lovely lieutenant and their unusual escape from the
Andorian force field. But, with her transfer to Enterprise, memories
began again to crowd in upon him; her winsome smile pervaded his
thoughts unmercifully and he could still feel her warm lips on his own
from the remembered kiss. “I am your destiny,” she had said. Illogical.
Drawing himself up, the unwanted thoughts and rousing emotions were
thrust aside with stern Vulcan discipline and the welcome and familiar
non-emotion settled upon him like a shield.
“Lieutenant Gaines.”
She turned. “Sir?” The mischief dancing in those
blue eyes was apparent even without a smile.
Spock cleared his throat. “What are your findings in
correlation with the possibility of a technical breakdown and/or cause
of such within the colony itself?
“Well, certain technological functions -have ceased.
The exact date of which I can’t be certain, except that it was fairly
recent. Some systems appear to have merely stopped due to lack of
maintenance, others have apparently been sabotaged. Whether by the
colonists themselves in an unstable emotional state or by some outside
force, it is impossible to tell. However, I did find some unusual
markings over here…” He followed her inside a nearby building that had
apparently been a laboratory for the colonists. “See, here; on this
piece of machinery.” She pointed out a large dent in the side of the
main computer console. Inside and around the indentation were several
sets of parallel scratch marks as though made by giant hands.
“Fascinating…”
By the time Spock and Gaines heard the cries it was
already too late. On reaching the point where DuPuy and Echols had been
scouting, they found very little left of the men. They met Doctor
Wilson running to the scene from the opposite direction. Spock’s
tricorder was out in an instant, as was the doctor’s.
“How horrible!” Phyllida gasped at the sight
of the badly burned and decomposed bodies.
Spock was down on one knee, scanning the strange
looking plants on which one of the bodies lay. “Apparently these plants
produce a type of fast-acting acid, making their prey easier to
digest,” he commented. “It looks as though those vines…Doctor!”
The doctor turned from the body he was examining in
time to see the vine come up to encircle his neck. He let out a
strangled cry as Spock quickly fired on the plant with his phaser,
destroying it instantly. Gaines lowered Wilson gently to the grass.
“Too late…” she said softly, “Too late.”
Spock knelt to examine the wound around the doctor’s
neck. “The acid appears to be even faster acting than I had thought.
See, where the tissue and vessels have been completely dissolved.” He
rose, taking Gaines by the arm. “Come, we must avoid the slightest
contact with these plants.”
“We can’t just leave him here!”
“That is an order, Lieutenant. Let’s go now!” She
acquiesced reluctantly to the pressure on her arm, but her gaze
remained fixed on Wilson’s body as they quickly left the area. On the
move, Spock opened his communicator and signaled to Ensign Davis, who
had been scouting with Doctor Wilson. “Ensign Davis, respond.”
“Here, Mister Spock,” came the reply.
“Ensign, return to the beam-down point promptly.
Stay clear of the forest and be on your guard for creeping vines that
we have determined to be deadly.”
“Aye, Sir. On my way. Davis out.”
Spock and Gaines had nearly reached the beam-down point when Spock’s
communicator signaled. “Spock here.”
“Spock,” came Kirk’s urgent voice, “You and your
party must come up at once. The storm is advancing much more rapidly.”
“Yes, Sir.” Although Spock was reluctant to leave
when he was so close to finding a solution to the disappearance of the
colony, he knew that with the loss of half of his crew and the
advancing storm nothing more could be accomplished at this time. “We’ll
be ready within 5 minutes. Spock out.” He changed frequencies on his
communicator and signaled to Ensign Davis, who still had not returned.
“Ensign Davis, return to the beam-down point.” Silence. “Ensign Davis,
respond!”
Phyllida’s brows drew together as she cast a worried
look at Spock. “What if he can’t respond?” She pulled out her tricorder
and started scanning in Davis’ last known direction.
Spock answered by calling Enterprise. “Captain, one
of my team is missing and is not responding. We have to find him before
we beam out.”
“Spock, you’re out of time.”
“Just a few more minutes, Captain.” He looked at
Lieutenant Gaines, who looked up from her tricorder and shook her head.
“No life signs that I can find. I don’t think he
made it.”
“Spock,” Kirk was fairly shouting, “You don’t HAVE a
few minutes! Stand by to beam up at my sig………..no for an ans………..”
“Captain? Captain!” The only reply was static.
CHAPTER TWO – CAPTIVES
“Scotty, get them up here!” The yellow alert
signal flashed insistently.
“I’m tryin’, Captain. The storm…” Lieutenant
Montgomery Scott manipulated the controls as only he could.
Kirk looked toward the transporter as two shimmering
figures began to materialize, and then were gone.
“What happened, Scott?”
“It’s the storm. It’s already interferin’ with the
transporter. We canna lock onto them, and if I try again, we’ll lose
‘em for sure!”
Kirk struck the console with his fist. There was
nothing they could do now but wait out the storm. Who knew what kind of
situation they could be in down there…?
----------------
“Mister Spock! The storm…The transporter couldn’t
lock onto our signal. That means…”
“That means we’re stranded, for the time being,
Lieutenant.” Spock took a step away and gauged their surroundings. To
the south, west and north of the small clearing in which they stood,
nothing but dense forest growth could be seen, mingled with the small
structures of the colony. In his estimation, the proximity of the
plants made the buildings unsafe to stay in for any length of time. To
the east the clearing extended with less growth to a small hill some
1,000 meters away. The sky, dotted with clouds, was a deep blue,
getting deeper as evening approached.
Spock heard a faint rustling from the shadows behind
them and turned to see tendrils creeping slowly toward them from the
undergrowth.
“Lieutenant, I believe we had better find a more
secure place to spend the night. It seems as though these plant
creatures become more active during the nocturnal hours.” He nodded in
the direction of the vines.
“Agreed, Mister Spock!”
With phasers drawn, moving as carefully and swiftly
as possible, they began to make their way toward the hill. As they
reached the base of the incline, the plants rustled menacingly in the
growth on either side of them. The sky was growing quickly darker and
ahead the foliage appeared to be more dense. Phyllida winced inwardly,
and tried to stifle the growing sense of fear that seemed to grip her.
She glanced at Spock. In the twilight the harsh lines of his alien
features reflected his single-minded purpose as they proceeded
cautiously up the hill, Gaines taking point. About halfway up the hill,
she stopped.
“Mister Spock! It looks as if the plants thin out a
little further on; see?” She gestured with her phaser. As she spoke, a
small movement on the periphery of Spock’s vision caught his attention.
“Phyllida!” Her body slammed against his as the
sound of phaser fire ripped through the still night air. She twisted in
Spock’s grasp to see the smoking tendril that had been only inches from
her foot. She looked up at him silently, trembling from the shock. He
released her and when he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse.
“Let’s go.”
The top of the hill was a broad level clearing
perhaps 4 meters in diameter where, Phyllida noted thankfully, the only
plant growth was grass.
“Spock to Enterprise, come in Enterprise.” His
effort was futile – the only sound in the still evening was static.
------------
“Enterprise to Mister Spock; Mister Spock come in
please.” It seemed to Uhura that she had repeated that phrase a hundred
times in the past hour. “Captain, there is still no response; only
static interference from the storm.”
Kirk gave no indication of having heard her.
“Chekov, do you have that estimate for me yet?
“The nearest I can calculate, Keptin, the storm
should pass within 15 hours, judging from the size of it.”
“Are the sensors able to cut through the
interference at all?”
“Negative, Sir. I’ve been trying and can’t get any
signals through this.”
“Keep trying, Mister Chekov. And, Uhura, continue to
attempt communication every half hour.” He rubbed his eyes wearily.
“I’ll be in my quarters if anything comes up.” Fifteen hours, he
thought, a lot can happen in 15 hours.
--------------
The light from two moons shone softly on the grassy
hill where two figures were seated next to a small fire.
“What are they, Naktira?” asked Al’nke. “The others
are destroyed; yet, these are much like the others.”
“I think, Al’nke, that these are helpers of the
others. I think, Al’nke, that they are evil, also. See, how they are
bound to the earth as the ancient evil ones were? We must consult the
Kamnke. He will tell us what we must do.”
------------------
Spock looked abruptly toward the night sky. Nothing.
What had he heard? He was sure there had been something.
“Spock? What is it?” Phyllida touched him lightly on
the arm. He looked down at her, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Nothing…I thought I heard something…it was nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Phyllida looked toward the sky. “How
can we be sure of anything here?”
----------------
Lieutenant Gaines woke in the early morning light to
the sound of Spock trying to raise the Enterprise. Still static. How
long had it been? About 8 hours since the onset of the ion storm and it
had not let up. It must be a tremendously large storm, she thought. She
rolled over on the hard ground, every muscle aching.
“Still no answer, Mister Spock?”
“No answer, Lieutenant. However,” He paused to take
stock of their surroundings now that he could see them in daylight, and
looked back the way they had come, down the hill toward the forest. “We
have a more immediate problem. Although I have no desire to go back
into the vicinity of those plants, it looks as though the forest is
going to be our only source of food. As such, we must be willing to
return to it; cautiously, of course.”
“Of course.” Phyllida paused thoughtfully. “Mister
Spock, here’s a question for you. If the colony checked out six months
ago with no problems, just where did all these vines come from? They
couldn’t have occurred naturally in so short a period of time. Surely
something had to have brought them here.”
Spock nodded agreement. “That thought has occurred
to me also. We will endeavor to discover the answer while we are here.”
It turned out that after a night of feasting the
plants lay fairly dormant in the early hours, so Phyllida and Spock had
no trouble making their way to the forest and back, having successfully
gathered some native fruit. After a quick breakfast, Spock sat down
with his tricorder, analyzing the data taken the previous day, while
Lieutenant Gaines’ gaze wandered toward the morning sky. They sat in
silence for a few minutes before the Lieutenant began to rise slowly to
her feet.
“Spock…?” she said quietly, a note of warning in her
voice.
Spock looked up from his work. There, coming toward
them in the sky, were what appeared to be two large birds. As they grew
nearer, Spock saw that they were not quite birds after all. They each
appeared to be about 5 feet tall (or long) with the body and wings of a
very large bird and the face of a man. The feet and hands were like
talons, which seemed capable of ripping a man to shreds. Together,
Spock and Phyllida watched the birdmen approach.
“It would appear that there is some form of
intelligent life on this planet after all,” Spock commented dryly. “We
seem to be uncomfortably close to discovering how the colonists
disappeared.”
Phyllida edged closer to him as the birdmen grew
nearer and finally landed on the hill, speaking with each other in
clicks and chirps that she and Spock could not understand. One of them
took a step forward and addressed them in heavily accented English.
“I am called Naktira, of the Somari, the People of
the Wind. We welcome you as strangers to our land. Please come and
share our homes and our food. Look -- the T’laki vines grow nearer. By
nightfall you will not be safe. We will take you to a safe place.”
Spock and Gaines looked at the vines, then the
creatures, and finally each other.
“Not much of a choice, is it Mister Spock?” Phyllida
said quietly.
He answered in the same hushed tones. “It may be our
only opportunity to find out what happened to the others. Not to
mention the chance to study what must be a truly unique culture.” He
turned to Naktira. “We accept your most kind invitation. However, we do
not have the capability for flight such as you; how will we accompany
you?”
“Our small appearance is misleading,” Naktira
replied. “We possess more than adequate strength to bear you and your
companion to our village.” The creatures stepped forward then, grasping
Spock and Lieutenant Gaines gently in their vice-like talons. Phyllida
made a small involuntary gasp and a quick wave of helplessness and fear
rushed over her. Then, with a few short beats of strong wings, they
were airborne. They traveled thus for miles before one of the birdmen
again spoke.
“There, below us is our city.”
Phyllida and Spock looked down. They were circling
over what appeared to be simply a barren, rocky mountain. On closer
examination, however, small, cave-like openings could be seen scattered
at the top of a cliff that was easily 100 feet high. It was toward one
of these caves they were now flying.
The winged creatures slid silently from the
afternoon light into the musky twilight of the cave mouth, releasing
their human burdens as they entered. Ahead could be heard the clicks
and twitters of unseen inhabitants speaking to one another in their
native tongue. As their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, Spock and
Gaines could see that many smaller side corridors and chambers met the
large corridor through which they were being led. Through some of these
they caught occasional glimpses of more bird people. As their “hosts”
led them through a seemingly endless maze of tunnels and corridors,
Phyllida began to wonder how they would ever find their way out again,
when and if that moment ever came. Then finally, rounding what must
have been the hundredth turn, the party came to an abrupt halt.
“This is your room while you are with us,” one of
the creatures gestured toward a small opening in the wall roughly one
meter in diameter. “We hope everything is satisfactory. Please remain
here and rest and eat. The Kamnke will wish to see you very soon; when
we return we will take you to him.”
Spock entered the room with Gaines close behind. It
was a large chamber, dimly lit by an animal oil lamp that filled the
air with a smoky stench. There were no furnishings to speak of, except
a few coarsely woven mats scattered about the floor, one of which was
pilled with fruit and smoked meats.
“A fascinating culture,” Spock remarked, taking in
their surroundings. “I should like to have the opportunity to study
their evolutionary development.”
“Never mind that now, Mister Spock,” Gaines said,
“Who do you suppose this ‘Kamnke’ is, and what does he want with us?”
Spock held up his hand in a gesture of silence and
looked out the doorway. Ducking back, he quickly withdrew the
lieutenant to the far side of the room. When his spoke his voice was
scarcely a whisper. “Guards – on either side of the door, a short
distance down the corridor.”
Phyllida walked over to the mat with the food,
picked up a piece of fruit and bit into it. “At least the food is
good,” she commented casually. Spock followed her and chose some for
himself. She continued speaking, this time in hushed tones. “We’re
going to have to get out of here. You still have not been able to raise
the ship?”
“The last time I tried, a few minutes ago,” Spock
whispered, “there was still no answer. Whether due to the storm or some
mineral content in this mountain, I have no way of knowing. As for
getting out of here, if we leave before we see this ‘Kamnke,” we will
never really know what happened to the colony.”
“I can take a pretty good guess, Mister Spock. And
if we stay to find out, I have a feeling we’ll never get out of here.”
“That,” Spock said dryly, “is a moot point.” He
nodded toward the door at the two Somari just entering.
“The Kamnke will see you now,” one of them
announced. His tone and bearing made any thought of resistance seem
foolhardy at best.
With a lightness she did not feel, Phyllida
remarked, “Well, Mister Spock, it looks as though our questions are
soon to be answered.”
“Indeed,” he replied. “I am sure it will prove an
interesting experience.”
---------------
“Captain, I am getting no response from Mister Spock
on any frequency,” Uhura reported. “Maybe our signal is not getting
through, or maybe…” she hesitated.
“Maybe he’s not in a position to receive it,” Kirk
finished for her. What could have happened down there while they were
cut off by the storm? He wondered if Spock and any one of his crew were
yet alive. It seemed doubtful, and yet, somehow he knew Spock was still
living. He would find him.
“Mister Chekov, Mister Sulu, I want a continuous
scan of the surface for any human or Vulcan life forms, beginning with
the beam-down point and spiraling outward.”
“Aye, Sir,” Chekov and Sulu complied, exchanging
knowing glances.
---------------
The corridor that led to the heart of the mountain
was dark and damp, and as the party wound its way deeper into the
fortress, they were joined at every turn by more of the bird creatures.
It was difficult now to tell exactly how many there were.
So far, Spock thought, the Somari had not really
seemed hostile, only curious. Why then did he have the persistent
feeling of apprehension? It certainly was not entirely logical, and he
definitely was not given to intuition or “hunches,” as were many humans
(most notably, Jim Kirk), nevertheless it was there. He pushed it with
stubborn Vulcan resolve to the back of his mind where it took its
place, not quite obediently.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Phyllida’s comment
echoed endlessly off the dank walls of the passage. She shuddered in
the cool air.
Spock suddenly thought wryly of Dr. McCoy and how
characteristic such a remark would be to him. He wondered, offhandedly,
whether or not he would ever see McCoy or any of the rest of his
shipmates again; however, any misgivings he may have had were far
outweighed by his immense curiosity about this intriguing race of
creatures.
They covered a few more yards with only the
shuffling sound of countless Somari breaking the stillness. Then,
without warning, the passageway opened into a large cavern where
Lieutenant Gaines and Spock were quickly divested of their phasers.
Dozens of bracketed torches lined the walls of the cavern, flooding it
with a golden glow. Almost in the center of the beautifully decorated
floor stood what might have been considered a throne, although
functionally it appeared more as a perch. Upon it sat a very old Somari.
Spock and Phyllida were shoved roughly to the floor.
“Kneel before the Kamnke!” a voice commanded. Spock
looked up toward the “throne” where a taloned hand beckoned to him.
“Come forward.” The voice had the hoarse, cracked
sound of dry leaves underfoot. Spock rose and moved forward until he
was within two meters of the “throne.” Behind him he heard a gasp and a
shuffling sound as Phyllida was instantly surrounded by a group of the
bird creatures.
“What are you called, flightless one? I have seen
none such as you,” the one they called the Kamnke questioned.
“I am called Spock,” he said simply.
“Spock…” The Kamnke’s eye roamed Spock’s features
carefully. “You are different from the others; perhaps you can give us
the answers we seek.” At the Kamnke’s slight gesture, Spock was at once
encircled by Somari. As though unaffected by this sudden move, he stood
gazing on the Kamnke, his hands folded behind his back.
“What is it you wish to know?”
The wizened Somari leaned forward, his intense,
golden eyes returning Spock’s cool gaze. “Why…are you here?”
Spock did not waver. “We are here to investigate the
disappearance of others of our kind who were here before us.” The room
filled with chirps and twitters and the circles around Spock and Gaines
grew tighter.
“Silence!” came the command from the throne. A deep
hush fell over the room, broken only by an impatient rustling of
feathers. “So,” the Kamnke directed at Spock, “You were sent by the
Ancient Ones.” Spock simply looked at him impassively. The Kamnke
continued, “We feared others would follow; I have felt the release of
power. Yet,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “We had hoped there would
be no more.”
“Sir,” Spock interjected, “I have no knowledge of
these ‘Ancient Ones,’ as you call them, and I assure you that our
people have no intention of harming yours. We…”
“Say what you will! It is all lies!” the thing on
the throne hissed vehemently. “Our legends foretold that ones such as
you would come and seek to destroy us, but that we would overcome
mightily. That prophecy is now fulfilled!” He raised his taloned hand
in a grand gesture. “Take her!”
Suddenly the circle of Somari that surrounded
Lieutenant Gaines became a screaming mass of birds of prey. Spock threw
himself at the creatures that encircled him but he was rebuffed
effortlessly by strength that far surpassed his own. He was restrained,
compelled to look on helplessly as a terrified Phyllida succumbed to
the onslaught of the taloned creatures. She sagged unconscious to the
blood-spattered floor, her face bone white with shock. Spock whirled on
the Kamnke, Vulcan disciplines strained almost to the breaking point.
“You have no right,” he breathed.
“We have every right, Spock,” the ancient creature
replied evenly. “We must protect ourselves from the evil you bring.”
Spock just managed to keep from shouting. “We bring
no evil. Our intentions are, and always have been, peaceful.”
The Kamnke shook his head and clicked somewhat
disgustedly. “We know all your words are lies, since you are the
incarnation of the Ancient Ones. They also were bound to the earth and
nearly brought our race to destruction. We will not allow that to
happen again, and no others will follow you.” He paused, appraising
Spock coldly with his small bronze eyes. “In the manner circumscribed
by law, the following sentence is pronounced: You shall die at
dawn, thrown from the stronghold of our city, to the death of the
Ancient Ones.” He paused again, looking over the assembly. “It is
decreed!” He cried.
“IT IS DECREED!” they echoed in chorus, and
immediately Spock was overrun by the mob of screeching Somari.
CHAPTER THREE – ESCAPE?
“Captain’s Log, Stardate 4215.6: It has now been 26 hours since
our last contact with Mister Spock. All attempts at communication have
failed, at first due to interference from the ion storm and, more
recently, due to an inexplicable electromagnetic discharge from the
planet itself. So far, we have been unable to pinpoint the exact origin
of this discharge, but it seems to blanket the colony site and
surrounding area over a radius of approximately 75 km. Our sensors also
seem to be affected by it; scanning the area for life forms turns up
nothing.
“Since the nature of the trouble encountered by the colony and landing
party is unknown, and since communication with the surface is
impossible, I have elected not to beam a rescue team down to the
planet. Instead, a specially equipped shuttlecraft is being readied.
Hopefully, the heavy-duty transmitter/receiver Mister Scott is
engineering will be sufficient to at least partially break through the
electromagnetic disturbance.
“The Enterprise has orders to continue as soon as possible to Outpost
7; it seems the Romulans are brewing unrest. Starfleet Command is aware
of our situation; however, no other ships being immediately available,
we have been given only another 72 hours in which to locate any
survivors of the expedition. If, at the end of that time they still
have not been located, we have been instructed to abandon search and
proceed to Outpost 7.”
At the desk in his quarters, Captain James Kirk finished the entry and
leaned back in his chair, exhausted. Deep anger and guilt welled up
within him; anger at Starfleet Command for the priorities and
restrictions placed upon him, and guilt for having sent his first
officer, and friend, most probably to his death. He leaned forward on
his desk, burying his face in his hands.
“Spock…”
-----------------
“Spock…Spock…”
Pain came with every breath; and fire…
“Spock…”
A voice…Jim? No. Not here…Phyllida…There is no pain.
The sensation interpreted as pain obediently took its place in a dark
corner of his mind. He made his way on hands and knees toward the sound
of Lieutenant Gaines’ voice, groping in the half-light until he found
her.
“Spock…” Her battered face was contorted with pain
and the word her lips formed was little more than a whisper. Spock took
in her other wounds at a glance. Her left shoulder and back had been
savagely ripped by talons and she had lost blood, but not enough to be
life threatening. He touched her then, spanning the gap between them
with his mind. She recoiled at first, unsure. Pain…terror…despair. We
are one. Hope…There is no pain. Spock’s mind held hers and she felt a
peace and calmness she had never before known flood her mind and soul.
Phyllida’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his. The pain no longer clouded
her thoughts; she acknowledged its existence, but it was not needed.
Slowly withdrawing from the link, Spock took his hand away and Phyllida
relaxed into a dreamless sleep. He too must rest, he reasoned, if his
plan was to work. Dawn was only five hours away; they would not have
much time.
-----------------
Spock woke with a start, his internal clock ticking
away the minutes and hours. Two hours until dawn. It was time to move.
He roused Phyllida and brought himself to his feet, wincing slightly at
the movement. His own wounds were not negligible. Phyllida sat up on
the hard floor, a groan escaping her lips. Every muscle in her aching
body protested at what they were about to attempt, but anything was
preferable to death. She wondered what kind of escape the Vulcan had
planned, but declined asking him, realizing that she had only to follow
his lead. With a rueful smile, she found herself wishing for a fully
charged hand phaser.
“Indeed.” Spock’s comment startled Phyllida; she did
not realize that she had spoken.
Gratefully, Spock noted that they were in the same
chamber they had been held in before. That would simplify matters. His
eyes roamed the chamber for something to use as a weapon and fell upon
the oil lamp and the stone upon which it rested. He moved the lamp
aside and picked up the stone, gauging its heft. It would have to do.
“Gaines!” he whispered, placing the rock in her
hands. Their eyes met and she instantly understood what she was to do.
She followed him to the doorway, positioning herself on the side
opposite him. As before, on either side of the entrance and a little
down the corridor stood the guards. Taking a deep breath, Spock placed
his slender hands on the rough-hewn stone wall directly behind one of
the guards and began to project his thoughts.
The Somari on the other side of the wall shook his
head slightly as if to clear it. He looked toward the chamber entrance
and then at the other guard. Nothing. He resumed his stance, a little
uneasily this time. There it was again. He moved toward the doorway and
gestured to the other guard, saying something unintelligible to human
ears. As the guards came through the door, the two prisoners were
waiting for them. Stepping quietly from the shadow next to the doorway,
Phyllida raised the stone with both hands and brought it down with all
her strength on the back of the head of her guard. He collapsed without
a sound. At the same instant, Spock efficiently dispatched the other
guard with a well-placed nerve pinch before he could raise an alarm.
Without a word, Spock hurried down the corridor with
Phyllida close behind, hoping that his memory and sense of direction
would serve him. After what seemed an interminable period of time,
following twists and turns, which seemed to make no sense, he stopped
and held up a hand in warning.
“What is it?” Phyllida whispered.
He motioned for her to look around the corner. They
had neared the entrance of the cave where two guards were stationed and
numerous Somari came and went on various errands. This was something
they hadn’t counted on. With the Somari flying around outside they
would quickly be spotted. One of the guards looked suddenly in their
direction and Spock and Phyllida flattened themselves against the wall.
Phyllida held her breath and briefly wondered what it felt like to fall
to one’s death as the guard moved toward them with a shuffling sound.
She closed her eyes, thinking, as the creature drew slowly nearer, that
they were soon to be discovered and silently bemoaned the futility of
their escape attempt. At that moment, the guard’s fellow called out to
him. He shuffled back to the mouth of the cave where his attention,
with that of his comrade, was focused on something outside. Seeing no
other Somari present at that moment, Spock and Phyllida seized the
opportunity and silently moved on the guards from behind, quickly
subduing them as they had the others.
“This way!” Spock spoke in an urgent whisper, taking
the lieutenant’s hand and leading her onto a narrow ledge that, as far
as she could see, wound to the right around the mountain. They moved as
quietly as possible, trying not to attract the attention of the bird
people they could see silhouetted against the night sky. It was still
at least an hour before dawn, but with two full moons shining brightly,
Spock thought that they were sure to be spotted soon. If only they
could reach the ridge up ahead, the other side would be in shadows,
giving them a better chance. They climbed slowly, painfully, straining
for hand and foot holds that were almost non-existent, knowing that one
slip would send them plunging from the cliff face to the unseen valley
floor hundreds of feet below.
The summit was nearly within grasp when Lieutenant
Gaines cried out. Spock looked back to see two Somari coming at them at
top speed. They were still some distance away, but it would be only a
matter of seconds before the creatures were upon them.
“Hurry!” Spock pulled Phyllida after him up the
steep, rocky incline and over the summit into a cleft in the rock.
There they sat quietly, listening to the beat of giant wings that grew
ever closer. Soon the Somari were circling almost directly above them,
searching. They could be heard speaking to each other in the
distinctive chirps and whistles of their language and the two fugitives
wondered what was being said. Still as the stone that surrounded them,
they waited, hoping that their presence there would not be detected.
Long minutes later, the Somari abandoned the search and flew back
toward their city. The pair of humans was again alone.
Spock cautiously rose from the cleft and Gaines
followed. They hurried on down the other side of the rocky slope as
quickly as possible, staying in the shadows, realizing that the bird
people had not given up, but would soon return in force to continue
their search.
As they neared the wooded base of the mountain they
heard them – the rushing of a score of giant wings and cries of
pursuit. Spock and Phyllida scrambled quickly for the cover of the
undergrowth and plunged headlong into the thick foliage, hoping that
none of the T’laki vines existed here. Phyllida gasped painfully as she
stumbled and fell to her already injured shoulder. Bringing herself to
her feet, she heard Spock quietly trying to raise the Enterprise with
his communicator. Each time, his call was met with static.
“Mister Spock?” She did not need to finish her
question. Spock looked toward her in the darkness where the only sounds
were their voices and those of the pursuing Somari. His answer seemed
like a death sentence.
“There is no response.”
Abruptly, Phyllida’s eyes turned toward the sky. The
beating of wings had grown louder and it seemed as if the Somari must
be almost upon them.
“Spock, we have to find a place to hide,” she whispered urgently.
Spock nodded. “That is, assuming such a place exists.”
They moved on, as quickly and silently as they could in the darkness,
striving to keep the cover of the trees between themselves and the sky.
CHAPTER FOUR – FEVER AND STORM
It was nearly dawn when Spock finally found a
suitable hiding place. Thick underbrush almost totally obscured the
mouth of a small cave that opened under a large outcropping of rock. He
motioned for Phyllida to follow him.
Inside the relative safety of the cave, Phyllida
began to speak, but Spock gestured quickly for her to be silent. She
stopped and strained to hear whatever his keen ears had detected, and
eventually caught the distinct twittering of the Somari tongue and
light footfalls on the hillside above them. Silently they waited for
what seemed an eternity for their hunters to move on. When they were
finally gone, Phyllida sank to the damp cave floor in exhaustion.
Bruised and weary, every muscle in her body cried out for relief. She
could feel that her back had begun to bleed again, and the pain that
had earlier been pushed aside was now mounting. She looked toward
Spock, who had settled wearily to the cave floor across from her. In
the half-light she could get only a small idea of the extent of his
injuries, but that was enough. His left cheek was ripped savagely and a
steady trickle of bright green blood flowed from several deep gashes on
his chest. She imagined his back was as bad. She closed her eyes and a
soft groan escaped her lips as she leaned back against the cool wall of
the cave. There was nothing they could do for themselves at the moment,
she reasoned; only rest.
---------------
Phyllida opened her eyes with a start. What had
caused her to waken? Her eyes darted around her dim surroundings. There
it was again – a noise near the entrance of the cave – a rustling
sound. Her body tensed, prepared to fight. She stared at the entrance,
her hand closing around a sharp stone.
Spock entered the cave quietly.
Phyllida let out the breath she was holding with a
long hiss, dropping the rock. “What the hell are you doing, sneaking
around like that? You almost got a rock in your skull!”
Spock, long accustomed to the emotional outbursts of
humans, ignored Gaines’ remark and merely cocked an eyebrow. Phyllida
then noticed that he had removed his shirt and the wounds on his face,
chest and back were clean. They didn’t look quite so angry with the
blood washed away. As he settled to the floor near her, her eyes took
in the angular contour of his face and his well-defined chest and arms.
Her breath caught involuntarily and she lowered her eyes; in the same
instant she hoped he had not noticed her reaction. In his hands he
carefully carried a blue bundle, the remnant of his ruined shirt, which
he unwrapped to reveal a large gourd filled with water. He handed it to
Phyllida, who nodded her thanks and drank gratefully. She gave it back
to him and he set it on the floor, moistening a strip of his shirt in
the remaining water.
“Remove your tunic.”
Phyllida looked at him in surprise.
Spock’s face, as usual, betrayed no emotion, and his
tone was commanding. “Lieutenant Gaines, we must take care of those
wounds. Remove your tunic.”
She nodded in assent and began trying to pull the
tunic off, stopping suddenly with a gasp of pain. “Mister Spock – my
back!” She turned to reveal her back to him. What had been a mass of
raw flesh the night before was now crusted over, sealing the tunic to
her body. As gently as possible, Spock patiently set to the task of
applying water to her back to remove the dried blood. With plenty of
water and not a little pain on Phyllida’s part, Spock was finally able
to remove the bloodied tunic and cleanse her wounds. There would be
scars, but there was no residual bleeding and hopefully infection would
not set in.
“Now what, Mister Spock?” Phyllida said as they
finished. She turned to face him. “I can’t just go around like this
now, can I?” indicating her bare torso.
Spock, really looking at her now for the first time,
took in her full round breasts, her flat abdomen, the gentle flare of
her hips above her short red uniform pants and her long legs folded
beneath her in torn black stockings and boots. He swallowed somewhat
convulsively as something stirred within him that he quickly
suppressed. “Certainly not,” he answered gruffly. He rose to his feet
and thrust what was left of his shirt into her hands. “I suggest you
try to combine this with yours to make some type of covering.” He
turned and strode quickly to the mouth of the cave and disappeared
outside.
Phyllida looked helplessly at the shreds of cloth in
her hands, shrugged, and set to work.
Near the cave, Spock sat on a large boulder,
watching the sky and listening. The sun was already high in the sky; it
looked as though it was early afternoon. He pulled out his communicator
and opened it with a practiced flip of the wrist. His familiar hail, as
expected, elicited no response. Something was still interfering with
the signal. He was reminded briefly of another time when, against all
odds, an act of desperation had saved him and his crew. But this time
it was different; the odds? Not even as good as before. The entire
landing party lost, no weapons and no ship. However, there are always
alternatives. If he could find the source of the interference, Spock
reasoned, he could find a way to eliminate it or work around it to
bring up communications. He would have to find it quickly; surely they
had very little time before Captain Kirk would be forced to abandon
search and move on to Outpost 7.
A short time later, Phyllida emerged from the cave
wearing a scant makeshift garment of blue and red. “Well, what do you
think?” she asked, modeling her creation.
Pragmatic as always, Spock nodded acknowledgement.
“Functional.”
Phyllida looked at him in mock disappointment.
“That’s all you have to say? This wasn’t easy to make, you know, with
no needle and thread.”
“No doubt. However, it is fortunate that your skill
as an engineer surpasses your apparent skill as a clothing designer.”
His face was as somber as ever, but his dark eyes shown as Phyllida
glared at him sullenly.
“Thanks. You really know how to encourage a person.”
She walked away from him, stretching sore muscles in the sunlight. As
far as she could see trees and brush surrounded them, deep green and
fragrant. Tiny insects with delicately colored wings flitted between
exquisite flowers and nearby could be heard the sounds of a small
stream. She moved though the trees in the direction of the sound. It
was a pretty little stream, the water cool and clean, reflecting glints
of sunlight through the trees overhead. This seems like such a peaceful
world, she thought, yet there has been so much violence here. She knelt
to the stream, drinking deeply of the pure water. As she was getting to
her feet, Spock came up behind her, scanning the skies.
“They will be back. We must move on to a safer place if one can be
found.”
“But Spock, don’t you think it will be safe here for a while? I mean, I
think we could use the rest.”
“I agree; however, I do not believe that we have that much time. I am
fully functional at this point; my wounds are not serious. But, if you
require aid to go on…”
“Not necessary, Mister Spock. I can handle it if you can.” She looked
at him, wondering why they said that Vulcans could not lie and trying
to gauge again the extent of his injuries. Remembering his touch of the
night before, she knew of his ability to sublimate pain, but wondered
how long he could keep it up.
They walked in silence back to the cave where Spock had gathered
gourds, which he had painstakingly hollowed with a piece of sharpened
flint for use as water carriers. With a pang of guilt Phyllida realized
how little Spock must have slept after they had reached this shelter.
They filled the gourds from the stream, tying them over their shoulders
with lengths of a rubbery vine that grew nearby. Then, Spock tucked the
small flint knife into his boot and gave a similar one to Phyllida,
which she tied around her thigh with another vine. Thus prepared, they
set out, intent upon putting a good distance between themselves and the
great stone mountain behind them. They walked for hours and were soon
far enough away to see it rising above the trees like a huge tower, the
unmistakable shapes of bird people silhouetted in the surrounding sky.
They stopped to rest only occasionally, though their bodies wearily
protested, wanting to put even more distance between themselves and
their would-be captors. They walked on, and near nightfall they
suddenly emerged from the forest onto an expanse of open plain,
desolate and lifeless. In the distance could be seen the jagged
outlines of an immense mountain range rising high above the desert
floor. Spock looked at the mountains and saw in them what might be
their best chance for protection and shelter if they could cross the
open expanse of desert undetected. It was also the direction in which
his previous tricorder readings had indicated was the probable source
of the electromagnetic interference that had plagued the party’s
communications since they encountered the Somari. They would need to
try to get to those mountains. He expressed all this to Phyllida.
“We’ll make camp here and get an early start in the morning.” Spock’s
comment left no room for argument.
Phyllida looked at Spock. In the dimness of the gathering dusk, she
could read only determination on his alien face. Internally, she
questioned the wisdom of leaving the cover of the forest. What if they
should be caught out there in the open? But, she also agreed that the
mountains would probably be their best chance if they could get to
them. “I guess it’s a chance we’ll have to take,” she said.
That night was spent in the relative protection of the forest edge.
Although Somari could still be seen flying around their mountain in the
distance, there were no signs of pursuit. Spock found this rather odd,
but kept it to himself, not wanting to alarm Phyllida unnecessarily. He
would have been surprised had he known that she shared the same
thoughts.
Early in the morning they gathered what food they could find to help
sustain them on their trip across the wasteland. Spock found, on taking
inventory of their supplies, that they still had a good five gourds of
water left for the journey. Hopefully enough, if they were
conservative.
Phyllida finally put her misgivings into words. “I can’t imagine those
bird people giving up so easily. Do you think they know where we are?”
She shuddered at that thought.
“Most probably they know exactly where we are,” Spock replied.
“Although, I cannot explain why they have not attempted to apprehend us
as yet.”
Phyllida looked back uneasily toward the Somari’s mountain towering in
the distance. “Let’s get out of here.”
The two set out across the desert with the morning sun at their backs.
Aside from patches of scrub grass and an occasional succulent, there
was nothing growing in the dry, sandy soil. Now and then small
reptilian creatures would scurry across their path, but neither Spock
nor Phyllida noted any other life forms. They traveled uneventfully
until about midday, stopping to rest in a dry riverbed. Phyllida sagged
wearily to the ground, rubbing her injured shoulder. Spock handed her
their small pouch of food. “Here, eat. I’m going to take some readings.”
He walked some distance down the riverbed, scanning for any evidence of
Somari or for the source of the electromagnetic interference that had
been playing havoc with communications. Though the tricorders had been
affected to some extent by the same interference, Spock continued to
attempt their use in the hope that the interference would eventually
abate. Unfortunately, the tricorder was still not working reliably; he
could not even pinpoint an exact source for the electromagnetic
interference. It just seemed to be all around them the closer they got
to the mountains. He turned and started walking back toward where he
had left Gaines.
Phyllida was exhausted and the heat was beginning to affect her. Taking
a long drink of water from the gourd at her side, she felt her head
reel suddenly. Easy now, she thought, not too much at once. The slight
rise in body temperature she had felt most of the morning she had long
since dismissed as due to the desert sun. I’ll feel much better after
I’ve eaten something, she told herself. She looked down the riverbed
after Spock and noticed that he was coming back toward her.
“Anything yet?” she called.
“Nothing.” His eyes turned toward the sky. “Perhaps they felt it
sufficient to drive us from their territory. They may no longer
consider us a valid threat.” He sat next to her and she handed him the
food pouch.
“Let’s hope so, anyway.”
As they ate, Spock regarded Phyllida silently. Discovering his intent
gaze, she smiled slightly, running her fingers through tangled,
unwashed hair, painfully conscious of the marks on her battered face.
“Not a very pretty sight, am I, Mister Spock?”
Spock’s eyes never wavered. “You are a very brave woman and one of the
finest officers in the Fleet. I am honored by your presence, although I
deeply regret the circumstances.”
Phyllida dropped her hand and met his gaze squarely, her soft blue eyes
reflecting the depths of his. “Yes,” she said softly, “I believe you
do. But Spock – it’s not your fault!”
He looked past her then, not willing to expose himself any further.
Speaking as though to himself he replied, “My responsibility.”
--------------
That night they hazarded a fire for the first time since the night
before they had met the Somari, for in spite of the heat of the desert
sun, the night had turned suddenly cold. The two rough-hewn flint
knives Spock had made served well to give spark to the dry grass that
was their only tinder, and the small flame was welcome, thought it
provided only minimal warmth. Phyllida shivered and drew closer to the
fire. She had been feeling so strangely today and could not really
account for it. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head, trying to
dispel the dizziness and feeling of disorientation. I’m so tired, she
thought foggily. I’ll be fine once I rest. Curling up next to the tiny
fire, she fell into a restless sleep.
Spock sat on the other side of the fire and watched Phyllida intently.
He feared her injuries were not healing properly. If only they had Dr.
Wilson’s medical kit now. However, they didn’t and it was useless
thinking about it. Evaluating his own condition, he found himself to be
doing surprisingly well. The gash on his cheek had closed and was
beginning to heal and even the wounds on his back and chest were only
very slightly infected; surprising, since he had not had the
opportunity to allow his body the time needed to heal itself
effectively. Rest he must and soon, but he knew that Gaines, even more
than he, could not go on indefinitely. He thought back to their earlier
conversation. She had said that none of this was his fault; but if not
his, whose? He had been responsible for the lives of his landing party
and had failed. Phyllida stirred in her sleep, moaning softly. Watching
over her in the light of the waning fire, Spock felt an increasing
sense of responsibility bordering on urgency to keep her alive and
well. The last of my crew, he rationalized silently, but he knew that
it was more than that, and even the strongly protesting Vulcan in him
could not completely dispel it.
Phyllida was still sleeping when Spock awoke. She looked peaceful in
the pre-dawn twilight. Stretching warmth back into stiff muscles, he
rose and made preparation for the day’s trek, intending to let her
sleep a while longer. His attempt to reach the Enterprise, a daily
activity since leaving the cave, bore the same negative result as on
the previous occasions. He knew that the ship might have already left
and may never return in the near future, but he was not ready to give
up quite yet.
When Phyllida finally awoke it was with some disorientation; she felt
as though she was not quite in her body. Spock was leaning over her,
his face a picture of concern. Odd, she thought, for a Vulcan.
To Spock, Lieutenant Gaines’ face had the flushed look of fever. He had
seen it few other times, but often enough to know that in humans it
usually was accompanied by a significant infection. This was a turn of
events that concerned him greatly. Without medication Phyllida would
have to rely on her own reserves, and at the moment, these were
understandably low. The odds were getting worse.
Phyllida sat up and her head reeled with the movement. What is wrong
with me, she thought. Why is it so terribly hot this early in the
morning? Aloud, she said, “Why are you looking at me like that, Mister
Spock?”
He did not answer her question, but instead asked, “How do you feel?”
She hesitated a moment. “I’m…not quite sure…a little strange, but it’ll
pass.” An unruly strand of hair fell across her eyes and she brushed it
back with a shaking hand. “I’m fine.” Then, as if to prove it, she
stood on wobbly legs, only to collapse almost immediately. Spock
reflexively caught her and lowered her gently to the ground.
“You are not fine,” he admonished. “In fact, you are extremely ill.” He
put a water gourd to her lips, making her drink. “How long have you had
the fever?”
Phyllida shrugged. “Since yesterday morning maybe. I don’t know.” Her
shoulders sagged and for a moment she thought how much simpler it would
have been to have just let the Somari kill her. She would probably die
now anyway. Behind closed eyes she allowed the pain of the last two
days to sweep over her like a wave. The sensation was not entirely
unpleasant, almost welcome in fact. It simply did not matter anymore.
“…along that ridge there,” Spock was saying.
He sounded so far away. She slowly opened her eyes to overwhelming
sunlight.
“We should be able to reach it within a day. There we will have a
better chance for survival until rescue arrives.” He seemed to be
indicating the mountains to the west.
Phyllida shook her head. She doubted that she could continue in her
present state for any length of time. Spock helped her take another
drink of water from the gourd. The sun was getting higher and they
needed to be moving. “Spock, if you’ll help me stand, I think I can
manage. For a while, anyway.”
He eyed her somewhat doubtfully but without a word he helped her to her
feet. The coarse sand seemed at first to give way under Phyllida’s
boots, and she leaned heavily on the Vulcan’s strength. But then, with
the determined discipline of a Starfleet officer, she steadied and drew
herself up to face Spock, meeting his dark eyes with her own. She
turned and with Spock at her side, set out toward the western mountains
across the desert expanse.
The pair trudged on throughout the day, the forest behind them
eventually fading to no more than a green strip on the eastern horizon,
although their progress was slower than before. The sun rose in its
swiftly mounting arc, desert sands reflecting its heat with an
ever-increasing intensity. Phyllida, in her illness, was becoming more
and more unsure of her footing, and suddenly stumbled. Spock’s arm was
instantly around her waist, breaking her fall and helping her back to
her feet. He noticed that she felt hot, even to his touch. She looked
at him through fevered eyes and the urgent need for rest cried out from
every part of her body. He walked with her then, half carrying her limp
form. They pressed onward, tenacious Vulcan strength sustaining not
only one, but two through the hostile desert.
Throughout the afternoon black thunderheads roiled on the horizon,
building, spreading across the sky with an uncanny, almost demoniacal,
intensity. Dust whipped up around the two in small whirlwinds and in
the distance they heard the low rumble of thunder answering the
mounting storm. Suddenly and relentlessly, the wind increased, driving
Spock and Phyllida on through billowing dust that made the sand under
their boots writhe and moil fitfully as though it were alive. They
struggled to continue through dust that choked every breath, filled
hair and eyes. Through the cloud of her fever, Phyllida felt the effort
was wasted. She wanted nothing more than to just lie down and die, but
some primitive instinct would not allow that luxury. It forced her to
put one leaden foot before the other until finally, even her survival
drive weakened and she slipped from Spock’s grasp to fall roughly to
the ground. He went down after her, protecting her with his own body
from the thick stinging clouds of dust.
Then, with sudden violent force, the storm broke. Rain, torrential and
savage, lashed at them with cold sheets of water that eroded the ground
beneath them. Through muted senses, Phyllida felt the escalating fury
of the storm past the weight of Spock’s body. Water welled up around
her, muddy and vile, forcing its way into her mouth and nostrils,
threatening to choke her. The ground shook convulsively, rumbling in
protest of the violence being forced upon it, bringing with it a
welcome blackness, devoid of all sensation, into which Phyllida
gratefully sank.
As the storm raged around them, Spock gradually became aware of another
sound -- a dull roar over the sounds of the storm. Still holding
Phyllida, he raised himself from the mud, striving to see the source of
the growing sound. Sheets of rain whipped about him, and for long
minutes Spock strained to see as the roar escalated deafeningly. What
he finally saw carried with it such raw force and power that were he
fully human he might have panicked. A wall of water, at least 10 feet
high, was surging toward them with bone-crushing speed. Spock set
himself to meet it, clasping Phyllida tightly to himself. Then, with a
gut-wrenching shock, the water was all around them; roaring, sweeping
water that had a life of its own, rolling over them with amazing
intensity. Spock tried desperately to keep his hold on Phyllida as the
flood fought with him to claim her. The forceful current carried them
under water for endless seconds to finally sweep them clear of the
surface and into the rain-soaked air. Spock, still clinging to
Phyllida, drew a long breath and pulled Phyllida’s head above the
surface, keeping her there while they floated down the watercourse. It
was still raining, although not with the ferocity of the few minutes
preceding the flood, and it occurred to Spock that the Somari, being
familiar with the weather patterns of this planet, must have known that
he and Gaines would be caught in this storm. They had been run into a
deliberate trap.
Long minutes passed before the swift currents finally deposited them on
a large sandbar near the foothills of the western mountain range. The
sun had set some time before and the sky was beginning to clear,
showing a scattering of stars through rifts in the thinning clouds. The
wind also had died down and all was still. Exhausted, Spock dragged
Phyllida’s limp body up onto the sandbar next to him and collapsed.
CHAPTER FIVE – RESCUE
“Kaminski to Enterprise, come in Enterprise. How do
you read?”
“You’re coming across just fine, Lieutenant. Stand
by.” Lieutenant Uhura swiveled toward the center seat. “Captain,
receiving transmission from Lieutenant Kaminski aboard the
shuttlecraft.”
“On audio, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, Sir.”
“Kaminski here, Captain. We are proceeding on the
designated heading, presently about 20 kilometers southwest of the
colony site and approaching a large body of water.”
“Any life signs or unusual findings?”
“Negative, Captain. All’s quiet here. So far all
we’ve picked up on our scanners is local electromagnetic interference,
but Collins is recalibrating now to white out the disturbance. If
they’re here, sir, we’ll find ‘em.”
Kirk stroked his chin thoughtfully, all too aware of
the time factor, and thought of the 4 men aboard the shuttlecraft.
“Very well. Keep us posted, Lieutenant. And, proceed with caution. I
want no more casualties.”
“Understood, Sir. Kaminski out.”
The shuttlecraft glided gracefully through the deep
blue sky of planet M64, skimming across tops of trees toward the miles
long lake.
“Scanning for life signs now, sir.” Ensign Collins
was a very promising junior science officer. Kaminski knew he could
count on him for accuracy. “I’m picking up diffuse life signs all
around us. There seem to also be some faint signals some 10-15
kilometers to the north.” He paused. “I can’t be sure. The surrounding
life signs are very strong.” As he finished speaking, the shuttlecraft
pitched violently to port, sending the crew flying. Kaminski clung to
the controls, checking the instrument panel frantically.
“What is it, Joe?” one of the men cried out.
“I don’t know.” The young lieutenant was puzzled.
This shouldn’t be happening. His heavy brows knotted together under a
shock of thick red hair. “We seem to have hit some type of turbulence.”
The small ship bucked again, this time from the
other side, even more wildly than before. Lieutenant Kaminski tried
desperately to maintain control of the craft.
“Sir! What’s that?” Ensign Collins pointed toward
the forward view screen. Bearing directly ahead were five large
bird-like creatures.
“What the …” Joe Kaminski never had time to finish
whatever comment he was about to make, for just at that moment the
shuttlecraft was bounded on all sides by at least 50 of the creatures.
Out of control, the tiny craft plummeted to the forest floor, crashing
with a large explosion.
As was intended, there were no survivors.
-------------------
The Kamnke listened approvingly to the report.
“The two that were here have perished in the
sommgraven, my lord, and others that followed in a flying machine have
been destroyed this day.”
It was good. The Kamnke nodded. They had finally
won. The Ancient Ones and their evil ways would never again corrupt the
land. Others may try to follow, but always at the same cost – death.
The Kamnke settled back and trilled softly in satisfaction. His people
were safe once more.
-------------------
A column of thick black smoke rose far to the south
of a small sandbar on which two bodies lay unmoving in the early
morning light.
CHAPTER SIX – DELIRIUM
Consciousness returned slowly to Spock. Gradually
regaining his senses, somewhere in the distance an explosion (thunder?)
was heard. He felt the roughness of the sand beneath his cheek, the
warmth of sunlight on his naked back. Opening his eyes, he raised his
head, rolled from his prone position onto his side, and reached for
Phyllida, who lay face down near him. He touched her throat, feeling
for a pulse. She didn’t stir. Her pulse was faint, but steady, and she
was breathing quietly, though still unconscious. Spock sat up and
looked at his surroundings. He noted uncomfortably that both
communicators and tricorders had been lost. They had nothing now but
whatever clothing remained to them; Spock, his uniform pants and boots,
and Gaines, her boots, short pants, and one remaining length of cloth
tied around her chest, that covered her breasts. Below them, where the
desert floor had been yesterday, was a lake, filled with the water from
the flood in which he and Phyllida had been caught. Above them rose the
foothills of the mountains, which had been their goal. A short distance
away a trail snaked up and over the hillside, perhaps to the mountain.
Spock turned his attention back to Lieutenant
Gaines. Her back was very angrily inflamed, and she still seemed
feverish. He sat on his heels next to her and rolled her gently to her
back, pulling her head and shoulders onto his knees. “Lieutenant,” he
said softly, stroking the hair back from her face. She did not move.
“Phyllida,” this time his voice was more insistent. Still, she did not
stir. Spock gathered her into his arms and, getting to his feet, struck
out for the mountain trail.
-------------
Sometime during the morning it began to rain -- a
slow, steady drizzle falling from a cold, gray sky. Spock hefted
Phyllida, still unconscious, over a small outcropping of rock and into
a protective hollow in the side of the mountain. A good part of the
morning had seen him make his way with her from the sandbar to this
place among the foothills. Here it should be possible to build a fire
and rest for a day, perhaps two. Spock looked down on Phyllida’s
restless, shivering form and her flushed face. Rest and warmth were
probably the most essential things to the girl’s survival at the
moment. He pulled her as far back into the hollow as he could, away
from the cold drizzling rain at the mouth of the cave. She needed a
fire. Satisfied that she would be safe for the time being, he left her
there and went to forage for firewood amongst the sparse vegetation.
Below them, he could see the miles-long body of water that had been a
desert only the day before, and at its immediate edge the sandbar on
which they had washed up. Above where Phyllida slept in the alcove,
loomed a mountain of bare stone, the peak of which was lost in a thick
shrouding mist. Waterfalls spouted here and there from its rocky face.
About half a mile to the north, one noticeably larger waterfall rumbled
down the sheer face of a cliff, its origins lost in the mist that
swirled about the mountain. At the base of the cliff was a small stand
of trees. Spock made his way over the rocky, shale-covered slope toward
the trees. He soon came to the edge of the grove and found a few twigs
and small branches scattered on the ground, and he picked up as much as
he could carry. As he prepared to return to Phyllida, he noticed what
appeared to be a path cut out of solid rock, which led around the side
of the mountain directly toward the large waterfall, disappearing into
the mist and spray behind it. While he considered the possible
significance of this strange path, Phyllida’s panicked scream reached
him over the waterfall’s roar.
Spock ran. By the time he made his way back to her, Phyllida was
thrashing wildly about the small enclosure, her eyes bright with
hysteria and her lithe body glistening with sweat. He dropped his
bundle of twigs and brought himself quickly to her side, wrapping his
arms around her to hold her under control. She struggled against him,
beat on his chest, screamed. Across the touch, the force of her
emotions was almost overwhelming. Spock shuddered from the psionic
power the girl was generating in her delirious state. Scenes from her
life, of Phyllida’s family and friends; emotions, anger… bitterness…
hatred… love… rebellion… joy… fear; all flowed unbidden into Spock’s
mind. Still he held her, shielding his mind from the onslaught of
Phyllida’s personal torment, until the fury was over and she relaxed in
his arms, her head resting on his chest. The fever had broken. Perhaps
now she would recover.
Spock lowered her gently to the damp stone floor and sat back on his
heels, clearing his mind of the remnants of the link inadvertently
produced between them. Even through the cold veneer of logic that began
to settle over him, Spock could feel the raw emotions of Phyllida’s
subconscious mind. His eyes closed and a long sigh escaped his lips as
he relaxed more deeply, concentrating on every fiber of his body. Body,
mind, soul, coming together as one; a triad at its apex, no longer
three separate entities, but one. His breathing was shallow, relaxed.
The universe flowed around him, through him, became part of him. The
wild emotions, with nothing to feed on, retreated, leaving in their
place the logic his Vulcan mind so diligently sought.
Slowly opening his eyes, Spock regarded Lieutenant Gaines, now sleeping
peacefully. He permitted himself a moment to wonder about the details
of her background out of speculative curiosity, then easily dismissed
the thought as though it had not existed, and set to building a fire.
----------------
“Captain’s log, stardate 4266.3: Still no
contact with Mister Spock or his party and we are running out of time.
Shortly after the specially equipped Galileo II was launched and was
nearing the site of the disappearances, contact with it, too was lost.
An explosion was detected on the planet’s surface, which could have
been the shuttlecraft, but what could have caused such a crash is at
this time unknown. The whole mystery seems to be escalating, with no
answers; only more and more questions. Starfleet Command has denied my
request for an extension to continue the investigation, and with only
two hours left to us, I see very little we can do or hope for short of
a miracle.” The captain of the Federation Starship Enterprise shut off
the recorder and sat in the darkness of his quarters, mentally
reviewing his rapidly dwindling options. There had to be something he
hadn’t yet tried – after all, he didn’t believe in the “no-win”
scenario.
----------------
Phyllida Gaines awoke with a pounding headache. She
rolled over with a groan and sat up slowly, holding her head. Spock
turned from the entrance of the cave and offered a hand to steady her.
“Whoa! How long have I been out?” She flexed her
arms and hands, coaxing life back into stiff joints and muscles. “I
feel like I’ve been put through the proverbial ringer.”
“Approximately 14.3 hours,” Spock replied evenly,
still holding her arm.
Phyllida took in the strange surroundings. “Where
are we anyway? The last thing I remember is getting caught in some
whopper of a storm.” She brushed her hair back off her forehead with
her free hand.
With a vaguely uncomfortable look, Spock released
her arm and moved to the entrance of their shelter in one long stride.
As he stood gazing out over the lake, he recounted to Phyllida the
events that had occurred since the onset of the storm and his discovery
of the trail that led under the waterfall. He tactfully failed to make
any mention of her recent delirium. “It seems your fever has subsided
and you will soon be ready for travel again,” Spock observed. “I
suggest we spend another night or two here and then follow the trail.
Perhaps we may find a suitable location to set up a more permanent camp
until the Enterprise returns to continue search.”
Phyllida thought about this. She knew that
Enterprise was under a deadline to reach Outpost 7, and that any search
for the landing party had probably long since been abandoned. “How do
you know they will return?”
Spock turned and looked into her wide blue eyes. How
could he explain the actions of someone he knew almost as well as
himself? Could she understand the reasoning behind his belief that
Enterprise would return? He was not quite sure he himself understood
it. Hope was illogical. “I know my captain,” he said, and without
looking back, walked down the slope into the lengthening shadows of the
afternoon.
Phyllida gazed after him, wanting to follow, but
realizing his need to be alone. With a sigh, she added more fuel to
their little fire. Settling her weary body onto the hard stone floor
next to the fire, she soon drifted into a restful slumber.
CHAPTER SEVEN – STRANDED
The small desktop view screen was dark, as it had
been for the past half hour. Kirk’s fingers drummed idly on the
transparent surface of the table, the only outward sign of the intense
frustration he was feeling. Behind him the door hissed open and without
turning he knew who it was.
“No luck, huh?”
Kirk continued to stare at the view screen. “Damn
bureaucracy, Bones! Damn regulations! Damn Starfleet!” he paused, his
voice lowering to just above a whisper. “You know, I’m beginning to
agree with you – we don’t belong out here in the first place.”
McCoy sat down and poured two glasses of brandy from
the decanter at the table. “Do you realize what Spock would say if he
heard you talk like that?” He offered a glass to Kirk, who accepted
absently. “Jim, you’ve done all you can do. You can’t buck Starfleet
forever, and if they bust you, it’ll be damn near impossible for you to
get a ship to come back to look for him.”
Kirk silently regarded the amber liquid swirling in
his glass as though in its depths he would find the answers he so
desperately wanted. Again, his mind rehashed the old data, and again he
came up with the same conclusion. It was all wrong. Something was
tremendously wrong about this whole mess. If only there was some way of
knowing what had happened to Spock and the shuttle crew he had sent, if
only he had more time. Abandon search. Kirk hated the sound of that
phrase. Yet, Command had made it perfectly clear. Abandon search and
proceed to Outpost 7. Turn his back on a friend who had saved his life
more times than he cared to count.
“Impossible.” Kirk set his drink on the table
untouched. “I’m not giving up on him.”
“But Jim, you can’t just…”
“Take it easy, Bones. I don’t intend to disobey
orders, either.”
“Then what exactly ARE you planning?”
“Just what you said.”
“What I said?”
“Coming back to look for him. That’s the key. We’ll
go ahead to Outpost 7 as ordered, but nothing in our orders says
anything about how long we have to stay there. We’ll stay just long
enough to make sure everything there is under control and return
immediately to resume search.”
McCoy slowly lowered his drink to the table and
paused thoughtfully. “Jim, do you really believe that Spock is still
alive down there?”
“I’d stake my life on it.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The trail was ancient, worn from many years of
weather and use, and in the morning sunlight, fine spray from the
immense waterfall glinted and flashed like tiny prisms, here and there
flashing rainbows.
After two days of rest, Phyllida felt nearly
recovered again under the warmth of the sun, although she was grateful
that the path was not steep. As they drew near the fall, its spray rose
around them in a fine, cool mist, exhilarating to the senses. Phyllida
smiled to herself. It was the best she had felt in days. Moving ahead,
Spock disappeared behind the sparkling sheet of water and Phyllida
followed, gasping slightly at its abrupt coldness. Behind the roaring
cascade was a natural alcove with a small opening in the mountain
almost central to the waterfall. Except for the cave, the resemblance
to the waterfall on Mevinna was striking.
“Remind you of anyplace?” Phyllida winked a
mischievous eye at Spock, who chose not to answer. Instead, he moved on
past the cave entrance to go through to the other side of the fall.
Puzzled, Phyllida followed.
When she emerged from beneath the water, she found that they were
standing at the base of yet another trail, hewn directly into the face
of the stony mountain in such a way that it was not visible from below.
On the outward side of the path the wall was easily 6-7 feet high,
thoroughly insuring that one could pass this way unobserved. Above them
the steep path faded into the heavy mist that seemed to be almost a
permanent part of the mountains.
Spock led the way up the slope, stopping occasionally for Phyllida to
rest. By midday the mist had cleared somewhat to reveal a pass cut into
the summit of the mountain above which a huge promontory jutted upward
with craggy determination, reflecting the violence that had borne it
ages past. Phyllida scrambled after Spock up the steep, shale-covered
path and found herself wondering fleetingly as to the makers of this
road and what had become of them.
It was about mid-afternoon when Gaines pulled herself up to the crest
of the pass where Spock already stood. She brought herself unsteadily
to her feet. Clinging to a large boulder, she looked out over the
summit. Before them lay an immense valley, ringed about by a
snow-covered mountain range, looking as if it had been scooped out of
the mountains with a giant hand and then carefully planted with the
lush verdant growth that populated it. Thick and tightly interwoven
treetops gave the impression of a thick green carpet, beneath which a
sparkling river wound its way to a large lake that shimmered in the
distance, half hidden by intervening trees.
Phyllida gasped in amazement. “It’s beautiful!”
Spock turned to look at her. Her face was flushed from the effort of
their climb and the afternoon sun shone brilliantly on her golden hair.
“Indeed.” He allowed his gaze to linger momentarily on this lovely,
courageous woman beside him. His old familiar internal conflict
threatened to surface for a brief instant, but was just as quickly
suppressed. Phyllida, caught up in the beauty of the immense valley
spread before them, did not notice.
Minutes later, the pair began their descent, and by early evening they
had reached the valley floor. Birds flitted anxiously in the uppermost
boughs of the trees, not quite sure of the strange creatures who
traversed the cool twilight of the forest floor below. Tiny yellow
flowers dotted the plush green carpet of moss that cushioned their
every step, and underbrush was almost nonexistent; as though this had
once been a carefully tended, albeit large, garden. Along the way, the
travelers collected berries and nuts for food, noting other animals
were eating them, and they should be safe enough to eat. After a time
they came upon a small glade that was scattered with more of the
flowers and sweet-smelling moss, and they made this their campsite in
the lengthening shadows of evening. There was no need for a fire; the
air in the valley was surprisingly warm, and the light from two moons
filtered softly through the trees. They spent the evening in relative
silence, Spock almost uncharacteristically taciturn, and Phyllida too
weary to do much more than go to sleep.
By the next afternoon, Spock and Phyllida had uneventfully traveled the
distance to the mountain lake. The way was easy, with very little
undergrowth, and Phyllida remarked to Spock about the quiet
peacefulness of the valley and how it bore so little resemblance to the
other parts of the planet they had been exposed to. Unimpressed, Spock
pointed out that many worlds had numerous varieties of climate and
terrain.
“But a warm, semi-tropical forest in the plateau of a snow-covered
mountain range?” she asked, pursuing her point.
To this, Spock’s only response was a raised eyebrow and “Yes,
fascinating,” which seemed to indicate to her that the subject was
still under consideration. Phyllida shrugged and they walked on in
silence along the shore of the immense lake.
She was painfully aware, as she had been for the last two days, that
Spock was more closed to her now than ever, and she wondered at the
cause for the change. Of the two days she had been feverish she could
remember nothing except bits of dream-like recollections; rain and
cold, her father’s accusing glare, emotions; fear, hate, rebellion,
love, sadness; the darkness, and finally awakening in the cave. The
more she considered it, the more certain Phyllida was that her illness
had somehow precipitated Spock’s present attitude toward her. At any
rate, she resolved to find out.
Sunset approached. The snow-capped peaks seemed to ring the valley with
fire, reflecting deepening hues of orange, pink, and red. Dusk darkened
the forest around them while Spock and Phyllida made camp in a large
clearing that opened toward the lake. With the sunset, a stillness fell
over the forest and the water of the lake was black, swallowing the
barest light of the first evening stars.
After a shared meal of nuts, berries and roots, Phyllida scanned
Spock’s face in the flickering light of their small fire. As usual, his
expression disclosed no hint of the thoughts behind it.
“Spock…” she ventured.
He turned toward her, his dispassionate brown eyes dark in the shadows
thrown by the fire. “Lieutenant Gaines.” He stressed her rank.
Phyllida cleared her throat and averted her eyes from his gaze, feeling
vaguely uncomfortable and not knowing why. Clearly, whatever fragile
rapport she had had with Spock had dissipated with her illness for some
reason as yet unknown to her. She squared her shoulders and some
measure of formality returned to her voice. “I was just wondering if
they…” she looked toward the blackened sky and its myriad of stars, “If
we’ll ever see them again.” Her voice was engulfed by the surrounding
darkness.
Spock followed her gaze to the stars, realizing as he did so that all
speculation regarding rescue had been dismissed from his mind in the
face of the logistics of immediate survival. “Hope is illogical.” He
felt Phyllida fix her gaze upon him and he continued, meeting her eyes
and holding them with his own. “To be sure, Captain Kirk would have
used every means at his disposal to locate and rescue us, but it is
unreasonable to assume that Starfleet Command would have allowed him
more than 72 hours to complete that task in view of his previous
orders. More than likely we are presumed dead.” Spock paused and the
full impact of what he had said registered in Phyllida’s upturned face.
Her expression, in the firelight, was nearly unreadable, but Spock
could not mistake the dismay that was reflected in her next statement.
“So, what you’re saying is,” she hesitated, “we’re marooned here.”
“In essence, yes.”
Phyllida rose in one fluid movement and took a step or two away to face
the dark waters of the lake. “In essence…” she shivered, though it was
not cold. “In essence, we are going to spend the rest of our lives
here. Is that what you are saying? And just two days ago you were sure
they would come back for us! I can see now that a lot has changed in
the last two days – I don’t know you at all!” The anger in her voice
was unmistakable, though Spock could not entirely understand what she
was angry about.
“Lieutenant, I see no need…”
“That does it!” She whirled to face him, the now rising moons casting
conflicting shadows across her face. “We are NOT aboard the Enterprise
anymore, and if what you have said is true, we’re not likely to be
again. Rank means nothing here – don’t you understand?” Tears of
frustration stung her eyes and she blinked them back. “Of all people to
be stranded with for the rest of my life…!” She turned and stalked
angrily toward the lakeshore.
Spock stood in the glow of the tiny fire and watched Phyllida’s form
retreat into the shadows to stand silhouetted against the moonlight
playing on the water. Part of him longed to go after her, to hold her,
to give her the words of hope she wanted to hear, but he could not. He
turned his eyes once more to the stars. Thoughts of unfulfilled
responsibility rehearsed yet again behind dispassionate eyes and a cry
of mental anguish welled deep within him, shaking the very foundations
of his Vulcan soul. Jim! Hear me! We live!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
“Three light scouting vessels have disappeared from
this sector in the past month alone! This is totally unprecedented!”
The harried visage of Outpost 7 Commander Owen Barker filled the main
view screen. Kirk shifted in the command chair.
“What makes you believe the Romulans are involved?”
Barker sighed in exasperation. “I know, Jim, it’s
all circumstantial. But don’t you see?” He leaned forward urgently, as
though he could make Kirk accept his position with that movement alone.
“Everything points to them. We really have nothing else to go on!”
Kirk tapped the arm of the command chair while
considering these developments. This whole thing was going to take much
longer than he anticipated. But the Romulans? It was just not adding up
– something was missing. He wished Spock were here – not for the first
or last time. But Barker was speaking again.
“A meeting has been scheduled at 1900 to decide on a
course of action. The coordinates are being fed to your computer.” He
paused. “If there are no further questions, Captain, I’ll see you then.
Barker out.” Before Kirk could answer, the screen went blank. Kirk
stroked his chin thoughtfully. He didn’t like mysteries, but the
meeting was only a couple of hours away and he had a mystery whether he
liked it or not. He rose from the center seat.
“Mister Sulu, I’ll be in my quarters if I’m needed.
You have the conn.”
Sulu acknowledged his order with a sharp nod and
Kirk took a step up toward the turbolift. Suddenly, the whole bridge
began to reel around him. He tried another faltering step and grasped
futilely for the bridge railing. Incoherent cries from the crew were
barely audible past the other presence. Spock! He pitched headlong to
the floor and blackness engulfed him.
CHAPTER EIGHT – HOPE
"Spock!" Kirk struggled
against the layers of blackness clouding his mind. He sat up abruptly
and strong hands were on his shoulders, forcing him back onto the
diagnostic bed. "Spock!" he whispered.
"Jim!" McCoy's voice reached
him through the fog. "Jim. Spock isn't here. It's me, Bones."
Kirk opened his eyes.
"Bones..." he breathed. "Spock...is alive! I've got to get to Spock!"
He saw McCoy beckon to someone and Nurse Chapel stepped near the bed
with a hypo in her hand. Kirk relaxed against the bed and attempted to
bring himself under control. "No Bones. No. You won't need that." He
tried a wan smile. "I'm fine. I'll explain everything. If I can."
The doctor searched his eyes
for a moment and then dismissed Chapel. Slowly he took his hands away
from the captain's shoulders, as if he expected him to bolt at any
moment. "Well then, explain." McCoy crossed his arms in front of his
chest. "Explain how you've put yourself under such strain since Spock's
disappearance that you simply broke under the pressure and passed out
on the bridge." Kirk opened his mouth to speak, but McCoy continued.
"You've hardly slept or eaten in days," he chided. "I'm surprised it
didn't happen sooner."
Kirk swung his legs over the
side of the bed and sat up, instantly regretting it. His head felt as
though it was going to explode and a moment of dizziness gripped him.
He hoped that the irate doctor had not noticed the slight wince. If he
did notice, he gave no indication, but continued to glare at his
captain and friend through sharp blue eyes. Kirk met his glare
squarely. "You know me better than that, Bones. I've been under
pressure before. I don't crumble that easily." McCoy began to form an
answer, but the captain stopped him with a raised hand. "No. I'm
telling you that's not what happened on the bridge." He paused. Seeing
that he still held the doctor's attention, he went on, hoping that his
friend wouldn't think that he had gone completely mad. "Bones, what do
you know about Vulcan telepathy?"
McCoy was taken aback by the
question. "Jim, what's this got to do..."
"Just answer the question,
doctor."
"Vulcan telepathy."
"Yes."
McCoy turned slightly and
shook his head. "I don't know a lot about it, only what you probably
already know -- that the Vulcans are generally touch telepaths who
usually must be in physical contact with another being in order to
communicate telepathically." McCoy looked at Kirk quizzically. "What's
this got to do with anything?"
Kirk dropped to the floor
and paced the room, ignoring the pounding in his head. He appeared not
to have heard the doctor's question. "But what about the exceptions?"
he said.
"The exceptions?"
"The exceptions, Bones. You
said 'generally' and 'usually.' Are there times when a Vulcan can
communicate telepathically at great distances?"
Light dawned on McCoy's
face. He thought he saw what the captain was getting at and he wasn't
sure that he liked it. As a physician, he had learned years ago how
deceiving false hope could be. "Jim, I've never heard of any
instance..."
Kirk whirled and caught
McCoy by the shoulders, shaking him to punctuate his frustrated words.
"It IS possible!?" Desperate hazel eyes sought compassionate blue ones.
If McCoy didn't believe him, he was lost. Maybe he WAS going insane.
The doctor's face reflected
a mixture of worry, pity and outrage at the behavior of his captain,
and he feared Kirk was definitely having a breakdown. He unobtrusively
reached for the hypo spray on the table behind him, hoping he would not
have to use it. "Jim! Listen to yourself!"
Kirk turned his back on his
friend and hugged his arms to his chest. In a voice barely audible he
said, "I heard him."
McCoy took an incredulous
step forward. "What?"
"Spock... I heard Spock."
Gently, Bones McCoy's hand
was on Jim Kirk's shoulder, leading him back toward the bed. Kirk
shrugged it off. "No, Bones. I know what I heard." His voice was
suddenly rock steady, his eyes lucid, and McCoy could see in his face
something that dared anyone to challenge him. He knew that look.
"I believe you, Jim." He
shook his head. "Don't ask me why, but I do. So now what?"
"I wish I knew, Bones. I
wish I knew."
---------------
The meeting was every bit as
dry and drawn out as Kirk had expected it to be. He glanced once more
around the table at the faces of those gathered, some familiar but most
not. The men and women in attendance were officials with various
interests in the so-called "Romulan Crisis." On this count, Kirk still
had heard nothing to convince him that the Romulans were behind the
disappearances of ships in this sector, although much circumstantial
evidence had been presented. The general consensus seemed to be, in
Commander Barker's words, to "blast the filthy scum out of the galaxy."
Kirk found himself again wishing Spock were there. He missed the cool
logical way in which his Vulcan first officer so often presented an
appropriate course of action.
"Jim?"
"I have no reasonable
answers, Owen." Kirk responded. "And, I would like to again ask the
question that no one seems to want to consider – Why? What possible
motive could the Romulans have to be destroying our ships? I don't
believe they would risk such a serious infraction against the
Federation simply because they don't like us. That's just not..." he
paused on the word, "logical." He looked around the faces at the table.
"Remember – the Romulans, though warlike, are a logical race. They
don't do anything without reason."
Barker shifted somewhat
nervously in his seat, and cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, no
one else we know of could possibly be under suspicion, and what little
evidence we have all points to them as being behind the disappearances
of ships near this outpost.
"By the way," he continued,
"Where is your Vulcan first officer? What does he have to say about all
this?"
Kirk winced. That, he
thought, is a good question.
-----------------
The hours since daybreak had
passed slowly, and the walk around the lake had turned up nothing new.
By midday, Phyllida and Spock were still only about halfway around the
lake by Spock's estimate; an estimate that Phyllida knew better than to
question. Stopping abruptly, she dropped heavily onto a large boulder
overlooking the water.
"Spock?"
He turned and strode back to
where she sat. "Lieutenant?"
"Why are we doing this?"
"Specify."
She rolled her eyes in
exasperation. He has the personality of a computer, she thought.
"Trudging through the wilderness like this. We might as well stay here
as anywhere else on this forsaken planet."
"That is true," he conceded.
"However, before our tricorders were lost, I detected what might be the
source of the electromagnetic interference we encountered coming from
the direction of the mountain range that surrounds this valley. Also, I
confess I have a certain curiosity concerning the beings who
constructed the trail leading over the mountains. Perhaps if we
continue to follow the lake we will learn more about the source of the
EM disturbance and the beings themselves."
Phyllida looked up at the
clear blue sky and shook her head. "After our dealings with the Somari
I'm not quite sure I want to know any more about them."
"The possibility,
Lieutenant, that these beings are of the same race as the Somari is
very remote. Indeed, what use would the Somari have for trails? Would
they not simply fly over the mountain and into the valley?"
Phyllida nodded. "Don't you
think I haven't thought of all that? Even if this is a different race –
what makes you so sure they're friendly?"
Spock raised an eyebrow at
her comment. In his estimation her reasoning was illogical. "Ms.
Gaines, as you have so emphatically pointed out, rank holds no sway
over us if we are indefinitely stranded, so I will not order you to
come along with me. If you would feel safer, please, by all means
remain here. I, however, will not allow you to deter me from furthering
my knowledge of a race of beings heretofore unknown." His voice held no
rancor, no reproach, but his eyes were resolute. "It is up to you."
Phyllida stared at the
Vulcan's back as he strode purposefully down the path. Sighing
disgustedly, she shrugged herself off the boulder and followed.
The new pace Spock had set
was almost too much for Phyllida. More than once she stumbled over tree
roots or stones in the path in her effort to keep up with his long
strides and superior stamina. After walking for miles without rest her
feet and legs felt like lead, but she was determined to keep Spock in
sight. Midday soon gave way to afternoon, and evening was fast
approaching. Phyllida's breath now came in ragged bursts and fatigue
began to overwhelm her until finally she simply sat down in the middle
of the trail.
In the deepening dusk she
could barely see Spock's form several meters ahead, but she could tell
that he had not noticed that she had stopped. Phyllida sat on her heels
in the dirt of the trail and struggled to catch her breath as a wave of
dizziness and nausea rolled over her. She closed her eyes and pushed it
roughly aside. "Damn Vulcan," she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she
pushed herself awkwardly to her feet.
"Lieutenant Gaines!" Spock's
voice drifted back to her through the darkness.
She strained, but she could
see nothing of him other than a vague shadow looming in the distance.
She blinked her eyes to try and clear them, but the darkness was too
complete.
"Gaines!" She heard him call
again.
She cleared her throat.
"Spock?" and began walking toward the sound of his voice. The shadow
grew nearer until at last Phyllida could see that it was the Vulcan and
that he was walking swiftly toward her. He reached out and caught her
as she stumbled again. Silently cursing her own clumsiness, she leaned
wearily into him, grateful for the support he offered.
"Gaines," there was an
uncharacteristic hint of excitement in his voice. "There is a city
ahead."
Phyllida followed the line
of his extended arm but could see nothing in the blackness beyond. "I
can't see anything," she panted.
"Come."
He maintained his hold on
her arm and led her forward along the path. At the crest of a small
rise, the lieutenant looked out over the lake. Through the trees she
could see that one of the moons was just rising, and in its muted
light, perhaps 100 meters from where they stood, were the ruins of an
ancient city.
The city looked as if it had
fallen into decay ages ago, but several buildings still seemed to be
intact. Phyllida caught her breath in awe. From the center of the city
a great obelisk rose like a proclamation, moonlight glinting whitely
off its polished sides, pointing toward the sky as though daring the
moon to impale itself upon its tip. Power emanated from that place.
Phyllida shuddered as she felt the subtle vibrations in the warm wind.
She could see now why Spock had wanted to seek out the race that had
built such a structure. She looked up at him. In the moonlight, his
profile was harsh, stony; and yet, somehow she could sense urgency,
excitement, awe, radiating from that visage. The Vulcan caught her
stare and their eyes briefly met. She looked down quickly.
"Let's go," he said, and
together they made their way down the hill, toward the waiting city.
CHAPTER NINE – POKER
Captain James T. Kirk stared sleeplessly at the
ceiling of his quarters. The uneasiness that had begun to creep over
him since their arrival at Outpost 7 now loomed like a cloud, nagging
at the back of his mind and setting off alarms that made it impossible
to sleep. He had learned to listen to such feelings, hunches if you
will, and yet he was hoping that this time they were unfounded.
He shifted his entwined hands under the weight of his head and once
again mulled over the proceedings of the meeting; it had raised more
questions for him than it had answered. And Owen… Kirk’s brow furrowed
at the thought of his old acquaintance. It was 15 years ago when they
had met at the academy. Barker was instantly likeable. He had a
confident bearing and ready smile, and his quirky eccentricities just
made him all the more interesting. Kirk remembered how impressed he had
been that Barker had entered the academy and attempted command
training, in spite of being significantly older than the other
recruits. Owen had been so disappointed when, after all his hard work,
he did not pass the qualifying psych exams for command of a starship.
Even though he had eventually become an outpost commander, he had
expressed bitterness over the “politics” that, in his opinion, had kept
him from command of a starship. Kirk didn’t know much about Barker’s
life before the academy; Owen was very tight-lipped about it; but he
did know that at one time Barker had been married, and wondered if
maybe the eccentricities and bitterness he displayed had something to
do with that past. Now, though, there was an air about him that Kirk
had never seen before and was at a loss to explain. Maybe working at
the outpost this close to Romulan space for the past two years had done
something to him. Maybe he had lived too long with the constant threat
of war. Such things were not unknown to happen. Kirk dismissed the
thought with a shake of his head. No. The uneasy feeling still
persisted that Barker was covering something – trying to hide something
important. He knew that if he were ever going to solve the Romulan
mystery and get back to M64 and find Spock, the captain of the
Enterprise would first have to solve the mystery of Owen Barker.
-------------
Neat columns of red and black cards covered the
small table. Commander Owen Barker drew yet another card from the
dwindling deck, shaking his graying head in self-derision. Losing
again. He looked at the card he held in his hand. Queen of hearts.
Memories, like a wave, rushed back unbidden. Abruptly he brushed the
cards to the floor and pushed away from the table. Drawing himself up,
he squared his broad shoulders and crossed the room to the window that
overlooked the botanical garden. The garden was an accomplishment of
which the Commander was quite proud. He sighed and allowed himself a
small smile. Nora would have loved it. How she had hated living away
from Earth on the barren rock of Cygnus III, but the money had been
good; he wanted to provide a life for his family…his family…. He gazed
out over the garden and a lone tear trickled down his cheek. Even after
17 years, he could still feel her beside him. He spoke to her often.
“This is all for you, my dear,” he murmured softly.
“All for you. You would have loved it, you know. Don’t you love it?” He
turned. Silence answered him, the emptiness of the room staring back at
him like an open wound. Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes,
he dropped to his knees, a soundless scream wrenching itself from his
throat. Gone. Lost again. It was always the same – always. How could
she be gone? How? Filthy scum… Massive fists pounded the carpet and
Owen Barker’s face was stained with tears. Filthy…!
He did not know how long he knelt on the floor
sobbing, but somehow, through his personal torment, the insistence of
the door signal reached him. Who…? He drew himself shakily to his feet,
smoothing his hair and rumpled tunic, and walked to the door, scrubbing
the tears from his face as though they were an admission of some
nameless guilt. The door hissed open.
“Hello, Owen. May I come in?”
Barker blinked at the face smiling at him from
across the threshold. With a careless wave, he motioned Jim Kirk into
the room.
“Have a seat,” he said gruffly. “Drink?”
“Brandy, thanks.” Kirk seated himself while Barker
prepared the drinks at the bar across the room. The room was only one
of several in the luxurious apartment that had been added to the
outpost just during the past two years. Captain Kirk took in his
surroundings at a glance, vaguely wondering about the cards on the
floor. The room was spacious and eclectically decorated. An extensive
collection of antiques graced the room, giving the impression that its
inhabitant had spent many years and credits in their acquisition. Kirk
traced his finger along the lines of an unusual antique sculpture.
“Interesting, wouldn’t you say?” Barker handed Kirk
a small snifter of Saurian brandy. “That’s one of my favorites. I
picked it up a couple of years back at a flea market on Rigel IV.” He
gave a low chuckle. “You know, I don’t think the folks I bought it from
had any idea as to its worth. It was a steal.”
Kirk nodded appreciatively. “It’s quite a collection
you have here. How did you manage it?”
“Oh, you know, a little piece here and there.” He
took a drink from his glass. “Listen. You didn’t come here to discuss
antiques, so why don’t you just get down to business.”
“Owen, you wound me!” Kirk smiled disarmingly.
“Can’t a man visit an old friend when he gets the chance? This is
strictly a social call.”
“Social call, my ass! You want me to change my
position about the Romulans.”
Kirk gestured toward the scattered playing cards.
“You still play?”
The commander shrugged fractionally. “Poker? Yeah.
Not very well, I’m afraid.”
“Then we’re even.” Kirk began picking up the cards.
“Play you a hand?”
Barker shrugged again and helped pick up the remaining cards.
The game was over almost before it had begun; Jim Kirk won easily. But
while they were playing, the captain had managed to learn some things
about his old acquaintance -- things that disturbed him greatly. His
hunch was gaining more credence by the moment and this was one time he
wished fervently to be proven wrong.
-----------------
“He’s insane, Bones.”
McCoy raised an eyebrow at his friend’s comment. “Is
that your MEDICAL opinion, ‘Doctor'?”
“Just call it a gut feeling. I’ve known Owen for a
long time, and the Owen I talked with today is not the one I remember.
He’s got some kind of personal vendetta against the Romulans and he
isn’t going to rest until he sees it through.”
“Personal vendetta?” McCoy crossed his office to
where Kirk leaned on the edge of his desk. “Do you know what you’re
saying? Do you honestly think that Commander Barker is trying to start
something with the Romulans? What would he gain?”
“Revenge.”
Just then the red alert klaxon sounded and Sulu’s
urgent voice came over the intercom. “Captain to the bridge! Captain to
the bridge! We are under attack! This is not a drill! Man all battle
stations! I repeat – we are under attack – man all battle stations!”
Kirk was off at a dead run with the first sound of the alarm. Before
Sulu finished his message and the ship shuddered with the first strike,
the captain of the Enterprise was already halfway to the bridge.
The turbolift doors slid open and Captain Kirk burst
onto the scene. “Status, Mister Sulu!” The ship rocked under another
impact. Kirk made his way to the center seat and slid into it.
“Enemy vessel, Sir. Romulan. Forward and starboard
shields have been hit, but are holding. We have returned phaser fire;
available power is 90%.
“Aye, Sir.” Her fingers played over the keys.
“Hailing.” She paused for a moment, listening. “There is no response.”
Just then, blinding light erupted from the view
screen as the Romulan ship launched another photon torpedo. The torpedo
struck the shields, jolting the bridge crew.
“Forward shields are veakening!” Chekov reported
from the science station.
“Lock phasers on target, Mister Sulu.” Kirk’s voice
took on a deadly calm.
“Phasers locked.”
“Fire.”
Blue fire erupted from the graceful cruiser to score
a direct hit on the enemy’s forward shields. The smaller ship reeled
under the assault, but quickly came around to bear on the Enterprise.
As she passed, another hit shook the Federation ship, this time to
port. The Enterprise returned fire and made a 90-degree turn to
starboard, protecting her weakened forward shields from the smaller,
more maneuverable craft. The Romulans made one more pass, bringing full
weapons to bear. Enterprise turned laboriously to meet the assault and
fired another volley at the enemy vessel, but the Romulan ship was
suddenly speeding away at warp speed – toward the Neutral Zone.
Kirk frowned. He had seen this tactic before. The
Romulans obviously wanted the Enterprise to follow; they would not have
given up the fight until one of the ships was disabled. Romulans did
not run from a fight. If Kirk followed the enemy now, he could be
taking Enterprise into the middle of an ambush.
“Shall I lay in a course for the Neutral Zone, Sir?”
Kirk shook his head. “No, Mister Sulu. If it’s a
fight they want, they’ll have it, but they’ll play on our court and by
our rules. Let them come to us.”
CHAPTER TEN – DISCOVERIES
The city was dark and silent. Spock and Lieutenant
Gaines wound their way in the moonlight through the maze of ancient
structures, and it seemed to Phyllida that a sense of loneliness and
despair permeated the very air around them, as though the city had long
forgotten the touch of people. The pair walked in silence through empty
cobbled streets, past ornate stone buildings, some crumbling, some not,
most being slowly overtaken by the forest, eventually to find
themselves in a large courtyard paved with broad flagstones. One of the
buildings that surrounded the courtyard was more prominent than the
others. It was a large columned structure with wide, shallow steps that
led from the flagstones to the first row of columns that marked the
entrance to its dark interior. At the center of the courtyard rose the
immense obelisk that towered above the rest of the city. Its smooth
white walls shimmered in the moonlight, giving the impossible dualistic
impression of newness and great antiquity.
They looked up at the structure. Phyllida’s hand came to her head and
she swayed subtly, but caught herself before Spock noticed. She walked
over to the steps of the columned building and sat down. The strange
pulsation she was feeling in her head began to abate.
Spock turned from the obelisk and walked over to
where she sat. His eyes narrowed. “Are you all right, Ms. Gaines?”
Phyllida nodded, but could not meet his eyes. “I
just need some rest. It’s been a long day.” She rose wearily from the
steps and entered the building where she lay down in the darkness on
the cold stone floor and fell at once into an exhausted sleep. The
Vulcan looked after her in silence.
-------------
Bright sunlight streamed past thick, white columns. Phyllida blinked
groggily. Midmorning. She rubbed the back of her neck and scanned her
surroundings. The building was immense. It could almost have been a
Greek temple, she thought. Rows of massive white columns marched across
the empty expanse of the interior as well as across the threshold. The
other three walls were covered with colorful, delicately inlaid
mosaics. In the center of the chamber was a large raised block of
stone, perfectly hewn, resembling an altar, and along its sides
appeared to be engraved lettering. Spock was nowhere to be seen. She
drew herself to her feet and went outside. He was there, examining the
strange structure they had found last night. And – she put her hand to
her head – IT was still there too; the curious emanation she had
thought she felt when they first approached the city. But no – now it
was gone. She yawned and chalked it up to fatigue and an overactive
imagination.
Stretching to get the kinks out of her back – what I wouldn’t give for
a bed, she thought – she looked around the courtyard. To her left, she
noticed a narrow breezeway between two of the buildings that led in the
direction of the lake, and it gave her an idea. “Mister Spock!” she
called. He looked up. “I’m going for a walk down to the lake – I won’t
be long.” Spock nodded his acknowledgement and went back to studying
the obelisk.
-------------
For the twenty-second time, Spock slowly circled the structure, looking
for that one thing he may have missed the last time around. The obelisk
stood upon a stone platform about a foot high and six feet square. No
mortar had been used to seat the base of the obelisk to the platform,
yet it was a seamless fit. He ran his hands again over the cool stone.
There were no openings, no engravings, no inscriptions, no carvings of
any kind. It was exactly as it appeared to be – a smooth, white,
seamless monolith reaching soundlessly toward the sky.
He drew his tall frame erect and looked up at the sun. It had been
nearly an hour since Lieutenant Gaines had left and she had not yet
returned. Spock was not overly concerned about her, knowing that she
was quite capable of taking care of herself; however, she did say she
would not be gone long and they had not yet explored the lake; it could
harbor any number of dangers to which Phyllida may have fallen prey.
Mentally berating himself for allowing her to go off alone, he stepped
from the obelisk platform and headed for the lake.
--------------
Delicious! Phyllida dove again under the clear, cool water. It felt
absolutely, positively delicious to be clean again! She broke the
surface and tossed her long blond hair from her face, water cascading
all around her. For a fleeting moment she thought she probably should
be getting back, but the water felt so good she was reluctant to leave.
She laughed and dove again into the cool depths.
The first thing Spock noticed was her boots. Somewhat surprising,
because Phyllida was not in them. Next to the boots, was a small pile
of red and blue cloth. From the lake, he heard a splash and turned just
in time to see Phyllida rising from the water. An eyebrow shot up in
appreciation. Remote recollections of another pool returned unbidden.
Feeling somewhat uneasy, he turned to go back the way he had come.
“Come on in! The water’s great!”
Spock paused and looked over his shoulder. Phyllida’s face was bobbing
above the water and wearing the biggest smile he thought he had ever
seen. She looked brilliant. The uneasy feeling would not go away. “I
really don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“Ah, come on, Spock! It really does feel marvelous!” She laughed and
dove again beneath the surface.
He wanted to get back to the city, but for some reason Spock’s feet
would not move. The water WAS very tempting… Yes, he was convinced it
was the prospect of getting clean that tempted him.
“Spock! You coming in, or what?”
Looking back on it, Spock would wonder what came over him at that
moment. He would later convince himself that it was simply logical that
he took advantage of the lake when it had been so long since he had
bathed. The warm sunshine, the cloudless sky, the peaceful
surroundings, the beautiful woman, none of these had anything to do
with his decision. He acquiesced to the logic of the situation and,
divesting himself of his boots and trousers, made his way into the
water.
Phyllida swam over to greet him and splashed at him playfully. “Isn’t
this great? Doesn’t this feel absolutely wonderful? I swear I had
bruises on bruises…this cool water is SO delicious!”
Spock had to admit to himself that even though the water was a bit
chilly, it did feel good, and he allowed himself to relax in the
moment, sinking beneath the surface to wet his hair. When he came up,
he found Phyllida’s arms encircling his head, hands coming to rest
behind his neck. Startled, he tried to back away, but she would not
relinquish her hold. Her proximity was unsettling and his body was
beginning to respond in a quite human fashion. Spock swallowed
convulsively and reached up to put his hands on her forearms.
“Lieutenant Gaines,” his voice was low and hoarse. “What are you
doing?”
“Just this!” She pulled him quickly to herself and planted a playful
kiss on his cheek, then released him and swam away, giggling.
Spock felt himself turn warm and wondered if he was blushing. He dove
quickly into the cool caress of the water. When he came up again,
Phyllida, her garments, and her boots were gone.
Some time later Spock returned to the obelisk courtyard to find
Lieutenant Gaines sitting at the base of the monolith, regarding it
intently, as if the swim in the lake had never occurred. He strode over
to where she sat, determined to put the morning’s events behind him.
“There is nothing to be learned from this structure,” he stated
matter-of-factly. “It was probably built as a simple memorial.”
Gaines’ eyes were fixed on the monument. The lightheartedness she had
exhibited earlier was gone. “No,” she whispered. “No. There’s something
more.”
The Vulcan’s expression was unreadable. “When you discover what this
elusive ‘something’ is, please do not fail to let me know, Lieutenant.”
He turned abruptly and walked toward the “temple” building without
waiting to hear Phyllida’s quiet response.
“Oh, I won’t, Mister Spock. I won’t.”
Spock stopped for a moment in the dim coolness of the “temple” to allow
his eyes to adjust. He felt a twinge of what might have been regret for
his brusque retort to Phyllida just now. The responses she elicited in
him were quite perplexing, not to mention disturbing. Illogical. He
resolved to put his mind on something other than Phyllida Gaines.
As normal sight gradually returned, he scanned the walls of the chamber
and the ancient mosaics, their colors as vibrant now as they must have
been when they were first created. He walked to his left to the wall
nearest him. The picture delicately inlaid there depicted a humanoid
creature riding astride what appeared to be a missile with orange-red
flame spouting from it. Spock could not read the inscription beneath
the picture, but was certain that, in time, the rune-like lettering
would become clear to him. There were four mosaics on each of the three
walls, each mosaic depicting a different scene. He moved to the second
wall, ignoring the sound of light footsteps behind him.
“What are they?”
Spock looked over his shoulder at Gaines. Her hair was still damp,
framing her face with unruly golden tendrils. He drew a deep breath and
his dark eyes betrayed the barest flicker of response to the beauty
that faced him. “If I am to understand your question correctly, this
seems to be a pictorial history. Of course, any conclusion drawn from
such a cursory glance and without benefit of translation of these
inscriptions is purely speculative.”
“Of course.” Her expression was serious, but her wide blue eyes held a
touch of amusement.
Spock ignored her somewhat acerbic tone and turned back to focus his
attention on the mosaic he had been perusing. It depicted a great
number of the humanoids in the construction of the city in which Spock
and Phyllida now found themselves. The next picture contained the first
reference to the immense obelisk outside. Wordlessly, Phyllida watched
as Spock methodically studied each picture and worked his way to the
third and last wall.
“Fascinating!”
On the wall, the four mosaics formed an immense mural in which the
prominent figures were –
“Somari!” Phyllida whispered.
“It would appear so.”
Spock’s sensitive fingers traced the delicately inlaid tiles of the
first picture, coming to rest at the representation of the base of the
white obelisk. There, one of the city’s inhabitants stood, his arms
stretched toward the sky, where the light of a midday sun reflected off
the wings of one of the Somari. The bird-creature flew away from the
man, toward a towering mountain. Spock moved over to crouch at eye
level to the next picture. The mountain dominated the scene and around
it many Somari flew with unmoving grace, as if frozen in a moment of
time. At the base of the mountain was another humanoid, in much smaller
representation than before. Spock’s eyes narrowed slightly as he moved
to the third panel. The mountain sloped gently away, receding into a
blazing sunset. Against the vivid orange-red hues of the tiles, small,
blackened figures that could only be bird-people flew over the horizon,
lending a certain air of finality to the work. One long, tapered finger
tapped the inscription below the inlay.
“If only I could read this.”
“Patience, Mister Spock, is a virtue.” Phyllida smiled at him.
The Vulcan merely raised one eyebrow as he turned his full attention to
the fourth and final mosaic. There were no Somari in this picture; the
strange, white obelisk again was the prominent subject, piercing the
night sky like a shimmering knife. Two crescent moons, surrounded by
stars, hung high above the monument and the extraordinary workmanship
instilled into the mosaic made it seem as though one star, positioned
between the two crescents, actually pulsed brighter than the rest. At
the base of the obelisk, two beings, a man and a woman, raised their
hands toward the heavens as though in prayer or supplication to some
unseen deity.
“Most curious.”
“Spock?”
“Do you recall what the Kamnke said when we were prisoners of the
Somari?”
“About us being ‘Ancient Ones’ and some kind of prophecy?”
“Exactly.” Spock held Phyllida’s eyes with his own. “These murals show
a definite reference to Somari. It is possible that the humanoids in
these depictions are the ‘Ancient Ones’.” He looked back at the mosaic.
“Of course, until the inscriptions are deciphered we will not know the
true significance of what is depicted here.”
“Do you think you can decipher them?”
Spock nodded. “Barring interruptions and unforeseen difficulties, I
should be able to discern the key elements of the language within a few
weeks.”
Phyllida turned back to the final mosaic, to the woman whose hands
stretched to the sky, and thought of home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN – DOORWAYS
“So, Jim, do you still deny the Romulans are threatening Federation
space?” Owen Barker’s ruddy face glowered across the tripartite
briefing room view screen.
Kirk, surrounded by all his senior officers with one notable exception,
grimaced in exasperation. “It certainly appears that they are.”
“So why didn’t you follow their ship and destroy it when you had the
chance?”
“Why? It wasn’t necessary.”
“Not necessary?” Barker blustered. “Are you blind, man? Are you turning
into a pacifist fool? That scout ship will soon return with
reinforcements! Then where will we be, with the Enterprise the only
starship in this sector?”
“If and when that happens, we will deal with it. In case you have
forgotten, Commander, according to treaty NO provocation is sufficient
cause for entering the Neutral Zone.”
“But they broke the treaty when they crossed the Zone and entered
Federation space!”
“And if they had stayed in Federation space, we could have disabled
their vessel and perhaps proved their involvement in the other attacks.
As it is, once they retreated to the Neutral Zone, my hands were tied.”
Kirk took a deep breath, attempting to remain calm in the face of this
unreasonable man. “Barker, you know as well as I do what would have
happened if we had followed that vessel into the Neutral Zone.” He
paused. When Barker didn’t reply he continued. “It was a trap, Owen.
They were setting a trap. They know we have no reinforcements close
enough to threaten them. If we had entered the Neutral Zone, I would be
the one out on a limb with Command, and the Romulan Empire would be at
war with the Federation.”
The image of the outpost commander took on the superior look of someone
who has discovered that he is surrounded by imbeciles. “So why fight
it, Jim? War is inevitable – you’ll have to accept that fact
eventually.”
The screen went blank, leaving behind it a thick silence. Captain James
Kirk glanced around the table at his officers – Doctor McCoy, counselor
and friend; Lieutenant Commander Scott, his dour expression betraying
what he felt about Barker; Lieutenant Sulu, taking in everything with
his usual calm; Lieutenant Uhura, dark eyes smoldering as if to burn a
hole through the view screen. They were all precious to him, almost
like family, but their presence made him feel more keenly the absence
of the one man closer to him than a brother.
Scotty cleared his throat.
“Yes, Mister Scott, what is it?”
The Scotsman hesitated for a moment, glancing around the table at the
others, then looked his commander squarely in the eye. “Well sir,
beggin’ your pardon, but you aren’t goin’ ta take that kind of talk
from that popinjay, are ya?”
The corner of Kirk’s mouth drew up in wry amusement. “Why Scotty –
don’t you trust our friendly O.C.?”
Scotty snorted. “About as far as I can trust a tribble ta stop
breedin’!”
A small wave of laughter rippled around the table.
“Mister Scott,” Kirk said with a nod, “Your point is well taken. Now…”
he looked around the room. “Are there any recommendations? You are all
aware that this uprising – if it can be called that – must be put down
before it reaches any further than this sector. Outpost 7 is in a
strategic location along this part of the Neutral Zone, being crucial
to protection of the shipping lanes. Therefore, if Romulans are at the
root of the other attacks and disappearances, then Owen may be right
and we may very well have the start of a war on our hands.” He paused
for a moment to give the others a chance to respond.
Sulu addressed the group. “I think we should try some of their tactics
– go in, hit them hard, and duck out again before they know what hit
them.” Scotty was nodding in agreement.
“But what if they are setting a trap?” Uhura commented. “It will
take two weeks for the subspace message I sent to reach Starfleet. By
that time we could be history…”
“I’ll say,” McCoy muttered.
“Bones?”
“What? Oh. I agree with Uhura – we’ll be putting ourselves wide open if
we go into the Neutral Zone.”
Kirk nodded. “I agree. This whole situation just doesn’t feel right.
Something about the way the Romulan vessel behaved was damned peculiar,
and I can’t help but think that Barker knows a whole lot more than he’s
letting on.”
“A hunch, Jim?”
“Perhaps, Bones. At any rate, I think another personal call is in
order. Maybe I can persuade the good commander to provide some answers.”
The outpost was in absolute chaos when Kirk arrived. On attempting to
see Commander Barker, he was told that the Commander was not available
and wouldn’t be for some time. He was turning away from Barker’s
guarded door when his communicator signaled.
“Kirk here.”
“Scott here, Captain.”
“Yes, Mister Scott, what is it?”
“We’re pickin’ up several unconfirmed reports from the outpost that
Barker has been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?”
“Aye, Sir. And the scuttlebutt has it that it’s the Romulans.”
---------------
The tiles were cool under Spock’s hand as he traced once again over the
design. During the past week the symbols had begun to make some sense
to him, if only as an occasional pattern. The patterns that were
emerging, however, tended to confuse rather than clarify the pictures.
Nevertheless, he welcomed the puzzle as a mental exercise to keep his
mind focused and off Phyllida. He was relieved, at least, that she had
not tried to cajole him into another swim, and she had not questioned
his preference to bathe alone. Curious – it seemed to Spock as though
she had actually been avoiding him. He had noticed her preoccupation
with the obelisk and she had insisted that she sensed some form of
energy from it. When he expressed his reservations about her
preoccupation, she had abruptly left him to begin exploring the rest of
the city. Since then, it had become a daily ritual for her to leave at
sunrise with barely a word and return in the late afternoon from her
explorations. He had hardly seen her in days. Spock rose and walked
through the pillars to the entrance of the building he and Phyllida now
called “the temple,” feeling the cool breeze flow past his naked
shoulders on its way from the mountains to ruffle the lake below. He
shuddered slightly with a chill and looked at the sky. It would be
getting dark soon and Phyllida had not returned at her customary time.
With mild concern at the cause for her delay, he headed off toward the
part of the city where he had last seen Lieutenant Gaines.
---------------
Another wall mural. Sighing, Phyllida sat down on a nearby bench and
looked around the empty room. It was the same in all the buildings she
had seen – empty; no personal belongings; as though everyone had just
packed up and left – but left to where? And the murals – every room had
them. People not too unlike herself seemed to take life on those walls;
people larger than life, going through the mundane tasks of life, only
to inevitably give up that life – for what? Phyllida sighed again,
staring at the ornate ceiling. Only questions and more questions. No
answers to be found anywhere, except maybe in Spock’s mosaics. She
thought back to one of their previous conversations.
“It is illogical to be impatient,” he had said.
“But this is important – it has something to do with our being here!”
“Really. On what do you base this conjecture?”
“I don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess.”
“A feeling, Ms. Gaines, is insufficient basis for the claim you make of
the significance of these mosaics or the monolith outside.”
How could she make him understand the sensations this city had evoked
in her from the first moment they had come upon it? He didn’t seem to
be aware of the emanation of power from the central obelisk, and this
in itself she thought quite strange. She had stopped talking to him
about it, preferring to look for her own answers. Spock’s critical
attitude was such that, in the end, she had thought it best to simply
stay away from him. Why did she care what he thought, anyway?
Pulling herself out of her reverie, Phyllida glanced around the empty
room once more, her eyes roaming the features of those ancients in the
murals. On one wall, near a corner, her attention was drawn to the
representation of an open door and a robed figure gesturing toward it.
She rose from the bench and approached the mural. This one seemed
somehow different from the others. Running her hand along the periphery
of the painted doorway, she noticed that it corresponded exactly with
the joints of the large stone blocks with which the walls of all the
buildings seemed to be made. Taking a step back from the wall she
looked at the man in the robes, at the detail of the artwork, the
serenity of his face, and the graceful line of his hand as it pointed
toward the door. It was then that she noticed it. Near the extended
hand of the robe-clad figure, a small, brilliant green gem was set into
the wall. It was to this he seemed to point.
As Phyllida stood there, gazing into its cool green depths, the stone
seemed to suddenly come alive, casting flickering green reflections
across her face from the afternoon sunlight streaming through a tiny
window on the opposite side of the room. Again, she felt the strange
sensation of power and her hand trembled with wonder as she slowly
reached up to cover the cool green fire with her palm.
There was a sudden grinding of stone on stone and an explosion of dust,
causing Phyllida to jump back involuntarily. The portion of the wall on
which the doorway was painted had swung open on a central hinge, one
side jutting into the room, the other reaching into the beckoning
passageway beyond.
------------------
The sun had set and twilight was hastening when Spock finally came upon
the room. He glanced around, taking in the disturbed dust on the bench,
Phyllida’s smallish footprints on the floor, and finally the open door
in the wall. Slowly he examined the mural in the half-light; studied
the now dull green gem. The blackness beyond the open door was almost
total.
“Ms. Gaines?” Spock’s voice reverberated in the darkness. He took a few
steps past the doorway and found himself in a narrow corridor that,
after a few feet, began a sharp downward slope. He stopped, calling out
Phyllida’s name a second time. No response. He edged back into the
room. Scarcely any light filtered its way through the solitary little
window the chamber possessed, and soon it would be as dark in the room
as it was in the corridor beyond. Spock decided to return to the
temple, telling himself that Phyllida was probably back there by now
anyway. The logical course would be for her to return for a light and
to tell him of her discovery. But then another thought nagged him. When
had that woman ever followed “the logical course” for anything? He made
his way through the growing shadows back to their base camp. As he had
feared, there was no sign of Phyllida, and an unwelcome sense of
foreboding began to rise in the pit of his stomach. Gathering up some
torches, he lit one with his flint and quickly made his way back to the
hidden doorway.
Spock held his torch high and ventured into the
sloping corridor. About 20 feet beyond the doorway he was drawn
downward by a steep stairway that spiraled into the darkness under the
building. Precisely 6 minutes 32 seconds later, the Vulcan came to the
end of the stairway and was confronted with two tunnels, each similar
in size and workmanship, leading in opposite directions. “Lieutenant
Gaines!” His voice echoed in the darkness. There was no sound from
either passageway except the faint trickling of moisture. He took only
a moment to consider his choice, then started down the tunnel to his
right. The light of the torch did little to dispel the surrounding
gloom. He proceeded slowly down the narrow passageway, one hand feeling
his way along the damp wall, where moss had begun to grow ages ago. The
click of his boot heels against the stone floor sounded hollow in the
darkness. He raised his torch higher. “Lieutenant Gaines!”
Silence.
The small circle of light from the torch faded into
seemingly infinite blackness. Spock continued to move toward that
blackness and whatever lay at the end of it. He went on this way for
some minutes, and except for his voice intermittently calling
Phyllida’s name and the sound of his footfalls the silence was as
complete as the dark. It was inconceivable, he thought, that Phyllida
could have come so far without a light. He was ready to turn back and
try the other passage when, rounding a corner, he came upon the rubble
of an ancient cave-in. Spock brought his torch closer to the mound of
debris. He could see that the passage was not entirely blocked and
there were areas where the long-settled dust had been disturbed, as
though someone had passed this way recently. Following the marks, he
clambered over the rocks and slid unceremoniously to the other side,
expecting as he did so to find the continuation of the partially
blocked corridor. He turned to reach for his torch, which he had
dropped in his haphazard descent, and without warning, the floor gave
way and he was falling into nothingness.
His body met the unseen solidity of the floor in a
white explosion of pain. A momentary struggle to retain consciousness
faded and he knew no more.
CHAPTER TWELVE – INTRIGUE
Kirk rubbed tired eyes and looked once again at the
recording he had finally wrangled out of outpost security. It was all
there; the sound of the door signal and Barker answering, Romulan words
spoken into a communicator, the shimmer of a transporter and the empty
room.
There was very little to go on. No Romulan ships had
been detected in the area at the time of the abduction or since; none
of the regular freighter ships had left the area and no new vessels had
been reported. Immediately after the incident the outpost was sealed,
with no one able to come or go without a special pass, and likewise no
ship allowed to enter or depart within transporter range. It was an
effective screen and yet the commander had not been found. Outpost
security reported a search of all ships in dock, as well as of the
entire outpost, revealed nothing.
Where had they taken him and why? For the past
several hours Kirk had expected to hear something in the way of a
ransom demand, but so far no demands had been made. He turned off the
viewer and rose from his desk. If this mystery is to be solved, he
thought, it has to be done soon. What if Owen was right? Maybe war is
the only answer…
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
On the bridge, the captain of the Enterprise sipped
at yet another cup of coffee. Twelve hours – and still no demands. Kirk
felt his impatience growing. He heard the turbolift doors open and
McCoy stepped onto the bridge behind him.
“Still no word?”
Kirk shook his head. “No.”
McCoy ran a doctor’s critical eye over the tense
figure in the command chair and from somewhere discreetly withdrew a
medical scanner. Kirk frowned at its unexpected whirring.
“If that’s the only reason you came up here Doctor,
I’m sure you can find patients more in need of your attentions below,”
he snapped.
Unperturbed, McCoy interpreted the readings on the
scanner at a glance. “Remember what I told you, Jim.”
“Listen, Bones – I’m just a little tired, that’s
all. So, if you don’t mind, confine your examinations to Sick Bay.”
Kirk settled back in his chair to face the image of Outpost 7 on the
main viewer.
“Of course, Captain. However, I’d like to make a
recommendation.”
Kirk nodded, still staring at the screen.
“I recommend, Captain, that you get some rest and
stop pushing yourself so hard.” His icy blue eyes bored into the right
side of the captain’s head. “The situation won’t be helped if you’re on
the brink of exhaustion.”
“Recommendation noted.”
“You know I can make it an order if I have to.”
“Noted, Doctor.” He looked briefly at McCoy, then
back to the screen. “I promise I’ll get some rest as soon as I can.
Dismissed.”
McCoy spared Kirk one last look of exasperation
before stepping up toward the turbolift. As the doors slid open, a
report came from the communications station.
“Captain,” Lieutenant Sahajid, relief communications
officer, announced, “I am receiving a message on a tight beam,
apparently from the Neutral Zone.” The dark young man put his hand over
the receiver in his ear as though with that action he could clarify
reception.
“Put it on audio, Lieutenant.”
McCoy stopped in his tracks and allowed the lift
doors to close as he waited, like everyone else on the bridge, for the
message.
A voice came over the speaker, brittle with
interference. “Enterprise. Your ship. Exchange for Barker. Neutral Zone
coordinates zero-zero-seven-one-six-three-one point zero-three-eight.
Three of your hours.” As abruptly as it had begun, the message was over.
Silence settled over the bridge.
“Well.” Kirk leaned back in his chair. “Now we know
what they want. The question is, how to get Barker back without playing
into their hands.” He swung toward the communications station.
“Sahajid, get me a fix on the origin of that message. I want to know
precisely where it came from.”
“Aye, Sir. Triangulating now.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
“Captain’s Log, Stardate 4638.4: This whole
so-called Romulan crisis is becoming more and more mysterious, and we
seem to be no closer to any answers now than we were two days ago. The
disappearance of Outpost Commander Owen Barker has only served to
complicate matters, and as to his whereabouts, our only reports are
conflicting. The message received from the abductors requests an
exchange at coordinates inside the Neutral Zone; an exchange of the
Enterprise for the commander. This tactic is, of course, out of the
question. However, on triangulating for the true origin of the tight
beam communications signal, the message was found to have come, not
from the Neutral Zone as was first suspected, but from the outpost
itself. It seems to have been transmitted from the outpost to the
Neutral Zone and relayed back to the Enterprise in order to give the
illusion of a message from the Zone. In light of this new evidence, a
search of the outpost will be conducted by Enterprise personnel in the
area of the transmission. This has met with some resistance on the part
of outpost security. Hopefully, Commander Barker will be recovered soon
and this incident can be resolved peacefully.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Chekov smiled uneasily at Sulu as they rounded
another corner with the security team. He made another sweep of the
area with his quietly beeping tricorder, closely watching its readout
in the diffuse, green utility lighting for any flux in life-form
readings. So far they had found nothing, but it was in this general
area that Sahajid had located as the source of the Romulan transmission.
“Anything yet?” Sulu asked quietly.
Chekov shook his head. “Niet.” He stopped and looked
tentatively up and down the corridor, the normally round lines of his
face harsh in the green light. “Wait a minute!” He focused his
tricorder. “This way!” he whispered.
The party moved swiftly and quietly down the empty
corridor, surrounded only by green silence and the whisper of the air
filters. As they neared the end of the corridor, it extended at a sharp
right angle, and Sulu stopped and signaled Chekov to shut off the
now-insistent beeping of the tricorder. Moving cautiously, Sulu
approached the corner, phaser ready. He motioned to one of the security
men, who immediately positioned himself opposite him and then moved
quickly around the corner, extending his phaser to firing position.
Another empty green hallway stared back at him.
“Looking for someone?”
Sulu and the others whirled at the sound of the
voice behind them. “Barker!”
Owen Barker, flanked by half a dozen armed men,
smiled venomously. “You forget yourself, Lieutenant Sulu – it’s
Commander Barker to you.” He strode evenly toward Sulu and held out his
hand. “Your phaser please, Lieutenant.”
The security crewman opposite Sulu quickly made to
fire on Barker, but was cut down by the lethal flash of a phaser set to
kill. The commander’s men leveled their weapons on the small party from
the Enterprise.
“Come now,” Barker smiled, “Let’s not make
this any messier than it needs to be.” Sulu resignedly handed his
phaser over and glared at the smile. Chekov and the other two crewmen
dropped their weapons. “Oh, that’s better, Mister Sulu. Much better.
Now,” he gestured with a flourish, “If you would be so good as to come
with me.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
“Anything, Sahajid?” Captain Kirk leaned over the
communications console in anticipation.
“Negative, sir. The landing party has not checked in
and there is no response on any channel.”
Kirk rubbed weary eyes and ran a hand through his
hair. “Damn,” he muttered. “Very well, continue monitoring.”
“Aye, Sir.”
As Kirk turned toward the center seat, the turbolift
doors opened and Dr. McCoy stepped purposefully onto the bridge. “Jim –
may I have a word with you?”
“Not now, Bones.”
“Jim – It’s important.”
Jim Kirk acquiesced with a slight shrug. Frankly, he
was too tired to argue with the good doctor. “Riley,” he addressed the
helm, “I’ll be in Sick Bay. You have the conn.”
“Aye, Sir.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
“Okay, Doctor, what’s the big emergency?”
McCoy held up a tape. “This.”
“What’s that?”
“Owen Barker’s psych profile. After you told me of
your suspicions I ran a check on him.”
“And?”
“And, everything checks out… officially.”
“Listen, Bones. I don’t have time for word games. If
you have found something, let me have it.”
McCoy looked at the computer tape he was fingering.
“On this tape,” he held it up in front of Kirk, “are the profiles of
two different men.”
“What?”
“Just what I said. I think Owen Barker is commanding
under someone else’s psych profile.”
Kirk took the tape from McCoy and turned it over in
his hand. “Is that possible? I mean, to use another person’s psych
profile…”
“Believe me, Jim. With bureaucracy all things are
possible.” He took the tape from Kirk and slid it into the slot of his
computer terminal.
The captain watched with interest as McCoy slid into
his chair and punched the required codes to bring the information up
onto the little screen. “Here…” he pointed to the irregular pattern of
lines. “This is Barker’s profile of 17 years ago as part of his
required physical to enter the academy. I had to pull a few strings,
but I was finally able to track it down. As you can see, it is mostly
normal, but with certain irregularities, enough to rate him at
borderline psychological fitness – certainly not command material.”
Kirk leaned over McCoy’s shoulder to get a better
look at the unintelligible lines. “I’m not a medical man, Doctor. Just
what does all that mean?”
“Watch. Computer…”
“Working,” the mechanical voice intoned.
“Display both profiles stored in the data tape
simultaneously.”
“Working.”
A moment later, the screen was divided with the
original profile on top and a secondary profile on the bottom.
“Now…” McCoy turned to Kirk. “Compare the two.
Computer, superimpose profile B over profile A.” He folded his arms and
leaned back slightly in his chair. “Now we see what happens.”
This time when Kirk looked at the screen he not only
saw two sets of lines, but two sets on the same graph; one line red and
the other blue.
“This,” McCoy indicated the red line, “is profile A,
Barker’s original profile. And this blue line is profile B, the one
that’s in his official file at present.”
“It doesn’t seem to be as erratic.”
“Exactly. Where the first profile shows significant
disturbances, not the least of which is a tendency toward paranoia, the
second profile is that of a well-balanced person.” He squared in his
chair to face the captain. “In my opinion, Barker’s medical records
have been altered sometime in the years since his initial exam; the
second profile is a forgery.”
Kirk started to form an answer and was interrupted
by the harsh whistle of the intercom.
“Bridge to Captain Kirk.”
He punched the wall com button with the side of his
hand. “Kirk here. Go ahead Sahajid.”
“Sir, we’re receiving another transmission from the
Romulans.”
“On my way, Kirk out.” He turned to McCoy. “Hold
that thought, Bones.”
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Lieutenant Sahajid looked up as the captain arrived on the bridge and
stepped over to the communications console. “Sir – I have them holding
for you, but there’s a lot of inference on the frequency they’re using.”
“Audio, Lieutenant.”
“You were very clever, Captain Kirk, to find the
source of our transmission.” Static crackled over the voice, making it
barely readable. Kirk strained to listen. “You were very foolish,
however, to send a rescue team; your men are dead, Captain Kirk, and if
you do not accede to our demands, more deaths will follow. Is that
clearly understood?”
Kirk bent toward the panel. “Identify yourself! I
want to know who it is I am dealing with!”
A low chuckle came across the speaker. “My name is
not important. Suffice it to say that I am your enemy and you have very
little choice but to deal with me on my terms. I hold all the cards,
Captain. This transmission is ended.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Outpost Commander Owen Barker leaned back in his
chair and a cold smile crept slowly across his face. “Your captain is
all mine now, my friends. And with him, all the Romulan Empire.” He
gestured for his captives to be removed.
Surrounded by armed guards, Sulu, Chekov and the two
remaining security men glared at the commander in disgust. “Don’t be
surprised, Barker,” said Sulu, “if it’s you who ends up losing this
game.”
They were led away, followed by the derisive laughter of a madman.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – QUESTIONS
Her face rose from the water, shimmering in the moonlight. A light
smile played about her full lips. She drew nearer and placed her arms
around his neck, pulling herself to him. Her nearness assaulted his
senses like a drug. What was happening to him? Her lips brushed his
cheek then moved to a point below his ear. He held his breath. He could
not move. The fullness of her breasts pressed against his chest as her
kisses trailed languorously down his neck. It was delicious agony. He
let out a long, shuddering breath and wrapped an arm about her slim
waist, drawing her fully against his yearning body. She pulled her face
from his neck to look up at him with a desire in her liquid blue
eyes that mirrored his own. His free hand was suddenly cradling
her head and he was kissing her; gently at first, but as she responded,
the kiss deepened; lips parting, tongues probing, striving for as much
closeness as a mere kiss could impart. Somehow, it wasn’t enough. He
wanted more. He drew her from the water and pulled her down with him to
the soft moss-covered bank. Her body glistened in the moonlight and his
eyes drank in every inch of her even as his hands began their
exploration and he bent toward her for anther kiss.
“Spock?”
He stopped. Had he misread her? Did she not want this? He closed his
eyes, and felt her slowly slipping away from him…”
“Spock!”
Spock rolled over stiffly and opened one eye to the gaping darkness.
Phyllida was touching his shoulder. He willed his body to be still; the
dream had been far too real. He attempted to dispel the images still
vivid in his mind. Her nearness was disconcerting. “Ms. Gaines.” His
voice sounded hoarse in his ears.
“Yes, Spock. Are you okay?”
How much time had passed? He pulled himself achingly to a sitting
position and tried to adjust his eyes to the ever-present blackness,
though unable to see further than a few inches. Phyllida’s hand still
rested on his shoulder and he looked toward her in the darkness. His
head throbbed slightly with the movement. “I don’t believe any
permanent damage was done. What is your condition?”
She leaned in closer to him so he could see her face. Concern etched
her features. “I’m fine, Spock. I was just worried about you. I heard
you fall and found you here. You’ve been out for several minutes.”
“I shall recover.” Spock regarded her closely. “Did you fall, as well?”
“Not exactly.” She couldn’t meet his eyes and looked away.
“Phyllida? Did you find him?”
Spock started at the sound of the unfamiliar male voice.
“Yes! Over here!” Phyllida called out. “My light died, but we’re okay!”
Sounds of footsteps and then a light came from around the corner at the
end of the tunnel. Spock could not see past the light to the person
holding it. He raised himself a little shakily to his feet and Phyllida
rose with him as his hand went out to steady himself against the wall.
The light came nearer until the form of a person emerged. A hand shot
out from behind the light. “Come, follow me!” The light turned and
started back down the corridor from which it had come. Spock and
Phyllida followed, partially feeling their way along the wall in the
dimness. Around the corner, about 15 feet further down the corridor
Spock could see light coming from a doorway. Phyllida moved ahead of
him; she seemed sure of the passage, he noted, as though she had come
this way before.
As Spock reached the entry, Phyllida took his hand, drawing him into
the blinding light of a small room. She gave his scuffed form an
appraising glance. “Oh, Spock!” Her fingertips brushed an angry green
bruise that had welled up on the side of his face.
Spock moved away slightly so that Phyllida’s hand dropped to her side.
“My injuries are not severe. There is no need for you to be concerned,
Lieutenant.” He looked around. “How did you come to be here?”
“Doctor Isaacs found me after the hidden door opened. He led me through
the passages to this room.”
The man he had seen earlier stepped forward. Dressed in a standard
issue Federation jumpsuit, he was tall and looked to be a little older
than Spock. The man grasped Spock’s hand in his own and pumped it
amiably. “Jorn Isaacs! So glad to see you’re all right. That was quite
a fall you took. Didn’t expect you along yet – Phyllida was going to go
after you and lead you in. I’ve heard quite a lot about you, Mister
Spock!”
Spock nodded formally and retrieved his hand. “Indeed.” He raised an
eyebrow and spared a glance at Gaines. Phyllida could feel herself
coloring. “Lieutenant Gaines was overdue; I came looking for her.”
“Ah, yes. Well, you’re here now at any rate.” Doctor Isaacs
distractedly ran a hand through his blond hair. “Until you two came
into the city, I didn’t expect to get any visitors.”
“You knew we were here?”
“I detected your presence when you came upon the obelisk. I’ve been
observing you for the past couple of weeks; didn’t want to take any
chances that you had been followed.” He smiled somewhat boyishly and
looked sideways at Gaines. “But then, when Phyllida found the doorway,
I figured it was time we met.” Phyllida blushed slightly and looked at
her feet.
The exchange was not lost on Spock. He had the uneasy feeling that
Isaacs was not to be trusted. He looked about the room at the array of
equipment tucked efficiently into the small space. Alien computer
panels lined each of the walls of the little room and took up much of
the floor space. All were dark except one. The only sign of human
habitation was a small cook stove, bedding, and duffle bag that
occupied one corner. “Just how long have you been here, Doctor Isaacs?”
The other man shrugged marginally. “About four months now, by Earth
standards. The calculation of months on this planet is somewhat more
complex.”
“He’s the sole survivor of the colony, Spock.”
“Indeed.” The timing would be right, he thought. “You will forgive my
curiosity, Sir, but what happened to the colony?”
Doctor Isaacs looked vaguely uncomfortable. “That, I’m afraid, is a
long and very sad story, Mister Spock.”
“We appear to have plenty of time.”
Isaacs paused, regarding the Vulcan’s stony visage. Their eyes briefly
locked and Isaacs thought he saw a challenge there. The Vulcan did not
trust him. He cleared his throat and looked at Phyllida, who smiled her
support. “I was the colony’s anthropological and archeological
specialist.” He looked at the floor. “I saw it coming – I tried to warn
them. Shortly after our first contact with the Somari, I could see what
it was leading to.” He shook his head solemnly and looked up at Spock.
“They wouldn’t listen. They called me an alarmist. That’s when the
vines started to appear – they sprang up practically overnight. I’m
pretty sure the Somari had something to do with that, but I could not
prove it. The vines killed lot of our people – the children were the
first to die. Then the Somari came in and started taking us away, a few
at a time, ‘to safety.’ Those who tried to leave the colony were either
killed by the vines or captured by the Somari. We never did find out
exactly what they wanted. Those who were taken away never returned, and
those who escaped the vines and refused to go willingly with the Somari
were killed outright. The only thing we knew for certain was that they
were afraid of us – and our machines. They destroyed everything they
could.”
“How did you manage to escape?”
Isaacs gave a short humorless laugh. “I’m a scientist, not a soldier,
Mister Spock. I suppose some might call me a coward.” He looked down
again, his voice barely audible. “I hid.” He turned his back and took a
couple of steps away from Spock. “When they finally descended on the
colony and began rounding up or killing everyone en masse, and all was
confusion, I hid. Hours later, when I knew they had gone, I gathered
what few things I could carry and I ran for my life toward this range –
away from the direction the Somari had taken our people. I eventually
found this city and this room.” He sighed. “I’ve been here ever since.”
Spock gestured at the computers. “Do you understand the function of
these machines?”
“After a fashion – well, somewhat,” He looked around the room and
finally admitted, “No, not at all, actually.” He smiled. “But I do know
that this one controls the beacon.” He indicated the one panel that was
lit and seemed to be working.
Spock touched the panel, on which an array of many colored gemstones
lit and flashed in a complicated sequence. “Beacon?”
“The tower – the obelisk – the monolith!” Isaacs rambled excitedly.
“We’re under it, you know…”
“The monolith?”
“Yes.” He looked up toward the ceiling. “This room is directly under it
– about fifty feet beneath the surface at this point. As close as I can
tell, this seems to be the control center.” Isaacs stepped next to
Spock and the alien panel.
“Fascinating.” Spock’s brow furrowed slightly. “Tell me, Doctor Isaacs,
how did you find this chamber?”
“Spock,” Phyllida interrupted. “I think that Jorn has answered enough
of your questions for now.” The irritation in her eyes was evident as
she frowned at Spock.
Isaacs smiled gently at Phyllida. “It’s quite all right, my dear. I
really don’t mind.” He sighed and looked back at the suspicious Vulcan.
“When I came upon the city, I was immediately drawn to the obelisk and
the temple. I don’t know if it was just that they were the most
imposing buildings, or something else.” He briefly put his hand to his
head. “It was as if something was speaking to me – without words.
Feelings, fleeting images…” He frowned and shook his head. “At any
rate, I eventually came upon this room.”
Spock was not entirely satisfied with the answers the archeologist had
provided. He found them somewhat evasive. If Isaacs had been here four
months, Spock was certain that he knew much more about this complex
than he was revealing.
Phyllida stepped across the room and touched Isaacs’ sleeve. “You will
come back to our camp with us – won’t you, Jorn?”
Spock threw Phyllida a look that held warning behind his dark eyes. She
either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it. He was concerned about the
attention she was focusing on this man. Isaacs could prove to be
dangerous. However, though Spock was reluctant to allow him to come
back with them, logically it would be much easier to watch him if he
did.
The archeologist covered Phyllida’s hand with his and looked into her
eyes. “How can I decline such a gracious invitation when delivered by
such a lovely lady?”
Phyllida gave a small laugh. “You can’t! You must come with us!”
Isaacs shrugged. “I suppose then I have no choice in the matter. I am
completely at your mercy!” He smiled warmly at Phyllida and went to the
corner to pick up the duffle bag and his light. Shouldering the bag, he
walked toward the door and gestured expansively. “Well, let’s get
going!” Turning on his light, he ducked through the doorway and led
them back into the dark and winding corridors. As they traveled, it was
obvious to Spock that Doctor Isaacs knew the maze of subterranean
tunnels well. When they finally reached the exit, it was not from the
hidden passage that Phyllida had found, but from a small mound behind
the temple structure.
Phyllida inhaled the cool fragrant night air gratefully. “Jorn! How
could you bear to stay down in that little room for so long when all
this waited for you?” She took a step away from the men and inhaled
more deeply as if to clear the mustiness of the underground passages
from her lungs.
“Ah, my dear Phyllida,” Isaacs replied cryptically, “This wasn’t all
that waited for me!” He looked briefly at the night sky then made his
way purposefully toward the temple with Spock.
Phyllida paused momentarily, soaking in the peaceful night sounds and
the fresh breeze coming off the mountain behind them. The two moons
were up, crescent slivers in their first quarter, casting a dim light.
The breeze rustled lazily through the surrounding trees. Looking around
her, Phyllida realized that the men had gone on ahead, and she hurried
to join them, not noticing as she went the more insistent rustling in
the trees behind her and the beat of strong wings against a crystal
clear sky.
CHAPTER 14 – VENGENCE
Captain Kirk looked up from the communications console, determination
in his face. “Lieutenant Sahajid – Contact Security and have them send
a team of four to the transporter room and await my orders.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Kirk gestured to Riley to take the conn and he stepped toward the
turbolift. As the lift doors whooshed closed behind him he grasped a
handle. “Sickbay.” This had gone too far, he thought. It was time to
put a stop to it, get his men back if they were still alive, and get
back to M64 – to find Spock.
In sickbay, Doctor McCoy was still sitting at his desk. When Kirk
strode into the room, he stood up. “What’s happened, Jim?”
The captain didn’t answer, but shoved a computer tape into the slot at
McCoy’s console and touched the play button. The conversation he had
had on the bridge moments before replayed. “What do you think?”
“What do you mean? Do I think he’s crazy? Yes. Do I know who it is? No.”
“It’s Barker.”
McCoy looked quizzically at Kirk. “How can you be so sure?”
Kirk frowned. “I don’t know. Something about ‘holding all the cards…’
He turned to the computer. “Computer, run a voice check on the current
communications file and compare it to a known voice file of Commander
Owen Barker.”
“Working.” The computer whirred for several seconds while McCoy and
Kirk looked on expectantly. “There is a ninety-six point three percent
match,” the computer intoned.
Kirk looked at McCoy. “There you have it.” The captain paced the room
while McCoy looked on. “Bones, Barker is a madman. If he’s backed into
a corner, there’s no telling what he will do. I’m going to lead a
security team down to the base to rescue our men if they are still
alive. At the very least, I intend to stop Barker.” He stopped pacing
and leaned across the desk. “I need you with me.”
Neither of them had to say what they both knew. In Spock’s absence,
Kirk relied on McCoy’s insight and advice more than ever. The doctor
looked at his friend and cocked an eyebrow. He knew better than to
question Jim Kirk when his mind was made up. “What makes you think I’d
let you go down there without me?”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They materialized in a deserted corridor in a remote area of the base
near where the ship’s sensors had located a concentration of life-forms
that roughly corresponded to the origin of the transmission they had
received. Kirk silently gestured his party in the direction of the
life-form readings. The men moved cautiously, yet swiftly, two of the
guards in front, and two continuously scanning at the rear to eliminate
the possibility of being taken by surprise.
After some minutes the lead guard stopped abruptly and motioned for the
captain. Around the corner and just ahead was a door flanked by two
guards dressed in Starfleet issue. McCoy edged up behind Kirk and his
tricorder, the sound turned down, was flashing wildly. “Someone is in
there, Jim – ten or twenty of ‘em – and not a Romulan in the bunch,”
the doctor said quietly. “And now that we’ve found them, Captain, Sir,
how do we get in there?”
Kirk smiled slyly. “The direct approach, Bones – the direct approach.”
He beckoned to one of the security men. “Watkins…” The largest of the
men stepped over to the captain.
“Sir?”
“This is what we’re going to do…”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hollingsworth shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and glanced
across the doorway at Cooper, who looked as if he was about to not off.
“Hey, Coop!”
Cooper jumped and leveled his phaser in the other man’s direction, then
slowly lowered it in the face of Hollingsworth’s laughter. “What’s the
big idea?” he grumbled.
“You should have seen yourself!” Hollingsworth laughed. “And just be
grateful it was I who found you sleeping and not the commander!”
“Yeah. Sure.” Cooper didn’t seem the least bit grateful. “And just you
be grateful I didn’t blast your ugly head off!”
“Ah, come on! It’s dead around here – we needed something to break the
monotony, eh?”
Cooper shrugged.
“Anyway,” Hollingsworth continued, “Just what is it we’re supposed to
be guarding against? This whole area’s been cordoned off and we’ve got
those spies in custody, so just what’s left?”
“You talk too much, Hollingsworth.”
“Yeah? And who’s gonna hear me, eh? Barker can keep his triple pay for
all I care. I can’t take much more of this, this…staring at green
walls, waiting for something that is never going to happen. Give me
action any day!”
Cooper turned his back to the other man and lounged indolently against
the wall. “Like I said,” he said lazily, “You talk too much. The way I
see it, the easier the job, the better the pay.
“Hey! Who’s that?” He pushed himself away from the wall and studied the
cluster of people coming toward them from around the corner. There were
two security personnel holding at gunpoint two other men, one wearing a
Starfleet captain’s uniform. “Stop there!” Cooper waved his phaser at
them. “State your business! This area is closed to all but authorized
personnel!”
“We know,” Watkins replied. “We found these two snooping around and we
thought that Barker would like to see them.”
Hollingsworth stepped over, sizing up the four men suspiciously. “I
don’t believe I’ve ever seen you two around here before,” indicating
the security guards.
“That’s right, you haven’t,” Watkins said. “But Barker hired us, same
as you. If you have any doubts you’ll have to take them up with him.”
“I think I’ll just do that.” While Cooper kept his phaser on the group,
Hollingsworth moved toward the wall intercom. But before he had a
chance to hit the button, phaser fire erupted from the behind them, and
both guards crumpled soundlessly to the floor, stunned.
Captain Kirk, stepping over Hollingsworth, gathered up the guards’
phasers, and gave them to the two men who were coming around the corner
to meet them. “Now let’s raid this little party.” He glanced at his
men, lined up alongside the door. “Phasers on stun.”
“Yes, Sir,” came the unison answer.
Kirk punched the intercom. “Security to commander,” he said, in his
best imitation of Hollingsworth’s voice.
“Barker here. What is it?”
“We have a couple of unauthorized personnel who were snooping around
down here – we thought maybe you’d like to have a word with them, eh?”
“You have your orders! Take care of them yourselves!”
“Yes, Sir. But,” Kirk paused for effect. “They say they’re from the
Enterprise.”
Silence.
Kirk gave the motion to get ready and the door slid open. The men from
the Enterprise went in firing. In the brief exchange that followed,
Watkins went down under a phaser blast and McCoy was over him almost
immediately. The melee didn’t last long. Taken off guard, those few of
Barker’s men who were not stunned dropped their weapons and allowed
themselves to be herded into a corner by the Enterprise team.
Kirk spotted Barker trying to slip unobtrusively out a side door.
“Barker!” The outpost commander turned. Kirk quickly caught up with him
and grasped his arm. Barker wrenched himself from Kirk’s grasp, just in
time to see the captain’s fist connect with his face. He staggered
under the blow, but rallied himself to meet a charging Kirk. Though
older, he outmassed the younger man by several pounds and his strength
was fueled by mad fury. Locked together, they grappled for several
seconds. As they struggled, Kirk saw his opening in Barker’s unbalanced
stance and wrapped one foot around his opponent’s leg, causing him to
lose his footing. Barker fell, and Kirk pulled him into a choke-hold
with one arm wrenched behind his back.
Maintaining his hold on his vainly struggling captive, the captain
maneuvered Barker back into the center of the room and shoved him
roughly into a chair, drawing his phaser. “Okay, Barker, where are my
men?”
Barker’s chest heaved as he caught his breath. He looked with
indifference at the weapon pointed squarely at his nose. “Dead.
Romulans killed them. No prisoners, you know.”
“Damn it, Owen!” Kirk’s frustration was beginning to get the better of
him. He grabbed the commander up by the front of his shirt and pulled
his face toward his own. “There are no Romulans! It was all a hoax! Now
I want my men and I want them now!” He released Barker to let him fall
heavily back into the chair.
Barker looked up at Kirk and gave him a lopsided grin. “How did you
know?”
Puzzled, Kirk asked, “Know what?”
“That it was me. I was very careful, you know.”
“You never were very good at poker, Owen.”
“That’s true,” Barker sighed. “Never try to bluff an old master. Is
that the moral?”
“Something like that. Owen…” Barker seemed to be drifting into a world
of his own. Kirk had to reach him. “Owen – where are Sulu and the
others?”
Barker looked at him blankly. “What?”
“Where are my men, Owen? Sulu, Chekov and the others?”
The commander blinked. “They’re in a safe place. I’ve seen to that.” He
smiled. “She was very beautiful, you know,” he said disjointedly. “She
never hurt anybody. She didn’t want to be on Cygnus III – I made her
come…” He closed his eyes tightly as if to shut out the implications of
what he was saying. “Can’t you see?”
Kirk’s expression softened. Cygnus III. It was starting to make sense.
“Owen…”
“And he was so little – just a baby…a baby…” Owen Barker sagged in the
chair and his shoulders shook in small, silent sobs.
Kirk holstered his phaser and knelt before his old friend, shaking him
gently by the shoulders. “The men, Owen. Please – tell me where they
are.”
Barker’s tear-streaked face rose to meet his. “The men?”
“Yes, Owen. The men – Sulu, Chekov and the others. Where are they?”
The light of the present situation slowly dawned on Owen Barker’s face
and he gestured toward a door to the rear of the room. “In there. The
lock is coded to my voice print.”
Kirk rose and turned toward the door. “Let’s get them out of there.”
“Not so fast, Jim.”
Kirk whirled to face Barker, who was now on his feet and nervously
fingering a small phaser. Kirk berated himself mentally. Why hadn’t he
checked Barker? Why had he assumed that everyone would be armed only
with Phaser II? Spock wouldn’t have missed it.
“Over there…” Barker gestured him back across the room so that he could
keep him in sight with the other men. “Drop all your weapons!” Kirk’s
men watched him, surrendering their phasers only when Kirk unholstered
his and dropped it to the floor. Barker’s men immediately took up the
cue and surrounded Kirk’s party.
“No, Captain.” Barker’s voice was eerily distant. “I’m not giving up
now. Not when I’m so close. The Romulans must be crushed and it will
take a war with the Federation to do it. I’ve arranged it all, right
down to the last detail. It will work. Your ship now will think that
you have been taken by Romulans. I will convince them of that. I’ll
also convince them to go in fighting – the Romulans will be unprepared
– the other Federation ships will get here soon – attack their bases –
they’ll be helpless in a matter of months…” Barker’s eyes had taken on
the glazed look of the insane and his ramblings continued to become
more disjointed.
“Barker!” Kirk interrupted. “It won’t work!”
Barker snapped back to reality. “It will!” he cried vehemently. “It
can’t fail!”
“Owen…” Kirk said calmly, taking a step forward. Barker pointed his
phaser threateningly at the captain. Kirk stopped. “Owen. Your plan has
already failed. Our presence here is proof of that. My full report is
on its way to Starfleet right now. Nothing will bring back those who
died on Cygnus III, Owen. Give it up.” He held out his hand and took
another step forward.
Owen hesitated in a moment of obvious confusion, then took a stumbling
step backward, brandishing his phaser. “No! All these years I’ve waited
– planned. The Federation did nothing! Nothing! Said that Cygnus III
was a civilian outpost – that they had no jurisdiction. It didn’t
matter that the Romulans came in and slaughtered everyone! Your
precious Federation was afraid of starting a war – ignored the attack –
said they had no authority to retaliate! I can’t let the Romulans get
away with it! It can’t end like this! It can’t! You’ll see – you’ll
see, Jim – make them see – I won’t lose…”
“Of course not, Owen. Give me the phaser.” Kirk took another step
toward him.
“Stand back! I’ll kill you all!” Barker looked around himself uneasily,
suddenly with a distant look in his eyes that seemed focused on
something only he could see. “Nora? Nora! I did it all for you – ALL!”
A sob racked him. “I’m sorry, Nora. I wanted everything to be so
perfect – then we could be happy again.” Another sob. Without warning,
he turned the phaser on himself and in a blinding flash was gone.
Latest Stories
All images and Trademarks in this page are Copyright of their respective owners. Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and Star Trek: Voyager are Copyright and Trademark Paramount Pictures.
