THE RIFT1

FIRST CONTACT

"Most people are on the world, not in it--h no

conscious sympathy or relationship to anything about

them--undiffused; separate, and rigidly alone

like marbles of polished stone, touching but separate."

--JOHN MUIR

Chapter One

The Captain of the Enterprise stared up at the

shimmering viewscreen and said thoughtfully,

"Opinion, Number One."

After a moment of consideration the first officer

replied, "I'm not alt certain, Captain.

Mr. Spock ... what do you think?"

Mr. Spock had not even looked up from his

science station. "Difficult to be precise without

completed computer analysis, Lieutenant ...

wait. It's coming through now."

Smoothly, noiselessly, the thin piece of

paper slid out from the dispenser and into Spock's

hands. He held it up and studied it for a moment.

He started to frown and then caught himself before the

others noticed it. Silently he scolded himself

--his mental discipline had been exceptionally

sloppy of late, and he was going to have to pay much

closer attention if he had any hope of

conducting himself in a manner befitting a Vulcan

... especially a Vulcan in the highest

position of Starfleet command that anyone from that

planet had ever achieved.

"Computer analysis indicates a variety of

readings that are an agglomeration of several different

energy patterns already known to us," he said.

Number One looked at him with her dark,

snapping eyes. "Specify," she said.

"It shares the spatial displacement traits

of a wormhole," Spock said, studying the

readout. "However, it is giving off subspace

flux that is surprisingly similar to that created

by the time warp generators of our own hyperdrive."

"Time warp?" said the captain.

Number One leaned on her console at the

helm, studying the image on the screen.

"Fascinating."

"A most appropriate term," Spock

couldn't help but note. "It is indeed ...

fascinating." He rolled the ^w around in his 3

mouth. A simple, elegant ^w.

Descriptive, indicating the attractiveness

of a puzzle in human terms without going overboard

into emotionality. Fascinating. He'd have

to remember that.

The fascinating object of their attention was

directly ahead of them as the starship hovered in

space several thousand kilometers away.

The crew of the Enterprise had encountered many

different types of space phenomena before, from

quarks to quasars, black holes to wormholes

to any kind of hole that could be imagined. But this was

something ... unique.

In relation to the starship, it was on a vertical

axis. It seemed to resemble nothing so much as a

large crack, but it was not stable; its length varied

from two to five miles, but no matter how much it

seemed to fluctuate, its length was always greater

than its width. Its center was narrow and dark--s

dark that no light seemed to issue from it. Its

outer edges were thinner, stars shining through. Whether it was

artificial or had grown as a result of some

physical anomaly was something that none of the

observers could guess.

"A rip," said Spock after a moment's

further consideration. "A rip in the fabric of

space. The manner in which reality is being distorted

around it is making it impossible for our sensors

to probe more deeply. A rip or--"

"Or what?" The captain spoke with a sharpness

that seemed to scream of impatience. For someone who

was an explorer, Spock mused, the captain was

tremendously irritable if he did not know all

the answers immediately.

"A portal," finished Spock.

This brought silence to the bridge for a long moment,

and the steady if irritating sounding of the red-alert

klaxon filled the air, as it had been doing for

several minutes since the Enterprise had first

encountered this ... this whatever-x-was.

Clearly it was getting on the captain's

nerves, because he snapped, "Navigator, shut

that damned noise off."

Jos@e Tyler reached over without a ^w and

snapped it off. The red-alert triangle in

front of him went out immediately, and the bridge

settled into blissful quiet.

The captain leaned back in his chair, looking

thoughtful. "A portal," he said slowly.

"To where?" He turned his piercing blue 5

eyes on Spock. "Well, Science

Officer?"

"Unknown with present data," said Spock.

"Take a guess." From another captain it

might have sounded like a gentle gibe, but with the

captain of the Enterprise it came across quite

clearly as a direct order.

Spock fought down the human urge to shrug and

said simply, "It leads to the other side."

The captain sighed and turned back to Number

One in a manner that seemed so dismissive of

Spock that the Vulcan might have taken offense were

he capable of doing so. "Number One, you're the

most experienced officer here. What's your

guess?"

Number One flashed a glance at Spock,

drummed her green fingernails a moment, and then

said, "Mr. Spock is correct. It leads

to the other side. Further speculation would be

pointless."

"Unless we go through," said the captain.

"Yes, sir."

"Is it possible?"

Spock, studying his readouts, now spoke up.

"It would be possible, sir. However, it would be

extremely hazardous. The physical makeup

of the space rip is in flux. It ranges from

two miles in width to as little as five meters.

We could be sheared in half just by the act of passing

through it, if it should happen to close at the wrong

time."

The captain rose from his chair and circled it

slowly, thoughtfully. "Open a subspace hailing

frequency."

"Open," said Communications Officer Vincent.

The captain squared his shoulders even more than

usual and spoke in a slightly raised voice.

Spock speculated on what an odd human

trait that was, as if talking more loudly over

subspace made one easier to hear.

"This is Captain Christopher Pike of the

United Space Ship Enterprise," said the

captain. "If there is anyone hearing this

transmission, we are positioned directly

outside what appears to be some sort of

interspatial rift. The fluctuating nature

of the rift makes it impossible for us to pass through.

We wish to know if there is any sentient life

on the other side of this spatial distortion. If

you are hearing this, please reply." He 7

paused and then added, "Send that out on all

frequencies, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," said Vincent.

He sat back down in his command chair and rubbed

his chin thoughtfully. "There have been ships in this area

before, haven't there?"

Spock began to call up the computer

records, but Number One spoke before Spock

could access the information. "Two science vessels

and the Potemkin have traveled this sector in the

past three years. There has been no mention of

any similar spatial rifts in their

reports," said Number One.

Pike looked at her with just the vaguest hint of

amusement, which was the most he ever allowed. "You

carry around in your head the findings of all ships in

any given sector for the past three years,

Lieutenant?"

"No, sir," Number One told him

coolly. "The past five years."

"I see," Pike said. If this struck him as

particularly odd, he nevertheless said nothing. "So

it wasn't here before?"

"Either that," said Spock, "or it was in existence

but slightly out of temporal synch with our

universe."

"What?" asked Pike.

"Essentially, it existed a few seconds before

or after the natural time flow of our own

universe. As a result, normal instrumentation

would never have been able to pick it up. But some

occurrence, natural or otherwise, may have

caused it to slow down or speed up and thus be

detectable."

They waited there, hanging in space for long

moments, but no reply was forthcoming, and slowly

Pike shook his head. "All right," he said.

"Let's summarize here We have a temporal

rift that may or may not have been here before. There

may or may not be someone on the other side, and

we may or may not survive trying to pass through.

Is that about accurate?"

Spock and Number One both nodded silent

assent.

Pike rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb

and forefinger. Then he looked up and sighed. "As

intriguing as all this is," he said, "we were on

our way to Vega IX to attend to our injured and

wounded. We've already had one significant

delay in that respect, andfora lot of 9

"mays"' and "may nots"' there is no way in

hell I'm going to delay that mission any

further. Helm, resume course for Vega. Go

to hyperdrive, time warp factor five."

"Course computed and laid in, sir," said

Number One.

He nodded and said briskly, "Engage."

The Enterprise angled away from the rift and

shot off toward Vega IX.

Pike watched the rift recede as he headed

for the turbolift door. As he was about to step into the

lift Yeoman Colt stepped off, apparently

wrapped up in thoughts of her own, and Pike

stopped just short of knocking her over.

"Yeoman," he said in exasperation, "how

many--"

"Fuel consumption report, sir," she said

quickly, holding the clipboard up in front of her

as if it were a shield. "You said that you wanted--"

"Yes, yes," he overlapped her

impatiently. He barely glanced at her as he

flipped through it. He took note of the fact that

he should speak to the engineer about the speed with which they were

depleting dilithium--it seemed the energy curve

was a tad high. Perhaps there was a warped baffle

plate somewhere. If that was the case, there could be a

serious hazard in the making--Pike had once

seen a crewman devastated by leaking delta

rays from a warped baffle plate and had no

intention of such an unpleasant fate befalling

any member of his crew.

He signed the report, checking off the box that

read "Consult with captain," and handed it back

to Colt. She smiled briefly at him and then

looked down as if embarrassed, and Pike sighed

inwardly.

"Strong female drives." The phrase

ech oed in his head, and she stepped aside as he

entered the open turbolift. He made a

conscious effort not to look at her as the doors

hissed shut.

And as the Enterprise shot off into space the

rift began to pulse a bit more steadily. ...

Chapter Two

Pike's fists were a flurry of rights and

lefts as he pounded the punching bag. He

grunted softly every time he made contact, and he

remembered a time when he could have kept up 11

such a volley for half an hour without letup.

Now, after a mere ten minutes, he felt his

breath coming hard in his lungs.

There were several crewmen in the gym concentrating

on fencing or weight lifting or other fitness

pursuits, but they were surreptitiously sneaking

glances at Pike, watching admiringly.

The captain never spoke to anyone when he

came down to work out. Perhaps an acknowledging nod

here or there, but that was all. He was always totally

focused on whatever he was setting out to do, and he

never did the same thing twice in a row. Fencing,

swimming, running, self-defense--whatever it

was, he went about it with an intensity that was

unmatched by anyone in the crew.

Now, as he pounded on the bag, the volley

speeding up with each passing moment, he seemed so

locked in to his target that anyone who happened

to step between Pike and the bag would likely run into the

captain's fist.

After another three minutes of punching Pike

stepped back, his face covered with sweat and his thin

shirt plastered against his chest. He tapped his

boxing gloves together a couple of times and shook out

his muscles, but his heart was still pounding.

He turned and glanced around, the adrenaline

racing through him. There was no one else with boxing

gloves on, though, and he had started to turn

away when Jos@e Tyler entered, gloves on his

hands, glancing in the direction of the punching bag.

Tyler stopped when he saw Pike standing nearby

and then cast an involuntary look over his

shoulder, apparently trying to decide whether he

could get out without being noticed.

"Mr. Tyler," said Pike with a wave of his

gloved hand, "I could use a sparring partner."

"Oh, well, sir," said Tyler, and he

quickly looked to the other crewmen for help. None

seemed forthcoming. "I--uhm--actually wasn't

planning on boxing. ..."

Pike inclined his chin slightly in the direction

of Tyler's hands. "Why the gloves then?"

"My hands are cold, sir."

"Come on, Tyler," said Pike, and he

gestured to the mats in the center of the gym. There was

no boxing ring set up, but that was the area used for

any type of hand-to-hand combat. "It'll be good

for both of us."

Tyler sighed, trying to ignore the smirks from

the crewmates around him. "If you say 13

so, sir."

They moved to the center mats, and now the rest of the

crewmen gave up any pretense of ignoring

what was going on. From the supply cabinet one of the

crewmen stepped forward with mouthpieces that were quickly

inserted into Pike's and Tyler's mouths.

Protective headgear was strapped on moments

later.

Pike's appraising gaze flickered over

Tyler, assessing the young, lithe Latin

navigator--not as a crewman, but as a

potential foe. Tyler was balanced lightly on

the balls of his feet, and Pike saw genuine

concern in his eyes.

"All right, Tyler," he said, working to make

himself understood through the mouthpiece. "Just relax.

Watch your footing. We're just having a workout,

just two guys in the gym. Happens every day. No

need to worry, just so long as you remember ...

I'm your captain."

It was difficult to tell if Pike was joking,

since he did it so rarely. Even when he was

joking he tended to keep his face deadly serious.

Tyler sighed once more and started toward Pike,

trying to move lightly from side to side, keeping

his guard up.

The tactical computer that was Pike's mind

quickly processed information about Tyler. He was more

limber than Pike, and younger, of course. He was

already hopping around a good deal more than the captain

was capable of doing--Pike tended to take a stance

and just start pummeling. He had the edge on Tyler

in experience, and he also had a devastating right

cross. He could take him.

Pike brought his guard up as Tyler suddenly

launched an attack, a couple of quick rights

followed by a left. Pike hardly felt them.

"Come on, Mr. Tyler," he said in annoyance,

and he drove a quick uppercut to Tyler's chin that

rocked him. "You can do better than that."

Tyler stepped back out of Pike's reach and

moved along the perimeter, watching his captain

carefully. He did not resume his attack,

however, and after thirty seconds of pussyfooting

around, Pike began to get annoyed. He came

in quickly, landing several fast, powerful blows on

Tyler's body, each accompanied by a

satisfying thud, and Pike said, "For crying out

loud, Mr. Tyler, this is sparring, not a square

dan--" 15

Pike never even saw the shot that snapped his

head around. He wasn't even aware that he was

falling. All he knew was that the world seemed

to shift at a forty-five-degree angle, and then

he was on his back.

He found to his surprise that he hated the

color of the ceiling, and then Jos@e Tyler was

looking down at him with sheer terror in his eyes.

"Capped in!" Tyler seemed to be saying, and

Pike was wondering what was capped in what.

Then the world hazed out for a moment, and when it

returned Dr. Phil Boyce was standing over

him, shaking his head. The middle-aged man with the thin

blond hair did not seem particularly

sympathetic to the fact that Pike was moving his mouth

and nothing was coming out. An agitated Tyler was

next to him. "What was it again?" Boyce asked.

"A left hook," said Tyler. "Doctor

... what should I do?"

"Offhand, I'd say work on your right hook.

I doubt your left needs any improvement."

Boyce shook his head, and then he raised his fist

and extended his thumb, index finger, and middle

finger. "Chris ... how many fingers do you see?"

"I'm not sure," said Pike thickly.

"Does the thumb count as a finger?"

"You'll be fine," Boyce said. He put an

arm under Pike's forearm and, with the help of Tyler

and another crewman, hauled the woozy captain

to his feet. Pike was surprised at the amount

of strength in the doctor's grip.

"Captain, I'm so sorry--" began

Tyler.

Pike shook his head and then had to remind himself

not to do so again, as the swaying motion made him

dizzy. "That's quite all right, Mr. Tyler. Quite

all right. It's comforting to know you're on our

side." He held his jaw for a moment and moved it

from side to side. "I'd hate to have you as an

enemy."

"Yes, sir," said Tyler, breathing a visible

sigh of relief.

Leaning a bit more heavily on Boyce than

he would have liked to let on, Pike allowed himself

to be helped into the hallway and to his cabin.

Boyce had the tact not to say anything to his

captain until the door of Pike's quarters

had closed behind him.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?"

asked Boyce. 17

Pike was studying himself in the mirror and already

saw the beginnings of a bruise on his jaw.

"Sparring, Doctor. A way of keeping in

shape."

Boyce folded his arms and looked at Pike

skeptically. "Most ways of keeping in shape,"

he noted, "don't entail almost losing

consciousness."

"It was just a lucky punch."

"Lucky punch my butt," snorted

Boyce. "From what I heard, he tagged you good.

The one who's lucky is you--lucky that he

didn't dislocate your jaw."

"Ah"--he waved off Boyce's concerns--?y

worry too much, Phil. Tyler's ten years

younger than I am. He couldn't have hurt me too

badly."

"If you were thinking straight, Chris," said

Boyce, "you'd realize that the ten years'

difference actually makes it damned lucky that he

didn't take your head off." Still shaking his head,

Boyce opened up his bag and started pulling out his

mixes.

Pike turned and eyed the quickly assembled

minibar without comment. Boyce didn't even look

at Pike but simply said, "The usual?"

"Someday," said Pike, "you'll pull a hypo

out of there and give me a heart attack."

"Thank God you'll have a doctor nearby in

that case." He proceeded to mix a martini for

Pike. "That's not like you, Chris. Sparring with your

junior officers. Mixing it up. You've always

been ..."

"Aloof?" Pike finished for him.

"I was going to say "reservedea"'" said

Boyce, and he handed the drink to Pike.

"Rooms are reserved," said Pike.

"Library books are reserved. I'm aloof.

Removed from my people. From their feelings. Maybe from

my own."

"Oh, nonsense," said Boyce. "A few

days ago you sat right on that bed and told me that you

were thinking of quitting. That you were tired, worn out,

sick of making decisions. And now you're saying that

you're unfeeling, when before you were feeling too much.

You're concerned about how you deal with your crew?

Different captains have different approaches,

Chris. What works for you--and your crew--is for you

to possess a great deal of formality and

"aloofnessea"' if that's what you wish 19

to call it. Have you noticed that, particularly on the

bridge, you tend to address your crewmen by their

positions far more frequently than by their names?"

Pike frowned slightly. "No. I hadn't

noticed."

"Everyone else you address by Mister followed

by surname, with the exception of my humble self,"

continued Boyce with a slight, modest inclination of

his head. "And some people not even that. Since Number

One is your first officer, naturally she can be

addressed by the title of Number One. But you

never call her anything else. Why is that?"

"I can't pronounce her name."

"What? Why, it's ..." His voice trailed

off, and he frowned. He'd seen it written in

records but never tried to say it out loud before. The

woman hadn't engaged in small talk on the

occasions of her physicals--simple nod s had

sufficed. He tried to frame the syllables.

"Son of a gun."

"You see? Not everything has deep meaning," said

Pike. Then he stared down at his boots. "You

want to know how in touch with my crew I am?"

"Sure."

"We were just discussing Number One. Well,

she"--he took a sip of his martini, as if

steeling himself for an ordeal--?she has sexual

fantasies about me."

Boyce went slack-jawed, and it took him a

moment to realize that some of his drink was trickling

down his chin. He quickly wiped it away as he

said, "May I ask ... uh ... how you know?"

"The Talosians said so."

"I see. And what was your response to this?"

"To her? Nothing. I was threatening the

Talosians at the time."

"And since you've come back, have you spoken to her

about it?"

Pike pursed his lips. "No."

"How ... uh ... how do you feel about it? Do

you have ... uhm ... reciprocal feelings in this

matter?"

"I don't know," admitted Pike. "It

goes back to what I was saying before. I feel

removed from my crew's feelings, and from my own.

I thought of Number One as cold, methodical,

even utterly passionless. The ideal woman."

"Oh, really?" said Boyce in amusement.

"Of course. The trouble with most women is that

they let their hearts rule them instead of 21

their heads. Decision making is an

intellectual process. Women are--"

"A distraction?" offered Boyce.

Pike pointed in triumph. "Yes!

Exactly. They distract you with their emotional

reactions and--"

"The way they look? And smell?"

"There's that."

Boyce leaned back thoughtfully. "The curve

of a woman's neck if she's wearing her hair

up? Or the way her hair cascades around her

shoulders if her hair is down?" His voice

softened, and he smiled. "The way the very air can

seem to be charged when a woman enters a room?

The way just hearing her take a deep breath can

make you lose your train of thought?"

Pike was staring off into space. "The way her

eyes could sparkle when she looked at me, when

her whole world consisted of wanting ..."

Then he caught himself and saw Boyce looking

at him, not unsympathetically. He looked down

into his drink, staring at the olive floating there.

"Vina was quite a woman, wasn't she?" said

Boyce.

Pike shrugged. "You read my log entries."

"And it's all there? Everything you experienced?

Everything you felt?"

"Everything that was important," said Pike

firmly.

"Ah, now that's the debatable part, isn't it?"

Boyce replied. "What's important, that

is. And what are you going to do about Number One?"

"Nothing. If she wanted me to know her

feelings about me, she would have told me. The

Talosians invaded her privacy. I'm

hardly going to capitalize on that." Abruptly

there came a beep from the small viewscreen on

Pike's desk. He rose and went to it, pushing

a button. A small image of Number One

appeared, and she said, "Captain, we're getting

a transmission."

"From Starfleet?"

"No, sir. From the rift."

This snapped Pike completely to attention.

"The rift?"

"Yes, sir. The temporal rift in

space."

"I'll be right up."

He turned toward the door, and Boyce began

to put away his portable bar. "Duty 23

calls?"

"Very loudly."

"Try not to let yourself be too distracted

by Number One."

"I'll try."

He exited his quarters and started toward the

turbolift. He got there and stepped through, but before

the doors could shut he heard a voice call,

"Hold, please!"

Pike turned and saw his Vulcan science

officer hurrying down the hallway, presumably

also in response to a summons from Number One.

He was still favoring the one leg, a result of their

encounter with the hostiles on Rigel. God, were they

ever going to get to Vega to tend to their wounded?

"Bridge," said Pike. Then, after a moment

of thought, he turned to Spock and said, "Tell

me, Sci--Mr. Spock. Lately you seem

to be spending much more time by yourself."

"Sir?"

"You don't fraternize with the rest of the crew as

much as you used to."

Spock seemed to look straight through him.

"There's no regulation against that, sir."

"No. No, of course not. But as your commanding

officer, I would like to be kept informed if you were

having any problems. I'm interested in the

well-bbing of my crew."

"You are, sir?"

"Of course I am," Pike said a bit

testily. "I'm always concerned. Concern is my

middle name."

"No, sir, your middle name is--"

"It's an expression, Mr. Spock. I was

just ... curious. That's all."

"Curiosity. Ah, yes," said Spock, as

if he had just noticed an interesting specimen in

a zoo. "A human emotion. Perhaps, Captain,

I am simply a bit ... overwhelmed by human

emotions. The air can be a bit thick with them at

times."

At that moment the turbolift hissed open

onto the bridge, and Pike immediately stopped

talking, now all business.

"All right," he said briskly as he stepped

down to his command chair. "What have we got?"

"Transmission directly from the rift,"

Number One said, turning in her chair to face the

captain. She held up a paper display of the

message. "It says, 25

"Seventy-two-hour window of contact. What do

you want?"'"

"That's it?"

Number One nodded.

Pike leaned on one of the arms of his command

chair. "There is someone on the other side."

"So it would appear," agreed Spock.

"But the other side of what? Another part of our

galaxy? Another galaxy entirely? Perhaps

even another universe?"

"We won't know unless we try to find out,"

Number One pointed out.

"And if we go on to Vega, as originally

intended, we'll never get back within the

seventy-two hours that whoever's on the other side

of the rift claims we have." He thought about it a

moment, but his mind was already made up. "Address

intracraft," he said briskly.

"You're on, Captain," Number One

replied.

"This is the captain," he announced. Throughout

the Enterprise crewmen stopped in their tracks

to attend to the announcement. "I regret that we will

have to delay our needed downtime a short while

longer. The sort of rare opportunity that we're

out here for has presented itself unexpectedly. This

is what we signed up to do, and I expect that you

will be able to put your personal needs aside for as

long as is required to complete our latest

mission. And that mission is contact with a new

species accessible only through a previously

undiscovered rift in space. You will be kept

apprised of mission progress. Bridge out."

He turned to Tyler at navigation, who, if

he was thinking about how he had earlier laid out his

captain, was far too professional to let on.

"Mr. Tyler, take us back to the rift.

Hyperdrive, time warp factor seven."

"Laid in, sir."

"Engage."

Pike settled back in his chair and noticed

the way that Number One's hair fell around her

shoulders. With sensitivity that bordered on the

psychic, Number One turned and looked at him

curiously with her luminous eyes. "Sir?"

He frowned and shook his head. "Yes,

Number One?"

She gave a small shrug of her shoulders.

"Nothing, sir." And she went on about her

business. 27

Pike felt the great gulf of his command

separating them but refused to dwell on it. Instead

he stared intently at the screen as the stars

hurtled by them, and he couldn't help but notice that

the stars, as they streaked past, seemed like a

woman's tears. ...

Chapter Three

"It's open, sir."

Spock turned from his science station and

concentrated on keeping surprise from his voice.

"The readings are unmistakable. The rift is now

stable. The dangerous fluctuations that could have

destroyed the ship have ceased, making passage

possible."

Pike stared at the spatial aberration that hung

before them. There was no hint of what, if anything, was

on the other side. Instead there was only inky

blackness. "You're saying we should go in?"

"No, sir," said Spock. "I'm saying that

it is possible."

Pike nodded and stood. "Recommendation,

Number One?"

"Caution, sir."

"You always recommend that."

"It's always a good idea," she said primly.

"Send a communication," he said. "Tell them

we're here, and that we await their advice."

The response came in short order. Spock

read it in surprise. "Captain, it says

"Come on in. The water's fine."'"

The bridge crew exchanged glances.

"Now what are we supposed to get from that?"

demanded Pike.

Number One drummed a moment on her

console. "We can surmise that they are either a

race with some degree of telepathic ability,

or else they are capable of interfacing with our

computer records without tripping any alarm

systems that tell us we're being scanned. Therefore

they are either mentally or technologically

advanced."

"Another race of telepaths," said Pike

sourly. "I've had a bellyful of them

lately."

"They would seem to be somewhat more above-board

than the Talosians," Spock observed. "They

offer no false images, no prevarications.

They simply invite us to enter, stating in 29

old earth vernacular that the conditions are suitable

for our existence."

"Tell them they should come out here," Pike said

after a moment.

The message was duly sent, and this time a much

shorter period of time passed before the response

came back.

"They said, "That is not our way."'"

"Perfect," said Pike. "Science Officer,

arm a probe and prepare to launch on my

order."

Spock nodded and quickly entered the instructions

into the computer. On the nod from Pike he checked

the telemetry one more time and then fired the probe

off into the rift.

The probe appeared as nothing so much as a ball

of light as it spiraled toward the temporal

opening, down, down, and then was completely

swallowed up.

They waited.

"Any readings, Science Officer?"

Spock studied his telemetry board, waiting

for some sort of response from the probe.

"Nothing, sir," he said. "It .. . wait.

Sensors are detecting something."

"Specify."

"Emerging from the rift, at 331 mark 20

..."

Pike swung his chair around and snapped,

"Viewer on full magnification, to Mr.

Spock's coordinates."

The viewscreen wavered a moment, and then it

closed in tight on the lower right-hand corner of the

rift. Something seemed to be floating out of

it--metallic scrap.

"It's the probe," Spock announced.

"It's been broken up into pieces."

"Incoming message," said Number One.

"What's it say?"

It only took the computer a second to spit

out the printout. Spock picked it up and read

two succinct ^ws off it, which represented the

entirety of the message.

"It says, "ationice try."'"

In the conference room Pike and his officers

surrounded the table as Spock placed the fragments

of the probe on the table with a clank. Number One

picked up one of the smaller pieces and held it

between her fingers, staring at it with curiosity. 31

"Is this what I think?"

"Yes, Number One," Spock told her.

"I've run a full spectral analysis, and

it confirms my original supposition and your

current one. That piece of metal you're holding

is approximately 33.4 years old."

Pike looked from Number One to Spock.

"What? I thought it was part of our probe."

"It is. Was," amended Spock. He

gestured to take in the rest of the pieces on the

table. "As were these. They test out similarly, with

minor variations of a year or two on some of the

pieces that emerged first."

"We didn't launch that over thirty years

ago, dammit," said Pike.

"Of course not, sir. I have a working theory,

however."

"Don't keep it to yourself," said Dr.

Boyce. "You're not going to get any brownie

points by keeping us guessing."

Spock barely glanced at him. He and

Boyce had never gotten on particularly well.

Boyce's amateur psychology attempts at

Spock's expense had been a continuing source of

distraction. Spock, however, didn't worry about

it overmch. In a few years Boyce would be

retiring, and whatever future ship's doctors

Spock might encounter, he was quite certain they could

not possibly be as acerbic or annoying as

Boyce.

"The temporal shifts within the makeup of the

rift," said Spock, "caused a field

distortion around the probe as well. The rift is

not simply a hole in space. It is a

collapsed field of time travel, bending

temporal waves around whatever enters it. The

probe was subjected to year upon year of

temporal stress. Perhaps it was sent into the

future and aged backward--perh back into the past

and aged forward. It's impossible to say."

"My head is starting to hurt," murmured

Boyce.

"Essentially, the probe fell apart due to the

stress of passing years," concluded Spock.

"And the same thing would happen to us if we passed

through it," said Pike.

"Not necessarily." Number One spoke

up. She looked at Spock, who was clearly

already aware of what she was going to say and merely

nodded his agreement. She continued, "If 33

we enter using the hyperdrive, the time warp

factor of our engines should protect us from the

ravages of the temporal flux."

"Should protect us," said Pike.

"There is a ninety-eight-percent

probability," Number One told him.

Pike slowly circled the table. "Meaning

there's a two-percent possibility of failure.

Correct?"

"Correct," she said, staring at Spock

to see if he disagreed with her. Again he merely

nodded slightly.

Pike crossed the room again, his hands behind his

back. "If we went in at hyperdrive, we

wouldn't even have the time to react to any danger that

our sensors alerted us to. You're asking me

to take a significant leap of faith here with the

lives of this crew. Roll dice based on the

odds."

"But," Spock pointed out, "it would seem that the

odds are significantly in our favor,

Captain."

Pike turned his cold gaze on Spock.

"Then again, you're not the one who has to carry the

weight of the decision, are you, Science Off--

Mr. Spock?"

If Spock noticed the abrupt change in

form of address, or cared particularly about it, he

gave no indication. "No, sir. I'm not. But

there is something else that should be brought to your

attention, Captain." He held out his hand, and in

his palm was what appeared to be a small

triangular device, with delicately printed

circuits on it. It was no larger than

Spock's fingernail.

"What is it?" said Pike.

"It was mixed in with the debris," said Spock.

""Planted,"' if you will."

"By whoever is on the other side?" asked

Number One.

"It would be the logical surmise." Spock

manipulated the small device. "It would

appear, from my initial studies, to be a sort

of energy conversion chip. But far more efficient than

the one that currently powers our hyperdrive."

The chief engineer, Caitlin Barry, reached out

a hand, and Spock handed the device to her. She

studied it in amazement. "Are you sure about this?"

"It is only one component of an infinitely

more complicated propulsion system," said 35

Spock. "We could not develop the complete

system from this one piece any more than one could

accurately replicate the entire human body

by being given a kidney to study. It is an

indicator, though, of the advanced nature of those

on the other side of the rift."

"So what you're saying," said Pike, taking the

piece from Barry, "is that this is bait."

"Or their way of letting us know that whatever

risk we perceive in this contact is worth it,"

pointed out Number One.

Nothing more needed to be said. The command crew

knew almost instinctively the expression that came

across Pike's face when he had heard everything

he needed to in order to render a decision.

There was total silence in the conference room as

he weighed the options.

Then he became aware somehow, in the back of his

head, of a very soft, steady sound.

It was Number One. Breathing.

He turned to Barry. "Ready the

hyperdrive, Engineer," he said briskly.

"We're going in."

Moments later the command crew had assembled on

the bridge, and Pike was once again addressing the

general crew over the intracraft. He was a

strong believer in constantly apprising everyone of

what was going on. With a crew this large he did not

need rumors floating around.

"We are about to enter an unknown section of

space," he was saying. "I want everyone at his

or her post, in full readiness. This ship is now

on yellow alert. I'm not anticipating a

battle situation, but we must be prepared for

whatever circumstances we face. I have the utmost

faith that all of you will carry through with your duties.

Bridge out." Then he turned to Number One and

said, "All right, Helm. Bring us forward on

rocket power only, to within two thousand

kilometers of our anomaly there." Into his

communicator he said, "Engine Room."

"Standing by, Captain," came Barry's

voice.

"Prepare for hyperdrive, time warp factor

..."

He paused, unsure of what to allow for in this

new situation. Number One looked back at

him and held up two fingers.

"Two," said Pike.

"Aye, sir. She'll be ready." 37

Slowly the Enterprise began to ease forward,

drawing closer to the rift. Pike waited for a

report that some sort of energy flux was pulling

them in against their will, the slightest hint that this was a

trap. But none was forthcoming. Come into my parlor,

said the spider to the fly, he thought bleakly.

"Sensor readings?"

"Unchanged from before," said Spock. "Still

obscured."

"We are at two thousand kilometers," said

Number One.

"Full stop."

"Full stop, Captain," Number One

affirmed.

The rift was before them, seemingly part of normal

space and yet part of something else. The surface

rippled and flowed as if it were a thick porridge

being heated to boiling.

And he was going to hurl himself and his ship and crew

into the midst of it, in hopes of finding--

What?

Well, that was what they did every day, wasn't

it? Blasted further and further into the depths of

space, into the unknown. No one ever knew what

they were going to find, did they? Or what the risks

to life and limb might be.

It was just unusual to have the unknown facing one so

bald-facedly.

"When you look long into an abyss, the abyss

also looks into you," said Pike slowly. Then he

took a deep breath and said, "Full ahead.

Hyperdrive, time warp factor two." He

paused a split second before he said,

"Engage."

Tyler laid in the course, and Number One,

taking a slight breath (which Pike heard),

punched it in.

The Enterprise hurtled forward, powered

by hyperdrive, and a moment later was enveloped by the

rift.

The universe howled in Pike's head.

All around them the stars telescoped away and

vanished, and what was left was nothingness filled with

everything.

Pike screamed soundlessly, and the scream seemed

to take up everything as the past and future

collided around him. He saw images, bizarre

and insane images that made no sense. Images

of a reality gone mad, images from out of 39

time, out of mind.

He looked to his left, and he was growing younger

before his very eyes; and he looked to his right, and there

was a bizarre creature staring at him, crouched in

some sort of metal chair. The sight of it made

his soul freeze.

On the screen was nothing but a vast miasma of

undulating space, as if the cosmos had become

a vast lake and someone had skipped a stone across

it.

"Maintain power!" shouted Pike, and he

wasn't sure if anyone had heard him. He

wasn't sure if he'd even said it, or if he

was going to say it, or if it had already been said and

just infinitely repeated. ...

The ship seemed to vibrate

uncontrollably, and there was a shout from the engine

room. It wasn't Barry but Lieutenant

Scott, who usually communicated with the bridge

on Barry's behalf if she was tied up. In an

alarmed brogue Scott shouted, "Captain! The

engines can na take much more of this!" There was more

than just concern about machinery in his voice--it was as

if he were being forced to stand by and watch his children being

tortured.

And then the stars snapped into existence. And so

did the ship.

Ahead of them was a vast ball of whiteness, and

there was something surrounding it, and then the Enterprise

flashed past at hyperspeed.

Pike's mouth was moving before he managed to get

the ^ws out. "Reduce speed!" he shouted.

"Take us out of hyperdrive! Shut down the time

warp field!"

Number One was paralyzed at helm, her

eyes wide, and to her right was Tyler, his face

contorted. He was muttering something over and over,

something like "Ma, Ma." Great. Pike needed the

ship stopped, and Tyler was calling for his mother.

Pike leapt forward, shoving his way to the helm

control, pushing Tyler aside as he reached in

front of Number One. Tyler lashed out with a quick

left, but this time Pike saw it coming and managed

to knock it aside even as he shut down the

ship's forward thrust at helm.

The captain's arm in front of her shook

Number One from her momentary paralysis, and she

seemed to register for the first time that the captain had

made a request of her. She started to reach for the

controls to slow the ship but then hesitated 41

when she saw that the command had already been carried out.

She turned and looked with surprise into Pike's

eyes.

She licked her lips and said, "Sorry,

sir."

Relieved to have some degree of normalcy on

the bridge once more, he said, "It's all right.

Navigator?"

Tyler was still staring off into space as if fixated

on something very, very specific. His lower lip was

trembling. "Mr. Tyler," said Pike

firmly, and still there was no response. For a moment

he considered summoning Boyce to the bridge, but

then without even really thinking about the overt

familiarity it suggested, he rested a hand on

Tyler's shoulder and said, "Jos@e. You with us?"

Tyler blinked several times and then looked up

at Pike. "Captain?" His eyes took a

moment to focus, and then, more firmly, he said,

"Captain."

"At ease, Mr. Tyler. Tell us where we

are, if you please."

Tyler quickly called up his navigational charts

and ran an analysis on the stars that hovered in

front of their viewscreen. Pike didn't even

need the report to know that he had never seen this

particular array of stars before. Nevertheless, he

waited patiently.

"As near as I can determine, sir," Tyler

said finally, "we are somewhere in the outer reaches of the

Gamma quadrant."

There was a momentary hush. "That's light-years

beyond explored space," said Pike. "Are you

sure?"

"Confirming Mr. Tyler's assessment,"

Spock said from the science station. "We are a

significant distance from known space."

"How significant?"

Spock turned and looked at his captain.

"At time warp factor seven--which we could not

possibly maintain--it would take 21.3 years

to reach the furthest Federation outpost. Furthermore,

even at time warp factor one, we would drain our

dilithium crystals dry years before we could

return to known space."

"Meaning," said Pike slowly, "that the rift

had better be our ticket back ... or else

we'll be able to tell our children and grandchildren stories

of how they came to be the first children born on a

starship." 43

"That is correct," said Spock.

"All right," Pike said with a no-nonsense

tone. He went back to his chair and turned it

to face the screen. "Bring us around. I saw

something when we came through, and I want to get a

closer look at it."

The Enterprise swung around and, at

impulse power, retraced her steps. As she

did so Pike ran a quick check with Engineering

to make sure that all was well with the engines.

Once satisfied, he turned to Spock and said,

"Have we got a reading on the rift?" He was

almost afraid to ask, because if the spatial

aperture had vanished, there was a good chance they would

never see home again.

So it was with great relief--not that he let on,

of course--t he heard Spock say, "Yes,

sir. At 213 mark 8. Same temporal

readings as before. And ... something else."

"I see it. Helm, magnification three."

The screen rippled, and when it snapped

into focus Pike became aware that his mouth was

hanging half open. He closed it quickly, hoping

that no one had noticed.

In front of them a planet was on fire.

Chapter Four

Spock and Number One spoke at the same

time "Fascinating."

It was an understatement.

It was a large planet, roughly the size of

Jupiter, and it looked aflame. The entire

surface was covered with a dark blue blaze,

burning steadily and unceasingly. But that wasn't the

only bizarre thing that faced them.

For around the planet was a series of

satellites, linked with each other by an

intricate system of connectors that gave the

entire thing the look of a giant spider web. The

satellites varied in circumference but shared a

generally uniform look in that each of them had a

vast, clear dome over it that encompassed what

appeared to be a gleaming city.

Two satellites were exceptions, situated

at the opposite poles of the planet. The one

at the southern pole was the second-largest

satellite of the group, with a single tower that seemed

to reflect the steady fire of the planet.

The northern pole satellite was the 45

largest by far, and it did not appear to have gleaming

towers on it in the manner of the others. Instead it

sported buildings that were low and squat.

Furthermore, in addition to the connectors that

bonded that particular satellite to others nearby,

there was a connector that plunged straight down into the

planet below.

"Analysis?" said Pike when what they were

seeing had had a chance to sink in.

"The "fire"' on the planet surface,"

said Spock after a moment, "would appear to be a

type of self-regenerating energy plasma,

supplying the satellite web around it with all its

power needs on a perpetual basis."

"Self-regenerating?"

"Yes, sir."

It was a remarkable concept, right up there with the

perpetual-motion machine. The energy needs of the

Enterprise were met through the use of dilithium

crystals, but each of them were precious and had a

finite life. The idea of being able to regenerate

an energy source was something of a dream.

"The satellites?"

"Interior atmospheres would appear to have a

breathable oxygenstnitrogen balance, but the mix would

be somewhat thinner than what we're accustomed

to," said Spock. "Suggest any landing party

members be administered a tri-ox compound

to compensate."

"Noted. Forward the recommendation

to Medical."

And then the screen shifted again, and to their shock,

a face appeared.

It was clearly a male, but it was difficult

to determine his age. His face was crimson, and his

eyes seemed to shimmer with a vague iridescence.

He had no hair on his head, but instead a

delicate lined pattern stretched from his forehead

across the top of his head to the back of his skull--a

pattern that was identical in shape to the network of

connectors that linked the satellites. His nose

consisted of two slits in the middle of his face

over which thin layers of skin fluttered

delicately as he breathed.

"Incoming message," said Tyler, somewhat

unnecessarily.

Pike didn't comment on the obvious statement.

Instead he took a step forward and said, "I am

Captain Christopher Pike of the space

vehicle Enterprise." 47

The alien inclined his head slightly. "So you

are," he said. "I am Zyo, Master Builder

of the Calligar."

""Master Builder?"'"

Zyo shrugged, a surprisingly human

gesture. "An hereditary title, for my

lifetime. A small honor among a people who

give few such."

There was an uneasy silence for a moment, and then

Pike said, "We are unfamiliar with your people."

"As we are unfamiliar with yours," replied

Zyo. "Therefore, I suggest that we become

better acquainted."

"If you tell us where to beam--"

But Zyo merely smiled. "Oh, I think not,

Captain Christopher Pike. To be honest, you

have absolutely no idea what a stir your

presence has caused among the Calligar."

"Why? We mean you no harm."

"Oh, that is irrelevant." Zyo actually

grimaced slightly at that. "It is the mere

fact of your being here--of our letting you know that we

existed--t has caused something of a sensation. I will

be happy to apprise you of the situation, Captain,

but I am afraid it will have to be on our terms."

Pike looked at Number One, who gave the

slightest shrug of her shoulders. It was her way

of letting him know that she really didn't have much of

anything in the way of advice to offer. And if there

was one thing that Number One did not tend to do, it was

to speak for the purpose of hearing herself talk.

"All right," said Pike. "Your terms, then

... as long as they do not involve anything that I

think would be dangerous to this ship or crew."

"You are the leader of your people. I can certainly

respect that. Shall we say ... one of your

hours?"

"You're familiar with earth measurements?"

"Of course." Zyo smiled slightly.

"We've thoroughly studied all your computer

records."

"I can't say I appreciate that. If

we're to establish any sort of relationship, it

must be predicated on trust. If you wish information

from us, I suggest you ask next time."

Zyo tilted his head slightly in

acknowledgment. "As you wish, Captain

Christopher Pike. One hour, then." And the

screen returned to its image of the satellite

cities that the Enterprise crew now 49

knew belonged to the peoples known as the

Calligar.

Pike immediately faced Spock. "Science

Officer, would you care to tell me how in hell they

scanned our computer system without tripping any

alarms?"

Spock frowned and said, "It would seem

to indicate a computer sophistication that is

considerably beyond anything within the realm of our

science."

"In other ^ws, you don't know."

"That is correct, sir," said Spock.

"Well," said Pike, "in an hour we'll

have them aboard, and then we can ask them."

Pike studied himself in the mirror, smoothing the

front of his dress jacket. He nodded

briskly, satisfied with his appearance. He did

not often call for dress uniforms among his crew,

but this was a first contact on an extremely foreign

turf. Top elements of decorum had to be

adhered to.

There was a chime at his door, and he said,

"Come."

The door hissed open, and Jos@e Tyler was

standing there, looking uncomfortable. "Captain ..."

"Yes, Mr. Tyler?"

Tyler took a deep breath and said, "I wish

to apologize for my conduct on the bridge,

sir. It was ... inappropriate."

"Yes, it was." Pike was silent for a moment

and then gestured for Tyler to enter. Tyler did so,

the door hissing shut behind him. "Would you care

to tell me what provoked such a strong

reaction?"

Tyler looked down, hesitating, and Pike

continued, "If there was anything you experienced that could

be of help, I would like to know about it."

Tyler sighed and then said, "I saw ... things.

I saw ... this female. She was ... I

don't know, there was just a flash of her, and she was

calling to me, I thought. That's what it seemed like,

at any rate. And it was as if I knew her and

yet ... didn't know her. You know? Captain,

do you know what happened when we went through there?"

Pike turned and looked into the mirror. It

seemed for just a moment that that bizarre apparition--t

strange creature in that outlandish chair--was

staring back at him.

"I'm not sure," he said. "I thought 51

I saw something myself, but I wasn't sure ...

it happened so quickly. Now that I know you also saw

... images, I'll want to confer more thoroughly

with Mr. Spock. I would theorize, however, that

what we experienced was some sort of time ripple

as a result of passing through the rift. Time bent

around us, and we each saw, briefly, people whose time

lines are somehow going to cross with ours. That must be

what you experienced when you saw that woman. You had

a glimpse of your own future, Mr. Tyler.

A rather disconcerting experience."

Tyler stared at Pike, the light starting

to dawn. "It happened to you, too, didn't it,

sir?"

Pike hesitated, but then he shrugged. "I

saw something. I didn't understand at the time. I was

concerned for a moment that I was seeing something out of my

own future ... and if that was the case, I

don't think I would want to live to see that

future. But I think we can safely assume,

Mr. Tyler, that you will not be changing into a female

anytime soon. That being the case, I don't think

I need to worry too much about transforming into the rather

unpleasant vision I saw."

"No, sir."

With a quick nod Pike checked himself once more in

the mirror and said, "Come on. Let's greet

our guests."

When Pike and Tyler arrived at the

transporter room they found Number One,

Spock, Boyce, Barry, and Chief Petty

Officer Garison already waiting. Transporter

Chief Pitcairn was glancing at Assistant

Yamata as if to affirm that there was something they were

missing. "Captain," said Pitcairn, "I

understand we're to be bringing someone aboard?"

"That's correct, Chief," Pike told

him. He was looking approvingly at his officers.

Boyce was shifting in place, and Pike

remembered that Boyce had complained from time to time

about poorly fitting dress boots.

Number One's dress uniform, on the other

hand, was extremely flattering. It was a long

yellow dress with a scooped neck, belted, with a

slit on the left side that went to just under the

knee. It made her look surprisingly

feminine. She looked at Pike, one eyebrow

raised, as if challenging him to say anything about

it. Trust Number One to make the 53

concept of issuing a compliment seem tantamount

to throwing down a gauntlet.

The transporter chief's questions brought him

around, though, as Pike turned and said, "I'm

sorry, Chief. What was that?"

"I was asking, sir," repeated Pitcairn

evenly, "how we're supposed to beam anyone

aboard considering that no one's given us any

coordinates to lock on to."

"I wouldn't be overly concerned, Chief," said

Pike. "I suspect that our guests have that well

in hand."

Yamata suddenly blinked in surprise.

"Transporter circuits have just been

activated," he informed Pitcairn.

"Never doubt your captain," Pike told them

serenely.

At that moment the transporter beams snapped

on, the pads glowing to life. Pike took his

place at the front of his officers and waited.

As the pads glowed four forms were slowly coming

into existence. Pitcairn was looking at his board

uncomprehendingly and saying, "I think you should

know, Captain, I'm not doing this. I can't take

responsibility in the event--"

"So noted, Chief," Pike said with quiet

confidence.

The hum reached a crescendo and then faded.

Standing on the transporter pad was the individual

who had identified himself as Zyo. There were two

other males beside him, one who seemed roughly the

same age as Zyo and one who, by the general lines

of his face, seemed younger. The younger male was about

a head taller than the tallest individual in the

room (namely Pike) and looked rather powerfully

built. There was also, to his right, what appeared

to be a female of the species. Her features were

surprisingly soft, even pleasing by human standards

(although, by Calligar standards, she might have been

ugly as sin; it wasn't possible to tell).

The older Calligarian next to Zyo was

scowling fiercely, looking around the transporter

room and shaking his head in disgust. "This serves no

purpose," he snarled.

Zyo did not even afford him a glance.

"Quiet, Alt. This discussion is ended."

"No, Zyo," said the one called Alt. "This

is not ended." But he ceased speaking, apparently

contenting himself with glowering at the Enterprise

crew. 55

Pike stepped forward and, with a slight bow, said,

"Master Builder Zyo, I am Captain

Christopher Pike."

To Pike's surprise, Zyo thrust out his right

hand. He noticed that the fingers of the

Calligarian's hand were slightly longer and more

slender than those of a human.

"You appear puzzled," said Zyo. "This is the

correct earth greeting, is it not?"

"It is one of the better-known ones," said

Pike, and he shook the extended hand firmly.

"They taught us at the academy, however, not to be

presumptuous. There are at least five known

planets where a handshake is considered an

obscene gesture, and one where it's a declaration of

war."

"Oh, dear," said Zyo. "That sounds most

unpleasant." He released Pike's hand,

turned, and noticed Spock. Automatically

he brought his right hand up and split his fingers into a

V shape. "Peace and long life."

Spock raised a surprised eyebrow but

nevertheless lifted his own hand in the Vulcan

salute and replied, "Live long and prosper."

Number One automatically followed suit,

as did Barry. Boyce tried to make the

gesture as well and found that he couldn't. He

shrugged.

"You are well versed," said Pike.

"Your computer records were quite up-to-date.

Oh, Captain," said Zyo, "I must

apologize for the way in which I handled--or should I

say, mishandled--t. Scanning your computer was the

most efficient way we had of learning your

idioms and dealing in a comfortable manner with you. And

I was concerned that if we did so in a manner that

alerted your alarms, you would be needlessly concerned."

"You could have asked permission," Pike pointed

out.

"You might have said no," Zyo said

reasonably.

Pike gave a very small smile. "Well

... what's done is done. We won't let it

get in the way of our future associations.

May I present the rest of my command crew?"

He gestured to each one as he spoke, and they

bobbed their heads in turn. "My first officer,

Number One. Science Officer Spock.

Chief Engineer Barry. C.P.O. Garison.

Chief Navigator Tyler ..." 57

His voice trailed off a moment as he saw that

Tyler was inexplicably staring at the

Calligarians as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Tyler?"

"Oh ... sorry, sir," said Tyler,

blinking, making a visible effort to bring his mind

back on track. Now what in hell was wrong with

him?

"This is Alt," said Zyo, gesturing to the

frowning Calligarian next to him. "Whereas I

am the Master Builder, Alt is Master of the

Status."

"I must admit, the meanings of your titles are

a bit obscure to me," said Pike.

"Ah. I shall explain it to you in short order.

But let me introduce the two other young people

accompanying us. Th"--and he gestured to the youthful

male--?is my son, Macro. And this is my

daughter, Ecma."

Macro's face was an unreadable mask, but

Ecma smiled openly at them. "This is a great

honor," she said, and her voice had an almost

musical ring to it.

Pike, despite his distant cordiality,

immediately found her to be a complete charmer.

Inwardly he warned himself against having this sort of

reaction to anyone; he did not want to lose his

professional distance. After all, he'd almost done

that with Vina, he thought, and look at the problems that

had led to.

He heard Tyler gasp next to him and was

faintly annoyed. He turned and saw that the

navigator was indeed gaping at her openly,

apparently unable to contain some sort of fixation

he'd developed for her the moment she'd appeared

in the transporter. Why in the world had he become

so abruptly obsessed with Ecma ...

Ec ... ma ...

Ma.

Oh, Lord. It hadn't been something as inane as

Tyler calling for his mother. He'd been muttering the

name of a female he had not yet met.

Tyler caught his glance and in a low voice

affirmed what Pike had already figured out.

"It's her!"

Oh, perfect, thought Pike. This just got

trickier.

Chapter Five 59

A fine array of foods from all over the

Federation had been set out for the reception, and Zyo

seemed to delight in sampling all that was being

offered. The one known as Alt at first seemed

intent on standing over in a corner and glowering, but the

extremely personable Boyce appeared

to assign himself the duty of drawing Alt out of his

self-created shell. During the buffet Pike

cast an occasional glance in Boyce's direction

and couldn't help but smile as Boyce serenely

plied Alt with some sort of booze, the nature

and origin of which Pike felt a bit safer not

knowing.

Pike also could not help but notice that Tyler

was spending an inordinate amount of time in close

conversation with the woman called Ecma. For her part,

she seemed eminently entertained by him, and Pike

couldn't help but feel a certain degree of

discomfiture. So much so, in fact, that while

Zyo was in what appeared to be a deep conference with

Spock and Number One, Pike drifted over

to Tyler and, with a loud clearing of his throat, asked

Ecma if she might not excuse Tyler for a few

moments so his captain could have a brief ^w with him.

"Is there a problem, Captain?" asked

Tyler, perplexed.

Pike slightly swirled the liquid in his

glass. "Why don't you tell me?"

"If you mean that I've been talking with

Ecma--"

"Do not forget, Lieutenant," Pike said,

"where your priorities are."

"They're right where they always are," Tyler

dead-panned. Then, when he saw that his captain was

not remotely amused, Tyler was all seriousness.

"Sir, I find her a fascinating individual.

She's bright, witty, and extremely interested in

m--in us. But I have no intention of being remiss

in my duties as a Starfleet officer."

"Good," said Pike. He took another sip,

but his gaze never left Tyler. "See that you

don't."

Tyler nodded and turned back to Ecma.

Pike, for his part, still felt a degree of

uncertainty. Tyler was an excellent

navigator and a reliable officer, but he also

tended to be hot-blooded and even excessively

romantic--a combination that could be extremely

dicey. 61

Zyo put his drink down and said in a voice that

portended announcement, "Captain Pike ...

officers ... you have been most patient, and

extremely civilized. I believe that this would be

the appropriate time to explain to you just who we are

and what's going on."

Pike put down his drink and folded his arms.

"I could not agree more."

Zyo nodded slightly and put down his own

glass. "The Calligar," he said, "as you might

have surmised, are an extremely advanced people."

"Far more advanced than you," added Alt, his

speech slightly slurred. "No offense."

"None taken," said Pike. Inwardly he was

amused. Advanced they may be, he thought, but if

he could judge by Alt, they couldn't hold their

liquor worth a damn.

Zyo was also aware of Alt's slightly

inebriated state, but he seemed to be enjoying it

as much as Pike. "Yes, we are advanced ...

but we are also something of an insular people. We have no

planetary neighbors, which fact undoubtedly

helped shape our development. We keep very much

to ourselves. Our philosophy is one of total

isolation."

"We have our own philosophy," said Pike.

"One that stipulates that we do nothing to interfere in

the affairs of other planets."

"A solid philosophy."

"But it has not made us isolationist," continued

Pike. "Simply ... cautious."

"Ah, now you see, in that respect you might be

more advanced than ourselves." Zyo smiled. This

prompted a snort from Alt, but then he started

to teeter backwards, and it was only Macro's

quick intervention that prevented him from tilting over

completely. Ecma cut off a quick giggle and

buried her face in Tyler's shoulder to smother

it--a gesture that made Tyler immediately

self-conscious--and he gently pushed her off

himself.

"However," continued Zyo, "although we have never

sought out contact, there have been arguments, long

carried on purely in a hypothetical context,

that if we were contacted by others, we could not simply

turn away."

Now Ecma spoke up. "My father is one of the

chief proponents of that philosophy. And

Alt, for that matter, is one of his chief

opponents." 63

"That is correct," said Alt firmly. Then

he belched.

"Since I am the Master Builder," said

Zyo, "I am the overseer of the advancements of the

Calligar. Alt, for his part, is responsible

for watching over our philosophical and

societal growth. Of course, since our

society is dedicated to not growing--"

This actually seemed to stir Alt from his haze,

and he stabbed a finger at Zyo. "That," he

growled, "is a gross oversimplification. You

know that, Zyo. But then again, maybe you're

simplifying matters because you feel that these ...

persons ... could not hope to grasp the

subtleties of Calligarian philosophy.

Of the Harmony, and the Worldmi--"

"Alt."

Zyo had snapped at his peer with a fierceness that

was, curiously, without heat, but filled with

unmistakable warning. Alt's eyes seemed

to cloud over for a moment, as if he was mentally

reviewing what had just been said, and then his eyes

widened slightly. Apparently he was surprised

at his own ^ws. He looked down, chastened.

Zyo, utterly composed, turned back

to Pike and said, "Curious that I would be more

attendant to our philosophies than Alt.

Then again, I would seem to be a bit more

clearheaded," he added pointedly before continuing.

"Because of our dislike of expansionism, we have no

active program of space exploration--indeed,

no vehicles beyond what is needed to service our

Worldnet."

"That's what you call the cities that encircle

that world?" asked Number One.

"Quite correct. That world was once our homeworld

--st is, to some degree. Oddly enough," said

Zyo, pacing in a small circle, his hands behind

his back, "we almost destroyed it through pollution and

misuse. Several of your centuries ago it

became virtually unlivable, and what we had

intended to do was move on to other planets, other

worlds. But then we realized, as a people, that that was

totally inappropriate. We were viewing space

expansion as a means of solving a pollution

problem. As a means of a late repair to our own

environmental and societal slovenliness. What

we would have done, in all likelihood, was continue

our irresponsible ways on other worlds.

"Instead, it was agreed--" 65

"Who agreed?" asked Pike. "You have some

sort of governing board?"

"It was agreed," repeated Zyo with a tone of

voice that indicated that Pike was stepping beyond the

bounds of what Zyo wished to discuss, "that we had

to solve our own problems without taking the chance of

visiting them upon other worlds. That if we could not

solve the difficulties within our own sphere, we

did not deserve to continue as a race."

"Interesting decision," said Pike.

"It was the only one that seemed"--Ecma

appeared to be searching for the right ^w--?humane,"

she said finally.

"What developed is the scientific breakthrough

that I'm sure your sensors have already detected.

The self-regenerating plasma that fuels our

Worldnet."

"It would appear to be, on the surface," said

Spock, "in violation of the laws of

thermodynamics."

"We appealed the laws to a higher court,"

Zyo told him evenly. "From that discovery

extended the creation of the Worldnet, and our many other

advancements. And the philosophy of keeping to ourselves

took hold as well, pervading much of our thinking.

Here, in our relatively remote section of the

galaxy, such an ideology seemed eminently

workable. At the same time, isolationism can seem

a very narrow-minded way in which to go about living one's

life.

"It would appear, however, that the fabric of the

galaxy had its own answer to that."

"The rift?" asked Pike.

Zyo nodded. "The rift."

"So it's not a phenomenon that you created?"

asked Spock. He actually sounded quite

surprised.

"Not at all," Zyo said. "Utterly

natural. Much of the time it is virtually and

literally undetectable. However, every"--he seemed

to be doing a quick calculation--?e 33.4 of your

years, it opens."

"Brigadoon," said Tyler.

Everyone looked at him, and Tyler,

momentarily embarrassed, said with a shrug, "It's

an old story. A place where everyone sleeps

the entire time except for one day every hundred

years."

"Interesting," said Zyo. "Brigadoon, then,

if you wish. The rift opens and 67

stabilizes for approximately seventy-two of

your hours."

"Approximately?" said Pike uneasily.

"Yes. So I would suggest you monitor the

rift's activities quite closely. Unless you

wish to be permanent guests," said Zyo. He

continued to circle the briefing room as he said,

"We became aware that, in other parts of the

galaxy, life was developing and advancing. I

admit to some curiosity on our part as to the

nature and direction that it was taking. There were some,

like myself, who wished to interact with those developing

civilizations. Others"--he glanced very quickly at

Alt--?did not. No matter. When you made your

communication to us through the rift as it was just beginning

to open, it caused quite a flurry of discussion, I

can assure you. It's quite fortunate that your

subspace radio transmissions move faster

than the speed of light, or the temporal

nature of the rift might have caused your

transmission to reach us after you were long dead."

"Indeed," said Pike. "So ... where do we go

from here?"

Zyo spread his hands. "We wish to discuss

philosophies with you. Subtleties that are

difficult to discern from our scan of your computers.

We wish to know you as potential ... neighbors,

if you will."

"Oh, nonsense," snapped Alt. "We

want to study you to make sure that you're not

warlike barbarians. Someday, this century or

next, you will make incursions into our own space

under your own power. We need to know what we'll be

dealing with."

"Even should that time come," said Pike, "and I can

assure you that it will be long after all of us are gone

--but even if that time comes, the Federation will

respect your desire for privacy. If you

make it clear that you do not wish to be contacted, then

we will honor that privacy."

"Now you say that," said Alt. Much to his

credit, he seemed to have shrugged off some of the

intoxicating effects of the liquor. But he still

wavered as he walked slowly toward Pike and

continued. "However, as you yourself just pointed out,

contact with us can continue long after you are less than

a memory. Who knows what the future of your

Federation may hold. Therefore, it is in our best

interests and out of concern for our personal privacy

and safety that we be kept apprised of 69

you."

"We have no secrets," said Pike, spreading

his hands. "I am certain that we will be able to work

together and allay your concerns."

"That is all we wished to know," said Zyo.

"Tomorrow I will show you around one of our major

cities, so you can get a feel for what the

Calligar are like. In the meantime, to give you some

indication as to our own sincerity"--he turned toward

Spock and Number One--?while perusing your

computers I noted very recent research that has

been developed by a man called Richard

Daystrom. Is that correct?"

"Dr. Daystrom designed the Enterprise

computers," said Spock. "Since their original

installation there has been further research

developed."

"Improvement in data access capability,"

Number One told him. "In fact, next

month we were scheduled ..." Suddenly she

stopped, uncertain if she should be discussing the

upcoming schedule of the Enterprise, and she

looked to Pike. Pike gave a small shrug

and gestured, and Number One continued. "We were

scheduled to lay in at a Starbase and have the new

components and work installed in the ship's computer.

Voice access and replies instead of only

paper printouts and screen arrays. Daystrom

has designed the new components, and they're in the

process of being built."

"They're in your cabin," said Zyo.

They stared at him uncomprehendingly. "I

beg your pardon?" said Number One.

"I arranged for the completed components to be in

your cabin," Zyo said calmly.

"But ... they won't .be completed for another

two weeks," Number One told him.

"Yes, but you see, your scientists had already

done all the work." Zyo smiled. "We didn't

use our advanced technology to do any of that work

for you. We merely followed those plans to create

the actual hardware for you. It does not detract

from the accomplishments of your Dr. Daystrom at

all; indeed, if you wish, once you get to your

Starbase you can remove the components we have given

you and install the Daystrom-issued ones. They will be

indistinguishable, I can assure you."

"You're telling us," said Pike in

astonishment, "that you studied the advancements in

design made by Dr. Daystrom that were in 71

our computer library base and were able to turn those

designs into actual working models ... in a

day?"

"Certainly not, Captain Pike," said

Zyo. "Not in a day."

"How long, then?"

Zyo couldn't help but smile, and he tried not

to sound too smug.

"Five minutes," he said.

No one could recall a time that they had seen

Number One actually dashing down the hallway.

But this time she most definitely was, her legs

pumping furiously. Crewmen were jumping to get the

hell out of her way.

Right behind her came Spock, and the Vulcan was

inwardly amazed at the woman's speed.

Despite his superior Vulcan

physiognomy, he was hard-pressed to keep up

with her.

Moments later they were in her cabin, and there on

a dresser was a large case. Number One

flipped it open and gazed in astonishment at the

contents.

There were all the components that she had only read

about, nestled in some sort of cushioning that held

them immobile. She pointed at one. "That's the

A3 Interface Module."

Spock nodded and tapped a flat piece with a

circle in the middle. "This is the Model 83

Logic Integrator."

She looked up at Spock. "This is

incredible. It's all here. All of it. Everything

I've read about."

It was the closest that Spock had ever--for that

matter, that anyone had ever--heard Number One

get to genuine excitement or enthusiasm. Within a

moment she had managed to mask completely whatever

exhilaration she might be feeling.

Number One's main interest, beyond her duties

at helm, was computers. In that she overlapped,

naturally, with Spock, and they had spent many

hours discussing the limitations of their current

systems and speculating about the possibilities

for the future. Spock continually got the

impression that Number One's abilities were beyond

what she habitually let on, and he wondered at

odd moments just how much she was capable of.

It seemed now he might have the chance to find out.

She looked him in the eyes with an intense 73

gaze and said, "Can we do this? Can we install this?"

Spock pursed his lips a moment in thought.

"We shall have to run full diagnostics to make

certain that these components are what they appear

to be. Caution would dictate--"

She waved that off dismissively. "That will take

an hour or so. After that ... can we do it,

Spock?"

Slowly he nodded. "I believe we can."

"Fantastic," she said. "Let's get to it."

"Now?" Spock was a bit surprised.

She looked at him evenly. "Do you have any

better plans, Mr. Spock?"

He considered. "None at all."

"Then let's go."

Chapter Six

"This is incredible."

Jos@e Tyler was standing in the middle of a

desert. He turned around slowly, feeling the

intense heat of the sun beating down on him. "This

... this is incredible," he said again.

From nearby Ecma was smiling, and she said,

"Would you care to see something else?"

"Like what?"

"Like ... anything." She shrugged, and the world

blurred for an instant, replaced by a

snow-covered mountainside. Tyler looked down

to discover that he was up to his ankles in snow. His

breath was coming out in little clouds. "Incredible," he

said again, starting to feel a little repetitive.

The air was chilled and snapping around him, and he

was glad that he was wearing the standard-issue gray

jackets that landing parties usually sported when

leaving the confines of the Enterprise. "There've

been discussions, theories about holograph

technology," said Tyler. "But this ... this is

beyond anything we can even begin to discuss.

Holograph, but--"

"Substantial," affirmed Ecma.

"Instantaneous creation of matter, and discreation as

well."

"Discreation?"

"We can make it and unmake it," she said.

She held out a hand. "Come."

He began to walk with her, utterly amazed at

it all. It was difficult for him to comprehend that

he was inside one of the satellite cities of the

Calligarian Worldnet. The illusions-- 75

no, not illusions, the real holographs--t were

created by the Calligarian technology were nothing

short of astounding.

"I can't imagine the Federation ever having

anything like this," said Tyler. He squatted,

picked up a handful of snow, and began to shape it.

"Oh, you will," said Ecma. "We've studied

the exponential growth rate of your scientific

progress. We estimate that you will have developed

similar technology within the next six of your

decades."

"You mean in my lifetime?" Tyler shook his

head. "Remarkable." Then he nodded in

approval, feeling the heft of the snowball in his

hand. "Good packing snow."

"Packing snow?" she asked.

He looked at her in surprise. "What, you

never packed snow? Never made a snowball?"

She shook her head. "I've familiarized

myself with it. I'm familiar with all of the

environments that once existed on our planet.

B"--she frowned--?why would you make a

snowball? What purpose does it serve?"

He looked at her uncomprehending face, and

then down at the snowball. Then he drew his arm

back and hurled it.

His aim was just a bit off. It smacked

satisfyingly against her upper right shoulder, and the

impact caught her so totally off-guard that it

knocked her right off her feet. She sat down

hard in the snow with a surprised "Whufffrom!"

Tyler stood over her, laughing.

"Now what was the purpose in that?" she demanded.

"It was ... well, it was supposed to be

fun."

She pierced him with a steady stare. "Fun?" she

said incredulously.

"Yeah. Fun." Jos@e was starting to feel a

bit defensive.

"I don't understand. I'm standing here," she said,

beginning to pull herself to her feet, "making no

overt action against you. Being friendly. Obeying my

father's instructions to give you a glimpse of our

holotechnology. And what's the first thing you do?

You use our technology to create a weapon--"

"Oh, for--"

"A primitive weapon, to be sure. But a

weapon. And then you employ it against someone who is

acting as your guide. Now I ask you,

Lieutenant, are those the actions of an 77

enlightened race? Of an intelligent and thoughtful

civilization?"

He turned away from her, feeling embarrassed

and ashamed. "Oh ... look. I didn't mean

anything by it. It's not like there was any hostility

intended. It was just ... just misplaced humor.

That's all." He started to turn back to her.

"You know, sometimes our sense of humor can be--"

The snowball hurtled through the air with pinpoint

accuracy and hit him flush in the face. The snow

went up his nose and made his eyes water for a

moment, and he shoved the snow off his face with

astonishment.

Ecma was laughing and pointing. "You were right,

Lieutenant. That was very funny!"

"Ohhhh! Oh, you--" And he lunged

playfully after her. She dodged away and rolled

down a snowbank. Tyler leapt after her, sliding

down on his belly in pursuit.

The Calligarian architecture was some of the

most impressive that Pike and Boyce had ever

seen. A stroll down one of the main streets

allowed them to admire the graceful, arched spires

that were above, below, and around them. Pike couldn't

detect any sudden increase in the angle of the

street that they were on, but still they seemed to be

ascending. Above them the stars were twinkling through the

clear dome that covered the entire city, and Pike

could make out the large connectors that led into another

city nearby.

"What's the function of those huge cables?"

Pike asked at length.

"Twofold," replied Zyo. "They link the

various functioning systems of the Worldnet into one

unifying whole. They are also the main means of

transport between the different cities. If you

wish to travel between the cities, your body is

reduced to a particle stream and shot through the

connector cables to your destination."

"You said they also linked the functioning systems,"

said Pike. "May I ask how?"

Zyo half smiled and said, "You may ask."

Boyce noticed that their presence was garnering a

good number of looks from the passing Calligar people,

but no one seemed to have anything to say to them one way

or the other. They were objects of curiosity and

cautious interest, much like a two-headed

parakeet. But nothing more than that.

"Here is my home," said Zyo, and 79

he passed through a solid door. The metal of the

door seemed to ripple around him and then reseal

itself.

Pike and Boyce looked at each other and then

Pike gestured grandly. "After you, Doctor."

"You're too kind," said Boyce dryly.

He looked at the door, took a deep breath,

and strode forward. He hit the door and kept on

going, and then, a moment later, there was no hint that

he had ever gone through.

Pike took a breath and realized that Boyce

might, at this moment, be dead, and he could be

following the doctor into oblivion. "In for a

penny, in for a pound," he muttered, and he walked

through.

He felt a bizarre tingling sensation, quite

unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He

stopped breathing because, just for a moment, he felt no

need to breathe. It was as if the metal was supplying

his body with whatever it needed to survive, and

Pike realized that if he never took another

step forward or backward he could probably

survive indefinitely within the confines of the door.

Not that that would be the most fulfilling of lives

to live.

But he did indeed take another step and a

moment later reemerged.

There was no room on the other side.

At least, nothing that Pike could readily

discern. All around him was absolutely nothing,

breathtaking in its nothingness. Just pure white, for

as far as he could see. Nothing above him, and nothing

...

Nothing below.

Pike grasped, fighting an immediate feeling of

vertigo. His mind told him that at any moment

he was going to start plummeting to some great unknown

depth.

But no such plunge was forthcoming. Instead he

simply stood there, the whiteness seeming to laugh

at him.

Of Boyce and Zyo there was no sign at

all.

The snow-covered hills had given way to a

tranquil forest setting. Ecma wandered along the

well-trod path with easy certainty, and Tyler

followed behind her.

She moved with a grace Tyler found

absolutely intriguing, and every so often she 81

would cast a glance over her shoulder at him. He

found her captivating.

All of his internal warning buzzers were going

off. He had a nasty habit of developing immediate

crushes on women and imagining all sorts of

possibilities with them. And then the fantasies

would invariably not pan out. Garison had once

given him the tag "The Latin Lover," and although

it had been done tongue-in-cheek, Tyler had

felt constrained to turn the tables on Garison

by living up to the title. The fact that, within a

month of being so dubbed by Garison, Tyler had

romanced away Garison's girlfriend had done

nothing to endear Tyler to Garison.

So Tyler's problem was that he was never certain

when he was attracted to a female--which was often--

whether it was out of compulsion to maintain his image,

or because he genuinely felt something.

"Tell me about yourself," he said as he stepped

over a log. "All I know about you is that you're

Zyo's daughter. Do you have a mother? Can I meet

her?"

"No," said Ecma slowly. "She is gone."

"Oh. I'm sorry," said Tyler. "She

died, huh?"

"It was her time," said Ecma with what sounded like

a sort of forced detachment.

It was clear to Tyler that she had said all about that

that she wished to say, so he changed subjects.

"Do you have a job or something?"

She nodded as she pushed aside a branch.

"Yes. My job is that I am Zyo's

daughter."

"And what does that entail?"

She glanced back at him and smiled. "Are you

trying to get information out of me, Lieutenant?"

"Well, now, I--"

She laughed that delightful laugh of hers. It

had a bell-like quality that accentuated the alienness

of her (as if red skin and two slits instead of a

nose weren't sufficient.) "It's quite all right.

It's understandable that you're curious about us. We,

after all, are openly curious about you." She

paused. "My father is the Master Builder, as you

know. I am his apprentice." She smiled

thinly. "That does not sit well with my brother."

"Why not?"

"Because he is the elder. But my father believes

that I am the more techno inclined."

"Are these kinds of things usually done 83

on the basis of age?"

"That depends whom you talk to," said Ecma.

"If you believe my brother, then yes. If you

attend to my father, then no."

Tyler tripped slightly over a root but then

righted himself. From up ahead he heard the sound of

water running ... a waterfall, he realized.

It had been so long since he had heard one that it

filled him with a dull ache. He hadn't seen a

waterfall since he was eleven years old.

Ecma had said that this extraordinary

holotechnology would exist within his lifetime.

Imagine being able to, for example, be in a

starship, but use holotechnology to create

scenes from home, or wherever. Somehow his lifetime

seemed ... well ... a lifetime away.

The path angled down, and Tyler saw the

source of the waterfall. There was a gorgeous

lake that spread out in front of them, and the

waterfall was emptying into it. The surface was like

glass, and the air was thick with the scent of pine.

He turned toward Ecma and started to speak, and

to his shock, he saw Ecma was pulling her

clothes off. "Uhm ... excuse me ... what

do you think ..."

She had already removed her shirt, and Tyler was

taking note of the fact that it appeared,

biologically, she was extremely similar to earth

females. "Look, Ecma ..."

"Is something wrong?" she asked. "Come

swimming with me."

"I don't think that would be appropriate."

She removed the remainder of her garments, and the

rest of her development was apparently parallel

to humans as well.

God! He was doing biological comparisons!

He really had been out in space too long.

"The water is wonderful," Ecma was saying.

"This is one of my favorite places." She

turned and leapt into the water, cleaving it cleanly.

Watching her swim through the water, he felt there

was blood pounding through every cell in his body--not

excluding his hair and fingernails. Ecma spun

about in the water and, facing him, waved for him

to jump in.

"Ooooohhh boy," he said.

"Doctor!" shouted Pike into the blankness.

"Phil!"

"You don't have to shout, Captain," 85

came Boyce's calm response.

A door seemed to open straight out of the

nothingness, and Boyce stepped out, looking at

Pike in concern. Zyo was next to him. "I'm

right here," continued Boyce.

"Zyo, what"--Pike gestured helplessly--

"what is all this?"

"Well, I was just explaining to the doctor,"

said Zyo patiently. "Our homes are very

subjective."

"Subjective?" Pike clearly didn't

understand.

"It's the ultimate in being made to feel at

home, Captain," said Boyce expansively.

"You're not seeing it yet because your mind isn't

calm enough."

"Seeing what?" said Pike, trying to hide his

exasperation.

"Our personal environments are subjected

to individual whim and taste," said Zyo. "It's

very subliminal."

"Subliminal?" said Pike, sinking down into a

chair. "How can it be subliminal?"

"Decorations, fixtures, and so on all stem

from your subconscious mind," said Zyo easily.

"As a result, you are never subjected to the

design whims of the homeowner. You always create

your own personal environment."

"You mean each individual does?" asked

Pike, drumming his fingers on the teak coffee

table to his right.

"That's correct," said Boyce. "I, for

example, am at this very moment seeing a room

done up entirely in Louis XIV

furniture. I have no idea what you're

seeing."

"But I'm not seeing ..." Then Pike's

voice trailed off as he came to the slow

realization that he was, in fact, sitting in a

chair and rapping on a table. He glanced around.

The entire room had taken on a very nautical

flavor, with a barometer hanging on the wall

opposite and a variety of heavy, polished

furniture that looked as if it would have been at

home in the cabin of a captain of a Spanish

galleon. It seemed to have sneaked up on him

one moment the blankness, and now this.

"Very impressive," he said finally.

"Not to us," said Zyo graciously. "I'm

pleased you find it so interesting. Do you 87

paint, Captain?"

"You mean portraits and such?" He shrugged.

"I dabbled with it in my youth. Never was very good."

"Over here, then." Zyo gestured for him

to follow, and Pike got up from his extremely

comfortable seat. He slowed when passing Boyce

to ask, in a low voice, "Louis XIV?"

"Call me sentimental. What do you see,

Chris?"

"Just the interior of my quarters, as usual,"

said Pike blandly. "Yo u know me, Doctor.

No imagination."

Tyler's imagination was running wild as he

started to pull open his jacket.

He could see himself peeling down and leaping into the

water with her, swimming toward her with sure, strong

strokes. He saw himself pulling her to him, the

two of them causing the water to bubble and come to a

boil, her legs wrapped around him, the ...

The captain. Showing up unexpectedly, standing

on the shore, hands on his hips, scowling

fiercely. The anger, the lecture, the snickering

back on the ship when ...

He cleared his throat, the vocal cords of which

seemed to have become paralyzed, and he called

to her. "Uhm ... I think I'd better stay

here."

"Oh, but the water is so splendid," she said.

"Not half as ... uhm." He cut himself off

again. He sat down on a rock and waved weakly

to her. "I think ... yeah, definitely, I'd

better stay here. Tell me ... tell me more

about your people. What do you believe in?"

"Believe in?" She was doing the backstroke.

She had to be doing the backstroke, now,

didn't she? Damn. Damn.

"Uh ... yeah. Like ... do you believe in

God? Or in some sort of maker of all things?"

She brought her legs down (mercifully,

mercifully) and trod water, one of the least

inflammatory things she could have done. "Of

course," she said.

"Okay. Uh ... what do you believe?"

"My father. He is the maker of all things.

He is the Master Builder, as was his father before

him, and his mother before him, and so on back." She

grinned. "And someday I shall be the maker of all

things ... and won't that infuriate my brother?"

She suddenly spun in the water and dived 89

under, her buttocks momentarily projecting

cheerily in the air before disappearing under the

surface.

"Yes, so you said," said Tyler, even though she

couldn't hear him. For that matter she couldn't see

him now, either, but nevertheless he crossed his legs and

coughed once loudly.

She broke the surface a few feet away

from him and continued to tread water. Trying to stick

to business, Tyler said, "And, uh, what do you

think happens to you after you die?"

At that a shadow crossed her face

momentarily, and then she brightened, although it didn't

seem to be without effort. "What does that

matter?" she said.

"Well ... I'm interested."

"I'm not," she said. "I'm interested in all

manner of things. Bioengineering, holography

... all sorts of things. But not in what happens

to you after you die. I'm not going to die for a long,

long time. I enjoy living much too much."

She paddled forward and emerged from the water,

Venus on the shell, the water rolling off her.

Her skin was curious, the water beading on it as

if she had a water repellent on her body.

She brushed the drops away and, still smiling,

came toward him.

He took a step back and said, "You know, as

a Starfleet officer--"

"You wanted to know more about our philosophies?"

she asked. "We don't believe in

prevaricating. We don't believe in tiptoeing

around our feelings." She ran her fingers up his

shirt, and the nearness of her was intoxicating.

"There are"--he cleared his throat loudly--

"there are certain rules. ...

She nibbled at the base of his neck and then

ran her tongue up, tracing the line of his jaw.

Then she buried her face in the nape of his

neck.

"Well, it's ... it's actually more

guidelines than rules," he said. She was

reaching up and massaging his temples in a manner

he had never experienced. That, combined with the way her

mouth was playing across his throat, made him

dizzy.

Well ... the captain had said to find out all

there was to find out about these people ... he was just following

orders, after all.

91

Pike's communicator sounded, and he flipped

it open. "Captain here."

"This is Barry, sir," came the engineer's

voice. "This energy system they have here ... it's

amazing."

"They're giving you free access?" asked

Pike, casting a glance at Zyo. To his

surprise, Zyo shook his head.

Barry immediately confirmed Zyo's negative

warning. "No, sir. There are certain sections

where they're telling me I can't go. They say

it's too advanced for me." The annoyance, even

offense, in the engineer's tone was unmistakable.

Barry had never been particularly good at concealing

irritation.

"As you know, Captain," Zyo said, "we are

cautious when discussing details of our

technology. We do not want to do anything that will

accelerate you beyond the level that you are ready

to reach."

How condescending of you, Pike thought briefly,

but he immediately quelled the judgment. Zyo was right,

of course. It was merely a reflection of

exactly how the Federation felt about their own

technology. On a planet where the furthest

someone had progressed was the invention of the

revolver, the Enterprise would never show up and

explain the detailed workings of a hand phaser.

"Be satisfied with what we are shown, Mr.

Barry," said Pike. "Whatever you learn will be

enough."

"Aye, sir," sighed the engineer.

Pike turned back to the canvas in front of

which he was standing. An image was half completed on

it, and Zyo was studying it in appreciation, as was

Boyce. "Very impressive for a first-time artist,"

said Zyo approvingly.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Captain,"

said Boyce.

A "canvas" was only Pike's name for it,

since it hardly had a scrap of canvas on it.

It was a piece of solid, clear material, about

two by three feet, or at least that's how it had

started out. Pike had been placing his hands against it

at Zyo's instruction and bringing an image to his

mind with as much strength as he could. Slowly a

picture had been forming out of whatever materials

composed the "canvas," appearing as if by magic.

It seemed, to Boyce's practiced eye, to be

an Orion female in mid-dance step, 93

but he couldn't be quite sure. The outlines had formed

first, and now Pike was busy assembling the

details.

Yes, it was an Orion female, all right.

The green skin was unmistakable. She was nude,

a bit more erotic than Boyce would have expected

from Pike. The captain had been making

murmurings about going off and being a trader of such

women not too long ago, a notion that Boyce had

made light of. Now he started to wonder if

maybe he hadn't been just a bit hasty.

Her chin was tilted back, her eyes filled with

fire and lust, her upper teeth just slightly

chewing on her lower lip. Her arms were arched over

her head, her hips thrust outward.

Remarkably, Boyce could even tell that she was

covered with a sheen of sweat from her dance.

He leaned forward and muttered to Pike,

"Somebody you know?"

"No," said Pike.

"That wouldn't happen to be that girl you mentioned?

Vi--"

"No," said Pike, even more firmly. The

sort of voice that he used only when he was

covering something, and Boyce wisely chose not

to pursue it.

"So," said Zyo as Pike turned up the

shade of green in the dancing girl just a notch,

"tell me ... about your enemies."

Tyler was drowning in her, and that was when a rough

hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

He heard Ecma gasp, and then he was swung

around to find himself staring into the face of Macro,

twisted in rage.

"Hi," said Tyler.

Macro hurled Tyler heels over head,

sending him tumbling into the mud and dirt nearby.

Tyler was immediately on his feet, just in time to see

Macro charging at him. From behind him the naked

Ecma was shouting something angrily, and Macro

wasn't paying any attention to her.

Tyler knew from the very first contact that Macro was

exceedingly strong. Macro had made no effort

at all when he had used Tyler for a shotput.

Nor did he seem to have an evenness of temper

to augment it.

"Macro, stop it!" shouted Ecma, and she

grabbed at his arm. Perhaps the lack of clothes on

her part was damaging to her authority. She 95

certainly didn't seem to have much impact on

Macro, because he shoved her aside as if she

weighed nothing and came once more at Tyler.

Tyler put his guard up, and Macro

attacked with no particular artistry or even,

apparently, a plan. Macro swung several

quick rights, none of which managed to get through Tyler's

guard. Tyler struck back with a quick flurry of

rights and lefts, several of which landed, snapping

Macro's head back. It was extremely

satisfying, and Tyler danced around him, keeping his

fists and feet in motion, stinging fiercely with his

jabs and ducking or blocking each of Macro's

vicious rights.

Satisfying until Macro suddenly landed a

left with enough force to rattle Tyler's teeth.

Tyler sat down hard, the world spinning around him.

Sloppy. Damned sloppy. Macro had set

him up and then switched hands. How could he have been

so stupid?

"You keep away from my sister," snarled

Macro.

"He didn't do anything," Ecma was saying

angrily. "He was trying not to, at any

rate. I wasn't giving him a lot of

options."

"Cover yourself," said Macro angrily.

"No. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Lieutenant, do you think I have anything to be

ashamed of?" She stood there defiantly, her

hands on her hips.

"Not from where I'm sitting," said Tyler. He

was trying with all his might to stop the world from spinning

around.

And suddenly Macro reached down and lifted him

completely off the ground. Tyler's feet were

dangling high, and in a desperate maneuver he

slammed a foot into Macro's stomach. Macro

grunted but otherwise didn't seem to notice.

"You are so ... so suffocating, Macro,"

Ecma was saying angrily. "You've always been like

this, ever since I can remember."

"And ever since I can remember, you have done

whatever you wanted in order to anger me!"

"The Worldnet does not revolve around you,

Macro," snapped Ecma, "and you would do well

to remember that!"

Tyler felt Macro's grip tightening in

anger, cuttin g off his air. "For an advanced

race," he gagged, "you have some ... 97

pretty petty squabbles."

Macro seemed to notice him for the first time.

He glared into Tyler's eyes and snarled, "Oh,

you think so?"

"It had ... crossed my mind."

Macro turned quickly, stomped over to the

lake, and--bbf Ecma or Tyler could react--

shoved the navigator under the water. Tyler,

caught off-guard, began to choke. Macro eased

up on his grip ever so slightly; Tyler's

lungs reflexively tried to draw in air ...

and only got water.

He heard Ecma yelling, but it was from a

distance, and it seemed to be growing more distant with each

passing moment.

Chapter Seven

Number One wiped the sweat from her brow and

drew herself up the computer core's Jeffries

tube once more. She was in close quarters with

Spock, who was checking over the data rerouting

systems, and he tossed a glance at the first

officer. Her concentration on her task was total;

she had not said anything to him in the past five hours

beyond crisp instructions or demands for information.

She was not one for small talk.

She studied the calibrations once more and then

wiped her hands. "All right," she said slowly.

She actually sounded nervous for a moment. "All

right, I think that's it."

Spock nodded, his back pressed up against

hers. "I believe you are correct."

"So let's see what we've got. You

installed that voice-integrating circuit up on

the bridge?"

"As you instructed." He carefully modulated

his response so as to disguise his irritation over the

fact that this was the fifth time she had asked him about

it.

"Good." She gave the systems one more check.

"I've done the primary setups at this end,

plus imprinted a preliminary interface

program. It should be ready."

With an inclination of her head she indicated that

Spock should slide down out of the tube first. He

did so and then helped her down. They looked at

each other for a moment and couldn't help but notice

how disheveled and even a bit tired both of them

appeared. 99

"Let's go get cleaned up," said Number

One, "and then get back up to the bridge to run

a test. Sixteen hundred hours?"

"That seems a logical plan."

She nodded, and they started toward their

respective cabins. Spock paused a moment

at the door to his and said, "Number One, should the

captain not be present for the preliminary test?"

She considered a moment and then said, "I'd rather

not."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I may ask

..."

"Because if it doesn't work, I don't want

him to be there to see me fail." Andwith that she

turned and walked away.

Spock watched her go and, arms folded, shook

his head slowly. "Fascinating," he said.

"So the major enemy of the Federation is the

Klingon Empire," said Zyo thoughtfully. He

was studying the completed portrait of the green

Orion dancing girl and no.ing

appreciatively. "Yes, that is what we

garnered from your computer banks as well."

"I haven't had that much personal contact with

them," Pike said. He was staring at the barometer

and was surprised to see that, according to the dial, a

storm was brewing. He wondered what that meant.

"But they can be extremely deadly. And they are

formidable enemies."

"But why? Your philosophies are so

similar."

Pike looked at Zyo in astonishment. "Are

you certain you read the correct files?"

"Oh, quite certain."

"But they believe that they have a right to conquer

whatever they wish!" said Pike. "They believe that

they are stronger than the Federation and can do what they

want, where they want. They think they are destined

to be the dominant race in the galaxy."

"They believe this because they feel they are the

stronger."

"Yes."

"But your own theories of evolution and natural

selection," said Zyo, "would seem to indicate that

the--what's the phrase?--the survival of the

fittest is, in fact, the natural and correct

order of things. Do you believe that?"

"I believe that evolution is the true manner

in which mankind rose to dominance on earth, 101

yes," said Pike slowly. "But--"

"And the Klingons believe that through natural

selection they are the dominant species, just as

humans grew to be the dominant species on

earth." Zyo seemed amused. "So how are you

different from the Klingons in that respect?"

Pike looked at Boyce for help. The

doctor shrugged. Pike looked back at Zyo

and said, "The difference is that Klingons see only

physical strength as the determinant of

superiority. Their definition of strength is based

entirely on the concept of being able to subjugate

others. But man's dominion over the earth had

nothing to do with physical strength or desire

to subjugate. It had to do with survival, not

conquest."

"Yet in striving for survival mankind wound

up conquering much of their environment. Even nearly

destroying it, much as we did ours." Zyo shook

his head. "It's not the concept of conquest that is so

disturbing to you, Captain. It's the concept that

humankind would be on the receiveg end of that conquest--

just as your planet, and the life forms on that

planet, were on the receiveg end of your own continued

existence, be it called conquest or survival or

whatever you wish."

"The Klingons are different from us," said Pike

firmly.

"Oh, I quite agree."

"Good," Pike said, looking to Boyce in

satisfaction.

"I agree that they are different in that they are the

stronger, and their claims," continued Zyo, "have a

great deal of basis in your own philosophies.

And it is the veracity of those claims that you find so

annoying about the Klingons. It's not because you're so

certain that they're wrong. It's because you're

afraid they might be right."

Pike stared at him and then said, "what are you

saying? That you're on their side?"

"Not at all."

"Because if they encountered you, they would try to conquer

you," said Pike. "As would any number of

warlike races that the Federation knows of. And if that

happened, then you would have the chance to experience firsthand

just how different the Klingons and the Federation are from

each other."

Zyo nodded slightly. "You are no doubt

correct."

"They would try to conquer you," Boyce 103

put in to bolster what his captain was saying.

With an agreeable smile Zyo said, "They would

try. But they would undoubtedly run into ...

trouble."

"We've got trouble."

Number One had just emerged onto the bridge,

and Spock was right behind her. Viola, who had

stepped in to monitor the science station while

Spock was gone, moved aside as Spock came

forward. "Specify," Spock said. Number

One went to the command chair to take her place, but

her full attention was on Viola.

"The rift is closing," said Viola.

"But it hasn't been seventy-two hours,"

said Number One. "It's been ..."

"Forty-eight point nine," Spock told

her. "It would appear that our passage through the

temporal ripple, and the interaction with our own time

warp field, accelerated the rift's

instability."

"Time to full closure?"

Spock began to do mental calculations, and then

to make sure he said, "Computer ..."

"Working," said the computer.

Number One and Spock looked at each

other, and Number One actually smiled before

covering it quickly.

The computer's voice caught everyone on the

bridge--withthe exception of those who had installed

it--completely off-guard. They looked in

astonishment at one another and then at the air from which

the voice had seemed to emerge. The crew knew

that Spock and Number One had been hard at work

at updating the computer, but the actuality was something

else again.

"Time until closure of rift," said

Spock.

"Thirty-two minutes," announced the

computer, which jibed perfectly with what Spock had

determined.

"Raise the landing party," said Number One

quickly. "We've got to get out of here. Now."

"So tell me about your system of government,"

said Pike.

"There isn't all that much to tell," replied

Zyo. "It's fairly simple. We have a

advisory board, and we attend to what they tell

us to do." 105

"But you must have some influence for the contact with us to have

been made."

"Some influence, yes," said Zyo modestly.

"Can we meet this advisory board?"

"I'm afraid that's--"

Pike's communicator suddenly beeped, and

he pulled it out. "Captain here."

"Captain," came Number One's voice,

laced with urgency. "The rift is closing."

Pike looked in surprised betrayal at

Zyo, but he could immediately see from the

Calligarian's expression that it was just as much a

surprise to him. "You must leave immediately," said

Zyo. "Otherwise--"

"How long have we got?" Pike demanded.

"Thirty-one minutes, eleven seconds,"

came Spock's voice.

"Contact the rest of the landing party," said Pike

immediately. "Beam everyone back aboard now."

"We've already brought back Chief Barry,"

said Number One. "But we have been unable

to raise Mr. Tyler."

Pike looked at Zyo in alarm. "Where's

my navigator?" he demanded.

Zyo frowned a moment, and then his face

cleared. "Yes ... of course. He's with my

daughter, as I recall. But I see no

cause for concern. He's in perfectly good

hands."

Macro's hands were firmly on Tyler, shoving

his entire body under the water. Tyler was pounding in

futility on Macro's strong arms and was

wondering obliquely just what he had to do to get the

infuriated Calligarian to let go of him.

He thought he heard his communicator beeping

at him, and then it was knocked free of his belt,

sinking to the silty bottom of the lake.

Frantically, his lungs screaming for air and

getting only water in response, Tyler felt

the side of Macro's hand brush against his mouth.

He bared his teeth and clamped down with everything he

had. To his satisfaction, he heard Macro

yowl in pain, and he managed to kick free of the

Calligarian 's grip. He surfaced,

sputtering and coughing up water. He was still standing

knee-deep in water, though, and Macro was

lurching toward him again.

Suddenly the world shifted once more, and they were

standing on a desert plain. Ecma was in 107

the process of pulling her clothes on, and she was

saying angrily to Macro, "Try to drown him

now, you idiot."

Tyler was on his hands and knees, still violently

coughing up water. Nearby was his communicator,

beeping insistently. Tyler started to roll over

to get to it, and that was when Macro came toward him

and stepped on the communicator. His large foot

crushed the device into small pieces.

"Still no response from Tyler," Number One

said as Pike walked onto the Enterprise

bridge. "Everyone else is aboard." She

rose from the command chair. "Nineteen minutes

to rift closure."

Pike immediately took his place in the chair and

said "Bridge to Engineering. Prepare

hyperdrive, time warp factor two." He

turned to Number One. "Lay in a course for the

rift."

Viola, who had now stepped in at navigation,

said what was on the mind of everyone on the bridge.

"But sir ... Mr. Tyler ..."

"Give me an open channel to the

Calligar," said Pike. The moment he was on

he said, "Zyo. This is Captain Pike. We

have still not ascertained the location of Lieutenant

Jos@e Tyler. It is imperative that he be

found within"--he paused--?fifteen minutes.

Otherwise there may be serious consequences that would

be regrettable for all concerned."

Tyler got to his feet quickly and ducked under

Macro's swing, which brought the Calligarian off

balance. Tyler used the moment to his advantage

and drove a furious mix of rights and lefts

to Macro's gut. Fueled by anger and, to a

certain degree, mortification, Tyler let

himself be pumped up by it, let it drive him. He

felt Macro stagger under the assault, and before the

surprised Calligarian could retaliate,

Tyler drove a left hook to Macro's chin that

knocked him flat.

Macro seemed stunned by the sudden turnaround,

and Ecma stood over him with satisfaction in her

voice, saying, "I hope you feel like a

complete fool, Macro. You certainly deserve

to."

"I would tend to agree," Tyler said

urgently, picking at the smashed bits 109

of his communicator. "But right now I think I'd

better find out what they wanted on the

Enterprise. It could be important."

"Nine minutes, sir," said Spock.

Pike was a block of wood, staring at the

Caligarian homeworld.

"Energize phasers," he said quietly.

Number One turned to him in surprise.

"Sir?"

"Do it," he said.

She turned back and, a moment later,

announced, "Energizing phasers."

"Give me an open channel," he said once

more, and once he had it he said, "Attention,

Calligar. You have one of my people. You will return

him immediately, or I shall be forced to interpret this as a

hostile action and open fire on one of your

satellites."

Within seconds the image of a hurt-looking

Zyo was on the screen. "Captain," he said,

sounding disappointed, "do you truly think threats are

necessary?"

"They may be," said Pike. "One of my men

is missing and you are endangering our ability

to return to our sector of the galaxy."

Zyo shook his head. "It is very clear to me,

Captain, that you and yours still have a way to go before we

can be entirely comfortable with expanded contact. You

automatically assume there is some sort of

hostile intention. Such an attitude would

indicate that, despite your protestations of

peaceful and elevated intent, you are still

fundamentally warlike enough to see attacks where none

are planned."

"What I see," said Pike, "is time

slipping away. And if you cause me to lose a

crew member and make me leave someone behind, you

are going to have a physical manifestation of my

displeasure."

"I understand fully, Captain," said Zyo.

"Perhaps ... I understand more than you wish. Do not be

concerned. I shall attend to this personally."

Ecma and Tyler emerged from the holography

center in time to see an extremely annoyed

Zyo standing just outside. His arms were folded across

his chest, and he said, "Might I ask what you've

been about?"

"I was just showing the lieutenant the 111

center," she said ingenuously. Tyler smiled

gamely.

"I can imagine. Ecma, we'll talk of this

later. Lieutenant, you must depart immediately."

"What?" Ecma looked horrified.

"What? But ... but why?"

"There's no time to discuss this," said Zyo. "The

transport center is nearby. We must go

immediately. Your captain was quite emphatic."

"But--"

"Later, Ecma," said Zyo. "Lieutenant

... now."

Macro, looking sullen and angry, emerged from

the holocenter as well. His petulant gaze

fell on Tyler, but he said nothing.

Ecma took his arm urgently.

"Lieutenant, stay with me. There's so much we

could--"

But he was pulled away from her as Zyo brought

him forcefully to the building designated as the

transport center. Ecma followed, Macro

trailing behind.

They entered the smallish building, and Tyler

saw almost nothing extraordinary about it. There

seemed to be no controls, no pads, no nothing.

Just the empty room that occupied the entirety of the

building. Zyo quickly guided him to the middle of the

room and then stepped back, saying, "My

regards to your captain."

Tyler was looking at Ecma's saddened eyes.

This was all so insane. He had just met her. He

couldn't have such strong feelings for her ... hell,

who was he kidding? Of course he could. He was The

Latin Lover, after all. But this felt ...

different. If ...

"Come with me," he called to her.

Her eyes widened, but before she could say anything

Zyo answered, "That is impossible."

"But--"

"Good-bye, Lieutenant," said Zyo.

Macro had entered and was standing just behind Ecma.

The world of the Calligar began to fade out before

Tyler's eyes, and he saw Ecma's stricken

expression.

And he saw Macro reaching around from behind Ecma

and beginning to fondle her. Her jaw moved

tightly, but she did nothing to stop him. Zyo

saw none of it.

Jos@e Tyler let out a shriek of fury and

lunged toward them, and the next thing he 113

knew he was hurtling across the Enterprise

transporter room and smashing into the console of

Chief Piticairn, who let out a yelp of

astonishment.

"Send me back!" he snarled.

"Like hell!" retorted Pitcairn as he

punched his communications grid. "Bridge, this is

the transporter room. Same thing as before--beams

were activated by outside agencies. Lieutenant

Tyler just materialized."

Tyler immediately bolted from the transporter

room and made it up to the bridge just as the

Enterprise was swinging around and aiming itself straight

toward the rift.

"Captain, you've got to send me back!" said

Tyler.

Pike stared at him as if he'd grown a

third eye. "Get to your post."

"One minute, fifteen seconds," said

Spock.

"Captain, it's an emergency. Ecma

is--"

"ationow." The air fairly crackled with

Pike's cold fury at not getting instant

obedience.

Tyler was seething as well, but there was no way

he was going to stand up to his captain. His every move

carefully controlled, he went to his navigation

station, Viola getting out of the way as quickly as he

could.

"One minute," Spock announced.

"Fifty-nine, fifty-eight--"

"Hyperdrive on line," said Number One.

"Captain, the rift is closing at an

accelerated rate," said Spock. "Revising

countdown--twenty-nine, twenty-eight--"

The rift, its edges coruscating, became more

narrow with each passing second.

"Engage!" shouted Pike.

The Enterprise surged forward and a split

instant later had vaulted into the rift.

Time rippled and shifted about them once more, even

more intense than before, and Pike felt as if his

mind were being torn apart. His gaze was riveted to the

viewscreen, the universe a shimmering haze of

twisting and spiraling colors.

They seemed to snap together, take on a shape

that was remarkably familiar. And he saw something

... saw something impossible.

It was a starship rushing toward them in a 115

dazzling burst of color that enveloped it, coming from

within and without. Another starship, and they were on a

direct collision course.

Pike tried to shout an order, but he couldn't

hear anything over the roaring around him, the roaring of

time, the roaring of the blood in his head. He

didn't know if anyone else could see what was

coming toward them, knew that it was too late even if

they could because it was here, it was here. ...

And then it was gone.

And he realized, in a moment of insane

clarity, that it had been them ... them ... some

sort of bizarre afterimage. Them on their way

to where they had come from. An old song flitted through

his mind--?Hello, I Must Be Going."

And then they were gone. Or rather, they were back. The

world snapped into glorious normalcy, the stars

acquiring their usual alignment.

"Hard about!" shouted Pike, and Number One,

with a steady hand, brought the ship around. They were just in

time to see the rift vanish.

Tyler's hands tightened on the controls at

navigation. There was no sign of the temporal

distortion ever having been there.

From behind him he heard Pike say, "Mr.

Tyler."

Slowly, steeling himself, Tyler turned in his

chair and said evenly, "Yes, sir."

Pike seemed to contemplate him for an

eternity, although it was in fact only a few

seconds. And then he said, quite simply, "Set

course for Vega."

Tyler's jaw fell for just a moment, and then he

quickly composed himself and said, "Yes, sir."

"And Mr. Tyler."

"Yes, sir."

"I expect a full report on my desk

within three hours. A full report, Mr.

Tyler."

Tyler nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."

"That goes for all of you," he said, turning to the

rest of the bridge crew. "Starfleet is going

to want points of view from al l concerned here. This

was a first contact, and we're going to play this by the

book. Mr. Spock, Number One ... how

are those computer components going?"

Number One inclined her head slightly in

Spock's direction, indicating that the junior

officer was welcome to respond. For answer,

Spock said, "Computer ..." 117

"Working."

"Report status of computer and bridge."

"All systems are functioning normally.

Course has presently been set for Vega

IX. Awaiting order from captain."

Spock turned in his chair and looked

patiently at Pike. Pike, too experienced

to let his astonishment show, merely nodded. He

seemed to be frowning, though, as he said

"Hyperdrive, time warp factor one.

Engage."

As the Enterprise catapulted

into hyperdrive Spock could not help but ask,

"Captain, is everything in order? You seem--"

"It's the computer voice," said Pike.

"Somehow it seems famil--" Then his eyes

widened, and he turned in his chair towards his first

officer. "Number One ... the computer. That was

your voice."

"Yes, sir," said Number One.

"You programmed the computer with your voice?"

he said incredulously.

"You may change it when we reach Starbase if

you desire," she said flatly.

"No. No, not at all," he said. "I had

no intention of doing so. I was just curious as to why

you used your voice as the pattern for the

Enterprise computer. It would hardly have been an

arbitrary selection, and I can't see you being vain

enough to--"

"It had nothing to do with vanity, sir," said

Number One crisply. "I wished to use a

voice that commanded respect."

"I see," said Pike.

"In addition," continued Number One,

"Studies have proven that female voices cut

through noise with greater efficiency than male

voices."

"So you're saying female voices get more

attention."

"Correct, sir."

"That being the case," said Pike, "you'd think

there'd be more female commanders."

Slowly Number One turned in her chair and

said, "Yes, sir. I would."

"Should I be concerned about my command future,

Number One, vis @a vis your ambitions?"

"No, sir."

"Good."

"I'll be wanting a bigger ship, 119

sir."

He watched her for a good long time after that to see

if he could catch a hint of a smile.

But he never did.

SECOND CONTACT

Chapter Eight

"All systems functioning normally," said the

voice of Number One.

Mr. Spock turned away from his science station

and said, "Captain, computer diagnostic checks

are completed. All systems functioning

normally."

The captain turned in his command chair and

smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Now

that's a relief," he said with a sigh. "With all the

problems we've been having recently, it's good

to know that something is up to snuff around here."

Spock merely inclined his head slightly in

deference and then added, "Certainly the arrival of

Dr. Daystrom would have been diminished if the

computer had been malfunctioning."

Captain James t. Kirk stood and

stretched, once again regretting the loss of his

old chair. It had had a far more cushiony

feeling to it, and the squared-off armrests had been more

comfortable than the narrow ones on this new chair.

Why was it that people felt an overwhelming need

to improve things that needed no improving? 121

As much as was occasionally gained from such things, far more

was lost.

"Considering Dr. Daystrom's last visit with

us," observed Kirk, "I would hardly think that

he'd care to experience computer malfunctions

again." He took a step forward, flexing his arms

back. "Mr. Sulu, time until we

rendezvous with the transport?"

"Nineteen hours, sir," said Sulu

briskly.

"Good. In that case, I'll attend to our other

guests for a--"

The turbolift door hissed open. This drew

immediate attention, since all authorized bridge

personnel were already on duty.

The commodore stood there in the open doorway,

youthful excitement in his face. He was grinning

openly. His was the type of face that looked

better when it was grinning; forced severity of manner

did not suit him at all. Every time the commodore

endeavored to be all business, it seemed to Kirk

that he was, in fact, doing his best to pretend--

that, indeed, he might even be trying to imitate

someone.

Next to him was McCoy, who called out, "The

commodore passed his physical with flying

colors, Captain. Then he asked if he could

see the bridge, and I thought--"

"By all means," said Kirk, and he waited

for the elder officer to walk out of the turbolift.

But the commodore simply stood there, staring at

the bridge as if in a trance.

"Commodore Tyler," said Kirk, catching the

older man's glance.

Tyler turned to look at Kirk. He was a

bit heavyset but still had the look of a man who

worked out. His graying hair was quite thin on top. But

he had a general air of youthfulness, accentuated

by the fact that he seemed to enjoy flirting with the

female officers whenever he had the chance. "Yes,

Captain."

Kirk gestured in a "come on in" manner.

"Don't just stand there, sir. Feel free."

Tyler took a tentative step in and then

walked fully onto the bridge. The

turbolift hissed shut behind him as McCoy also

stepped out. He glanced to his left, looking at

something that didn't appear to be there, and then said,

"We always had a security man posted right there.

Valdini, I think his name was. It was 123

the damnedest thing--he always had this self-conscious

smile on his face. I think he felt

foolish, standing there for no damned good reason other

than protocol." He turned toward Spock and

said, "You remember him, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, sir," said Spock.

"You know what ever happened to him?"

"He was killed in action on Argus X, on

stardate 3619.2"

"Oh." That seemed to take the wind out of

Tyler's sails for a moment, and then he gave a

small sigh. "You try and make sense out of

things, and all you encounter is more senselessness."

He walked down slowly across the bridge,

looking around in wonderment. "You know ... it's

amazing how different it all looks ... and yet

how much the same. The two-tier setup, the

positioning of the stations--t's all just as it was in my

day. It seems so primitive now, the things that

we considered to be so advanced. And who knows what

there'll be in the future, when this ship is considered

an antique."

"There are some"--Kirk cast a wry eye at

Spock--?who consider her an antique right now.

Along with her crew."

"Ohh," scoffed Tyler, "I hadn't heard

anything like that. Have you, Spock?"

"Yes, sir," said Spock flatly.

Tyler studied Spock a moment, taking in the

unequivocal manner in which he spoke and even the

slightly imperious way in which he surveyed the

others on the bridge. "You know, Spock ... you

used to smile a lot more."

McCoy looked astounded. "You're joking.

Spock? What in the world would he have to smile

about?"

"Undoubtedly, Doctor," said Spock

dryly, "the fact that you had not yet been

assigned to the Enterprise was something of a

consideration."

Tyler looked surprised and said to Kirk with

superb feigned indignation, "Captain, I'm

surprised. Your officers squabbling with each other

in front of other crew people--it's most

undignified. Don't you think?"

Kirk smiled at that. "In my opinion,

Commodore," he said in a stage whisper, "I

think that the doctor and Mr. Spock have maintained

their "squabbling"' more out of habit than anything

else. Oh, long ago there may have been 125

actual heat between the two of them, like two

determined boxers going around and around, each

refusing to fall. Nowadays, though, I think they

keep at it because ... well ... it's expected.

Rather than trying to convince each other of the

respective superiority of their

philosophical positions, they use each other

as mental emery boards to keep their wits sharp."

McCoy and Spock stared at Kirk, who

smiled innocently. Uhura, Chekhov, and

Sulu stared determinedly at their stations, trying not

to laugh out loud.

"Are you quite through?" asked McCoy.

"I think so."

"Then I will thank you," he said stiffly,

"to play amateur psychologist on your own

time."

"This is my bridge," replied Kirk, "on

my ship. This is my own time. And that

"amateur psychologist"' comment--y wound me,

Bones. After all ... dammit, Bones, I'm

a captain, not a doctor."

"Then take care to remember that," said

McCoy stiffly, and he pivoted on his heel and

walked off the bridge. But just as the turbolift

door shut Kirk heard an unmistakable

guffaw.

Kirk walked past the crew lounge and heard,

to his surprise, the unique strumming of the

Vulcan lyre. It had been ages since he'd

heard that, it seemed, and he stepped in to discover

Spock seated there, his long fingers moving

smoothly over the strings and rendering delicate,

haunting melodies. All around him were crew

members, ensigns and junior-grade

lieutenants. Kirk grinned at that. Most of

these officers were learning how to walk and feed themselves,

or hadn't even been born--hell, their parents

might not have even met, Kirk realized, let's

be honest--the first time that Spock picked up a

Vulcan lyre and filled the rec room of a ship

named Enterprise with the eerie strains of its

music.

The young officers seemed entranced by it, and

Kirk couldn't blame them. It was somewhat

spellbinding. Oddly, Kirk was old-fashioned

enough to prefer a tune that he could hum, and he had

yet to be able to distinguish a particular song. It

all seemed a rather electric agglomeration 127

of notes--and yet, somehow, it always managed to work

as a single melody.

Kirk had learned that the best way

to appreciate the music of the Vulcan harp was

on a subliminal level. Instead of concentrating

on the music he allowed his mind to wander, letting

it be carried where ver the notes might take it. It

was (dare he say it?) fascinating that Vulcan

music could stir so many emotions, especially

since Vulcan philosophy was so tightly

geared in the other direction.

He drifted along on the chords, let thoughts

and images waft free-form through his mind. He

never saw the same thing twice when he listened

to Spock's music. Sometimes the faces of former

lovers would float before him, and sometimes he found

himself in a simpler time, home, in the fields of

Iowa, gazing longingly at the skies and waiting for

that far-off time when he could apply to the academy.

How ironic ... once again, just as it had been

when he was a child, the notion of the academy was far off

... but far off in the opposite direction--in the

past.

This time, though, he pictured nothing from his past,

or at least no single event. Instead he saw

what his past had been for so long, and what his

present was, and the future. Every one of the notes

that drifted from Spock's harp was there in his mind as

the twinkling of a single star.

Stars hadn't twinkled for him in quite some time. That

was the first thing that he had noticed when he made it

into space--the twinkling was the distortion through the

earth's atmosphere, but out of the confines of that

atmosphere the stars were individual, steady and

unblinking beacons. And each beacon was calling

to him individually, summoning him. That had been

much of what had driven him through his existence. Every

single star was an invitation, a personal invitation

to him, James t. Kirk. And it would be the

height of rudeness to refuse such an unselfish,

unqualified invitation.

And so he had spent his life accepting those

invitations, one after the other. And he would continue

to accept them until his final day, when he would

simply go to join them forever.

That was when the music ended.

For a moment Kirk felt a bit disoriented, which

was par for the course when he was getting really

involved with Vulcan music. He cleared his

throat and joined in the applause that was 129

already sounding throughout the rec room.

Then Kirk glanced over to one side and

noticed Commodore Jos@e Tyler, seated against

a wall. His face was wet with tears, and at first

he wasn't applauding, apparently caught up

in whatever was on his mind. Then he seemed to pull

himself together and, wiping the tears away, joined in the

enthusiasm.

Spock acknowledged the applause with a slight

nod of his head and then looked up. Uhura was

hanging toward the back of the room, smiling and

no.ing in appreciation.

His fingers began to move across the strings again, and

this time the opening notes of the tune seemed a bit

more sprightly than the soulful tune that he'd played

earlier. And then, to Kirk's surprise, he

heard Uhura begin to sing along with it, her voice

arcing in her lovely mezzosoprano. Kirk

realized, from the confidence with which she sang, that she

knew this tune, perhaps had sung it along with

Spock sometime in the past.

The ^ws, though, were clearly not part of any

traditional Vulcan song. It might very well

have been that Uhura was making it up on the spot.

But if she was, she was doing a marvelous job.

She circled Spock in a playful, tigerish

fashion, moving with lithe confidence, and she sang,

There was a man and ship of fame,

We lost them both, but back they came,

And women don't dare breathe their name,

They'll turn their charm on you. ...

The man's still got those sexy ears,

In alien love, he has no peers,

He's not slowed down by extra years,

The ship brings him to you. ...

Oh girls in space be wary, be wary, be

wary

Girls in space be wary, You know not what

he'll do.

Uhura laughed lightly, and another round of

applause sounded in the rec room. Kirk

watched, however, as Tyler got up and, smiling

gamely, made his way out. After hesitating a

moment Kirk got up and went after him.

He found Tyler walking down the hallway,

lost in thought, and quickly matched his 131

stride. "Very moving music, wouldn't you say,

Commodore?" he asked.

"Oh," said Tyler, unquestionably. In my

case, it moved me right out of the rec room. He

glanced sideways at Kirk. "It's

fascinating to see how different captains of the

Enterprise handle their crew. Pike was much more

of a hardnose than you are, Kirk. You don't

mind my comparing the two of you, do you?"

"I have nothing but admiration for Christopher

Pike," said Kirk easily.

"You seem far more accessible than he. The

crew clearly respects you, but you don't seem

to feel the need to drill in the concept of spit and

polish. It makes for a somewhat relaxed

atmosphere, but there's no interference with

professionalism and efficiency. Indeed, it

probably helps. It's healthier. Now

Pike, well"--he whistled--?he ran a tight

ship, Pike did," said Tyler. "One of the

tightest I've ever seen. He had a very

military bearing, more so than anyone else in the

fleet. On occasion he would try to be "one of the

crew."' Never worked. And he would always retreat

to his more formal attitude. He was comfortable that

way. His first officer was just like him--even worse,

although I don't mean that in a negative sense.

She and he, two of a kind. There were rumors about

them, you know."

"Rumors?" asked Kirk with an amused

grin.

"About how they were actually ... well, never

mind." Tyler gave a dismissive wave.

"It's disrespectful, I suppose, even

to talk about it."

"Indeed," Kirk said gravely. Then he

thought about it and said, "Actually, as much as I

admire Chris Pike, I have a hard time

picturing him trying to let down his hair. What

type of things did he do?"

"Well ... once he boxed with me."

"Really? How'd you do?"

"Oh ... it was just a sparring match. I think

it ended in a tie, actually. Yes, I

remember," said Tyler. "Never really got a

clean shot in. He was just too good."

"I can imagine."

They got to Tyler's quarters, and Kirk

paused outside. "Commodore ... is everything

all right?" 133

Tyler fixed him with a level gaze, his hands

draped behind his back. "How do you mean,

Captain?"

"You seemed ... upset before.

"Oh. t. The ..." He cleared his throat

loudly and said, "Just remembering a young woman that

I left behind. You ever get misty-eyed for the women

that you couldn't make a part of your life?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said Kirk.

"There you are, then."

"If I may ask ... when was the last time you

saw her? Do you remember?"

"I most certainly do. It was 33.4 years

ago."

"Thirty-three point ..." Kirk frowned.

"Commodore, that's the last time the rift opened.

The rift that's our destination ..."

"I'm quite aware of that, Captain."

"And you," Kirk said slowly, beginning to understand,

"requested that you be assigned to attend the

re-opening of the rift, based on your previous

experience the last time the rift opened."

"Keep going, Captain," said Tyler.

"You've almost got it."

"The woman you left behind ... Commodore, is

she--"

"One of the Calligar, yes." He stepped

into his cabin. He smiled and said as the door

closed, "Stimulating, isn't it?"

Chapter Nine

The transport ship Secord pulled within

range of the Enterprise right on schedule,

prompting Kirk and his senior officers to head

down to the transporter room to greet them.

To Kirk it was something of an o.ity--in a couple

of respects, almost old home week.

Stepping into the turbolift with Spock and

McCoy, Kirk said briskly,

"Transporter room." Then he continued, to neither

of them in particular, "You know, I find much of this

situation to be extremely ironic."

"First psychiatrist, now philosopher," said

McCoy dourly. "The skills you're picking

up in your old age are absolutely amazing."

"Don't you want to hear why it's ironic?"

asked Kirk. He almost sounded hurt.

"Not especially," McCoy informed him.

He turned to Spock. Spock 135

merely looked at him impassively.

"All right, I'll tell you," said Kirk.

McCoy sighed.

"It's ironic," Kirk said, "that here we

are, going to explore a rift in space. A

division, a separation. And we are doing so with the

aid of several people with whom we've had our own

personal rifts Ambassador Robert

Fox, with whom we had sharp disagreements that almost

resulted in all of us getting killed; Dr.

Richard Daystrom, whose drive for success

caused him to suffer a separation, not only from himself,

but from reality, for a time; and Commodore Jos@e

Tyler, officer from an Enterprise almost from

another time, who has been separated from a

particularly interesting female he left behind on

the other side of the rift. Mr. Spock, wouldn't

you consider that ironic?"

"No, sir."

"Well, then, how would you characterize it?"

The turbolift doors opened, and Spock

faced his captain. "Contrived," replied the

Vulcan. Then he and McCoy walked on

ahead.

Kirk followed, shaking his head slowly in

disappointed disgust. "Absolutely no sense of

drama," he murmured.

Scotty was waiting for them in the transporter

room, handling the transporter himself; as was his

habit when VIP'S were being brought aboard. He

glanced at the young woman who normally operated the

transporter and said briskly, "Now ye be

sure to watch an expert at work, Tooch."

"Yes, sir," said Tooch. Her long brown

hair swung around her shoulders, and the young engineer

whose heart still beat in Scotty's chest felt a

moment's stirring. Then, inwardly, he sighed.

"Problem, Mr. Scott?" asked Kirk.

Tooch was busying herself checking the programmed

transporter patterns of the individuals coming

aboard, and Scotty took a moment to say

softly to the captain, "All the distances we

travel, and there's no greater distance than age.

Isn't that ironic?"

Kirk looked triumphantly at Spock and

McCoy, but they hadn't heard. He reminded

hims elf to mention it to them later.

"The Secord is signaling readiness," said

Tooch. 137

"Bring them aboard, Mr. Scott."

"Aye, sir," said Scotty, and he

manipulated the controls with practiced ease.

The transporter platform began to shimmer, and

moments later several familiar--anda couple of

unfamiliar--forms appeared on the transporter

platform.

The men who were familiar looked somewhat older,

somewhat more tired, reflected Kirk; but then again,

that description could certainly be applied to anyone

else in the room, with the exception of Tooch.

Distance indeed.

Kirk stepped forward and extended a hand.

"Ambassador Fox," he said.

Fox stepped down from the platform and shook

Kirk's hand firmly. When Fox had been a

younger man the gray in his hair looked distinguished.

Now it just looked old. But he still carried himself

well, and the additional years in the diplomatic

corps had only added to his general air of

self-confidence.

"Captain Kirk," he replied formally. "It

has been a long time."

"It certainly has."

Fox quickly surveyed McCoy, Spock, and

Scotty. "And the same command crew, I see."

"Why fiddle with perfection?" asked Kirk.

"Indeed. A few more gray hairs all around,

but none of us is spared that. It is good to see you

again, Captain. I look forward to working with you and

your extremely capable people."

"Thank you." Considering the disdain and arrogance with

which Fox had treated them last time out in the business

with Eminiar VII, this was something of a turnaround.

Fox gestured toward a tall, slightly

frail-looking Andorian. "This is Thak,

Andorian charg@e do'affaires, and also one of their

top scientists."

Thak bowed slightly at the waist and spoke in

the softly modulated, faintly lisping voice that

effectively covered the fact that Andorians were

among the most deadly warriors in the Federation.

"It is most satisfying to meet you, Captain

Kirk. And your officers."

"And this," continued Fox, "is Shondar

Dorkin, a top Tellarite expert on

societal development."

Shondar Dorkin did not even bother to say

anything but merely grunted as introductions were

made. Dorkin and Thak had their 139

respective assistants with them, and both of them

seemed to ignore their assistants entirely.

One individual remained on the transporter

platform. He stood tall and impassive, staring

fixedly ahead. He was dressed much the same as

Kirk remembered him from those many years ago, but

somehow he seemed ... shorter. Yes, that was it.

His shoulders were stooped with age, and perhaps something more.

When Kirk had last seen him he had carried

himself with overwhelming dignity. That seemed to have been

leached out of him.

"And," said Ambassador Fox, "I'm

sure you remember Dr. Richard Daystrom."

"Of course. Doctor Daystrom." Kirk

proffered his hand once more.

Daystrom stared at it as if Kirk had tossed

him an obscene gesture. Then, very slowly, he

reached up and shook Kirk's hand. There was no

firmness to the grip, and Daystrom's palm felt

clammy.

"Captain," began Daystrom, his voice still a

strong, basso tone. But then he faltered, as if

he'd wanted to say something but couldn't recall

what it was.

Kirk immediately said, "You remember Mr.

Spock and Dr. McCoy," and he put just enough

emphasis on the latter name to subtly cue the

Enterprise chief medical officer that he

wanted his immediate attention to this. McCoy was

extremely prompt on the uptake and said,

"Dr. Daystrom, it's good to see you again."

Daystrom smiled gamely, and there was so much

pain in that smile that it made Kirk ache. But

he responded immediately to McCoy's practiced

bedside manner and visibly relaxed.

"You look tired, Doctor Daystrom,"

McCoy continued.

"Yes ... yes," rumbled Daystrom, rubbing

his forehead. "It has been a very long trip, and

I am ... fatigued."

"We have personnel just outside to show all of you

to your quarters," said Kirk. He raised his

voice slightly, addressing everyone in the

transporter room. "As soon as the Secord

is out of range we will get underway to our

destination. We estimate arrival in--"

"Twenty-six point three hours," said

Spock briskly.

"So we will have a briefing at fourteen hundred

hours," Kirk continued, "to make sure 141

that everyone is up-to-date and we all know our

respective jobs."

"Are you implying that I cannot do my assigned

duties?" demanded Shondar Dorkin gruffly.

Kirk kept his face impassive, long

practice in dealing with Tellarites serving him

well. "No, Shondar," he said, addressing the

Tellarite by his title. "I am concerned that

we all know one another's parameters, so that none

of us interferes with you in your most important

activities."

His voice was carefully neutral, and the

Tellarite did not notice the faint sarcasm

at all, because one man's sarcasm was a

Tellarite's mark of respect. "Good," said

Shondar. "That is an excellent way

to proceed."

"I'm glad you approve," replied Kirk.

Moments later the exploratory team

assigned by the Federation to make contact with the

Calligarians was being escorted to quarters while

Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Scotty hung

back and watched them go.

"Bones," said Kirk softly, "I want you

to keep a close eye on Dr. Daystrom. His

nervous breakdown was years ago, and Starfleet

swore to me that he was fully recovered, but--"

"I studied his medical file before he came

aboard," said McCoy. "He's still as

brilliant a computer genius as ever. And he's

recovered from his breakdown, thanks to years of

therapy. But Jim, the human mind is a

delicate instrument. Once broken, it can be

repaired, but the cracks don't completely

heal. Especially, in my opinion, in someone with

such an unrelenting intellect as Dr.

Daystrom."

"You'll talk with him," said Kirk.

"I'll talk with him," affirmed McCoy.

Kirk nodded approvingly, and then after a moment

he said, "Considering all the difficulties we

had with Ambassador Fox the last time we worked

with him, he seemed extraordinarily sincere in his

praise for us."

"There is an old saying in the field of

diplomacy," said Spock.

"And that is?"

"The entire key to diplomacy is sincerity.

Once that can be faked, the rest is simple."

Kirk stared at Spock for a minute 143

and then looked at McCoy. He gestured with a

nod of his head in the direction of the Vulcan and

said to the doctor, "He's been hanging around you

too long. Mr. Spock"--he turned back

to his first officer--?I do believe you're

developing into a cynic."

"First a master of logic, and now a master of

cynicism," said McCoy.

Spock nodded his head slightly in

acknowledgment. "I have had excellent models

to study, Doctor. In that I have been most

fortunate."

Chapter Ten

Richard Daystrom sat in his quarters, staring

at the computer screen. He ran his fingers across it

gently, like a father caressing a child.

"Computer," he said softly.

"Working."

"Identify me."

"Dr. Richard Daystrom," said the computer.

"Inventor of the duotonic systems serving as the

basis for computer systems in use by Starfleet.

Winner of the Nobel and Z-Magnees

prizes."

He nodded. A perfectly decent short

ID. "And what have I done lately?" he

asked.

"Suffered mental collapse."

He grimaced. "And since then?"

"Recovered from mental collapse."

"And since then?"

"Specify."

"Have I done anything ..." He searched for the

^w. "Have I done anything noteworthy?"

The computer did not hesitate.

"Negative."

He sat there for a moment and then lowered his head,

tapping his temple against the edge of the computer

screen. He only registered in the back of his

mind that the door to his quarters had just opened.

"Hello, Doctor."

"Hello, Doctor," Daystrom replied

to McCoy. The edges of his mouth were tight.

"Checking up on me already?"

"I'm not checking up on you," said McCoy,

sitting opposite Daystrom.

Daystrom swung his chair around to face him.

"Not only are you checking up on me," 145

he said patiently, "but you're doing an

extraordinarily bad job of lying about it."

Rather than pursue it, McCoy took note

of the fact that the computer was on and asked, "What

are you doing?"

"I am running a diagnostic."

"On the computer?"

He smiled a smile of gentle

self-mockery. "No, Dr. McCoy. On

myself."

McCoy nodded at that. "And what is your

diagnosis?"

"Not a very flattering one."

It was curious, McCoy noted. When

Daystrom spoke it was in a low, flat

monotone. Moreover, he had developed the

nasty habit of not blinking for extraordinary

lengths of time. It was extremely disconcerting.

"Doctor," said McCoy softly, "I'm not

going to mince ^ws with you. I've studied your

medical file. You must have known I was going to do

that."

"You are the chief medical officer," rumbled

Daystrom. "I would have been shocked if you had

not."

Daystrom didn't sound to McCoy like someone

who was capable of being shocked right now. In fact,

he didn't sound like someone who was capable of

feeling anything at all. "Doctor--"

"Please," said Daystrom, raising a slender

hand. "We are both men of titles. Please

call me Richard. And I shall call you--"

"Dr. McCoy."

Daystrom blinked impassively, and McCoy

put a hand on Daystrom's forearm. "It was just a

joke," he said. But he felt the tension beneath

Daystrom's skin. The man was like a wound-up

spring. "Please ... call me Leonard. Or

Bones."

"Bones?"

He shrugged. "Nickname I picked up.

Depending who you talk to, it's short for either

"Sawbones"' or "Skin and Bones."'"

"I had a nickname in my younger days," said

Daystrom. Again he was speaking in that flat

monotone rather than sounding wistful over a memory

from his youth.

"Really? What?"

Daystrom looked at him with those dead eyes.

"The Freak." 147

"I see." McCoy look ed down and then up.

"Richard, what in hell are you doing here?"

"Starfleet is interested in the Calligar

computer technology, which is presently utterly

unexplored. In the first contact between the

Enterprise and the Calligar, they were not willing

to discuss their computer developments at all. It

is hoped in certain circles that their attitude

will have changed in the intervening decades. I am still

an expert, despite all my widely discussed

mental difficulties--I was written up, you

know, in a very esteemed medical journal."

"I know. I read it," said McCoy.

Daystrom raised a sardonic eyebrow.

"What did you think?"

"I thought the author was more interested in showing how

clever he was than in exploring the difficulties

that you suffered."

"I am a genius," said Daystrom. "That is

not a boast, that is a quantitatively

determined fact. The concept is that an advanced

thinker should be advanced enough so as not to have to worry about

such petty things as mental instability."

"Historically that concept has not been

consistently true," said McCoy.

"No, Leonard," said Daystrom gravely.

"It has not."

Daystrom rose and walked slowly across the

cabin as if pacing it out, and then back across to his

chair. He leaned against the back of it, the

knuckles of his hand working beneath the skin. His eyes,

if focused anywhere, were focused inward.

"You have no idea," he said softly, "how many

people were thrilled that I collapsed. How many people

rjcd in seeing it. When you are a genius you give

little care or thought to the people whom you surpass in your

drive to succeed. You see them as stumbling

blocks or obstacles to your goal. Nothing more

than that. And every time a genius surpasses one of the

lesser people he takes pride in the divine rightness

of that act. The strong survive by stepping on the

weak. You understand that, don't you, Leonard?

Genius is a great, crunching, giant maw,

chewing up sparks of humanity and spitting out the

fat, the dross, the gristle, and keeping for its

own meal the protein. The quality. The meat of

humanity."

"Richard--"

He turned that unblinking gaze on McCoy.

"I assure you, Leonard, there is 149

nothing wrong with me. I am merely waxing

philosophical. I am not a danger to this ship,

this crew, or this mission. My intellect is still

intact ... a most fortunate state of affairs,

considering that my family, personal fortune, and

personal pride are not." He seemed to give the

matter some more thought, and then he said, "Leonard,

are you concerned about me?"

McCoy pondered that and then said, "I'm

concerned for you. I'm trusting that you'll be able to do

your job. Your confidence may have deserted you--y

may be able to look at a half-full glass and

only see it as half empty--but I believe,

that you can handle whatever we come up against."

"That's good to know," said Daystrom. "That's very

good to know. Now ... if you wouldn't mind, I'd like

some time alone."

"All right." McCoy stood. "I want you

to know, though, that my door is always open."

"That sounds rather drafty," said Daystrom

evenly.

"Just so you know," said McCoy, and he walked

out of Daystrom's quarters. Daystrom waited

until McCoy's footfall faded.

Then he leaned forward and said, "Computer."

"Working," said the computer.

He interlaced his fingers and said, "Identify

me."

"Dr. Richard Daystrom," began the computer.

And Daystrom listened, his interwoven fingers

drawing tighter and tighter until he thought that his

knuckles were going to snap. And his chest began

to shake. ...

"He's going to be fine," McCoy said

to Kirk.

Kirk looked up from his desk. "Good," he

said. "That's good to know. The last thing we need on

something as delicate as this is for something to go wrong

with the mental balance of one of our key personnel.

I'd like you there for the briefing."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," said McCoy.

Chapter Eleven

"This is anomaly T-128--the rift," said

Kirk, "as it was nearly four decades ago--and

as it will soon be again."

On the viewscreen of the conference room the rift

was undulating in all its 151

trans-spatial glory. Kirk looked around the

room at all his senior officers, as well as the

team of diplomats and scientists that had been

assembled by the Federation.

All of them were studying the file footage with

extreme interest and fascination. Shondar Dorkin

leaned over and muttered something in gruff

Tellarian to his aide, who in turn laughed in

a grunting, piggish manner. It was probably

some off-color remark about the rift, and Kirk was

extremely pleased that he hadn't understood what

had just been said.

Kirk could not help but notice, however, that

Commodore Jos@e Tyler was watching it more

closely than anyone. Indeed, he seemed almost

spellbound by it. Kirk knew what was going through his

mind and prayed to whatever gods might be listening that

the commodore wasn't setting himself up for some

major disappointment.

"You have already been briefed as to the specifics

of the rift's makeup," said Kirk. "In less

than nine hours we will be at the site when the

rift opens sufficiently to allow access to the

Calligar."

"How do we know they'll be expecting us, or will

even want to see us?" said Sulu. He had read

up on the Calligar and knew how isolationist they

were capable of being.

"That has been prearranged," Spock said.

"When the rift is preparing to open it does not do

so immediately. There are certain "birthing pains,"'

if you will. A series of small, almost

undetectable fissures that are created as the

rift prepares to open fully. Virtually

pinpoints by our standards--however, more than

sufficient for communication via subspace radio

to be achieved."

"Starfleet has been communicating with the

Calligarffwas said Shondar Dorkin, suddenly

becoming excessively bombastic. "My

government was not informed of this! With beings of the

Calligarians' power there can be no exclusive

communication without threatening the very treaty and power

structure that--"

"The Tellarite government was informed,

Shondar," said Spock with infinite patience.

"Nonsense! You're lying!"

"Vulcans do not lie." Thak now spoke up

in his slightly creepy whisper. "For whatever

reason, it would seem they neglected 153

to tell you."

"ationeglected!" blustered Dorkin. "That's the

most--"

"Shondar," said Kirk, making sure to put the

accent on the second syllable, since to do

otherwise would have been seen as a lack of

respect. "Either your government was not informed due

to some oversight on the Federation's part, or else

you were not informed through some oversight on your

government's part. Either way, it would seem

to indicate that someone slipped up somewhere. Can we

all acknowledge that what we have here is a snafu

and move on?"

"A snahphu!" roared Shondar Dorkin.

To Kirk's astonishment Dorkin leapt to his

feet, knocking back his chair. "You dare! You

dare call me a snahphu! You realize,

Kirk, that with those ^ws you have brought about war?"

"What?!" Kirk was dumbfounded. He looked

around. "Will someone please--"

Ambassador Fox put up a hand and said,

"Captain, it's the ^w."

"What ^w? What--" And then Kirk's eyes

widened, and he realized. It was an effort not

to laugh, but it became a bit easier when he

reminded himself of just how serious the situation could

become. "Of course. Shondar--"

Dorkin was already heading toward the door when he

spun on his large heel and said, "What do you

want, earther?"

"The ^w spelled S-n-A-F-U--

pronounced in a manner similar to the Tellarite

insult and obscenity that you think I said--is an

acronym for "situation normal, all ...

fouled up."'"

"What?" said the confused Tellarite.

"What?"

Spock stepped in and said, "An old earth

term referring to the idea that constant chaos and

misunderstanding was a routine state of affairs."

"Having nothing to do with the ^w you think I said, which

was not even on my mind," said Kirk.

"Captain Kirk humbly, grovelingly

apologizes and requests forgiveness," Fox

said.

Kirk glanced at him in annoyance. "Well,

now, I didn't exactly--"

"Groveling apology accepted," grunted

Dorkin. He gestured for his aide to return

to his seat as well and sat down once 155

more.

"I'm glad that's settled," said Kirk,

forcing a smile. "Even in this day and age we can have

an occasional muck-up when--"

"A mukkup!" howled the Tellarite, leaping

to his feet. "How dare you--"

Mercifully, it was the Andorian who put a hand

on Dorkin's shoulder and, with surprisingly

steely strength, shoved him back down. "Listen,

if you please," he said firmly to the Shondar.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "I think the briefing

might go a bit more efficiently if everyone just

listened. Can we all do that?"

There were nods of assent around the table. Kirk

rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the pain he was

feeling, and he said, "I've totally lost

track. Where were we?"

"Subspace radio," said Chekov

helpfully.

"Ah, yes. Thank you. Via subspace

radio we were able to communicate with the Calligar and

affirm that they were indeed interested in maintaining

contact with us. Their stated reason and interest was the

same to keep apprised of our progress and, in

turn, give us some idea of what their

technology and society are like."

"Do you have any idea who it was that you

communicated with?" asked Tyler. "Was it

Zyo? The Master Builder?"

"My understanding is that no names were given," said

Kirk. "I have no idea who spoke on behalf

of the Calligar."

Tyler settled back in his chair, looking

thoughtful.

"When we arrive at the rift," Kirk

continued, "we will wait for it to open to sufficient

width and reach stability. We will not send anyone

through if I am not convinced that it will be safe for all

concerned." Again there was no.ing of heads, and Kirk

turned to Spock to indicate that the Science

officer should continue.

Spock picked up smoothly. "The

Enterprise will not pass through. It would appear that

the size of the vessel the last time was a major

factor in disrupting the rift and causing it

to close prematurely. Instead we will be sending

in a shuttlecraft mounted on a warp sled."

"Warp sled?" asked Fox. "Pardon my

ignorance, but ... being a diplomat, I'm not

up on all the latest developments." 157

"A warp sled," said Spock, "is a

small, self-contained warp propulsion unit that

can be attached to a non-warp vehicle. It is

capable of attaining warp three. However, the fuel

consumption is very rapid, and a warp sled-mounted

vehicle can only use that propulsion system for a

maximum of one half hour. After that the shuttle

would be entirely dependent on impulse."

"Which means it would be torn to shreds under the

temporal stress, of the rift," Scotty added.

"The last time we went through," Tyler said, "we

experienced all sorts of time fluctuations. It

was almost a living hell."

"Ah," Scotty said, "but that was the old

hyperdrive, sir. When the time warp and

hyperdrive systems were consolidated and refined

into the more modern warp drive, we also strengthened the

warp field that protects the Enterprise from

even the standard stress of faster-than-light

travel."

"And the warp drive units on the warp sled?"

"Same thing, sir," said Scotty. "So it

should be more than enough to protect the passengers from

temporal strain."

"Good," said Tyler, looking extremely

relieved. "I can't say I'd be particularly

eager to go through that again. Four decades later, and

it was still one of the most grueling things I've ever

experienced."

"How do we know this isn't some sort of

trick?" demanded Shondar Dorkin. "We're

sending our own people through and getting nothing in return.

You could sit here like dunces for seventy-two

hours, and then the rift could close while you

foolishly allowed it."

"Other members of the Federation Council said much

the same thing," admitted Kirk. "It would seem

we live in suspicious times."

"Not like the old days, eh, Captain?" said

Tyler, smiling.

Kirk nodded and then continued. "However,

communications with the Calligar already attended to that.

As part of their continued interest in us, and in keeping

with the spirit of interstellar harmony, the Calligar have

agreed to send through a representative as part of

an exchange program for the duration of the rift's

accessibility."

"A representative? As in one?" growled

Dorkin.

"Yes, sir," said Spock. 159

"One."

"We send in a group of top individuals,

and they send one?" Dorkin snorted. "What are

they saying? That one of them is worth the lot of

us?"

"In some instances," murmured Thak, "I would

be hard pressed to debate that notion."

Shondar Dorkin cast a suspicious glance

at him with his piglike eyes.

"We are, to all intents and purposes, the

guests of the Calligar," said Kirk. "They have

done nothing to give us the impression that they are

remotely duplicitous or planning any sort

of double cross."

"I do not like it," grumbled Dorkin.

"Tellarites like nothing in this galaxy, which

certainly fits in with how the galaxy views

Tellarites," said Thak.

Dorkin turned toward him, growling. "Did you

attempt to insult me, Andorian?"

Clearly exasperated, Thak said, "I did

not attempt to. I succeeded. Your incessant

belligerence is enough to drive a more sane being

to distraction."

"Thak," said Kirk warningly.

"And what would Andorians know of sanity?"

snapped Dorkin. "With your effete, lisping

mannerisms. You call yourselves a warrior race!

You wouldn't last five minutes in a young

Tellarite's manning ritual!"

"Shondar Dorkin." Kirk turned toward the

Tellarite. As captain it was his job to be as

diplomatic as possible, but this was reaching the

breaking point.

"Would you mind speaking in the other direction?"

said Thak pleasantly. "Your breath is wilting

my antennae."

Shondar Dorkin was immediately on his feet, as was

Thak, who moved with deceptive speed.

Ambassador Fox was sputtering in surprise.

Tyler was grinning widely, as if enjoying the first

good brouhaha he'd seen in some time. And Kirk

was about to dress both of them down when the

Enterprise captain was saved the trouble.

A stentorian voice boomed through the briefing

room. Commanding. Angry. Full of authority and

so deep that it almost made the furniture

vibrate.

"Sit down and shut up."

Heads snapped around to look upon 161

Richard Daystrom. He had not moved an inch from

his seat. His fingers were steepled, his eyes were

coldly burning, and he added, "ationow."

There was quiet for a moment, and then the Andorian

tilted his head slightly in that amazingly polite

manner that he had. He sat. Shondar Dorkin

remained standing for a moment, but the silence had come

over them like a shroud, and a moment later he had

settled into his seat as well.

As if there had been no disturbance at all,

Kirk continued. "Since the Calligar have always

dealt with us in a straightforward manner, we have no

reason to believe they are not doing so now. In

fact, the sending of a representative could

easily be viewed as a gesture of confidence to us,

to let us know that they are intending to continue that

tradition of honest dealings."

"Fine," grunted Dorkin. "Whatever you

say."

"The Calligar have even agreed to send their

representative through first," said Kirk. "As

soon as they have, we will send through our team, which will

consist of Mr. Spock, Commander Scott, Dr.

Daystrom, Commodore Tyler, Ambassador

Thak ..."

"Simply "Thak"' will do," said Thak. "I

dislike titles."

"Thak," continued Kirk, "and Shondar

Dorkin. We will remain in constant subspace

communication, checking in at hourly intervals.

Mr. Spock will be in charge. I assume you

all understand that. I don't care how highly

placed in your respective governments you are.

His ^w is final."

Tyler cleared his throat loudly, and Kirk

slowly turned to him. "Commodore, I am aware

that you are the ranking officer, but--"

Shaking his head, Tyler put up a hand and

smiled. "I was just kidding, Captain. This is an

Enterprise-coordinated mission. Since Mr.

Spock will be the ranking Enterprise officer on

the scene, I'm more than happy to acknowledge his

authority in this matter."

"Thank you, Commodore," said Kirk, not

ungratefully.

The exchange had had the appearance of

spontaneity, but actually it had been worked out

ahead of time between Kirk and Tyler. Kirk had

wanted the science officer to be the officer in charge

on site, especially considering the 163

makeup of the rest of the contact team. Tellarites

and Andorians tended to regard humans with a

mixture of amusement and contempt, but they had

nothing but respect--however grudging at times--forthe

remote and coldly logical Vulcans. It was

Kirk's gut instinct that things would go more smoothly

with Spock running the show, and to his relief,

Tyler had agreed.

"Ambassador Fox will be remaining here to act

as official Federation intermediary with the

Calligarian exchange representative.

Now, are there any other questions?" asked Kirk.

There was a quick glance around the table. No one

seemed to have anything to say.

"Yes. I have a question," Dorkin said. "I

wish to know how long you think you can continue to treat

Tellarites with such a lack of respect."

"You will generally find, Shondar," said Kirk

icily, "that when it comes to matters of respect,

one gets only as good as he gives."

Dorkin glowered at him for that, and suddenly his

head snapped around. "What was that?" he demanded.

His gaze was focused on Tyler, who had

murmured something to Scotty that had gotten a

wide grin from the engineer. But the Tellarites,

despite their apparently lack of auditory

apparatus, had rather sharp hearing. "What did you

say about me?" demanded Dorkin.

Scotty fired a warning glance at Tyler, but

Tyler didn't particularly seem to care.

Instead the commodore smiled a toothy grin and

said, "I said you were a jerk."

There was dead silence, and then, to the shock of all

concerned, the Tellarite actually seemed to

smile. He rose from his seat, pointed a furry

paw at Tyler, and said gravely, "Thank you."

Tyler looked at Scotty, and then back at

the Tellarite. "Don't mention it."

Shondar Dorkin turned and headed out of the

room, his aide at his side. He paused at the

door, gestured toward Tyler, and said to the room

at large, "Now there is a human who knows how

to address a Tellarite with respect."

He strode out into the corridor and away from the

briefing room, proud of his parting shot. And even

his sharp Tellarite hearing did not pick up the

gales of laughter that issued from behind the closed

conference room doors as he sauntered back

to his quarters.

Chapter Twelve 165

Montgomery Scott strode through the engine

room like a king surveying his kingdom. As he

walked past, each of the young engineering officers would

snap to slightly or suddenly cast a nervous

glance at the station monitors they were supposed

to be watching. It was widely acknowledged throughout

Engineering that Mr. Scott saw everything--

absolutely everything--t went on.

This was eminently true, and the ability was not

limited to machines. Scott walked past the warp

engine inductor monitor and suddenly took a

step back. Ensign Hicks was on duty, and

he looked a bit off. His eyes seemed

bleary, his concentration not what it should be--and even

when he was trying to concentrate for the benefit of

Mr. Scott, his focus seemed weak.

"Mr. Hicks," said Scotty sternly,

"turn around." Hicks did so, his back

ramrod-straight. "Yes , sir," he said.

Scotty eyed him carefully for a moment and then

leaned forward so that he was almost nose to nose with

him. Hicks was wavering ever so slightly, as if

he were a bush and a gentle breeze was causing him

to sway in the wind. Then Scotty remembered--

Hicks was to be the best man at the upcoming

marriage of Crewman Flaherty to Ensign

McGee, and last night had been the bachelor

party.

"Breathe at me, Mr. Hicks," he

ordered.

Hicks flinched and stammered, "Uh ... uh

... Mr. Scott, I don't see that--"

"Breathe. That's an order, lad," said

Scott in no uncertain terms.

With a grimace Hicks opened his mouth and puffed

tentatively in Scott's direction.

He wasn't drunk. Not by any means. Not

remotely. Not even close. But the trained

nostrils of Montgomery Scott could scent

alcohol on a man's breath anytime up to a

week or more after the beverage was consumed--at least,

that's what he told people.

But not just that alcohol had been consumed; oh,

no. Scotty's olfactory senses were even more

refined than that.

"Again," said Scotty. Hicks, clearly

unhappy, obeyed. Scotty looked him dead in

the eye. "So Mr. Chekov was there, eh?"

Hicks's eyes opened wide in 167

complete shock. Totally forgetting protocol,

he stammered, "How ... how did ..."

"Ach. Lad, I can catch a whiff of vodka

from twenty paces with the wind blowing against it. Mr.

Chekov was invited." He shook his head in mock

horror. The unspoken follow-up was clear And

I wasn't.

"Mr.--Mr. Chekov is Flaherty's

direct superior," Hicks said.

"And what am I to you?" demanded Scott. "A

pot roast?"

"Well, I--"

"I think that you're not entirely attending to your

duties with maximum efficiency," said

Scotty. "Would you say that working an extra

shift would be sufficient to bring you up to maximum

potential, Mr. Hicks?"

Hicks gulped. "Yes, sir."

"There's a lad."

Scotty turned and, to his surprise, saw

Commodore Tyler standing right behind him. "Ah.

Commodore. You've been through once on an

inspection. Can't get enough of where the real work in the

ship is done, eh?"

Hicks, grateful for the interruption, returned

to his duties as Scotty and Tyler began

to walk. "Far more impressive than in the old

days, isn't it?" said Scotty proudly. "The

more sophisticated the engines, the more room we need

to make 'em work properly. They've certainly

grown up, my bairns have."

"Remarkably complex apparatus."

"Complex, yes, but marvelously

self-sufficient. The equipment has so many

redundant check systems and self-maintenance

programs, why ... a blind man could be chief

engineer and not lose a whit of efficiency."

"I tend to think you're undercutting your own

influence and importance, Mr. Scott. According to the

captain, you do everything but tuck the engines in at

night."

"Well ... I have been known to read them a

story every now and then. If they've behaved themselves,

of course, and eaten all their vegetables."

But Tyler was looking at Scotty thoughtfully,

and now he was saying, "You know ... you seemed

familiar at the briefing yesterday, and now ...

I remember you now."

"Remember me, sir?" said Scotty.

"We didn't really interact all that 169

much," said Tyler. "I was on the bridge, you were

down in Engineering. But you ... ohhhh, yes.

How could I forget? Lieutenant J.G.

Montgomery Scott. From back on the

original Enterprise. My God, have you ever

left the engine room?"

"Not of my own volition, sir," said Scott

with a smile.

Tyler nodded at that. "Was I to understand that that

crewman was at his post and intoxicated?"

"No, sir," said Scotty firmly. "My

boys know better than that. He was a bit ...

off his feed, however. I rode him about that. It

won't happen again. There's no need for any

formal--"

"Oh, of course not." Tyler waved off the very

notion. "Actually, if anything, I was going

to observe that you were riding him pretty hard."

"There's no such thing as too much discipline when

it comes to the engine room, sir."

"What was the cause of the ... offness? Some

sort of event?"

"Bachelor party, sir."

"You present when the imbibing took place?"

"No, sir," said Scotty stiffly. "As a

ranking officer, I dinna think it appropriate

to be fraternizing with subordinates in that

manner."

"I see. Meaning you weren't invited."

"No, sir," said Scotty with a small sigh.

"Between two old war-horses, Commodore, I

can't help but wonder ... when did we become

them?"

""Them,"' Mr. Scott?"

"Them. The enemy, sir. The other people. The

older generation. The opposition. Them. When did

it occur? I was watching for it so I could avoid it

happening, but it seems to have sneaked up on me--

perhaps when I was taking one of those naps I seem

to need more frequently these days. And I was

wondering when I crossed that line."

"When?" Tyler was smiling. "You want an

exact time?"

"I'm not certain when it was," Scotty said

thoughtfully. "I didn't plan it that way. Just

somewhere, it happened. One day I was one of us, and

now I'm one of them. Do ye understand, sir?"

"Oh, all too well," said Tyler. "We

all want to capture little pieces of our past,

Mr. Scott. For some of us, it's some- 171

thing as simple as being thought of as "one of the

boys."' For others, it's ... a bit more

complex."

"Complexity is my area of expertise,"

Scotty said.

"Oh, I remember that all too well."

"Sir?" Clearly the engineer didn't understand.

"You think I forgot about it, don't you?"

Scotty's eyes narrowed. "Forgot about what,

Commodore?"

"The still. The hooch that was made right in the engine

room--"

"Sir!" said Scotty with great indignation.

"Such an endeavor would be completely contrary

to Starfleet regulations. I would never undertake

such an--"

"Enterprise?"

Scotty blinked. "Yes, sir."

"Then perhaps I'm not remembering quite

correctly," deadpanned the commodore. "When you

get older the memory can play nasty tricks

on you."

"I would think so, sir," said Scotty.

"Might be a result of drinking all that

illegal hooch in your youth. Rots your brain

cells."

"No. Alcohol rots your brain cells.

The booze that I remember simply ate the

brain away. However, I bow to your expertise in

the matter, Mr. Scott."

There was a beep on the wall comm unit, and

Scotty stepped over and punched it. "Engine

Room. Scott here."

"This is the captain," came Kirk's

voice. "Commodore Tyler is down there with you?"

"Right here, Captain," Tyler replied.

"Commodore, we estimate ten minutes

until we reach the site of the rift."

"I'll be right up. Tyler out."

He turned to Scotty and stuck out a hand.

Scotty shook it firmly.

"It was a pleasure recalling old times,

Mr. Scott."

"The same here, Commodore."

Tyler turned and left the engine room, and

slowly Mr. Scott began his rounds again. Within

minutes he was back at the station where the hapless

Mr. Hicks was diligently going on about his

business.

"Mr. Hicks," said Scotty, all

sternness. 173

Hicks's back was to him, but Scotty could

see him sag slightly, looking exasperated that

he was still on the chief engineer's hit list. He

turned slowly and, to his credit, drew himself

to attention, shoulders squared. "Yes, sir."

Scotty inclined his head ever so slightly and

said, "Go sleep it off."

"Sir?"

"You have the mother of all headaches, don't you,

lad?"

"Not exactly, sir," admitted Hicks.

"More of a close aunt."

"Fine. So go sleep it off. That's an

order, lad."

Unable to believe the sudden turnaround, Hicks

nevertheless nodded and walked quickly out of the engine

room before (he figured) Mr. Scott could

change his mind. Scotty watched him go and

smiled inwardly before turning to another crewman

some feet away and said, "And what do you think

you're staring at? Do I look like a dilithium

variance monitor to you?"

"Now that's a remarkable sight," said Kirk.

He had studied the file record of the

original encounter between the Enterprise and that

freakish temporal phenomenon that had become

informally known as "Pike's Rift," a name that

Chris Pike had reportedly hated and

discouraged whenever possible. As a result, most

people in the field continued to refer to it by its

scientific designation of Anomaly

T-128. However, studying the records was

nothing compared to standing on the bridge of the ship that

was, in name if not fact, the first one to encounter the

structural rip in the universe those many years

ago, and staring at its image on the viewscreen.

Space was swirling around it in what seemed

to be almost a bubbling miasma, evocative of

what it might have been like at the very dawn of

creation. In a way, Kirk felt that he was staring

at a small leftover bit of cosmic

history.

"The seams in the universe," he said to no one

in particular on the bridge, "appear to be

showing."

McCoy, standing to his left, responded,

"Looks to me like the universe is coming apart at

those seams."

Kirk glanced up at him. "Age 175

is telling on all of us, Doctor. Maybe the

universe needs to cut down on its fats and

exercise more."

"That would certainly be my prescription,"

confirmed McCoy.

"Holding steady at five thousand

kilometers," said Chekov.

"What's the rift doing?"

"Nothing, sir," Sulu said, glancing at his

instruments. "At the moment it seems to be

stab--" Then he stopped and looked again. "Energy

flux, sir. Wave reading alpha niner and

rising."

"Confirmed," said Spock from his science station.

"The rift appears to be opening more fully. Its

cycle has begun."

The turbolift hissed open, and Tyler

stepped out onto the bridge. This time there was no

tentativeness in his step, nor anything in his gaze

aside from excitement.

Kirk glanced at him and then looked back at

the screen. "Commodore," he said, "I thought you

were going to be down in the reception bay with the other

representatives."

"I was," said Tyler. "But now it would

appear that I'm not. Strange how the universe

works, isn't it, Captain?" He took a step

down and stood just to McCoy's left. "I would not

miss this for all the world."

The rift took swirling shape and slowly,

slowly, began to separate. The crew watched with

fascination bordering on astonishment. In a steady,

calm monotone Spock gave out readings as the

rift became more and more accessible. Within minutes it

became wide enough to accommodate a shuttle, and

then a starship, and then several. From within were hints

of the whirling temporal vortex that constituted its

interior.

Every scrap of information, every possible reading by the

sensors that had been upgraded by years of

improved technology was taken down and fed into the

Enterprise computers. That information, in turn, was

disseminated with lightning speed to the mainframe

data base of the Federation, and from there to all the

races that were participating in this grand and exciting

adventure.

And yet, with all the remarkable alacrity at the

command of the machines, it was a human eye that

spotted something at the precise moment the

instruments read it. 177

"Captain," began Spock, "sensors are

indicating--"

"I see it," said Kirk. And next to him

Tyler was pointing and saying, "There. At four

o'clock."

Sulu glanced at Tyler and said briskly,

"Two-twenty mark eighteen."

Tyler smiled. "Same thing."

"Magnification two, Mr. Sulu," said

Kirk.

Immediately the screen shifted to focus on what

had caught the attention of, by this point, everyone on

the bridge.

A small vessel had emerged from the rift.

Roughly the size of a shuttlecraft, but the

design was amazingly simple--it wasn't much more

than a cylinder. But it was moving with incredible

speed.

"Sensors indicate that the vessel was

proceeding through the rift at warp four," said

Spock, "but reduced to half impulse the moment

it emerged from the rift."

"Faster than our shuttlecraft," said Kirk

in quiet amazement, "and it stops on a dime.

Commodore, didn't they state in your first contact

with them that they were not actively pursuing space

travel?"

"So we were told," replied Tyler. "On the

other hand, the Calligar have demonstrated that they

are fully capable of rising to whatever occasion

presents itself. After all, they were able to produce

computer components at virtually a moment's

notice. Having any kind of lead time at all

to create a conveyance doesn't even seem a

challenge."

The craft drifted closer and then came to a

rest. It simply hovered there, as if staring at the

Enterprise contemplatively.

"It's come to a dead stop, Captain," said

Sulu. "They are just inside transporter

range."

"Not a coincidence, I would presume," said

Kirk. He glanced at Tyler, who merely

nodded confirmation. "Life readings?"

"Sensors detect one life form," said

Spock. "Calligarian, based on records

from the original transporter matrix when they first

beamed aboard the Enterprise."

"Saving bodily compositions for four

decades," commented Tyler. "Talk about 179

being thorough."

"You never know," said Kirk sagely. "Open

a hailing frequency, Uhura."

"You're on, Captain."

"This is Captain James Kirk of the starship

Enterprise," he said. "If you are the

Calligarian representative, then I

welcome you on behalf of the United Federation of

Planets. Please identify yourself."

The vehicle did not respond. Instead it

simply sat there.

Suddenly lights began to flash on the computer

consoles. Kirk looked around, his concentration

momentarily thrown, and Spock said, "Captain,

we are being scanned."

"Ah-haaah," said Tyler slowly. "Doing it

differently this time." When Kirk looked at him

questioningly Tyler continued. "Captain Pike made

his displeasure known when they originally scanned our

computer banks in a clandestine manner.

Obviously they recall that and decided to be more

open about it."

"Shall I engage scanning safeguards?" asked

Spock.

"No," said Kirk. He leaned forward, resting

on one elbow. "We have nothing to hide. Let them

scan to their heart's content."

The boards flickered for some moments more and then

ceased. Then Kirk said, "Uhura, patch me

in." When she nodded in confirmation he said,

"Calligarian vessel ... we have cooperated

with you thus far. It's your move."

The move wasn't long in coming. Less than

thirty seconds later there suddenly came a

call from the transporter room. "Captain!"

came the surprised voice of Tooch.

"Transporter beams have been activated!"

"By whom?" demanded Kirk.

"Not by me, sir. Should I try to abort?"

"No. We'll be right down. Bridge

to Security," he continued without missing a beat.

"Security team to transporter room." He

stood quickly and said, "Commodore Tyler, Mr.

Spock, Dr. McCoy, would you join me,

please? Uhura, summon the rest of the contact

team to the transporter room. Mr. Sulu, you

have the conn."

"Aye, sir," said Sulu, crossing to the

captain's chair as Kirk vacated it.

No one spoke during the turbolift 181

trip to the transporter room, but Kirk could

almost feel the waves of excitement radiating from

Commodore Tyler. This was a nostalgia trip for

Tyler, Kirk realized--a return to one of the

grand adventures of his youth, whereas for Kirk it

was just another contact with an alien race.

Just another contact. My God, he realized,

did I actually think that just now? When he had

been a youngster on earth, dreams of alien races,

of visiting places that were light-years away,

occupied his every waking and sleeping moment. Had he

now grown so blas@e that the notion of meeting a

new race--new for him, at least--had been

reduced to "just another contact"his

Perhaps it was incumbent upon him, he realized,

to do everything he could to maintain his youthful

enthusiasm. Because the moment that meeting and interacting

with new races became simply a part of the job--

nothing to get excited about--then something very

important and very primal in the makeup of

James t. Kirk would have died, and the stars he

loved so much would no longer belong to him.

The turbolift deposited them less than

two hundred feet from the main transporter

room, and Kirk could hear the babble of voices

and the discussion that was going on just outside. There

seemed to be some sort of disagreement. Now why was

Kirk not surprised about that?

He was even less surprised to find that the

source of the disturbance was Ambassador Fox.

Fox was blocking the doorway of the

transporter room, informing the two security

guards, Meyer and Boyajian, that had been

summoned to the scene that they were not to take another

step. Meyer looked irritated enough at this point

to pick Ambassador Fox up and stuff him up

a Jeffries tube, but he was clearly trying

to employ restraint. Kirk's arrival

prompted a sigh of relief from the security

guard as he said, "Captain, Ambassador

Fox is obstructing security procedures."

Fox turned to face Kirk. "Captain,"

he said with patience that sounded so extreme as to be

condescending, "I think it would be extremely

poor form for the representative of the Calligar

to see, as his first exposure to us, a crewman

pointing a phaser at him. It isn't exactly

in keeping with the image that we're seeking

to project."

"What I am trying to project, 183

Ambassador," said Kirk, "is a ship with

maximum consideration of crew safety. We're

in the process of an unauthorized

transportation, and although I tend to think it will be

harmless, there are nevertheless certain procedures

to be followed." He glanced at the guards, who

did indeed have their weapons out. "Holster them,"

he said. "But be prepared to draw if threatened."

As Meyer and Boyajian put their weapons

away Kirk continued, letting a bit of the

annoyance he felt slip through. "Be aware,

Ambassador, that procedures also dictate that

anyone interfering with a security officer attempting

to carry out orders can, at the captain's discretion,

be thrown into a holding facility. How closely

do you want me to stick to regulations,

Ambassador?"

Fox grunted his acknowledgment and stepped

aside. Kirk was already concerned--whoever was beaming

over had already arrived and was in there with Ensign

Tooch. If there was any danger, Tooch was

suffering it while Kirk was outside waltzing around

with a bureaucrat.

Thak and Daystrom had watched the proceedings

without comment. Dorkin, for his part, was chuckling

softly to himself in a voice that sounded like sandpaper

on metal.

Kirk turned away from Fox as if he were

incidental--which, to Kirk, was the case--and walked

into the transporter room.

There he saw his first Calligarian.

She had her back to the door, engrossed as she

was in discussion with Tooch. Clearly the

transporter operator was in no danger

whatsoever; as a matter of fact, she was laughing

lightly at something that the Calligarian had just

said. Upon the doors opening, however, the

Calligarian pivoted on her heel and faced

Kirk and the others.

There was a gasp from just behind Kirk, and he

glanced over his shoulder. It was Commodore

Tyler. His eyes were wide with--what?

Amazement? Joy? Shock? His mouth looked as

though it didn't even dare to smile, for fear of

breaking whatever spell had caught him up.

"My God," he whispered, "she hasn't

aged a day."

The Calligarian smiled a lovely smile.

"Hello. It's a pleasure to meet you all, and

I come to you on behalf of the Calligar, 185

who, once again, tentatively extend a hand of

greeting. I am Ecma, the Master Builder."

"James Kirk. Captain of the

Enterprise."

One by one Kirk introduced the others to her.

He noticed that Tyler was hanging back. Whether

Tyler simply wanted his presence to be a

s urprise to her, or whether he was suddenly

self-conscious, Kirk couldn't be sure. But

finally there was no one else left, and Kirk said,

"And this is--"

"I think I can handle this myself, Captain,"

said Tyler. He strode forward, stopped in

front of Ecma, and smiled broadly. He

took a deep breath and then said, "Hello,

Ecma."

"Hello." She returned the smile, and he

felt something. It was his heart, jump-starting. "And

you are--"

The ^ws didn't register at first. "Uh ...

Commodore Tyler," he said in confusion.

"Jos@e Tyler."

"Hello, Commodore." She took his hand and

shook it briskly.

His expression of shock was clear for all

to see. And Ecma stared at him long and hard and

said, "Is something wrong, Commodore?"

"Wrong? Ecma ... don't you remember

me?"

She stared at him in confusion, this woman from his

past, this woman who was a direct link to his

youth. The woman whom he had thought of more often

than he cared to admit.

"Have we met?" she asked.

Chapter Thirteen

And then she reached up and kissed him.

The taste of her, the smell of her was just as it

had been those long years ago. And when she smiled

up at him there was still that same impishness ... although

now there was something more in those eyes of hers. Years.

That was it. Years, experience, and sadness.

"How, my dear lieutenant," she said, in a

voice that was low and throaty, "how could you think that

I had forgotten you? Hmmm? Even for a moment."

She stroked his face briefly and smiled. "Your

lack of confidence--"

"Lack of confidence?" said Tyler, and he

harrumphed loudly. "Nonsense. Nor 187

for a moment--not one moment--did I consider it a

possibility that you'd forgotten."

And then he became aware of the others who were standing

nearby, several of them smiling like damned fools.

He turned to them and said, as if it needed any

sort of elaboration, "The Master Builder and

I have ... met."

"Obviously," said Ambassador Fox.

"Gentlemen," Kirk now said, turning to them,

"since we're not dealing with an indefinite period

of time here, I suggest you get down to the shuttle

bay."

"Captain," Tyler said abruptly, "would you

be terribly averse to the idea of my switching

places with Ambassador Fox?"

The Tellarite looked to Thak in confusion.

"What is the purpose of his standing in a different

place?"

"Better view," Thak informed him

straight-facedly.

"Oh." Dorkin frowned. Actually, he was

always frowning, but in this instance his frown deepened.

"Why was I not invited to stand there, then?"

Kirk, wisely ignoring the exchange,

looked from Tyler to Fox. Fox gave a small

shrug. "I have no objection, Captain. I must

admit that, while I took on my assignment

without complaint, I was a bit disappointed over

missing the opportunity to visit the Calligar

homeworld. And it would seem clear that Commodore

Tyler has certain ... interests in staying

aboard."

"It's of no relevance to me," said Dorkin.

Thak pointed out succinctly, "Actually, no

one asked you." To that Shondar Dorkin merely

grunted.

"Very well, Commodore. If you wish to serve

as Ecma's official liaison during her stay

with us, there seem to be no objections." Kirk

tried to avoid smiling like an idiot, even though

he found the entire thing to be utterly charming.

"Everyone else, please retrieve whatever gear

you wish to take and report to the shuttle bay.

Launch in five minutes, Mr. Scott?"

"Aye, sir," said the engineer readily. He

held up his hands. "It's been a while since

I've done any shuttle piloting, but I know

I haven't lost more'touch."

"I have every confidence in you, Mr. Scott," said

Kirk. "Master Builder Ecma, 189

I'm sure that the Commodore would not mind showing you

to the quarters assigned to you for the duration of your stay

... and then, if you don't mind, others of my

crew would appreciate the opportunity to talk

with you."

"I'm here to be of service to you, Captain,"

said Ecma with a slight bow.

Everyone emptied out of the transporter room,

and Fox hung back a moment to speak to Kirk.

"Could we make departure in ten minutes,

Captain?" he asked. "Now that I know I'm

going, I have a number of things I'd like to get

together to bring with me. Research material that I was

going to discuss with whoever came over here, and I

would--"

"Ten minutes, Ambassador, but no more,"

said Kirk, sounding stern. "You'd better

hurry."

"I will, Captain." And Fox, true to his

^w, set off down the hallway at something quite

close to a run. Kirk nodded in approval as

he watched him go. "It's nice to see a man of

his advanced years still able to get so excited about

something."

"Is he that much older than you, Captain?"

asked Ecma.

Kirk thought about that a moment. "You know ... when

I was younger, he seemed much older than me.

Now, somehow, he seems less older. Does that

make any sense to you?"

"As much as anything about humans does," said

Ecma. She smiled at Tyler, who actually

grinned sheepishly. "You were going to show me to my

quarters, Lieutenant?"

"Commodore, actually," he said. "But you should

really call me Jos@e. Or Joe."

"All right, Joe," she said graciously.

He extended an elbow to her, and she took it

smoothly. Together they walked off down the

hallway, Kirk and McCoy watching them go.

"They make a handsome couple, don't you think,

Captain?" asked McCoy.

"They do indeed, Doctor."

"For people of "advanced years,"' of course,"

amended the doctor.

At that, Kirk grinned. "You're never too

old to be young, Doctor."

Crewman Hicks woke up and forgot where he

was. 191

Obeying the orders of the chief engineer, the

slightly foggy Hicks had returned to his

quarters to sleep it off. But not too long after he

had drifted off ... just as he was starting to slip

into REM sleep ... something startled him awake.

A random, distant engine noise, perhaps, or an

unexpectedly loud laugh as someone walked past

his cabin. Whatever it was, it jolted him

to wakefulness, and he sat up in the dark, confused

and thrown off through a combination of his fatigue from the

late-night partying the night before and the mild

hangover he was still suffering.

He glanced at his chronometer and gasped.

"Oh, my God! I'm supposed to be on

duty!"

Still in a haze, he lunged to his feet and

ran out the door. Even as he emerged at high

speed, however, he suddenly remembered that he was

supposed to be in his cabin resting, at the orders

of Mr. Scott. He tried to put on the

brakes. Under ordinary circumstances it would have

been a momentary and unimportant lapse.

However, the particular moment that Hicks had

chosen to bolt from his cabin happened to coincide with the

moment that Ambassador Fox, already feeling

winded but no less determined, was loping around the

corner from the other direction.

The result was that the two men smashed into each

other. Hicks was not injured in the least, but even as

he crashed into Fox he heard what sounded like

bones snapping, and it wasn't from him. Fox went

down hard on his right hip, and there was another

nauseating cracking noise.

Hicks had merely staggered and was now leaning

against the wall, rubbing his chest. But Fox was lying

on the floor, moaning, and grimacing in pain.

"Ohhhh, my God," said Hicks.

"Broken femur," McCoy was saying.

"Broken hip. Two cracked ribs; one of them

came close to puncturing his lung."

They were down in sick bay, McCoy,

Kirk, and the stricken Hicks. Hicks was making

vague gestures with his hands, saying, "It was an

accident! I barely bumped into him. All that

happened was that I knocked him down. I didn't

mean to--"

"We know you didn't mean to, Ensign," said

Kirk. He was trying to act consoling, but at the

same time he couldn't mask his 193

annoyance. "However, that doesn't excuse the

fact that if you'd watched where you were going--"

"I know, sir," said Hicks, looking

downcast. "I'm really sorry. I just bumped

him--"

"Old bones can be extremely brittle,"

said Kirk.

Hicks looked at McCoy in momentary

confusion, and McCoy said in irritation, "Not

me. Bones in the body."

"Oh," said Hicks.

From over on the medibed Fox called, "I'm

feeling fine! Really! Just let me get up--"

McCoy turned and said sharply, "You stay right

where you are, or I'll break your other hip

by sneezing on it." Whether that threat worked

to intimidate him or not, the result was that Fox

settled his head back down on the pillow, his

face a portrait in misery. McCoy looked

back at Kirk and pointed at Fox. "Next

time you're thinking about climbing up one of those

damned mountains of yours," he snapped, "think

about fragility, why don't you?"

Kirk was about to reply when there came a

summons from the wall comm. Kirk went to it and

tapped it. "Kirk here."

"Captain, this is Spock in the shuttle

bay," came the Vulcan's voice. "I understand

there has been a mishap with the Ambassador."

"High-speed collision with Ensign Hicks,"

said Kirk. He glanced in the direction of

Fox's bed, where Hicks was now standing and

apologizing profusely. "Ambassador Fox

definitely took the worst of it."

"Shall we hold the shuttle for him?"

Kirk looked to McCoy, who had overheard.

The doctor shook his head emphatically.

"He's going to be here a while, Mr.

Spock," replied the captain. "Best get

going."

"Yes, sir."

"Remember, hourly communication. Good

luck."

"You'll need it," muttered McCoy.

"Thank you, Captain. And please thank the

doctor for me for his kind sentiments as well."

Kirk tossed an amused glance at

McCoy, who merely scowled. "Better watch

those facial expressions, Doctor. You're

starting to look like a Tellarite." 195

"Why is that one piloting the shuttle?" groused

Shondar Dorkin.

Scotty turned in the helm chair and speared

the Tellarite with a look. "Because I'm capable of

taking this craft apart with more'bare hands and

reassembling it if need be. That's why." The

engineer then turned back to his last-minute

preflight checks and thought, Wouldn't mind taking

apart something else in this shuttle. ...

Spock entered the shuttle and looked at

Thak, Daystrom, and the scowling Shondar.

"Ambassador Fox will not be joining us, it

seems. There was a mishap, and he is in sick

bay."

"Hah!" said Dorkin. "I knew he

appeared too frail for the rigors of space

travel. It's a shame you're not all built like

Tellarites. You know what you would all be then?"

"Suicidal?" inquired Thak.

"Stronger!"

"Oh, dear. That would make it harder to die,

wouldn't it?"

Dorkin aimed his gaze at Thak.

"Tellarites are among the sturdiest races in

the galaxy. Do you know what it would take to kill

us?"

"A long, hard, look in the mirror?"

"No. It would take," said Dorkin

dangerously, "more than you've got."

"Don't worry," said Thak guilelessly.

"I can get more."

And now Daystrom, who was in a seat directly

in front of them, slowly turned with gradual,

dignified movement. "Are you aware," he said

slowly, ponderously, "that with the amount of energy the

two of you are expending in this nonsensical fighting

you could power a ship halfway to Rimbor?"

Dorkin stared at him. "Halfway, you say?"

Daystrom's gaze flicked to Thak.

"Sarcasm seems to elude him, doesn't it?"

"Most things do," agreed Thak.

Spock, in the meantime, took his seat next

to Scotty.

Scotty grinned and called, "Hold on,

lads. We're going to see what this baby can do."

"What?" roared Dorkin. "There's an infant

on board? Why wasn't my government notified

of this?"

The rest of the Shondar's protests were 197

drowned out by the shuttlecraft engine as the small

vessel leapt into space and toward the huge gap

in reality.

The rift grew larger as the shuttle

approached, propelled by impulse power.

Spock kept a wary eye on the readings that were

being produced by the onboard instrumentation, to make

sure that the rift was staying steady. At the first

sign of instability Spock would immediately abort

the flight, because the last thing he had any intention of

doing was jeopardizing the contact team. He glanced

sideways at Scotty, and as if by some silent

telepathy, Scotty returned the look. After

all these years there were certain things that simply

didn't need to be said.

One of those was the result of the significant

look that Scotty gave to one particular

activation square, because pressing that would bring the

warp engines on line. Up until the firing of the

warp engines on the sled, the shuttle could still veer

off.

By the same token, they didn't dare enter the

rift with only the impulse engines. If they

did, they wouldn't last more than a few minutes

... in subjective time, that is. So at some

point, upon reaching the crest of the rift, a decision

would have to be made. And it would have to be predicated

on the idea that the rift was not going to change

suddenly and strand them or, even more cheerfully,

crush them.

"Approaching point of no return, from my

mark," said Scott tonelessly. If there was any

concern over the d-or-die aspect of the moment, he

gave no indication of it. "Fifteen ...

fourteen ... thirteen ... twelve ..."

Closer and closer still came the rift, shimmering

and undulating in the depths of space. It seemed

to be filled with colors, dancing mockingly and

hauntingly in the blackness.

"Eleven ... ten ..."

"What in blazes is he waiting for?" demanded

Shondar Dorkin.

"For the precise moment to push the ejector-seat

button that will hurl you into space," Thak informed

him.

Spock immediately became aware that Dorkin was

now watching him with suspicion. There may be a more

gullible race than Tellarites, he thought, but

none came immediately to mind.

"Six ... five ... four," said 199

Scott. For all that one could discern from his voice,

he might have been counting down to the beginning of a

sporting event. "Three ..."

The rift called to them.

Andwith one final glance at their instruments

Spock said, "Activating warp drive."

The shuttlecraft seemed to distend, its front

leaping into the rift, less than an instant later

followed by its back end.

On the bridge of the Enterprise Kirk

watched the shuttle disappear into the darkness. He

sat in his command chair, his face immobile, his

thoughts private, and his prayers extremely

personal.

Ecma stood in the center of her quarters, stark

still, looking around. Tyler, near the door, watched

her with interest and even puzzlement. Something about her

seemed to have changed all of a sudden. In the

transporter room, even on the way to her

quarters, she had been pleasant, polite, even

flirtatious. Much as she had been those many years

ago, in fact, except tempered with maturity and

even a mild, self-mocking wit.

Now, however, she seemed to radiate tension and

apprehension. He couldn't help but notice the

difference, but he was reluctant to say anything about

it. So instead, aiming for something neutral, he

asked, "Are these quarters okay?"

She didn't answer but instead faced him and

said, "Do you think I could speak to your Captain

Kirk? He is in charge of this ship, is he

not?"

She sounded so formal, even distant.

"Certainly," he said evenly, and he reached over

and tapped the wall comm. "Tyler to bridge.

Captain?"

"Kirk here."

"Would you be able to come down to Ecma's quarters

for a moment?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"I don't think so. She just asked to speak with

you. Of course, if you want to wait until the

shuttle's underway ..."

"They just entered the rift, Commodore, so now

there's nothing to do but wait. I'll be down in a

few moments."

"Thank you." He turned to Ecma and spread

his hands slightly. "There. Okay?"

"Thank you." 201

She sat down on the edge of the bed very

carefully, placing her hands just so on her knees.

He looked at her with open curiosity.

"Ecma," he said, "is your father--"

"Zyo has passed on to be with his

predecessors," she said quietly.

"Oh. I'm sorry. He was a real

forward-thinking individual. It's a damn

shame."

"He had no choice."

He shrugged and walked slowly along the

perimeter of the room. "I suppose none of us

does."

She didn't respond but continued to stare off

into space. That left Tyler with the next question, the

one that had been weighing on him for years. The question

of that last, awful image that he had beheld just before

being beamed back to the Enterprise.

"And Macro?" he asked. "Your brother?"

That seemed to cause a flicker of response.

"Yes. He is well."

"Ecma"--he dropped all pretense of

trying to sound dispassionate--?when I beamed out,

years ago, the last thing I saw was him ... and his

hand on ..."

She slowly looked up at Tyler, her eyes

resembling glass. "What you saw ... was not

unusual among my people."

He stared at her. "What?"

"Your taboos are not ours," she said simply.

"The jealousy my brother felt for you--his

attempts to injure you--were not simply the

actions of fraternal concern."

He was staggered by the concept. "So you mean you and

he ... you ..."

She sighed, her hands fidgeting. "I am not

what I was when we first met, Joe. In those days

I was very ... free. I reveled in that. I

rjcd in life because it seemed as if it would go on

forever. And it helped me forget aspects of life

that I would rather ... have forgotten." She looked up

at him, and her next ^ws were like a hammer blow

to him. "I have a son."

Tyler felt all the blood drain from his

face. "A ... a son," he whispered.

"His son?"

She nodded. "You must understand, our genetic

makeup is not like yours. We needn't worry about

recessive genes being brought to dominance. Among

our people brother-and-sister unions result 203

in some of the best and brightest of our race."

"Well, I don't believe it's healthy,"

said Tyler, revulsion shaking him. "I think it's

wrong, I ..." He stabbed a finger at her.

"It happened after your father died, didn't it?"

"As a matter of fact, it did. As the new

Master Builder, it was incumbent upon me to--"

"I don't care what it was!" said Tyler with

more fierceness than he thought he was capable of

feeling. He took her by the wrists, squeezing

them so hard that a human woman would have cried out in

pain. "It's wrong, and if your father had been

around, he would have seen that. He would have said so."

She smiled mirthlessly. "Where do you think my

father came from, Joe? Such a forward-thinking

individual--y said so yourself. Who do you think his

parents were?"

He shook his head, feeling a pounding in his

temples. "I don't believe it."

She reached out to touch his face, and he

reflexively pulled back. Seeing the

gesture, she said sadly, "What a pity. You

think of yourself as a citizen of the galaxy, Joe,

and yet you are so provincial. So unwilling

to accept viewpoints that are at variance with those that

you grew up with."

He was silent, and then there was a chime at the

door.

"Come in," called Ecma.

The door slid open, and Kirk walked in.

Immediately he sensed the anxiety in the air, but

instead of commenting he managed a small smile and

said, "You wished to see me?"

"Yes, Captain. Thank you for making the

time."

He made a "think nothing of it" gesture.

"I always have time for guests--particularly such

important ones such as yourself. So ... what can

I do for the Master Builder of the Calligar?"

"Nothing."

The flat response caught him off guard for a

moment. He looked at Tyler, but Tyler was of

no help, so he forced a game grin and said,

"Well, if I may ask ... since I can do

nothing for you, then why--"

"You can do nothing for the Master Builder of the

Calligar," she said, "because I am resigning that

exalted title."

"Resigning?" The ^w came from both Kirk and

Tyler, and it was Kirk who continued, 205

"I don't understand."

"Then I will explain. No one in our history

has ever resigned as Master Builder. It is

not allowed. It is unthinkable. But that is what

I'm doing. I am officially seeking asylum

aboard the Enterprise. I do not wish to go back

to the Calligar"--she looked up defiantly at

Kirk--?and nothing in this galaxy can make me."

Chapter Fourteen

"Fascinating."

The shuttlecraft circled one of the larger

cities that comprised the Calligarian Worldnet.

The city issued an unmistakable homing beacon,

guiding the shuttle to that particular city platform.

Scotty steered with sure hands, trying not to let

himself be distracted by the awesome sight of the

perpetually burning Calligarian homeworld.

An aperture opened in the top of the domed

city, and Scotty looked to Spock the moment that

it appeared. Spock gave a small nod, which was

all the instruction that Scott needed to angle the

shuttlecraft down toward the opening that had been

provided.

Once through, the dome shut behind them, and

Scotty followed the continuing summons of the homing

beacon until it brought them to a landing area that had

apparently been set up specifically for them.

"Bring us in, Mr. Scott," said Spock.

"Aye, sir," replied Scotty.

On the landing area below they saw a number ofindividuals waiting for them. Even from a distance

Spock recognized one of them immediately as the

Calligarian who had been introduced as Alt,

the Master of the Status. And standing next to him

appeared to be the one called Macro. He did

not recognize any of the others.

Scotty landed the shuttle smoothly, except

of course the landing was not smooth enough for Shondar

Dorkin, who complained loudly and made sure

to let Mr. Scott know that a cross-eyed

Tellarite child could have done a better job bringing

the vehicle down. Scotty did not reply but

instead contented himself with imagining the shuttle being

brought down on top of the Tellarite's head.

Once Scotty had shut down the engines he

opened up the door, and the contact crew emerged from

the shuttle. What struck Scotty immediately was the

almost overwhelming silence that seemed to pervade the

entire city. It was as if everyone and everything in the

area was listening, hushed with anticipation.

Alt stepped forward and inclined his head

slightly. "Mr. Spock, I believe it

was?"

"I am honored that you remember me," said

Spock. "And your Captain Pike?" 209

"He has retired," Spock said

diplomatically. Now was hardly the time to cite

chapter and verse of the final fate of Christopher

Pike.

"And you are in command now?"

"I am in command of this contact team," Spock

said. "May I introduce--"

And now it was Macro who spoke. He seemed

surlier than when Spock had first met him. More

irritated. The good doctor would have said that

Macro looked like he had a burr up his butt.

"Are you in command of the Enterprise? Or is perhaps

that one--what was his name?" He seemed to be making

a great effort to remember something, but Spock

immediately percvd that Macro knew perfectly

well whom he was thinking of. "Oh, yes.

Tyler."

"Commodore Tyler has remained aboard the

Enterprise," said Spock quietly, sensing the

waves of hostility that seemed to be undulating from

Macro. "The arrival of your Master Builder

prompted him to remain behind to serve as her

liaison."

"Yes," said Macro softly. "Yes, Iwd think that he did. And he is the commander of your

ship?"

"No. The commander is Captain James t.

Kirk."

Macro tilted his chin defiantly. "And why

is he not here? Are we not worth his time?"

"The current directive from Starfleet,"

Spock said patiently, "is for ship commanders

to remain aboard their ship whenever possible."

"We prefer to deal with leaders of men,"

Macro told him.

And Mr. Scott, with quiet confidence, said,

"If Mr. Spock led us into the gates of

hell, I'd follow him whistling. Is that

sufficient leadership for ye?"

Alt watched all of this in silence, but he was

unable to keep the look of distaste off his face.

"Macro is correct in our belief that leaders

should be the preeminent contact points. However, for the

time being we will not stand on ceremony. Macro,"

he said, and it was clear that this was part of some ongoing

and rather acrimonious discussion, "we shall talk of

this--yet again--later. In the meantime, I will thank

you to display at least a modicum of tact."

Macro bowed slightly and said, "As you wisheasir."

"Good." He turned back to Spock. "You do

not inquire as to the absence of Zyo."

"The fact that Ecma introduced herself as the

Master Builder--a term that Zyo described as

a lifetime appointment--wd indicate that he is

deceased."

"Yes," said Alt slowly. "Yes, that is quite

correct. He was the greatest supporter of this

sort of contact. I must admit that, at the time the

first contact was made, I thought it the worst

possible decision. I have, however, had a great many

years to ponder the matter. Furthermore,

despite my initial fears, it is clear that

contact with you did not bring the end of our

civilization as we know it. Perhaps the time has come

for cautious experimentation and contact. That is not,

of course, something I would have admitted to Zyo

while he was alive--the notion that he was right about

something."

"That, sir," said Spock, "is a sentiment that

I can easily comprehend."

Scott stifled a smile. He knew

exactly what was crossing Spock's mind.

McCoy would certainly have had something pithy to addhad he been present.

"These," said Alt, "are members of our ruling

council," and he gestured to the half-dozen

Calligarians who were standing nearby.

"A ruling council?" It was Shondar Dorkin

who had spoken now in that gruff voice of his.

"There was no indication in any previous reports

of any ruling council. What's the reason for the

change?"

"None of your business," snapped Macro.

Slowly Shondar turned his piglike gaze

on the Calligarian. "I'm making it my

business," he said.

"Gentlemen," said Spock with quiet

authority, "the purpose of this encounter is the

peaceful exchange of ideas. I hardly think that

hostility will go very far in supporting that intention."

"Quite correct, Mr. Spock," said Alt

quietly. "Quite correct." He made a

sweeping gesture. "If you'll follow me,

you'll find that we have developed quite a thorough

itinerary for you. Do you have any objections to being

split up in order to provide maximum

efficiency?"

"Not at all," said Spock. He tapped thewrist comm units that had been distributed

to all members of the group before leaving the

Enterprise. "We will be able to stay in

communication with one another, of course."

"Oh, of course," said Alt. "Now ...

introductions?"

Briskly Spock introduced each of the

members of the contact team to Alt, Macro, and the

council, who were introduced to them in turn.

Alt then gestured for them to follow, which they did

as they walked slowly across the city.

The Calligarians they passed seemed to give

him barely passing interest, as if they had

adjusted to the presence of the outsiders that had

decided to live with it. As they walked through the city

Alt said, "Did you have any difficulties

passing through the rift?"

"The improved warp field was more than

sufficient to shield us from the mental strains of the

temporal passage. However, the fuel

consumption was greater than we anticipated," said

Spock.

"You won't run into difficulties returning,

will you?" It was Macro who had spoken, and his

voice was perfectly emotionless, making ximpossible to determine whether or not he would be

sorry to see such an event occur.

And Scotty spoke up. "Ach, no.

We'll only have a wee margin for error, but

we've come out of tighter difficulties than that.

Alth--I'm curious. Do you have the technology

that would enable us to repower our warp sled attachment?"

"Oh, certainly," said Alt. He didn't

even bother to look at Scott. "We couldn't

give it to you, though. We're fairly firm about

that. For that matter"--and now he glanced at

Scott--?we have the capability of re-forming the

dilithium crystals that power your main vessel.

We could create self-regenerating crystals, in

fact."

Clearly, Scotty was unsure whether Alt

was kidding him or not. "Honestly?"

Macro snorted loudly. "Of course."

"That's amazing."

"What's amazing is that you haven't done it

yet," Macro told him.

Scotty frowned at that, but Macro now

lapsed into merciful silence. For that Scotty was

extremely grateful. Then he said, "If ye

don't mind my asking, I'd be interested to knowab the composition of that dome. The opening 215

seemed to appear out of nowhere. Is it some sort of

force field, or a material similar

to transparent aluminum?"

Alt glanced at Macro, and this time Macro

seemed to be making an effort to answer without

hostility. "Actually, it's bonded artificial

atmosphere molecules."

"Bonded ... you mean," said Scott, trying

to grasp it, "you've essentially created a shield

out of thin air?"

"That's certainly one way to put it," agreed

Macro. "When the aperture was opened for you, it was

actually a force bubble that was being created from the

molecules themselves. It stayed with you upon your

entrance while maintaining the seal of the dome.

Once you were safely inside, it released you to go

on about your business while snapping back to its

original form and protective shape."

"You make it sound almost alive."

Macro stopped to face Scott, halting him

in his place. And when he spoke, it was with

passionate intensity as he said, "Of course it's

alive. All of it is alive."

Scotty frowned at him. "What's that yesay?"

"Ah," said Alt. "Mr. Scott, here we

are."

They had stopped in front of a gleaming silver

disk that was about six feet across. Alt gestured

to it. "You, Mr. Scott, are the chief engineer,

according to the ship's records that we scanned. I

see no reason not to fill you in on our latest

advances, although we don't promise to give you the

specifics on how things work."

"That's quite all right," said Scotty.

Inwardly, he was confident that all he had to do was

glance at something, and he would be able to replicate

it from memory.

"Good. Step on this platform, and you'll be

shunted to the engineering center. One of our top people will

be there to greet you."

"Yes," said Macro. "His name is

Regger, and he is my son."

"Your son?" Scotty said.

"Yes, but don't worry. He's nothing like

me."

Everyone looked at Macro in surprise,

and the look of utter innocence on his face drew

involuntary laughter from several of the councilmembers. This, in turn, engendered 217

chuckles from Thak, Scotty, and even Shondar

Dorkin, whose large belly jiggled in a manner

somewhat akin to Santa Claus.

Spock, for his part, looked at the perpetually

unsmiling Richard Daystrom, who merely

shrugged.

Alt, shaking his head, said, "I admit,

Macro, there are times you surprise me

tremendously."

"It is a foolish individual who does not

know his own shortcomings," said Macro, "and I

am far from that. Might I suggest that the scientist

Thak accompany Mr. Scott? Shondar

Dorkin and Mr. Spock can accompany Master

of the Status Alt and the rest of the council to discuss

philosophies and political situations while

I bring Dr. Daystrom to the computer communion

center. That should satisfy the individual areas of

expertise."

The contact team members looked at one

another, exchanging silent opinions, and Spock

finally said, "That would seem a satisfactory

agenda, Macro."

Thak walked over next to Scotty, and the twoof them stepped onto the gleaming platform. In a

low voice Thak said, "Anything that means I

don't have to stay close to the Tellarite is

devoutly to be wished."

"I hear ye," replied Scotty, also

quietly. Then, in a raised voice, he said,

"What do we have to do to activate--"

"Just think of where you wish to go," Macro told

him.

"Ye mean all I have to do is think about

visiting the engineering section, and--"

Mr. Scott and Thak vanished as if they had

never been there.

"Where the devil--" exclaimed Shondar

Dorkin. Not that he was particularly concerned with the

welfare of the two of them. If he never saw them

again, he would not have cared. But it was the abruptness of

their disappearance that had startled him.

"Do not be concerned," Alt told them. "They

are merely on line."

Chapter Fifteen

"Out of the question."

The gathering in the conference room was smalleaccsisting of Kirk, McCoy, Fox-- 219

held immobile in a floatational chair--

Ecma, Tyler, and Uhura, who was acting as

recorder. In point of fact she was

redundant, since the computer was keeping

automatic records of everything that was

transpiring. But in situations such as this one,

certain protocol was required.

It was Fox who had spoken, and he was shaking his

head vehemently. "It is absolutely out of the

question."

"Ambassador," said Kirk quietly, "it

is not up to you."

"Captain"--Fox turned the chair to face

him--?I'm afraid it is."

There was an uneasy silence for a moment, and then

Tyler spoke up with quiet authority. "I can

personally assure you, Captain, that you will have the

full support of Starfleet in this matter."

"I wouldn't extend such assurances,

Commodore," said Fox offhandedly. "With all

due respect, it is quite evident that you are not

thinking clearly. Your judgment has been

impaired by your involvement with this"--he gestured

towards Ecma--?individual, who is clearlyexerting some sort of undue influence. Now, I

would not be presumptuous enough to imagine--"

Tyler started to rise. Keeping his temper in

line had never been one of his strong suits. "You

bureaucratic, hidebound son of a--"

"Commodore!" said Kirk with a sharpness that would have

been more appropriate for addressing a

subordinate. Tyler, however, said nothing but

simply settled back in his chair.

McCoy, for his part, was watching Ecma

carefully. There was something about, something about her

body language that didn't seem quite right. He

had spent years developing the knack of telling

at a glance if someone was in good health, and his

sixth sense was warning him now. "Master

Builder," he said softly, "are you all right?"

She looked at him with eyes that seemed

momentarily glazed, and then she smiled gamely.

"I'm fine, Doctor. Just a bit ...

overstressed from recent events."

"I'm not surprised," said McCoy

cautiously.

"Well, I am surprised," said Fox.

"I am surprised at you, Master Builder, that

you would jeopardize developing relations with your p"suddenly announcing that you don't wish

to return to them."

"She has her reasons," said Tyler, "and I

repeat, Starfleet will support her."

"And Starfleet is answerable to the United

Federation of Planets," shot back Fox, "and

I am the official representative of that

august body. Captain"--he turned to Kirk

--?d you have any idea of the immense delicacy

of the situation?"

"I think so, Ambassador," said Kirk

quietly. "It is your concern that the Calligar will

be distressed over the defection of their Master

Builder, not to mention the fact that her leaving their

confines would probably be in violation of their

philosophy of isolationism. Am I right?"

The question was addressed to Ecma, and slowly she

nodded. "The contacts made with your UFP are

ground-breaking for my people," she told him. "That

contact would not be possible without my father's

influence."

Uhura looked up from monitoring the computer

record. "I beg your pardon ... I thought you

said your father was dead."

"That sounded very much like present tense," Kirkaffirmed. "I am a bit confused myself on that."

Ecma coughed slightly and said, "My father and his

philosophies live on in spirit among my people, just

as philosophers and wise men long dead among

your people influence you. I tend to speak of him as if

he were still alive."

"Very understandable," said Tyler.

Kirk wasn't sure he completely understood

it, but he let it pass. "Let's deal with the

issue at hand."

"The issue is how we're going to convince the

Master Builder here that the course she intends

to take could be suicidal for continued relations with

her people," Fox said. "Whatever reasons she has

for doing this, I can't believe that she would want

to jeopardize the work that her father began and that we are

endeavoring to continue."

Kirk turned and fixed him with a gaze.

"Ambassador," he said, lowering the

temperature in the room several degree with his

voice alone, "I understand you feel strongly about

this, but if you interrupt me one more time, I'll

return you to sick bay, and you will participate in

this conversation over the conference-room viewscreen.

Am I making myself clear?" Fox glowered at him but said nothing. 223

Kirk looked back at Ecma for a minute.

"Now then, Master Builder--"

"Ecma, please," she said.

"Ecma, then ... you've told Commodore

Tyler, and now myself, that you wish to stay with the

Federation. I assume that you have given the commodore

some sort of reason for this desire." From the

corner of his eye he noticed Tyler no.ing.

"But you have not shared them with me. I am asking you to do

so now."

"It's personal, Captain," said Tyler before

Ecma could say anything.

"I'm afraid that's not good enough,

Commodore."

"I'm afraid it will have to be, Captain."

"No, sir," said Kirk. "Perhaps

Ambassador Fox has a point when he says

matters of diplomacy, such as defections, are

up to the diplomatic office--and since he's on

site, he has that authority. And perhaps you can

argue, as the highest-ranking Starfleet officer

present, that you have authority. But gentlemen"--

Kirk smiled unpleasantly--?the bottom line

is, this is my ship. My crew. When I sayjump, they say how high, and if I order my

security team to clap the lot of you in the brig,

they'll do so without hesitation. Are we clear on

this point as well?"

"You're threatening to strong-arm us," said Fox.

"That's correct. I have a history of

strong-arming to get my way, and one consequence of that

history is that you survived Eminiar VII.

I'm too old to start being delicate,

Ambassador, and if you don't like it, you are

cordially invited to walk home. Andwith all due

respect, Commodore, you can join him."

Kirk rose from his chair and started to circle the

briefing room, hands behind his back. "Commodore,

you're asking me to put my head on the block

while Ambassador Fox there would be more than

happy to drop the axe on it. Now, I'm

willing to stick my neck out--God knows I've

done it often enough before--but I have to have some idea of

what's at stake here. I will not go into this blindly."

He stared at Ecma. "It's up to you, ma'am.

Tell me why you wish to defect. Is it because of

Commodore Tyler? Is there something else?"

Ecma was silent, seemingly turned to stone.

The only sign that she had even heard Kirk--tthere was anything going through her mind--was that

she was chewing on her lower lip.

"She wants to stay with me," said Tyler.

"That's not the reason," said Ecma. She

seemed very distant. McCoy noticed that her

breathing seemed irregular. "Oh, I feel very

strongly toward you, Joe--I think perhaps I even

love you--but that alone would not be enough."

Tyler seemed nonplussed by this but then

recovered. "All right, then," he said. "You'll

have to tell the captain about your brother."

"It's not my brother either," she said.

"Her brother?" asked Kirk.

Ecma forced a ragged smile. McCoy, for his

part, had brought along a medical tricorder in his

bag to keep an eye on Fox's vitals.

However, he now subtly recalibrated it

to monitor Ecma instead.

"Joe Tyler is morally outraged," she said,

"because of my intimate relationship with my brother

Macro."

"A relationship that produced a son," said

Tyler darkly.

Kirk blinked in surprise, and Uhura

barely managed to cover her reaction. McCoy" too busy eyeing her vital signs. Her

pulse was racing, as was her heartbeat.

"It is not the happiest of relations for me,"

she continued, "but as I said to Joe, it is not

unheard of among my people, nor is it taboo, as

it is in your society. We have our own ..."

She coughed for a moment, seeming weak, but then she

pushed on. "We have our own taboos. For that

matter, as difficult as it is to believe, I

love my son. But I love life more, and

I--"

"Captain," McCoy said. "I think you

should--"

But Kirk hadn't heard him. "Love life?

Is someone threatening your life?"

Her breath was coming in gasps now, and McCoy

was immediately on his feet, the tricorder clearly in

evidence.

"I don't want to be Thinned," she gasped,

and her body seemed to be turning to rubber. "I

... I don't ..."

"Thinned? What the hell is "Thinned"'?"

demanded Kirk. "Commodore--"

"News to me," said Tyler in confusion. "I

never--" "Captain, the woman is erratic!" 227

Fox snapped.

"Jim!" McCoy said. "Her heartbeat is

arrhythmic, respiration up."

"It's not time yet! It's not right!" She was on

her feet, her body quivering, and then she started

to keel over. Tyler caught her, lowering her

back to the chair, and McCoy was immediately on the

intercom summoning a team from sick bay.

And she screamed, mustering the air to cry out,

"I don't want to die!"

"Die?" said Fox. "What in hell is

she--"

"Shut up!" snapped Tyler. "Just shut

up!"

Her bones might as well have dissolved for all

the strength her body seemed to display. She started

to slide off the chair, and Tyler lifted her up

into his arms. She seemed weightless.

"Do something for her!" Tyler shouted at

McCoy. "That's an order!"

"I don't know her full biological

makeup," said McCoy. "Drugs that help us

might kill her. I have to get her down to sick

bay." As if on cue the medical team from sick bay

burst in with an antigrav table and crash cart.

Tyler immediately put Ecma's quivering body on

the table, and Kirk was right next to her. "You're in

the best of hands," he said.

Her eyes were half closed, but suddenly they

snapped open, and strength seemed to surge into her

right arm. She reached up and grabbed Kirk by the

forearm in a viselike grip. "Don't send me

back!" she hissed. "Please ... I'll die

... please ..."

"I won't," said Kirk. "I promise.

I'll grant you asylum. You have my ^w."

Her mouth moved, but she was unable to get a ^w

out, and then her head slumped back. Her hand

released its hold on Kirk, and McCoy

snapped, "Get her to sick bay. Nowffwas

The medicart rolled out, and Tyler started

to follow, but McCoy froze him with a look.

"I don't need a goddamned audience," he

said sharply. He turned and then glanced back

over his shoulder and added, "Sir."

There was silence in the briefing room for a time after

Ecma had departed in such haste. And then, very

softly, Ambassador Fox said, "Captain... you were not serious, of course." 229

Kirk seemed to answer from a great distance.

"Serious?"

"About not sending her back. Our interaction with the

Calligar is very delicate. Something like this--one

of their highest officials--"

"Ambassador," said Kirk slowly.

"Now hear me out!" Fox said. "My God,

Kirk, I'm not inhuman. I saw how upset

she was--the woman is clearly terrified.

Nor am I foolish enough or insensitive enough

to ignore Commodore Tyler's obvious affection

for her."

"What the hell do you know about it, Fox?" said

Tyler with obvious disdain.

Fox shook his head ruefully. "I know that

look you gave her, Commodore, and the way she

looked at you. There's a connection between the two of

you. It's unpredictable, and you never know when and

where in this vast galaxy you're going to find it. But

you two have found it, and under ordinary circumstances

I'd be happy to shake your hand. But these are far

from ordinary circumstances. Our relations with the

Calligar are still extremely tentative. We

have no idea how they're going to react when theyfind out about this, but I think the chances are

pretty

damned good that they're not going to be thrilled about

it. You're going to put this entire affiliation

into jeopardy over the desires of one person."

"Two persons," said Tyler quietly.

"It is not fair," Fox went on as if

Tyler hadn't spoken, "to jeopardize all the

good and hard work that has been done to bring matters

to this moment in time. Your obligation, Captain, is

to your mission. And that mission is to firm up

relations with the Calligar. Not to risk

antagonizing them."

"I will thank you, Ambassador," said

Kirk, "not to remind me of what my mission

is." He paused. "You do, I admit, have a

couple of valid points about priorities and where

they should be placed. The fact of the matter is that you

are quite possibly right."

Tyler looked at Kirk with open hurt in his

face. "Captain, I cannot believe--"

Kirk put up a hand to indicate he wasn't

finished yet. "Now, the fact is that we don't

know for sure how the Calligar are going to react

until we tell them. So I think we'd better

tell them and see what happens from there." "The bottom line, Kirk," said 231

Fox. "You're forgetting that. I know this is your

ship. I know all that. But I believe that due

to my rank and position, I'm entitled to know.

If the Calligar want their Master Builder

back, are we going to give her to them?"

"I've given my ^w," said Kirk firmly.

"I'm not going to take someone who says her life

is at stake and ship her back to die. I

simply will not."

"Even if it means losing an alliance that could

be of tremendous benefit to the future of the

Federation?"

Kirk stood, towering over the immobile

Fox. "What good is our future,

Ambassador, if our morals and sensitivity

to human need becomes a thing of the past?"

"Very high-sounding, Captain," replied Fox.

"Just one problem Ecma isn't human. The

Calligar aren't human. You're superimposing

human attitudes on other beings, trying

to cross that gulf between humanity and the rest of the

galaxy by fashioning a net of morality with

Terran philosophies as the anchor points.

I'm surprised at you, Captain. Xdoesn't work that way. You know it, and I know it,

and moreover, the Prime Directive knows it."

"This is not a Prime Directive issue."

"It damn well is. We're not to interfere in

their society. We're not to do anything such as--"

"Such as blowing up computers that maintained a

centuries-long war?" Kirk asked evenly.

Fox's face became hard. "Will you stop

tossing that up at me?"

"For some reason," said Kirk with false

heartiness, "it seems to keep cropping up."

"The actions you took were entirely out of

self-defense."

"And that made them all right?" said Kirk

challengingly.

"That made them at least understandable."

"And what made it understandable was that we were acting

in defense of ourselves and you. So understand this We are

now acting in defense of Ecma. And her life

is worth defending as much as anyone else's."

"And more so than a few that come to mind," growled

Tyler.

"Therefore," said Kirk, "the bottom line that

you're so fond of is that we have a situation here

that's going to have to be worked out. Shipping her back ina box is not one of the options. This

will,

however, require the skills of an

Ambassador. So you're going to have to ..."

He paused, trying to come up with a ^w, and none

seemed appropriate. "Ambass," he said with a

shrug.

"Let me get this straight," said Fox.

"Tyler wants her to stay because he loves her.

You're going to support that view because of some

misbegotten--I don't know--Lancelot complex

you have. And you're expecting me to try and smooth

all this over?"

"That's exactly right."

"Why?"

"Because it's your damned job," Kirk said.

"Because I'm telling you to. And because,

Ambassador, whether you like it or not, you owe

me."

Fox scowled, shook his head, and swung the

chair around. As he exited the briefing room he

was muttering to himself in a rapid string of

unintelligible sentences.

Tyler turned to Kirk and said, "Thank you,

Captain. If you don't mind, I'll go down

to sick bay to await ^w." "If Doctor McCoy will allow you in, then

by all means."

As soon as Tyler left Kirk turned

to Uhura with a questioning glance. "Well? Don't you

have anything to say on the matter?"

Uhura shrugged. "Only that if I were in

trouble, I can't think of anyone I'd rather have on

my side."

He smiled wanly. "Thank you, Commander."

"That, and also that you're in deep trouble."

"You're telling me."

Chapter Sixteen

Montogomery Scott was screaming inside his

own head.

He could not hear anything otherwise. There was

nothing surrounding him, nothing interacting with him ...

there was no him.

He was suspended in time for eternity, and even

though he had ceased to exist, he couldn't help but

have a sensation of forward movement. All of existence

was roaring past him, a headlong rush that streaked

by him, surrounded by a hum and torrent of air that

seemed to be crackling around him. And suddenly, just like that, it was over. 235

Scotty staggered slightly, and the voice that had

escaped him now seemed to catch up with him.

"Aaaaahhhh," he managed to get out, taking

a quivering step forward.

Next to him was Thak, similarly disoriented.

The Andorian was slightly faster to recover,

thoug h, and he put a hand on Scotty's shoulder

to steady him.

Scotty nodded once in appreciation and then,

taking a deep breath, looked around.

Lining the walls were a series of narrow tubes

with what appeared to be pulsing blue plasma,

similar to what covered the surface of the planet

below. Long tubes stretched up and out the ceiling

of the cavernous room, going off to who knew where.

In the center of the room was some sort of unit that

was unlike anything Scotty had seen before. It

stood in its own independent canister, and visible

through the clear top of the canister was a device big

as Scotty's fist. Small spokes

protruded from it, and it flashed alternately in

black and red.

Scotty and Thak stepped tentatively off the

flat silver disk that was identical to what theyhad been standing on moments earlier. The room was

filled with a slow, steady hum.

"What in the world," asked Thak. He and

Scotty walked toward the canister in the middle

and then circled it slowly, not getting closer than

a couple of feet.

"Looks a bit like a dilithium chamber,"

Scotty said, "but that's certainly not a crystal

in there. Hmmm." He rubbed his chin. "Some sort

of energy redistribution device, do ye think?"

"A trafficking device? But wouldn't something like

that have to be considerably larger?"

"Aye. We have similar nodules on the

Enterprise, and they're much larger--and that's just for

powering a starship. Can ye imagine how large such

a unit would have to be to deal with the power

redistribution needs of an entire world?"

"About as large as that device right there," came

the softly amused voice.

They turned and saw the speaker. It was another

Calligarian who seemed to bear a general

resemblance to Macro, although his face seemed a

bit softer and his neck somewhat longer. He also

had slightly stooped shoulders, giving him the

appearance of perpetually straining to hear what was beingsd to him. "You must be Regger,"

Scotty said.

"Yes, sir," said Regger. He nodded

to Scott and Thak. "And you are the gentlemen from the

Federation."

"Aye, that we are."

"I hope our shunt transport wasn't

too disconcerting for you."

"Is that what that was?"

"Yes. Basically your particle stream was

inserted into a free-flow accessor and shot through

to here via a preprogrammed route derived from

your neurons."

"How long did it take?" Thak asked. "It

seemed positively endless."

"Actually, it was instantaneous. Far faster

than your transporters."

Scotty whistled and took a long, inspecting

look around, his hands on his hips. "This is quite a

setup you have here. And that device there--y say it

is for channeling energy?"

Regger nodded and walked to the canister in the

middle, placing his hands on it. "The Illidium

Pew-36 Explosive Space

Modulator," he said with satisfaction. "Idesigned it myself. Improved energy efficiency

throughout the Worldnet by seventeen percent."

""Explosive"'?" said Thak nervously.

"Oh, don't worry. That refers to the data

processing aspects. Not to actual

explosions."

"Well, that's a relief," Thak said

gamely.

Scotty was studying the device, his eyes

narrowing. "Amazing," he said. "Simply

amazing. If there was a way to apply this to our

engines--"

"You had a start on it," Regger said casually.

"Your data base described something referred to as

a "transwarp"' drive. Correct?"

"Ach," Scotty snorted disdainfully. "That

boondoggle. It never worked right."

"No," Regger corrected. "It was never

designed right. But the basics were quite sound, and if

Starfleet researchers pursued it, they would find

the design flaw and fix it."

"What are you saying?" asked Thak. "Are you

claiming that you could fix--"

"No," said Regger. "I'm afraid that I

can't hold your hand and lead you through, much as I'd lto. You seem decent fellows. But it

has to do with politics, disputes between

philosophies and such. I've never involved

myself with any of that. I just enjoy the pure

research. What I'm saying is this If the

transwarp system were made to work, you would not

believe the possibilities. It would totally

restructure your concept of what's possible in

terms of speed. You'd have to recalibrate your

entire definition of warp."

Already possibilities were dancing through

Scott's head. "I never thought that--"

"No," said Regger. "I didn't imagine that

you would have."

For just a moment he had sounded extremely

arrogant, and Scotty looked at him

suspiciously. But then Regger smiled a

relaxed smile and said, "Come. Let me show you

some of the energy readings generated by our plasma

burn. I think you'll find them most

impressive."

"I find your concept of IDIC most

fascinating," Alt said. "Infinite Diversity

in Infinite Combination." They were in a central Calligarian meeting

hall, simply but comfortably filled with

furniture that twisted in shapes that didn't

seem as if they could be remotely comfortable. They

were, however--s much so that the perpetually

dissatisfied Shondar Dorkin was moved to comment on

it positively.

"That is the Earth definition for it," said

Spock. "IDIC is derived from a Vulcan

term. The acronym is a convenient method for

Terrans to sum up in English what is, in

fact, a concept that Vulcan philosophers have

been debating for centuries."

"Typical. Earthers prefer nice, quick,

easy solutions," snorted Dorkin disdainfully.

Spock looked at him with open curiosity.

"If that were true, Shondar, the Prime

Directive of the Federation would never have been

developed. What easier solution is there to any

problem than simply to employ superior

technology or firepower--something forbidden by the

noninterference directive?"

"What simpler solution?" laughed Dorkin.

"I'll tell you what simpler solution there is

Ignore the problem. Turn away. Say"It's not my predicament, so I will 241

simply not interfere."' That, my Vulcan

associate, is the easiest way to handle something.

Just walk away."

And Alt leaned forward and said, "No. No,

Shondar Dorkin. Actually, that's the most

difficult thing to do."

"There is another Terran philosophy

called Quakerism," Spock said, "or the

Society of Frs. One of the foundations of their

beliefs is that to bear witness to an act means that

action must be taken to resolve it. All

philosophies--intervention and nonintervention--h

their individual demands."

Shondar Dorkin nodded slightly. "You have a

point."

Spock found Dorkin's attitude

fascinating. Although perpetually blustering to the point

of insufferability, Dorkin actually seemed a

most intriguing individual when discussing matters

that were part of his expertise, such as different

societies and their developments. It was something

of a relief to Spock--up until that point it

had seemed as if Dorkin would be nothing but a

hindrance to the mission. Indeed, it was Dorkin who was continuing the

conversation as he said to Alt, "We have discussed

various Federation philosophies, but we still know

nothing of the day-to-day beliefs of the Calligar,

beyond your desire for isolation. What drives you,

I wonder?"

Alt pursed his lips for a moment and then

glanced at the members of the council. They glanced

at one another and then nodded.

"Our concept of day-to-day beliefs, as you

put it, is predicated on the concept of the

Harmony," said Alt, "which is why we find the

concept of IDIC so interesting. We believe in

being in Harmony with one another--and, most

especially, with our surroundings."

"But when we first encountered you," said Spock,

"you were in discord over how to deal with us."

"That is true," said Alt. "My view of

your Federation and Zyo's were opposed. As Master

of the Status, it is my job to keep the Harmony

for all concerned. You see how responsive our

surroundings are to our very thought. That stems from the

Harmony. Zyo, however, as Master Builder,

was responsible for the actual working mechanics of

our world and our progress. In other ^ws, I amresponsible for the mind, while he was in

charge of the body."

"And the mind and the body were divided."

"Yes. It was Zyo's contention that your incursion

into our environment--even in so relatively minor

a manner as subspace transmission--was going

to impact on the Harmony. That the only way

to maintain the Harmony was to incorporate your

existence into ours."

"To absorb us?" said Spock cautiously.

But Alt shook his head. "To acknowledge you.

This was opposed to my feeling, which was to ignore you

utterly. But it was Zyo's feelings that

prevailed, and Zyo's plan that we followed."

"How did this plan prevail?" asked

Dorkin, narrowly beating Spock to the question. "How

was it decided?"

"It was decided."

"How?" repeated Dorkin more insistently.

But Alt's face hardened. "It simply

was. It was decided through the Harmony. The idea

was made a part of us, and eventually we opted

to accept it. You see, gentlemen, we must live

in the Harmony. For there is nowhere to go."

"What do you mean, "ationowhere to go"'?" Dorkinasked. "There's all of space to go to.

Certainly now that you've seen that contact with other

life forms is hardly the end of life as you know

it, you're not going to hide in these sky cities."

"That," said Alt firmly, "is precisely

what we intend to do. We have lived in this manner for

hundreds of your years. We have no intention of

changing it now."

"But certainly you must," said Spock.

"Necessity would seem to demand it. For

example, I do not comprehend how you deal with

population expansion. If you are confined to these

satellite cities, and they are immutable in

terms of size or expansion, certainly, at some

point, your people will outgrow it. How do you intend

to make allowances for that?"

"We have," said Alt simply. "That is all

you need to know."

Now Dorkin was starting to get his hackles up.

"We did not come all this way for you to be

obstructionist with us."

"Obstructionist?" Alt actually seemed

amused by the notion. "We have permitted you into our

lives. We did not have to do that. We do not have to do

that in the future. We are trying to be attentiveffour place in the galactic scheme of

things. But we are, at our heart, a reclusive

people. We prefer our privacy when it comes

to matters of a more personal nature. Just as we have

our tightly drawn limits, so must you learn and

understand the limits of what we will and will not share.

We have spoken of the Harmony with you. Do not ask us

to volunteer more than we feel comfortable doing."

"Then, sir, if we may, I would like to discuss

further something you already brought up," said Spock.

"The notion that your "Harmony"' interacts with your

environment. How does it do that, sir? Purely

from a mechanical point of view."

"Your Dr. Daystrom will be able to answer that for

you," said Alt. "We have a computer system.

It's main terminus is in the Southern Pole

satellite."

"May we inspect it?"

"No, Mr. Spock, you may not," said Alt

firmly. "However, Dr. Daystrom is being

guided by Macro to one of our computer access

facilities where the Harmony is maintained."

Spock began to have uneasy feelings and

recollections of such ominous entities as Landru

and the Oracle. "Is this computer facility ...something you worship?"

Alt's eyes opened wide, and he started

to laugh. The other council members joined in,

although it was difficult for Spock to tell if it was

because they thought it was funny or because they felt it was

appropriate to laugh when Alt laughed. "My

dear Mr. Spock," he said, "do you worship the

computers aboard your ship?"

"No, sir."

"Nor do we make ours the object of any

devotion. Our computers are tools, nothing more.

We interact with them to facilitate our ability

to control our environment. They are machines.

Useful machines. That is all. Do not ascribe

to us the primitive delusions of more simpleminded

races."

"No offense was intended, sir."

"Nor is any taken. Now, then ... there is

something else that we discerned from your computer banks

as being remarkably influential on your

culture. Something that your ancestors apparently

worshipped, but it was not a religion, not a

school of thought, not even a deity. We are a

bit confused as to its nature and are most curious

about its origin and impact." "If I can be of help, I will," said 247

Spock.

"Good. So please tell us, then"--and he

leaned forward, his fingers steepled--?what exactly

was this mighty entity known as "television"'?"

As with all the buildings that Daystrom had

observed, this one seemed unassuming. The

Calligar were clearly far more interested in function

than form. He stood outside a moment next

to Macro, his arms folded, surveying it. "So

what is this place? Your computer center?"

"A means of accessing the computer," said

Macro, "not the center itself."

"And what do you access it for?"

"All manner of things. It's ...

meditative," Macro said uneasily.

Suddenly he turned to Daystrom and said, "Be

aware that I am still not pleased about this situation. I

am cooperating because it is the desire to maintain the

Harmony. But that is the only reason. So it would

be in your best interest not to ask a large number of

questions, because I'm not going to answer them, and you'll just

annoy me further. If there's something that I think

you should know, I will tell you. Other than teakindly be quiet."

Daystrom opened his mouth to speak but then closed

it again. Squaring his shoulders, he followed

Macro into the computer communication center.

He hadn't been sure exactly what

to expect. A series of computer stations, perhaps.

Or maybe rows of chairs with helmets for

participants to fasten on that would tap them in

neurally.

Instead they walked into an atmosphere of such

suffocating silence that Daystrom felt as if he

could barely breathe.

The only noise at all was the sound of

Daystrom's boots on the polished floor. He

immediately became conscious of his tread, and a moment

later, of his breathing. Even his own heartbeat

sounded like thunder.

Macro, who was larger than Daystrom,

didn't appear to make any sound at all.

Evidently he was wearing some sort of cushioned

soles. Or maybe he just absorbed sound the

way a black hole sucked in light.

The lights in the large chamber were dim,

punctuated by cones of pure white light piercing

down from overhead. It was impossible for Daystromffmake out just how many people were in there, or

how 249

many individual beams of light were being generated.

Three, four, five dozen. Maybe more.

Under each of the lights stood a Calligarian.

Young and old, male and female, all were there.

They stood absolutely immobile in the stark

light. They looked neither right nor left; they

seemed not to be breathing until Daystrom looked

very closely to see a very slow, very shallow rising and

falling of their chests.

He stepped very close to a random male, staring

straight into the male's eyes. That was when

Daystrom found they weren't even really looking

straight out. Instead their gazes seemed to be

internally directed, as if they were staring into their own

souls.

Daystrom looked them over with a mixture of

amazement and something akin to horror. "What are

they doing?"

"Communing."

"Communing with--"

"Themselves. They exchange and study

philosophical thoughts with one another, with the

computer ... it's a kind of free-form association

with everyone and everything that makes up theirenvironment. Abuse of their surroundings by the

Calligar is what led to our initial

difficulties so long ago. Only by constant

awareness of ourselves and the Worldnet can we avoid such

an onerous fate."

"That's a very interesting ideology," said

Daystrom. "How does this work specifically?"

Macro actually smiled at him, a toothy and

unpleasant smile. "Magic," he said.

Daystrom looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"Magic?"

"The system of neural interaction would be beyond

your ability to replicate or even fully

grasp," Macro informed him airily. "I can just

as well tell you that small elves are

responsible for it, or a race of giant

cyclops with beams emerging from their great

eyeballs. Those, at least, you could understand."

"Your confidence in my comprehension is most

flattering," said Daystrom dryly. "I am the

preeminent mind in computer development in the

Federation. I would like to think that means something."

"To those in the Federation, I'm sure it does.

But does the preeminent rat in the maze have the

power to understand the tools used to construct the maze?" And then he laughed, loudly and

nastily.

Daystrom glanced around and said, "I'd like to try

the communing, if you don't mind."

The laughter immediately stopped. "I do mind,"

said Macro with quiet menace. But that menace was

tinged with uneasiness.

"Why, may I ask?"

"The brain of a human being would not be

sufficiently strong to cope with it."

Daystrom took a step back and studied

Macro thoughtfully. "Are you saying that," he

asked, "because you have a great deal of disdain for human

beings? Or because it's neurologically true?"

Macro smiled thinly. "You will never know."

And suddenly a shaft of light lanced down from

overhead, encompassing Macro. The momentary

surprise on his face was immediately noted

by Daystrom, who took it to mean that Macro was not

expecting this sudden appearance of light. Which meant

that the computer was communing with him of its own accord--

something that Daystrom found to be personally

extremely intriguing. Just how far did this

computer's "own accord" go?

Macro stood frozen that way for only a fewmoments, and then the light vanished. For some moments

afterward, however, he said nothing. Daystrom looked

at him curiously and then said, "Macro? Is

everything all right?"

"No," Macro said, lowering his gaze

to Daystrom, and there was undiluted menace in it.

"No, everything is not all right. My sister is

trying to leave us. And if she does ... then it will

go very badly for you. Very badly."

The last time Daystrom had felt a chill like that

pounding through his veins he had been leaning over the

M-5, trying to convince the computer of its sanity

while feeling his own slip away. It was not a

feeling that one ever forgot. It was a feeling of

menace to body and soul.

He felt that now, and he shivered under the

scrutiny of Macro.

Chapter Seventeen

"Aside from the fact that she's unconscious and

her vital signs are all over the place,

there's nothing wrong with her."

Lying nearby in the medibed, Ecma didn't

move, was barely breathing. The life-signmonitors were fluctuating and seemed 253

to be descending, but then every so often they would jump

upward slightly and hold steady.

Standing some feet away was McCoy, his arms

folded and his face concerned. Kirk and Tyler were

there as well, and McCoy--ffKirk's relief

--had made no blustering, annoyed comments about

spectators in the sick bay. Usually this meant

either that he was confident the patient was going

to recover with no problem, or else that there was little

chance of anyone else's presence making any

difference. Kirk had the uneasy feeling that in this

case the latter was true.

"She can't have collapsed for no reason," said

Tyler, his voice hitting slightly on the high

end of the scale.

"Steady, Commodore," said Kirk firmly.

He looked to McCoy. "There's no

physiological reason? None?"

"Would you care to double-check her, Doctor?"

asked McCoy dryly. "I'm telling you I

can't find anything wrong with her. I've studied

her physiognomy as much as I could, short of

dissecting her--which would probably decrease her

chances o f survival substantially. I believeI have a handle on what makes her tick. The

question is, how do I get her wound up again?"

Kirk thought a moment and then crossed to the

computer station. He leaned forward, his knuckles

on the counter, and said, "Computer, call up the

visual record of the conference-room briefing of

an hour ago."

The scene sprang to life on the computer

screen. There were Ecma, Fox, and the others, all

frozen in place. Kirk became aware that

McCoy had joined him, and the doctor said,

"What are you hoping to find?"

"Something. Anything. Some clue. Computer--

run it forward."

"Speed?" asked the computer.

"Normal time, one-to-one," Kirk said.

"However, focus on the individual identified

as Ecma."

And the sequence began, except the screen was

entirely occupied by Ecma's image.

They watched the whole thing through, up until

Ecma's collapse with her shrieks of being

afraid to die. "Freeze it," said Kirk.

Then slowly he looked at McCoy. "Does

that remind you of anything?" "Should it?" asked McCoy. 255

"She seemed to be trying to tell us something,"

said Kirk. "Remember, she stressed that our

taboos were not hers. But the implication is that she

and the Calligar have their own taboos."

"We know they tend to play close to the vest,"

said McCoy. "Beyond that--"

"Beyond that we don't know a hell of a lot,"

Kirk replied. "I think that she was trying

to break one of those taboos just then. She was trying

to tell us something, something that's part of their

society, that they don't wish to share with

outsiders. And something--some sort of imperative

--prevented her from doing so."

McCoy frowned and started snapping his fingers as

if that could jog his memory. "You know, that does

sound familiar, that ..." Then his eyes widened,

and he stared at Kirk. "Yonada."

"That's what I was thinking," Kirk replied.

"When the old man collapsed--"

"The instrument of obedience."

"Yes," said Kirk.

"The device that was surgically inserted that tied

people in to the Oracle."

"Right." "You think she may be tied in with some sort of

supercomputer or something, and it's shutting her

down via an implant!" McCoy sounded

excited.

"That's it exactly," said Kirk.

"Perfect! My God, Jim, that's

brilliant!"

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Really! That's a terrific answer."

"Good. So you--"

"Just one problem."

"What's that?"

"I already thought of it."

Kirk's face fell. "What? You already--"

"Yeah. I didn't just fall off the turnip

truck, you know. I checked her over thoroughly for

any sort of mechanical implant. There's

nothing there."

Kirk was considerably crestfallen. "So just

now you were--"

"Stringing you along, yes. Just to remind you which one

of us is the doctor."

With an annoyed glare Kirk said, "You're

becoming nasty in your old age, Bones."

And then they heard something strange. Humming. 257

Quietly, singsong, almost as if a child were being

eased to sleep.

They turned to discover Commodore Jos@e

Tyler standing next to the medibed. He was holding

Ecma's hand, slowly drawing his fingers across the

top in a slow, soothing fashion. And he was

humming to her. Nothing readily identifiable, or

even especially coherent. Just slow, steady

comforting.

Kirk and McCoy went over to them to watch in

silent puzzlement, and then McCoy glanced up

at the bioreadings. "Son of a gun. She's

stabilizing. Lower than I'd want, but at least

she's not deteriorating. I'm not sure why, but

what you're doing is definitely helping,

Commodore. Keep it up."

"Ecma is someone who likes to be in tune with

her surroundings," Tyler said in between soft, gentle

hums. "From what I saw, and from what Captain

Pike reported about Zyo's home, her world is

very thought-responsive. I just wanted to bring her in

tune with me ... and us. And I thought filling the

environment with something soothing, like music, would get

to her inside and out and might make things easier forher."

"I can order music piped in to sick bay,"

said Kirk.

And now Tyler was tenderly singing, ""Juuust

me and my shaaadow ..."'"

"I know that song," said Kirk.

"Good. Sing it with me."

"But Commodore--"

"I'm pulling rank, Captain."

Kirk shrugged and joined in with ""Strolling

down the aaavenue,"'" and together he and Tyler

continued, ""Me and my shaaaadow ..."'"

They went through the entire song twice, and

Ecma's breathing--which had been erratic--was

slow and regular. And then at Tyler's urging they

continued, launching into "Rockabye Baby,"

"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," "Fly Me

to the Moon," and the slightly off-color drinking

song popular at the academy, "Down from

Saturn and up Uranus." This was followed

by McCoy leading Tyler in a rendition of

"Dixie" while Kirk went to the intercom.

"Kirk to bridge. Uhura."

"Yes, Captain," she replied, and then she

said, "Captain, I seem to have something else onthe channel. It sounds like singing." 259

"That's correct. Uhura, I want you

to program a selection of songs and have them fed

into sick bay."

"Songs?"

"Yes, Uhura, songs."

"Any particular preferences?"

"No, none. Just something soothing."

He heard Sulu, who was in command, come in on

the band. "Captain, this is Sulu. Is there a

difficulty?"

"No, Mr. Sulu, just trying to arrange for

some music to be piped into sick bay."

Sulu seemed to give it some thought. "May I

recommend show tunes, sir? I've always been

partial to show tunes."

"Opera." Chekov's voice could be heard.

"If you vant true passion, it has to be

opera."

"Three hours of corpulent divas braying in

Italian. No, thank you," said Uhura

disdainfully. "Actually, for pure beauty, nothing

can top a madrigal."

"This isn't for recreation!" said Kirk in

exasperation. "We have a patient down here whoresponds well to a musical environment. I

don't care if you send us pop, waltz, or a

Rigelian candigal, but get some music down

here, dammit!"

"Yes, sir," said Uhura, who clearly

hadn't realized that there was medical need.

"Give me ten seconds."

Precisely ten seconds later a gentle,

sweet, and haunting tone filled the air, and

Kirk recognized it immediately. It was a

recording of Spock playing his Vulcan lyre.

"I'm going to bring the lights down

to fifty-percent illumination," said McCoy.

"If what she needs is a peaceful environment,

then that will certainly help."

"Good idea, Doctor," said Kirk.

Moments later the lights did indeed come down,

and Kirk even found himself becoming almost

hypnotically relaxed by the peaceful environment that

had been created in the sick bay. Tyler was

humming along with the Vulcan music and continuing

to stroke her hand.

"It would seem, Captain," said McCoy in

a low voice, "that a fair guess is that she's

going through some sort of withdrawal." "The question is, what is she withdrawing 261

from?"

"I don't know," said McCoy. "The problem

is that withdrawal generally gets worse before it

gets better. In other ^ws--"

"She may continue to deteriorate, and we've

just bought her some time, is all," Kirk said

slowly. "All right. But at least we've got

her that." He grimaced. "Thinned, she said.

What in hell was she talking about?"

"I don't know, but whatever it was," observed

McCoy, "it certainly seems that it has

fatal consequences."

"Bridge to the captain."

Kirk went to the wall comm and tapped it.

"Kirk here. The music is fine, Commander."

"That's not it, Captain," said Uhura.

"We're receiveg a communication from the Calligar.

They insist on talking to the leader of the starship, and

they sound extremely unhappy."

Kirk exchanged glances with McCoy, and the

doctor mouthed the ^ws They know. Kirk nodded

grimly. "I'll be right up, Uhura." Then

he turned to Tyler. "Commodore, I think you

might want to hear this as well." "I should really stay here with Ecma," began

Tyler.

But Kirk would have none of it. "Commodore, as

ranking officer I think you should be present when this

communiqu@e comes through. Andfor God's sake, stop

acting like a lovesick schoolboy."

Tyler's face hardened. "You're out of line,

Captain."

"No, I'm out of patience, Commodore."

The commodore's mouth twitched a moment, and then

he nodded. "Very well. You're correct, of

course. Doctor, please call me if there's

any change in her condition."

"Of course," said McCoy.

Tyler placed Ecma's hand gently on her

belly, took one more glance at the life signs

that had stabilized, and then nodded to Kirk. "All

right. Let's go."

Kirk tapped the wall comm once more. "Kirk

to Ambassador Fox."

"Fox here," came the immediate reply.

"Where are you, Ambassador?"

"In my quarters, resting."

"Stay there, but tie in with shipboard

communications through your computer. We're getting amessage from the Calligar, and you might 263

want to contribute."

Fox's voice was laced with sarcasm. "Is this

where I'm supposed to defend a position that I

don't agree with?"

"That's right, Ambassador. This is it."

"Splendid."

Kirk spun and headed quickly out of sick bay,

followed by Tyler, leaving the eerie strains of the

Vulcan harp behind him.

McCoy sighed and said to himself, "God, I

hate that creepy Vulcan music. They should have

stuck with show tunes."

Kirk walked out onto the bridge, followed

by Tyler, and said briskly, "Put them on

visual, Uhura."

"Yes, sir."

The rift that had seemed to become a permanent

fixture on the screen now vanished, to be

replaced by images of several Calligarians and

Mr. Spock, looking calm as always.

"Captain," said Spock as casually as if

he were announcing the weather, "there appears to be a

difficulty that has the Calligarians q.tressed."

"I think I'm aware of what that might be,

Mr. Spock," said Kirk, emulating the

Vulcan's stoicism.

"These gentlemen," said Spock, inclining his

head slightly in their direction, "are Alt, the

Master of the Status, and Macro and Regger, the

brother and son, respectively, of the

individual in question."

"The individual in question," Alt said, clearly

trying not to lose his patience, "is our Master

Builder. Ecma has apparently taken it upon

herself to turn her back on her people. That cannot be

allowed. She must be returned to us."

"May I ask how you became aware of the

situation?" asked Kirk.

"I was informed by Macro," said Alt. "And

Macro--"

"Has nothing to say to you beyond that I think you are

deceiving, conniving cretins," Macro said

fiercely. Then he pointed in the direction of

Tyler. "I blame you for this, Tyler! You

talked her into this. She was happy and content until

she met you."

"I only knew her for a short time, and manyyears ago, Macro," Tyler 265

replied. "I doubt I could have had that much

influence on her beyond whatever discontent with your

society she may already have had within her."

"The Master Builder's discontent is not at

issue here," Alt now said. "What is at

issue is the concept of continued trust and

cooperation between my people and yours. That is impossible

if we cannot trust you to return one of our most

valued commodities."

"She's not just some commodity," Regger said. His

annoyance seemed more focused on Alt than it

did on the Enterprise crew. "She's my

mother. She's our Master Builder. We depend

on her. We need her. She's been training me

all my life to take over after her, but I would

never have the temerity to claim that I'm ready to do

so." Now he turned toward Kirk. "Captain,

I implore you ... make her see reason."

"Right now I can't make her see anything,"

said Kirk. "She has passed out and is

currently in our sick bay."

"Of course she is," said Macro. "She

can't survive away from us. It's against the way in

which she was brought up. It's against everything that weare. Her life cycle begins and ends

with the

Calligar, and if you think to interfere with that, then you

have no one to blame but yourself for the consequences."

"For someone who has nothing to say," observed

Tyler, "you certainly have trouble shutting up."

"Don't start with me, Federation man,"

Macro said fiercely, stabbing a finger at

Tyler.

"Captain," came Fox's voice, "if I

may ..."

Kirk took a breath. This had been a

calculated risk on Kirk's part. He had

dealt before with Fox, and others like him. But he had

anticipated that the Calligar were not going to be

ecstatic about the situation, and he believed that one

of the things that could get him through this extremely

delicate situation was presenting a united

front. The last thing he needed was internal

bickering. Which meant that he had moved hard and fast

to get Fox on his side, appealing to everything from his

diplomacy to his humanity.

"Go ahead, Ambassador," he said.

"This is Ambassador Fox," he said, and the

viewscreen, at the silent command of Sulu, cut

away in the lower right-hand corner to display animage of Fox from down in his quarters. 267

"Obviously you feel strongly about this situation.

Just as obviously, so does Captain Kirk."

"Ecma is subject to Calligarian law,"

Alt said.

"I would tend to agree," said Fox, "and were

we, in fact, on Calligar, there would be no

question. However, gentlemen, we are in Federation

space. That makes Ecma's request for

sanctuary subject to our laws, and granting of

such request is left to the captain's discretion

on a case-by-case basis."

"And in this case," Kirk said quickly, while

heaving an internal sigh of relief, "I am

using that discretion to give the Master Builder,

however temporarily, sanctuary. You should be

aware, by the way, that she has stated she

abrogates all rights to her title."

Alt looked dumbfounded, as if this had never

occurred to him. He looked at Regger questioningly,

and even Regger seemed amazed. "That would mean,

Captain," said Regger slowly, "that I would now

be the Master Builder. A most exalted

title. But one that I would gladly relinquish

to she who has done far more than I to deserve it." And now Macro, to the surprise of all,

turned on Regger and said, "You insufferable little

snot. The way you talk, you act as if you never

wanted it. I know what you're all about, Regger,

and don't think I'm unaware. It's what you've

always wanted, isn't it? It's a foolish father

who doesn't know his son."

Kirk was extremely pleased at that moment that

he had managed to present a united front, because

watching the internal bickering among the Calligar

emphasized what an unseemly sight that could

be.

Regger looked hurt and betrayed, and he

ignored his father as he said straight into the

monitor, "Please ... excuse my father. He

is extremely upset, as are we all, and he

is saying things that are inappropriate and

untrue."

"And Ecma has been saying things as well,"

Tyler added. "Things like--"

"Things like ..." Kirk said, motioning for Tyler

to be silent for a moment. Slowly he sat in his

command chair, looking extremely casual, as if

he had all the time in the world. He even smiled

slightly. "Like what?" said Macro 269

impatiently.

"She told us about thinning. And about how thinning,

would mean her certain death if she returned to you."

Tyler looked at Kirk questioningly, but Kirk

didn't return the stare. Of course, Kirk

had no idea what specifically Ecma had been

talking about, but there was no reason to tip the

Calligar off to that.

Indeed, the expressions of the Calligar were a

sight to behold--utter astonishment, to put it

mildly. Then Alt seemed to pull himself together,

and he said firmly, "She would not have. You are

lying, Captain. But that doesn't matter."

"People of Calligar," Fox now said, "the last

thing the Federation wishes to do is cause a

difficulty. However, our commitment to the right of

free will makes it--"

"If I may," Spock now managed to get

into the conversation, "I am certain that some sort of

equitable compromise could be reached if we merely

keep the lines of communication open."

"We will be more than happy to keep those lines

open," Alt said tersely, "but our communication

consists of this Gentlebeings. You will return theMaster Builder to us, and you will do so

quickly. As

much respect as we have for your good intentions, andfor

you, Kirk, as the leader, we cannot see any other

way."

"It's his fault!" Macro said again, pointing

at Tyler. "Things would have gone perfectly

well--"

Tyler felt his temper flaring. "And have you

considered that maybe you're at fault, you

repulsive pig?"

"Commodore," said Kirk dangerously.

But Tyler wasn't paying attention. Instead his

gaze was locked with Macro's, and he said, "And

that maybe it's not so much that she's running to me as

that she's running from you? Maybe she's tired of

your insular, nonexpanding world. Or maybe she's

just tired of you."

"Uhura, cut the audio," ordered Kirk.

She did so, and he immediately spun his chair

to face Tyler. "Commodore, you're not helping."

"My apologies, Captain." There was no

edge to his voice. He spoke flatly and

evenly.

"Uhura." He nodded to have the audio brought

back on line. "Alt, Mr. Spock iscorrect. We are both intelligent, 271

reasonable peoples. I'm certain that we can work

matters out to the satisfaction of all concerned."

"Are you willing to bet your crew on that,

Captain?" asked Alt.

"What do you mean?"

"He means," Macro now said, "that until

such time that you return Ecma to us, we will hold

on to your contact team."

"You can't do that!" shouted Tyler.

Ambassador Fox was hmphing as well.

"I would like to think," he said tautly, "that the

Calligar can deal with us in a more equitable manner

than extortion!"

"If it's good enough for you, it's good enough for us," said

Macro.

Regger looked uncomfortable. "Father, this--th

isn't right. ..."

"Shut up. If it's good enough for them, it's good

enough for us."

"Sir," Spock said patiently, "you cannot

reasonably equate the two. In the case of

Ecma, she is asking to remain with the Federation. In

our situation, you are holding us against our will."

"Semantics," said Macro dismissively. "No, sir. Facts."

"That really doesn't matter now, does it?"

said Alt. "Here is the reality of the situation.

We are not barbarians, Captain, nor are we

kidnappers. However, we know what we want, and

we know what we're entitled to. Send the

Master Builder back to us. Until that time, the

Federation contingent will stay with us. And I remind you,

Captain, that the rift will close roughly sixty

hours from now. That does not leave you a great deal

of time. I suggest you use it wisely."

Andwith that, the transmission from the Calligar

blinked off.

Kirk sagged back in his chair and rubbed his

forehead. "Perfect," he said. "Just perfect."

Chapter Eighteen

All the materials from the shuttlecraft were

brought into the large common room that had been

arranged for the convening of the contact team. Extending from

the common room were a series of bedchambers for

Spock, Scott, Daystrom, Thak, and

Dorkin. It took the team only a few

minutes to discover the subjective nature oftheroom's interior furnishings, andforthe first 273

time that anyone could remember, Shondar Dorkin

had absolutely no complaints with

anything--particularly the decor.

What spoiled the charm of the setup for the group was

the knowledge, passed on to them by Mr. Spock, that

matters had gone seriously awry back on the

Enterprise. This drew, expectedly, the

loudest bellow from Dorkin.

"That idiot captain of yours is going to get us

all marooned here!" he yowled.

"I am quite certain," said Spock confidently,

"that is not the captain's intent."

"Aye. If there's a way out of this, Captain

Kirk is the man to find it," Scotty

affirmed. He smiled at Spock, who,

unsurprisingly, did not smile back.

"Well, I'm certain that's an unbiased

couple of commentaries from people who have served with Kirk

since before the dawn of time," said Dorkin

sarcastically. "You're staking your personal

freedom on his ability to work us out of this."

"Captain Kirk seems quite capable,"

Daystrom said. "And he is also quite resourceful.

If anyone can get us out of this, he can." "Well, that's fine for all of you. If you're

content to sit around waiting for Kirk to save us,

then that is perfectly fine for you," said Dorkin.

"But as for me, I prefer to be in command of my own

destiny, thank you." And now he was on his feet and

heading for the door.

It came as a surprise to no one except the

Shondar when the door refused to open.

"Hey!" he snarled, and he hit it once.

When it ignored him he snarled again and hit it

again. He had no more luck the second time. He

whirled. "We're being made prisoners!"

"That was the logical next step," said

Spock.

"This is infuriating!" said Dorkin. "We do

not have to stand for this! They won't leave us in here

forever. As soon as we see one of them, I say

we attack. Vulcans are formidable fighters,

as are Andorians--alth neither of you, of course, can

come close to the pure brawling power of a

Tellarite."

"Why in the name of Ghu should we want to?"

asked Thak in amazement.

"Physical force would accomplish nothing,"

Spock said. "It would not garner us knowledge that we need.Injuring or killing Calligarians can

only exacerbate the situation. And even if we

were able to get to the shuttlecraft, we would not be able

to get outside the dome unless the aperture were

opened for us. We do not need a show of strength.

We need information."

"So what do we do?" asked Thak.

"We wait," said Spock.

In the sick bay of the Enterprise Kirk and

Tyler were once again observing the unmoving form of

Ecma. Kirk was leaning over her and, in a soft

but insistent voice, saying, "Ecma. Speak

to us. We need to talk with you, Ecma."

She did not reply, and furthermore her breath

seemed a bit labored. McCoy glanced

warily up at the medical readings, endeavoring

to ignore the Vulcan harp music that had been

playing in his sick bay for what seemed like an

eternity. If Spock hadn't been completely

off the ship and uninvolved in the decision,

McCoy would have sworn it was part of some Vulcan

master plan to drive him insane.

"The withdrawal is becoming more pronounced," he

said at length. "But withdrawal from what?" said Kirk in

frustration. "What's the exact nature?"

"I'm not sure," said McCoy, his

professional detachment a marked contrast

to Kirk's own attitude. "If I were sure,

we could come up with some sort of substitute. The

music definitely seems to have helped, but--"

And suddenly the vital signs started to drop

precipitously. The scanning board began

blinking faster, and an alarm signal sounded.

"Damn," said McCoy, grabbing up his

instruments. "Medics!"

As if they had materialized from thin air, two

medics showed up with stabilizer units. McCoy

hurriedly set the calibration.

Ecma's body was covered with sweat and

trembling horribly. She was moaning softly, and

from her mouth emerged faint whistling noises, as if

she had a sucking chest wound.

"Do something!" said Tyler.

"Shut up!" snapped McCoy. He was

rapidly preparing a hypo.

"Pulse and respiration dropping, Doctor,"

said one of the medtechs. "Bottoming out."

"We're losing her," said the other medtech.?Vital signs at less than 277

minimal."

"Brain-wave activity is discordant."

It had happened so fast, and Tyler was shouting

to her, "Come on! Come on! Whatever's

happening to you, make it stop! Make it stop! You

can beat it! Make it stop!"

"Hold her down," said McCoy. He

placed the hypo against her forearm. "I'm giving

her five cc's of cordrazine."

"Five?" said Kirk in shock, remembering

what the drug could do in even the smallest of

doses.

"My studies show her body should be able to handle

it," said McCoy, and then in a softer voice he

added, "I hope."

He injected the stimulant, and the result

was, as always, instantaneous.

Ecma's eyes snapped open, her mouth forming

a perfect O shape, and she shrieked. Her

hands swung up, snapping the restraints and

knocking aside the two medtechs. The medisensor

lock around her middle, however, was

significantly tougher. She tried to sit up,

but it held her in place. If she'd triedffslide out, she would have succeeded, but her mind was

too chaotic at the moment for any such lucid

plan. All she was trying to do was sit up, and that

she could not accomplish.

There was enough time for Kirk and Tyler to get on

either side of her, grab her by the shoulders and force

her back down. Kirk glanced up at the

monitor board and saw all the gauges at the

top of the scale. Though McCoy had certainly

kicked her back up into high gear, the problem was

that, as high as she was, she wasn't going to stay

there, and they had to make sure she didn't come

crashing back down in flames.

"Ecma!" Tyler was shouting. He leaned against

her, grabbed her face with both hands, and forced her

to look straight at him. Her eyes weren't

focusing on him, weren't focusing on anything.

"Ecma! Listen to me! Remember--"Just me and

my shaaaadow--"'"

With superior strength her arm coiled up, and

she shoved him fiercely away. He stumbled

back and knocked over a medical cart.

Ecma was trying to shove Kirk away as

well, and he twisted about and got her left arm

immobilized. The right one was pushing at him witheverything she had. "Ecma! Stop! 279

Whatever is happening to you, it's in your mind! Your

mind is trying to shut down your body, for some

reason none of us knows! You can stop it! You can!

There's nothing biologically wrong with you. You have

to have the force of will to overcome it. We can't do it for

you! No one can. This is your fight! Yrs! Now

start fighting it! Come on! Fight your fight!

Fight your fight!"

It was some hours before Spock, Scotty, and the

others received their first visitor Alt showed up,

inquiring after their health.

This drew a coarse and sarcastic laugh from

Dorkin. "Why should you care? You're the ones who

are keeping us prisoners."

"We are all prisoners, in a way," said

Alt. "Prisoners of circumstance." He sat

down on a chair that appeared seven different

ways to the seven individuals in the room. "We

do not wish to keep you here until the next cycle

of the rift. The chances are that most of you will be

deceased by the time that happens."

"I would, in all likelihood, still be

alive," said Spock. "Vulcans arenotoriously long-lived."

"It's because they never shut up long enough to stop

living," sniffed Dorkin.

"That is one theory," said Spock

graciously. And then, totally unexpectedly,

Spock turned to Scotty and said, "Mr.

Scott, perhaps now would be the time to ... I

believe the phrase is "crack out"' ... the

provisions you brought with you."

Scott looked at him in total befuddlement.

"Provisions, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes." He indicated the supplies

Scotty had brought that had been unloaded from the

vanished shuttlecraft. "Particularly the

bottle."

The chief engineer's jaw dropped. "Now how

did ye--"

"Mr. Scott," Spock said, sounding as

close to surprised as he ever came. "I have

known you for far too long to be unaware of your

usual definition of supplies."

Scotty shook his head in amazement as he

went to the supplies chest. Daystrom, Thak, and

Dorkin were looking at one another in confusion.

"Will someone kindly tell me what the blazesy're talking about?" demanded Dorkin. 281

For reply, Scotty pulled out a bottle of

Scotch and held it up for all to see. "Muh

hat's off to ye, Mr. Spock. After all these

years, I guess there's just not very many surprises

left."

"The price we all must pay, Mr.

Scott." And then Spock turned to Alt and,

much to Scotty's surprise, said, "Would you care

to sample Mr. Scott's provisions, Master

of the Status?"

Alt raised an eyebrow. "If it is

Mr. Scott's wish. I do not wish

to impose."

"Certainly not, don't think of imposing," said

Thak with soft sarcasm. "Keep us against our will,

that you have no trouble doing."

"I have already said that is not our desire," said

Alt, taking the proffered open bottle from

Spock. "It is due simply to the demands and the

unfortunate necessities of the situation. Ecma

is a very valuable individual."

"And if she were less valuable?" asked

Spock.

"It would make no difference. We believe ina closed society."

"For a people who say they are an advanced race,"

Dorkin said, "you seem unwilling to grant

freedom to your own people. How much advancement is there

in that?"

Alt took a long swig of the Scotch, and that

was when Scotty cast a glance at Spock.

Spock merely nodded ever so slightly, and a slow

smile spread across Scott's face.

Alt then lowered the bottle, wiping a

sleeve across his mouth. "We cannot allow," he

said, "indiscriminate distribution of our people hither

and yon. We believe it contrary to the best

long-term interests of the galactic society as a

whole. There must be control. Don't you understand that?

Our society, our environment, our thoughts must

all be"--he interlaced his fingers--?l this. Try

to pry this apart. You cannot. But if a finger is

removed, then it becomes that much easier. Our

society needs each and every individual to remain

whole and strong. Everyone knows his position and

place in that society, and his

responsibilities. To shirk that

responsibility is to damage the society."

"Laddy," said Scotty slowly, "do ye knowt you're rambling on and on, and by and 283

large not making a lot of sense?"

Alt giggled.

Scotty looked at Spock. "Th is," he

said, "is promising."

Matters had gotten somewhat unpleasant--

even nauseating--fora time in the Enterprise sick

bay in the course of Ecma's weaning from whatever

had a grip on her. But Kirk and McCoy had

changed their uniforms and gotten cleaned up, and now

they returned to the tortured Calligarian

refugee.

"Heartbeat and respiration normal ...

well, normal for her, at any rate."

McCoy was studying the vital signs over

Ecma's bed and no.ing slowly. "All right, I

admit it ... I'm impressed," he continued.

He turned to Kirk, who was standing nearby. "You

have something of a knack, Captain--alth I would have

to say that lecturing patients is not something that

generally produces results."

"Whatever works, Doctor." He stood over

Ecma, whose eyes were still serenely closed. Her

breathing was shallow but regular. "I don't thinkI'd care to make a habit out of that, though.

I'm perfectly content to let you take care of the

medical situations on this ship."

"What a relief. I was getting worried there

for a second," said McCoy.

"So ... so what happens now?" asked

Tyler.

"Now we wait," said McCoy. "She's

gone through the equivalent of what used to be called

"cold turkey."' That term was usually in

reference to drugs in the system. Here it's not a

drug, but instead something in her mind. It's having

the same sort of effects on her just the same.

I believe she's come through the worst of it, but still,

I'm dealing with an alien physiognomy relating

to some sort of societal compulsion so overwhelming

that it's invaded her biology. There's no way

I'm going to say she's completely clear until

she sits up, looks at me lucidly, and

asks what's for breakfast."

"And until we can talk with her and get a

thorough grasp of what's going on, we can't do

anything to alter the situation," said Kirk

grimly. "Meanwhile, we lose precious

time." "Bridge to Captain," came 285

Uhura's voice through the intercom.

"Never a dull moment around here, eh?" asked

Tyler. Kirk didn't even bother to answer as

he tapped the intercom.

"Kirk here."

"Captain, we've picked up private

transmissions from within the ship."

"What? Localize."

"We already have. They originated from the cabins

of the Tellarite and Andorian ambassadors."

Kirk and McCoy exchanged glances. "The

aides. They've alerted their governments," said

Kirk in sudden realization.

"Alerted them that their respective

representatives are being held on the other

side of the rift because we've given Ecma

sanctuary. But how did they find out?"

And this time they spoke together "Fox."

"I'll kill him," said Kirk.

Tyler nodded. "I'll help."

Chapter Nineteen

Macro was standing on the edge of the water, lookingou over the cool lake.

"This is where it began," he said slowly, unable

and not needing to hide the resentment in his voice.

"Where what began, Father?"

Macro did not even bother to turn to see his

son behind him. "Must you follow me everywhere?" he

grumbled. "It's endless with you."

"Can I help it if I want to be near you?

You are my father, after all." He paused.

"What's going to happen to Mother?"

"I don't know, and I don't care."

"Are they going to make her come back?"

Macro turned on him. "Oh, you'd like it if

they didn't, wouldn't you?"

Regger looked astounded. "Father, why do you keep

saying that?"

"Because you know it's true! Because you welcome the

opportunity to become the Master Builderffwas

He advanced on his son, waving a meaty finger.

"Your scheming and your plotting. Acting to everyone as

if you're pleasant and thoughtful and couldn't care

less about advancement. Oh, but I know you,

Regger! I do! I know what motivates you! I

know how happy you'd be to have your mother gone, and

don't think I don't know! Your plots and yrschemes--" 287

Regger drew himself up and, eyes filled with

hurt and defiance, said, "Who are you describing,

Father? Me? Or yourself?"

Macro threw a quick right that caught Regger just

under the chin and lifted him clear off his feet. He

fell to the ground, nursing his injured jaw, and

Macro stood over him, body quivering in

indignation.

"You," he snarled at his son, "have got one

hell of a nerve."

"I," shot back Regger, "am--at least for the

moment--the Master Builder. I outrank you,

Father, and that's what's really gnawing at you,

isn't it? That you were passed over. That you just

don't have the talent or the will. You can't accept that

things aren't going your way, so you come up with these

fabrications of plots and plans. So you can

believe the whole Worldnet is against you, and poor,

poor Macro the maligned is being schemed against.

No one is plotting against you, Father, or plotting

against my mother. And the greatest enemy that you have in this world

is yourself, and that's the truth."

Macro's jaw shifted from side to side, and his

muscles seemed to be tensing under his skin.?Sooner or later," he said, "everyone is going

to see. Everyone is going to see who's right and

who's wrong, and who's deserving ... and who's

not."

"Yes, Father," shot back Regger. "I have

no doubt that they will."

Alt didn't so much sit down in the chair as

pour his body into it. The bottle hung in his hand,

and Scotty pulled it from his unresisting fingers.

The engineer studied it in surprise. "He only

drank about"--he appraised the remaining contents

with a practiced eye--?ab one and a half

glasses. Now there's someone who can't hold his

liquor."

"Yes, I am aware of that, Mr. Scott,"

said Spock. "Nor was he able to do so when we first

encountered him. I surmised that his tolerance for such

had not increased during the intervening years."

"So now what, oh great strategist?" asked

Dorkin.

"Now," said Spock, crouching down next

to Alt, "we get the information that we--and, in all

likelihood, the captain--require. The

nature of this situation that has Ecma refusingffreturn to her people." 289

"But why do you say the captain requires it?"

asked Scott. "He said he knew it already."

"That was a bluff."

"How do ye know?"

Spock glanced back at Scotty. "The

captain has never been known for his reticence.

If he were fully cognizant of what was bothering

the Master Builder, he would undoubtedly have

delivered a lengthy argument on her behalf,

based on the knowledge of what was concerning her. His

failure to do so can only be interpreted as a

lack of information on his part."

"So what are you going to do?" asked Thak.

It was Daystrom who answered. "The mind

meld. Isn't that correct." It wasn't a

question.

"Yes, sir," replied Spock. He

stretched out a hand, and his fingers touched Alt's

face.

"Why didn't you just overpower him and do that when

he first got here?" demanded Dorkin. "It would have

saved lots of time."

"Force is not the answer to everything," replied

Spock. "For that matter, it is rarely theanswer to anything. I sense that the Calligar have very

strong minds--penetrating a mind under assault

or on its guard would have been difficult, if not

impossible. This, however, is more feasible. Now,

may I have silence please--z difficult as that

may be for some?"

"Was that crack directed at me?" said

Dorkin. "What, are you saying I don't know

how to be silent? I can be silent. I can keep

my mouth shut. I have as much self-control as

anyone. And I resent the implication that--"

Thak moved so quickly that Dorkin never saw it

coming. Considering the perpetual air of deference that

Andorians projected, it was completely

unexpected. That air also, however, served to cover

the utter fierceness of Andorians when they were

provoked.

All Dorkin knew was that suddenly there was an

impact on the side of his head, and stars

exploded behind his eyes. Then his face was on the

floor, and he wasn't quite sure precisely how

it had gotten there. That was the last thing he thought of

before he slipped into unconsciousness.

No one else so much as budged from his position.

Scotty, surveying the scene, said, "That was awee bit drastic ... but no less 291

appreciated."

Spock didn't even seem to have noticed. His

fingers strayed across Alt's face, working the upper

part of his head as if physically drawing what he

needed to know out through his fingers. His face was

absolutely immobile; he wasn't even

blinking. His mind probed deeper, deeper into

Alt's consciousness.

And then he gasped, his head snapping one way

and then the other as if someone were battering him. He

grunted in the manner of someone shoving a boulder

up a hill, and Scotty took a step toward

him, uncertain of what to do. He didn't want

to break the contact. He wasn't sure what would

happen to Spock if he did.

"Worldnet," whispered Spock. "Worldmind.

Thinning. Dying. So many people. So many minds. Dead

and alive. Gone and here. Thinning. Culling.

Separate the best. Best and brightest. Take

them. Save them. Preserve them. Dead and

alive. Gone and here."

Each ^w was more labored than the one before, the

effort seeming greater and greater.

"Dead and alive," said Spock. "Dead andalive, gone and here, thinning, thinning," and his

voice grew louder and louder, and then suddenly he

shouted, "Stop him! He's invading me! Stop

him!"

"Spock!" shouted Scotty, for the voice

speaking was no longer the Vulcan's. He could

hold back no more, and he grabbed Spock under the

arms and yanked him away from Alt. The

Calligarian slumped back, his eyes open but

looking at nothing, his mouth moving but saying no

^ws.

Spock seemed dazed, leaning his full weight

on the sturdy shoulders of the engineer, and now

Daystrom was on the other side, helping

to support him. "Spock!" said Scotty,

"what happened? What did you--"

That was when three Calligarians burst in.

In their hands were small disks, no larger than

their p alms.

Scotty turned and demanded, "What's

happening here? What are you people doing in--"

The closest one to Scotty flipped his disk

almost casually, and it landed on the engineer's upper

shoulder. And to Scotty's astonishment, he

collapsed like a marionette with severed strings.He hit the floor hard, cracking his 293

head, and his senses swam around him. He heard a

grunt and a thud, and that was clearly Daystrom going

down as well. Scotty tried to reach up

to remove the disk, but his arm wouldn't budge.

He had as much control over his limbs as if

they'd been removed and affixed to someone else's

body.

The Calligarians turned on Thak and, their

arms at the ready with more disks, said, "Don't

move."

"I've grown roots," replied Thak

calmly. At his feet was the unmoving

Tellarite.

Alt was beginning to haul himself to his feet,

making every effort to shake off the effects of the

alcohol. He regarded Spock lying on the

ground. The Vulcan was trying to pull himself up but

was not having tremendous success.

It was at that point that Macro ran in,

looking around in momentary confusion before fully

assessing the situation. He stared at Alt.

"You've looked better," he said, in regard to

Alt's complexion, which had taken on a

distinctly greenish hue. Alt, for his part, was focused entirely on

Spock. "I thought," Alt said thickly, "that you

had a better understanding of our point of view in this

situation. We tried to associate with you and yours.

We truly did."

And now Macro interrupted, saying

disdainfully, "Zyo had a vision, and one man with a

vision can bring an entire race into focus. But

obviously that vision was flawed. We will have to do

something about that ... but first we will have to do something about

you."

"Get away from him!" said Scotty.

Alt glared at him. "Now you express

moral outrage? Try the indignity of having

someone invade your mind, wresting from you the most

personal aspects of your race's belief.

Something that is important to us, virtually

sacred, simply ... ripped from within me by this

butchering Vulcan mind technique. Well, he

will not hold on to this information. Of that I can assure

you. Take him," he said to two of the

Calligarians who were nearby.

They reached down and hauled Spock up,

draping his arms around their shoulders to be able to drag

him to wherever they were bringing him. Alt looked at the rest of them 295

pityingly. "We had the best of intentions for you. You

brought this on yourselves."

And that was when Spock's hands clamped down on

the shoulders of his two supporters.

Their heads snapped around, and they went down

immediately. Spock, on his feet, reached out for the

third Calligarian.

Alt stepped back and shouted, "Stop him!

Stop him!"

The third Calligarian moved like lightning,

catching Spock's hands before they could reach his

shoulders. In doing so, he dropped the neural

disruption disk to the floor. They struggled,

angling for position and leverage, and Macro tried

to get in close while Alt shouted in consternation.

That was when Thak moved once more, like lightning,

clearing the distance between himself and the others in one bound.

He came in low, his shoulder slamming

into Macro's midsection, and the larger

Calligarian grunted with the contact. Thak

straightened up and completely lifted the astonished

Macro off the floor. And then Thak, with a quick

twist of his deceptively slender upper torso,

tossed Macro across the room to land with a crash onthe far side.

Macro roared and leapt to his feet, and Thak

turned to face him. Unfortunately, he turned

his back on Alt, who grabbed the disk dropped

by the Calligarian struggling with Spock and threw

it.

His aim was lousy, but the result was formidable--

the disk landed on the Andorian's antenna.

Thak shrieked, the neuro-paralyzing power of the

disk ripping through his body due to its coming in

contact with his sensitive antenna. It was as if his

brain had exploded, and he went down, clawing

at his head, his face; his limbs becoming useless

to him. He trembled on the ground as if in an

epileptic seizure.

Macro saw him, grinned, and started to step

over the unmoving Tellarite to get to Thak.

That was precisely the moment that Shondar

Dorkin chose to wake up, and he did not wake

in a particularly good mood.

Dorkin drove a furry fist straight up,

directly into Macro's crotch. Macro

gasped, and the Tellarite rolled, smashing a blow

to the back of Macro's right knee. The Shondar

did not get the satisfying crack he would hliked to hear, but the result was still 297

gratifying as Macro collapsed.

Unfortunately, he collapsed right on top

of Dorkin, but the Tellarite was not slowed by this.

He rolled out from underneath, grabbed the moaning

Macro, and threw him back across the room.

Macro crashed right into Alt, and they went down in

a tangle of arms and legs. Neither of them got

up.

The impact momentarily distracted the last

Calligarian enough for Spock to suddenly twist his

arm free and fasten his hand onto his opponent's

shoulder. The Calligarian's head turned so

fast it seemed as if he'd gotten whiplash.

Spock quickly removed the disks that were holding

the others immobile. The relief was gratefully

felt and pretty much instantaneous. Scotty

began flexing his muscles, Daystrom wiggled his

fingers as if he were seeing them for the first time, and even

Thak--the most devastated of the group--recovered

quickly.

Shondar Dorkin was still snarling, pumped up by the

fierceness of the battle that he'd woken up into.

"Who hit me?" he demanded. "Who knocked me

out? Who dared--" Thak pointed at one of the unconscious

Calligarians. "He did."

"Come, gentlemen," said Spock, and he headed

for the door. The others followed, the Tellarite

pausing only momentarily to give the

Calligarian that Thak had fingered a good, swift

kick.

They made their way out of the building and went

quickly to the field where the shuttlecraft was

waiting. That was when they heard a roar behind them, and

they didn't even have to turn to see that there were a

number of Calligarians in pursuit. Spock

immediately recognized one of the voices as belonging

to Macro. It would have been the height of bad

taste to apply the Vulcan nerve pinch to an

opponent already apparently unconscious--sch as

Macro. In this instance, though, that breach of

etiquette might have been acceptable.

They picked up the pace until they were loping

across the open field, the shuttlecraft in view

and getting closer. Daystrom staggered, his breath

ragged in his chest, and at one point he almost

stumbled. Spock caught him, however, and helped

him limp to the shuttle.

The door opened, and they clambered in.Scott bellowed to Spock, "I thought 299

ye said that we couldn't go anywhere! That we're

sealed in!"

"That is correct," said Spock. "However,

there is no reason we cannot become airborne

while we send a message to the captain to inform

him of what we've discovered. Enterprise is

well beyond the range of our hand communicators, but

not the subspace transmitter on the shuttle."

"You know what's going on?"

As the door shut behind them Spock looked at

Scott with something akin to surprise. "Of

course, Mr. Scott. That was the purpose of the

mind meld."

"But you didn't say--"

"Why affirm something that should be self-evident?"

he asked as he sat in front of the control

panel.

Scott sighed. "Whatever you say, Mr.

Spock." He dropped down to the pilot station

next to Spock and quickly fired up the engines.

Then he looked out the front window.

There they were, several dozen of the

Calligarians, and in the lead was Macro.

Furious, pumping his fists, and holding some sortof an instrument that looked like a long steel

rod.

Spock regarded the approaching onslaught

calmly as he said, "Take us up, Mr.

Scott."

The shuttlecraft rose into the air just as the

Calligarians arrived on the scene. They

hurled themselves against the small vessel, which lurched

one way and then another, and Scotty increased the

thrust by twenty percent. An instant later the

shuttle lifted into the air, leaving the crowd of

angry Calligarians far below.

"Proceed with caution, Mr. Scott," said

Spock as he manipulated the controls for the

subspace radio. "Excessive velocity would

not be advisable--"

"Seeing as how we have nowhere to go."

"Quite correct." He patched in a channel.

"Spock to Enterprise. Come in,

Enterprise."

Chapter Twenty

"You have got one hell of a nerve," said

Kirk.

He was standing over Fox, fists clenched inbarely controlled fury. Tyler was 301

next to him, looking ready to watch Fox eat the

chair that was holding him immobile.

Fox, in contrast, seemed utterly calm.

"I don't see what your problem is,

Captain."

"You don't see?" Kirk shook his head, which

was not precisely the head he would have liked to be

shaking at that moment. "You told the aides of the

Tellarite and Andorian representatives that

they were being held hostage!"

"They are," said Fox.

"But you didn't have to tell them that!" Tyler

said. "That's just going to cause trouble."

"You're saying I should have participated in

covering matters up? Is that it?" Fox made a

disdainful face. "What's the matter, Captain?

Done anything that you're ashamed of?"

"Of course not," said Kirk firmly. "But the

last thing I need is to have other governments breathing

down my neck, watching every move I make."

"That is the price of leadership, Captain,"

Fox replied serenely. "To be under scrutiny."

Tyler leaned forward and said, "Let's get

down to the real reason you did it. You did xfftry and make Captain Kirk look bad, and

to get back at him because he made you toe the

line."

"Wrong," said Fox. "I did it because it was the

right thing to do. I did it because their governments had a

right to know about danger their representatives were

thrust into, just as much as you have a right to know what's

happening with your people. You speak to me, Captain,

of the rightness of your actions. That being the case, you should

have no problem about going public with them."

"There is a time and place," said Kirk

patiently. "We are in a very delicate

situation that you've made that much more difficult."

Fox stared at Kirk for a long moment. "When

I was a boy," he said after a time, "I was very much

interested in bugs. Insects. And one of the things

I would do is go to my mother's garden and turn up

rocks in order to watch the insects beneath them. And

what I always thought was fascinating was the way, when

you'd lift the rock up, the insects would react,

exposed to the purity of the sunlight. They would try

to scurry or crawl or in some other way hide

from that exposure." He paused. "Are you perceiving

the metaphor I'm drawing here, Captain?"

"I am," said Tyler. "You're saying you'vegot rocks in your head." 303

Fox smiled at that. "Very witty,

Commodore. Now, if you'll excuse me, I

wish to return to studying what information we have on the

Calligar. Maybe I'll be able to discern something

that will help us." He turned the chair away from

them and faced the computer screen.

Tyler and Kirk exchanged a look, and then

Kirk, shaking his head, started for the door. Tyler

followed him but stopped long enough to say to Fox,

"You know, I once busted myself up pretty

badly. Was stuck in one of those chairs for two

weeks. Got all sorts of sores on my

butt. Itched like hell."

Fox looked back at him andwith thinned lips

said, "I am not itching."

"You will be," smiled Tyler. And as they headed

out Tyler was rewarded by the sight of Fox shifting

uneasily in his chair.

Out in the corridor Tyler matched Kirk's

stride and said, "It'll be like telling him not to think

about pink elephants. Now he won't be able

to get it out of his mind."

"And what I can't get out of my mind," said

Kirk regretfully, "is that he might have apoint. I should have enough confidence in my decisions

to be able to stand up to scrutiny." He shook his

head. "You'd think that age would bring more conviction,

not less."

Tyler shrugged. "You have more of a chance to look

back on all the decisions you've made in your

life and see all the zigs when you should have zagged.

When you're young, confidence in your own invincibility

and belief in your own immortality carries you through

situations that older, wiser men would look back

on and say, "Madness."' Do you look back

on your life and see madness, Captain?"

Kirk's mouth twitched. "I look back on

my life, Commodore, and see an asylum."

"You wouldn't like an asylum, James. Too

quiet for you."

"I thought there was lots of screaming in an

asylum."

"Only at the asylum known as Starfleet

Headquarters."

"Ah. That would explain a great deal."

They stopped at the sick bay, where Ecma still

lay unconscious. Her status had not changed,

and Kirk looked down at her regretfully.

"Damn," he said softly. "If only she'd-e to. There's so much that she could tell 305

us."

"Look, Jim, at least her life signs

are steady," McCoy pointed out. "That's way

ahead of where we were yesterday."

"Has it been that long?" sighed Kirk. He

rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't think

I've slept since this business began."

"I always know when I'm getting really tired,"

said Tyler. "Everything sounds very loud to me."

"Really?" asked Kirk.

"Yes, and stop shouting."

Kirk started to say that he wasn't shouting, but

then he got the joke and forced a smile.

"No, actually," said Tyler, "I got some

sleep a while back. You should get some, though.

You look exhausted."

"I have too much to do. I've got people trapped

over there--"

Now McCoy stepped up. "And you won't do

them a damn bit of good if you're too fatigued

to think straight."

Kirk sighed. "It used to be I could go

forty-eight, seventy-two hours without a wink of

sleep." "Yeah, but now you're old," said McCoy

tactlessly.

"Dr. McCoy, you seem to take

extraordinary joy in pointing that out to me time and

again."

"Someone has to. There's a gap between young and

old that you don't seem to have grasped yet. Now

get some rest."

"All right. I'll go back to my quarters

for--"

"No," said McCoy firmly. "I know you,

Jim. You'll lie there for five minutes, then

head up to the bridge to try and come up with some new

plan to get our people out. But if you're not at a

hundred percent, you're just going to wind up getting

us all in trouble, or worse. Give Spock a

chance to work some of his Vulcan magic on the other

side. I hate to remind you of this, but the fact

is that he's got more experience under his belt than

you do. And so does Scotty. Between the two of them

they've got something like a million years of

seasoning. Let them see what they can work out. I

bet we hear from them within the next few hours.

Until then"--he walked over and rapped one of the

meditables--?y can lie down here, where I can keepan eye on you."

Kirk looked at Tyler, who shrugged, and then

back to McCoy. "How would it look to a crew

member if they walked in and I was sound asleep

in sick bay?"

"Better than if it happened while you were in

your command chair. Besides, how would it look if there

was a call from the bridge and you were asleep in your

cabin, snoring right through the comm summons? Lose

valuable time that way."

Kirk sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll

close my eyes for just a few minutes."

He eased himself up onto the medibed and

remembered that once upon a time he would have just

vaulted onto it. Every muscle in his body ached.

"Do you mind if I stay here?" Tyler asked

McCoy. "Just for a bit. To keep an eye on

Ecma."

"Sure," said McCoy. "It won't make

any difference to her. Sit over there." He

pointed to a chair in the corner. "And make sure

to stay out of my way."

"Aye, sir," said Tyler gamely, sitting

in the chair.

Kirk closed his eyes, frustrated by his ownfragility. Remembering how it used to be in the

old days.

Not too long ago he'd tried to climb a

mountain. Once upon a time he'd felt as if he

could leap over one.

And women. He smiled inwardly. Across the

galaxy, and there had been wonders such as other men

didn't dream of. He could taste them on his

lips, smell their intoxicating aroma. Each

name, each image set off an entire string of

associations.

So much he had seen and done. And yet it all

seemed now as if it had been a waking dream.

Or as if it had happened to another man named

James t. Kirk.

What had distanced him? What had pulled him

away?

Was it the death of his son? Of all the hardships

and losses he had endured, that had probably

been the worst. He remembered years ago,

years and years ago, making an offhand joke about

the being called Nomad. A young voice, an

amused voice. You saw what it did for

Scotty. What a doctor it would have made.

My son, the doctor. His son. Dr. Marcus. And he was 309

gone. Dead and gone.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. That there

had been that separation between them for so long, and just when

it seemed as if that open, festering wound had finally

been cleansed and mending, David had been torn

from him. His son was gone.

And Carol ... God, her reaction had been

...

He pushed it away from him, trying to find somewhere

to escape. And he found it in the oblivion of

sleep.

All of the thoughts and recollections had floated

through his head in less than a few seconds. In

point of fact, he was somnolent the moment his

head was on the small headrest.

And then an instant later McCoy was shaking his

shoulder, whispering urgently, "Jim!"

Kirk sat up immediately. "What?"

"Call from the bridge. Spock."

That was all Kirk needed to hear. He

clambered immediately off the medibed. Across the room

Tyler was asleep in the chair, hands folded and

on his lap. "We both fell asleep for a

minute?" asked Kirk, straightening his jacket. "You've been out for five hours," replied

McCoy.

Kirk blinked in surprise and headed for the

door. "Tell them I'm on my way up."

"I told them," said McCoy, falling

into step next to his captain, "and I'm coming with

you."

They were out in the corridor, leaving the commodore

sleeping and a medtech keeping an eye on both the

senior officer and Ecma. Kirk started a quick

jog toward the turbolift, and McCoy, huff+

slightly, kept pace. "Why are you coming with

me?" said Kirk. "Worried about Spock?"

"Of course not," grunted McCoy. "But if

I don't, then you won't tell me what's going

on. You never do."

"I always do," said Kirk. "But you're getting

so old you forget things."

"Touch@e," admitted McCoy.

"Putting him on now, Captain," said

Uhura.

"Spock," Kirk said, taking his chair.

"What's happening?"

Spock's image was on the screen, and Kirkcd see the others in the background.

To his surprise, they were in the shuttlecraft.

"I have discerned the nature of the problem with the Master

Builder," said Spock. "It has to do with the

Calligarian philosophy of

nonexpansionism, coupled with a firm if somewhat

extreme belief in the quality of life and being

part of the society as a whole."

"Specify," said Kirk.

"The Calligarian belief," Spock said,

sounding a bit pedantic, "is that one is only

an acceptable member of the society as long as one

continues to contribute to that society. Once the

contribution ceases--or, more precisely, reaches

its peak--the individual abrogates his right

to continue being part of that society."

"In other ^ws, if you're not part of the

solution, you're part of the problem," said McCoy.

"Quite right, Doctor. The Calligar society

is set up as follows All members of the

society are constantly monitored, and their

activities appraised. The growth of their

minds, their perceptions, ambitions, and potential

accomplishments are in a perpetual state of

assessment. In each individual's life, thereis a point where it is decided that they have attained

the peak of their existence. Any continuation beyond that

point is percvd as stagnation, creatively and

intellectually."

"What are you saying, Spock? That someone

decides, for each and every Calligarian, that he's

done enough for one lifetime, and then that lifetime just ...

just ends?" said Kirk.

"Yes, sir. It is seen as a needless drain

on available resources--a particular consideration

since the Calligar mind-set is geared toward

nonexpansion."

"My Godffwas said McCoy. "That ... that's

inhuman!"

Spock actually looked surprised. "They

are not human, Doctor," he said

matter-of-factly.

"If they're so damned concerned about population

growth, why the hell don't they practice birth

control?" said McCoy. "The--"

"Not now, Bones," snapped Kirk.

"Spock, this ... "forced retirement,"' as it were

... how does it happen? And who decides who

goes when? And don't they object to being

terminated that way? It's Eminiar all over ag.Fox is going to have d@ej@a vu."

"It's quite different, Captain," said Spock.

"The Calligar are very spiritual--"

"Spiritual!" bellowed McCoy. "They march

into death--"

"Bones, shut up!" Kirk said in

exasperation. "Spock--"

Spock, from long practice, seemed to pay

no attention to McCoy at all. "They believe

in continuing to exist as one with their surroundings long

after their bodies have ceased, and they have put that

belief into actual practice. A

Calligarian does not die in the traditional

sense. Once he or she is selected for

"thinning"'--the term for being removed from the

population pool and placed instead into the mind pool

--his or her essence is removed and placed within

a vast network, which they term the Worldmind. It is

their equivalent of heaven, except while

theologians argue over the nature of heaven, the

Calligarians have fashioned it. Everything that the

thinned individual knows, remembers, and has

experienced becomes a part of the Worldmind, a vast

computer network that is based in a satellite

city at the Southern Pole of the planet. Theliving may access the Worldmind at any time, and

indeed, according to what Dr. Daystrom has said, they

can spend many hours simply communing with the minds and

thoughts of their departed brethren."

"It's insane," said McCoy.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "No,

Doctor. It is crossing the gap between living and

dying. There is no end to the life of a

Calligarian. He simply continues to serve

society in a different manner. The Worldmind is

linked with most facets of the Worldnet. After many

centuries of its use, the Calligar even have a

low-level telepathic sense of it when they're not

in direct communion with it. From that sense of unity

comes their philosophy of being part of a great whole.

And it is the Worldmind that, as part of that perpetual

communion, decides who has reached his or her

peak and will be thinned."

"And Ecma was scheduled for thinning," said

Kirk.

"So it would appear," Spock said. "And she,

apparently, balked at the notion."

"I can't say I blame her," said

McCoy.

"Spock," Kirk said, "here's what Iwant you to do--" 315

And suddenly Scotty shouted something in alarm,

and Spock turned to him and then back to Kirk.

"Captain," he said with his usual sangfroid,

"I believe we are about to encounter some

difficulty."

And then there was the sound of something being smashed, and

Kirk could see the crew of the shuttlecraft

reacting to something.

And then the image of the shuttlecraft interior

vanished, leaving the mocking image of the rift,

hanging as always in the depths of space.

Chapter Twenty-one

"So it would appear," Spock said, "and she,

apparently, balked at the notion."

Scott was only partially paying attention as he

heard Dr. McCoy make some sort of

sardonic reply. For his attention had been

caught by an instrument reading that he should have noticed

earlier, except that his attention was being distracted

by the bickering of Thak and Dorkin toward the rear

of the shuttlecraft.

According to the lift indicator, they were over twohundred pounds heavier now than when they had

first

taken off from the Enterprise. That made no

sense, particularly since they had unloaded all

their gear, which should have made them lighter, not ...

And then Scott realized what was wrong.

"Mr. Spockffwas he shouted.

Kirk was just saying, "Here's what I want you

to do," but Spock could not fully concentrate because

Scotty was bellowing, "Someone must be hanging on

to the hull! We're not clear!"

Spock digested this piece of information, turned

back to Kirk, and said, "Captain, I believe

we are about to encounter some difficulty."

And at that moment a pointed metal rod

slammed into the front window from overhead.

Amazingly, the sturdy front view window

ribboned with weblike cracks. Spock had a

quick flash of Macro's face from overhead, on the

roof of the shuttle, and then the rod smashed down

once more. The window exploded inward, sending

needle-sharp pieces hurtling through the interior of the

shuttlecraft.

Scotty desperately angled the

shuttlecraft steeply downward, and from overhead

Macro started to slide off. But his hand snagged theunderside of the frame, and he swung his

legs through the now-empty screen. With one large

foot he smashed the engineer in the face. The world

spun around Scott, and he slumped forward onto

the controls.

Spock rerouted the shuttle control to his own

console, but now Macro had insinuated himself through the

window completely, and he stood facing Spock,

roaring. He swung the rod at Spock.

And without looking, Spock caught his arm at the

wrist. "Shondar Dorkin," he called, his

forearm trembling slightly at the strain but

otherwise betraying no difficulty whatsoever,

"if you wouldn't mind."

Dorkin unbelted himself from his seat in a

heartbeat and lunged forward with a roar. Daystrom

clung helplessly to his, and Thak's eyes

widened in amusement as the Tellarite jumped

into his element.

Dorkin, with an unrestrained howl, drove a

furious roundhouse punch to Macro's chin,

snapping his head back, and Spock released his

grip on Macro's wrist so that he could

concentrate on keeping them airborne. As he

kept the shuttle on course with his left hand hestarted reconnecting the subspace communication

with

his right, tossing off a quick glance at Scott

to ascertain the extent of the engineer's injury.

And then there was a truncated roar, and Spock

turned just in time to see Macro grabbing the

Tellarite's throat, about to bring the rod

slamming down on his head. But Thak was on his

feet now, and he lunged toward the struggling pair

as the shuttle took another sudden lurch. He

stumbled forward, smashing into them from behind, and the three of

them collided with Spock. Under the weight of the

three bodies the Vulcan was almost shoved out of his

chair. As it was, he lost his grip on the

controls, and the shuttlecraft angled straight

toward the ground.

Spock tried to bring his arms up to take

Macro out with the Vulcan nerve pinch, but they were

pinned beneath the crush of bodies. The Tellarite

was bellowing Tellarian obscenities, the

Andorian was hissing furiously, and Macro was

shouting at the top of his lungs, almost drowning out

Shondar Dorkin.

Arms and legs twisted and writhed, and Thak

found himself staring down the business end of the rod.

Its fierce, pointed end was directed right at "face, and he could see that the end was 319

gleaming with hardened sharpness. It would go right through his

head, and Macro, in the throes of the struggle,

drove the rod toward his face.

And then a furry paw shot upward,

deflecting the thrust just to the left of Thak's

head. The rod went directly into the controls,

circuitry blowing out and sparks flying.

The directional control shut down, and the

shuttlecraft fell like a crippled sparrow. The

air whistled around them, and the interior of the shuttle

was filled with yelling and howling.

Spock, determined to make one final effort

to avert disaster, gathered his strength and shoved at

whatever body parts were available. The weight was

suddenly off him, and he sat up, yanked the rod

out of the controls, and tossed it aside. One look

told him that it was hopeless. A second look

told him that a crash was imminent, because the ground was

screaming up at them.

There was no time for subtlety. "Crash

positions!" he shouted, making himself heard over the

hullabaloo, and again "Crash positions!"

Down, down plunged the shuttlecraft, and still

Macro was locked in battle with the Tellarite.?Shondarffwas Spock called. "Macro! This is

futile! We are about to strike the ground! You will

both die unless you cease hostilities immediately!"

Even as he spoke he buckled himself in.

Thak heard and tried to rip the combatants apart

but received a fierce shove from Dorkin, who

yelled, "This is between this arrogant fool and me!"

and sent the Andorian stumbling back to his seat.

Spock was about to get to his feet again and then

saw that there was no more time. He also saw that Mr.

Scott, unconscious, was still not strapped in.

He lunged over, pulling at his own restraint,

and snapped Scott's in place. The belts were

not standard issue but had been added to this shuttle when

the warp sled was attached, in anticipation of

possible hazardous conditions. Spock made a

mental note to suggest that they be installed in all

shuttlecraft, and then the ship hit the ground.

And to the horror of all in the shuttle,

Dorkin and Macro were thrown right through the space in

the front of the shuttle. Then they were gone, and

suddenly the remaining crewmen found themselves taking a

ride straight to hell.

The shuttle flipped over and over again,

hurtling across the ground accompanied by a crash ofmetal and an earsplitting shriek of a 321

human--specifically, Richard Daystrom.

Sparks flew all around them, and Spock heard

a rip and a snap that told him one of the warp sled

nacelles had been shorn off.

The shuttlecraft barrel-rolled once more and

then slowly, painfully creaked to a stop. It was

sideways.

There was a moment of uneasy silence, and then

Spock called, "Is everyone intact?"

"Dorkin!" the Andorian was shouting. "He was

thrown out! At the speed we were going--"

"I am aware of that," said Spock as he

quickly unbelted himself. After giving Scott a

cursory glance he hurried to the Andorian, who

was trying to pry loose his restraint. Spock

pulled at it, found that it was jammed, andwitha quick

motion snapped the belt in half, freeing Thak.

Thak quickly made his way toward the front of the

shuttle, for the exit door was on the side of the

shuttle flattened against the ground. The front

window was the only means of egress.

Thak shoved through the window and vanished around the

other side of the shuttlecraft. Moments later

Spock had freed Daystrom and had broughtScott to consciousness. Scotty looked around the

shuttlecraft and, instead of inquiring as to the

welfare of the other passengers, moaned softly,

"Ach ... muh poor ship."

Making sure that no one had broken bones or

serious injuries, Spock, Scott, and

Daystrom made their way out of the shuttlecraft.

Fortunately, the shuttlecraft had happened

upon large, unoccupied area. Either that, or the

thought-responsive city had managed to clear the

way for them with no problem.

Macro was crouched on the field, shaking his

head, apparently none the worse for wear. The

physical endurance of the Calligarians was

clearly far beyond anything that the Federation had

previously suspected. They could be slowed, they

could be hurt, they could even be stopped, but

apparently their ability to bounce back from injury

was unparalleled among any race that Spock had

encountered before. Still, the wind was clearly knocked out

of him, and Macro could do little but glare at

Spock and the others as they ran past.

A significant number of Calligarians

was approaching from the other direction. Apparently

they were the same ones who had been pursuing themearlier, and Spock came to the 323

unpleasant conclusion that they had, in fact, wound

up flying in a tremendous circle.

All of that, however, was secondary to the unmoving

form of Shondar Dorkin lying on the ground, Thak

the Andorian crouched next to him. Spock,

Scotty, and Daystrom slowed as they saw the

hideous angle at which Dorkin's body was lying.

His back was clearly broken.

Dorkin was gasping, his thick fur matted with

black blood, and he was looking up at Thak.

"Idiot," he murmured. "I had to hold up

... your end and mine ... in the fight."

"You stopped him from killing me," said Thak in

wonderment. "You saved my life."

Dorkin coughed and spat out a thick glob of

black, viscous fluid. "You were ... in my

way ... that's all." Then he shivered. "It's

... cold."

"Shhh ... lie still. You're going to be all

right," said Thak, but he looked hopelessly up

at the others.

The Tellarite's body was trembling, and he

murmured, "Look, Andorian ... do one thing for

me ... and don't botch it." "What, Shondar?"

"Tell my wives ... and offspring ... that

I took about ... a dozen or so of these bastards

... with me."

His piggish eyes seemed to recede for a moment,

and then they rolled up into the top of his head. A

soft breath escaped him that had an odd, singular

rattle to it.

And then he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-two

The atmosphere in the briefing room of the

Enterprise was extremely tense.

"Jim, you can't possibly be serious," said

McCoy. "It's crazy. It's suicide!"

"If I were dead for every time that I ostensibly

committed suicide, Doctor, I'd've died

several hundred times by now," Kirk said

patiently.

"The doctor is correct, sir," Sulu

said. "It's far too great a risk for you to take.

If anyone should go, then it should be me."

"As what?" Kirk said. "The most expedient

of my junior officers?" "Junior officers!" snorted 325

McCoy. "For God's sake, Jim, get a

grip on reality. Junior? Sulu there is in

line for his own command, and he'll probably get

one before you know it. So is Uhura. So is

Chekov, a couple years down the line. We're

not kids anymore, Jim. None of us is. And

you going off to the rescue on some headstrong damned

fool crusade is sheer lunacy."

"Suicidal. Lunatic." Kirk actually

smiled slightly. "Why don't you just declare me

unfit for command, Doctor?"

"How about if I just declare you unfit to have a

sensible conversation with?"

"Captain, may I speak frankly?" asked

Sulu. And when Kirk nodded slightly, Sulu

continued with a slight edge to his voice. "You

asked us here to solicit our opinions. Our

opinions are unanimous in this respect. And

yet I have the feeling that you're going to do what

you've decided to do anyway. May I ask,

sir, why you requested this conference in the first

place, if you intended to ignore our advice

all along?"

Kirk's eyes narrowed. "The doctor, it wouldseem, is correct. In the old days, Mr.

Sulu, you would not have addressed me in that manner."

"It's only because I would like there to be new days

to come," replied Sulu. "Captain, revised

Starfleet procedures clearly state that the

ship's captain is not to put him or herself into any

unnec danger."

"And it is up to me to decide, Mr. Sulu,

what is necessary." Kirk slowly surveyed the

room. "The contact team, including two of our

own, is being held on the other side. We are

running out of time. The rift will seal itself off at a

maximum of eighteen hours from now--and that's if

nothing unexpected happens to disrupt the

temporal waves. Also, we have been told

repeatedly that the Calligar have tremendous

respect for authority figures. Commanding

officers. We have been trying to raise the

Calligar for ..." He looked questioningly at

Uhura.

"The last hour, sir," she admitted.

"The last hour. And after the initial reply--

"There will be no discussion until the Master

Builder is returned to us"'--we haven't

heard from them. That does not sound promising.Therefore, it is my belief that the only 327

way I'm going to be able to get our people out is to go

in person."

"No," said McCoy fiercely. "You think

you're some sort of knight, riding your white

horse to save the day. There's a damsel in

distress down in sick bay. There are fellow

knights trapped by an evil wizard. And you're

going to mount your proud white charger and gallop

forward, your lance at the ready, prepared to smite

down anyone who'll stand in the way of your completing

your great and noble mission. Who cares about the

danger or the wisdom of it? Sir Galahad,

cloaked in righteousness, will triumph over them

all!"

Kirk stared at McCoy and then nodded

slowly. "That seems a fair assessment," he

said. Then he reached over and tapped a comm

button. "Shuttle Bay, prepare the remaining

shuttle with warp sled."

"We'll have it prepped in ten minutes,

Captain," came the reply.

"Good." Kirk started to rise.

McCoy, gesturing in frustration, said,

"Didn't any of what I just said get through to you?" "All of it, Doctor," replied Kirk.

"And I can't deny any of it. And I can't deny

my men, either. I can't separate myself from what and

who I am ... that's one rift that will never be

created. See?" he added with a wink. "More

irony."

McCoy grumbled as Chekov now said,

"Keptin ... you'll require someone to assist you

in the piloting of the wessel ..."

"You mean a squire," came a voice from the

doorway.

They turned to find Jos@e Tyler standing there,

smiling lopsidedly. He was studying his hands.

"Navigator Jos@e Tyler reporting for

duty, sir."

"Commodore," began Kirk.

"Consider it an order, Captain," said

Tyler firmly. "I've never been one to be

obsessive about rank--indeed, that's probably

an attitude that's held me back to some

degree. But this time I give you no choice.

I'm coming along with you, or I close up this little

junket of yours and bust you so far down that you'll have

to tunnel your way upward for three days just to see

daylight. Do you read me, Captain?" "Yes, sir," said Kirk without 329

blinking an eye. He crossed to Tyler, turned

to his subordinates, and said, "Mr. Sulu, you

have the conn. Furthermore, in case you decide

to emulate your crackbrained captain and his

crazed heroics, I am giving you a direct

order No matter what happens, you are not to come

after me. I will not have you putting this ship at

risk."

"I'll keep her safe for you, sir."

Kirk nodded and then added, "Tallyho."

No one smiled.

Settling in at the controls of the

shuttlecraft, Kirk and Tyler quickly and

efficiently did the last-minute flight checks.

Tyler whistled the 1812 Overture softly, and

then he paused while continuing with the check

procedures and said, "Your crew obviously

thinks very highly of you and is extremely fond of

you."

"Why do you say that?" asked Kirk.

"Because only a crew that feels that way about their

commanding officer could get quite so pissed off with him."

Kirk nodded in embarrassed agreement. "Ic be a very irritating individual. I'm amazed

any of them has stuck with me for so long."

"You command loyalty among your people. You're very

fortunate."

"It drives them crazy when I take it in

my head to go running off to rescue one of them."

"Perhaps that's why they're loyal to you. Because they

know that you are the type of person who will risk

everything for them. You are dedicated enough to them, and to your

own ideals, that you will lay yourself on the line. As you

have, time and time again."

"A cowboy," said Kirk.

"A knight."

Kirk nodded and informed the shuttle bay that they

were ready to depart, and the shuttlecraft lifted off

the hangar bay floor. A moment later the

shuttle was sailing out of the hangar bay and angling

toward the rift.

"Bring us around," said Kirk.

"Coming around, heading 103 mark 2," said

Tyler, laying in the course. He smiled. "The

old reflexes. It all comes right back to you."

Kirk surveyed Tyler's handling of the

instruments and nodded approvingly. "Solid work.

You'll go far." "All the way to the other side of the 331

rift," said Tyler. "Preparing for warp

drive."

"Joe," said Kirk after a moment, "has it

occurred to you that in order to pull this off I'm going

to have to accomplish one of two things? Either I have

to convince the Calligar to release the contact team

out of the goodness of their hearts, or else I have

to talk them out of thinning Ecma so that the threat to her

is gone. And if that happens, she might not want

to stay with you."

"That has occurred to me, yes," said Tyler

evenly.

"Does that concern you?"

Tyler looked at him evenly. "Getting our

people out of there without compromising our promises is

what concerns me. That's all. The rest I'll

gladly leave to the fates to decide."

"The fates," said Kirk, "can be singularly

nasty. Life is often unfair."

"Of course it is," replied Tyler. "After

all, no one gets out alive."

On the bridge of the Enterprise Sulu

watched from the command chair, his face unreadable, zthe shuttlecraft dwindled, kicked into warp

drive, and vanished into the rift.

More than anything, despite whatever disciplinary

actions might be taken later, Sulu would dearly

have loved to send the Enterprise leaping through the

rift as well. After all, the Calligar might

very well change their tune with the full power of a

starship staring down their throats.

But that, he knew, would be a singularly bad

idea. The projected stability of a temporal

rift was delicate enough. To disrupt the timestream

flux with the power of the main warp engines--

considerably larger and far more spatially distorting

than the far smaller warp sled propulsion on the

shuttlecraft--wd risk having the entire ship

and crew trapped light-years away from home.

They would not make it back to earth in the crew's

lifetime, if at all.

He could not take that chance.

And then he was immediately snapped out of his thoughts

when Chekov suddenly said, "Commander Sulu,

sensors are detecting a wessel entering the

area."

He waited for the computer to feed through

identification of the ship's design. "AnAndorian class D-3 ship," he 333

said after a moment.

"Open a frequency," said Sulu quickly.

"We have to lay down the ground rules immediately.

Andorian ship, come in please. This is Sulu,

in command of the Enterprise."

Subspace crackled for a moment as the

Andorian vessel grew closer on the screen.

Long and sleek, it was a nasty-looking piece of

work. A moment later the Andorian commander came

on the screen. His chin was a bit more squared than

Thak's, his eyes a bit more canny. "This is

Vandar, commanding the Stealth. We have been alerted

to difficulty in regard to our representative,

Thak."

"There is a difficulty," said Sulu, "that

is true. However, we have a negotiating team

on the scene, and we anticipate all will be

equitably worked out."

Vandar seemed to consider that a moment. "Very

well, Enterprise," he said in that soft,

sibilant hiss. "For the moment we will take no

action. But we must be kept apprised of--"

"Another wessel, Commanderffwas said Sulu.

"Coming in at--" Before he could even get the full warning out a

gruff and angry voice cut into the audio. "This

is Khund of the Tellarite vessel

Belligerent."

"They certainly believe in truth in

advertising," observed Uhura drolly.

The viewscreen split in two, and the face of

an irritated Tellarite--and it was becoming more and

more evident that that was the only way that Tellarites

ever appeared--came up on the screen. "We have

learned," he said, "of the unprovoked, heinous

attack upon one of our representatives. We

demand to know what action is being taken."

Deciding to play matters safely, Sulu

repeated virtually ^w for ^w what he had said

to Vandar.

Khund's response was predictable.

"Some weak-kneed Federation peace-lover is

negotiating for the release of our

representative?" bellowed the Tellarite.

"Who do these Calligar think they are? By what right

do they make demands on us and hold one of our

Shondars as prisoner? We're going to go in and

put a stop to it!"

"We cannot allow that," said Sulu firmly. "You cannot allow!" snarled Khund. 335

"You puny Starfleet officer--"

That was when the turbolift opened and

Ambassador Fox, wearing anti-gravity

boots that came up to mid-thigh and relieved the

pressure on his legs, appeared on the

bridge. Sulu, maintaining his rapidly waning

patience, said, "Ambassador, this is not the

time--"

But Fox turned to him and said in no uncertain

terms, "No, Commander, this is precisely the

time. With your permission." And then, before Sulu could

object, he faced the screen and said, "Khund

--and Vandar, for that matter--y're not facing

simply the capricious whims of a Starfleet

officer. The Enterprise is the jurisdictional

vessel here, assigned that status not only

by Starfleet, but by the Federation. If you cross

Enterprise, or provoke her, or in any

way do anything to upset the delicate situation that

has developed here, you'll have the full weight and

discipline of the Federation Council brought down on

you. I, as their official representative, can

assure you of that. That includes the ire of your

respective governments and their delegates, withwhom I met just last week, andwith whom I am on

excellent terms. And if you give Commander

Sulu any difficulty, I will personally

prevail on those noble delegates to see to it that

your next assignment will be commanding the

lithium-cracking station on Delta Vega. Is

that understood?"

Vandar, who knew the remarks were not really

addressed to him, simply smiled and said,

"Understood."

Khund, to whom the remarks .were addressed,

didn't realize it and assumed that they were being

made in order to scare the craven Andorian. He

simply said, "Understood."

"Enterprise out," said Sulu gratefully.

The moment they vanished he turned to Fox and said,

"Ambassador, that was much appreciated.

Especially considering that your making public the

situation is what brought them here in the first

place."

"Captain Kirk mentioned that to you, did he?"

said Fox. He shrugged. "I was doing my job

then, Commander. And I was doing it now. That's a

simple truth that your captain apparently finds

difficult to comprehend. Perhaps you can explain xffhim some time--assuming he returns in 337

one piece from doing .his job."

Chapter Twenty-three

Kirk walked into the council chamber, Tyler

directly behind him, and the captain felt as if he

were under scrutiny from everyone on the planet. Even

though there were only several dozen Calligar

surrounding the perimeter, watching from high-backed

chairs, he sensed that there were far more present, and

far more at stake.

In a corner of the room were Spock, Scott,

Daystrom, and Thak. Thak looked the most

shaken; Spock had informed Kirk of the death of

Shondar Dorkin and the profound effect it seemed

to have had on the Andorian. A member of a race

driven by an awareness of indebtedness, Thak was

obviously at odds with his assessment of

Dorkin's uselessness, which had been undercut

by Dorkin's saving of Thak's life. For an

Andorian, being indebted to someone whom you could never

repay was a little piece of hell.

Alt was seated there, as was Macro, plus

various other Calligarians that they didn't know.It didn't seem to matter particularly about the

others--^the two were clearly running the show.

"You are the commander?" asked Alt. "The

leader?"

"Yes," said Kirk. He stepped forward.

"And I'm here to--"

"He is not the leader," snarled Macro.

Kirk fixed a gaze on him and said slowly,

"I cannot say I appreciate being interrupted."

But Macro was paying no attention. Instead he

had risen from his place and come around to face

Commodore Jos@e Tyler, who was standing thirty

feet away. Macro stood, relaxed and ready,

his arms at his side. "It has been a long time,

Tyler."

Tyler looked to Kirk, for they had agreed that

Kirk was to be spokesman. But Kirk merely

nodded in Tyler's direction. Tyler shrugged.

"Yes. It has." Tyler's manner showed

polite interest, but nothing more.

"It is because of you," said Macro, "that this has

happened. Because of you that Ecma left me."

"Me?" said Tyler in amusement. "I'm not the

one who developed this philosophy of thinning."

A number of the Calligar visibly winced, andMacro said angrily, "It's obscene

to hear the ^w spoken by other than a Calligar."

"That's fine," Thak interjected. His voice

was laced with contempt. "We consider it an

obscenity when spoken by anyone."

"The Master Builder is terrified of the fate

that awaits her," Kirk said. "If you are a

civilized people, you'll--"

"Don't hold us to your standards of

civilized," snapped Macro. "How typical

of your self-satisfaction that you presume

to judge us. And you"--he was speaking again to Tyler

--?y are the one who influenced Ecma to fear the

honor of thinning."

"The honor?"

"The last and greatest reward that a

Calligarian can aspire to," Alt now said.

"I had nothing to do with it," said Tyler.

"Ecma wanted out entirely on her own."

"You lie!" said Macro fiercely. "Y ou

did something to her. What I would give to ram those

lying ^ws down your throat ..."

Kirk saw it coming. "Commodore, careful,"

he warned.

But Tyler didn't care. "You want apiece of me, don't you, Macro? Ever since

I beat you years ago. You've thought about it,

dreamed about it." He struck a defensive

posture, poised on the balls of his feet, the

edges of his fists ready to strike. "Dreamed about

getting your hands on me, settling this between the two

of us. So that's what we'll do. You and me, right

now. We settle it, one way or the other.

What do you say?"

"Macro," cautioned Alt. "You can--"

But Macro wasn't paying attention. Years

of jealousy, of hatred, of fury that had built

up now came pouring out. The great hall was awash

with outrage, as deep and as foul as an ocean of

bile.

"The two of us, then!" shouted Macro.

"To the finish!"

He charged straight toward Tyler, hands

flexing, ready to dig his large fingers into Tyler's

body and rip him apart.

And Jos@e Tyler calmly pulled out his

phaser and shot Macro down while he was still

twenty paces away.

The force of Macro's charge carried him a

couple of extra feet, but he was unconsciousduring the skid. He wound up at 341

Tyler's feet, and the commodore smiled down at

him. "Works every time, Pendejo," he said. And

then he looked up at Alt. "So can we leave

now?"

"I began to say," Alt informed him, "before

Macro interrupted me, and I quote

Macro, you cannot speak for us on this. The decision

of thinning is made by the Worldmind. It is

irrevocable. If Ecma returns, she must

submit to it. If she does not, we will not permit

any of your people to leave."

"This is unacceptable," Kirk said.

"No, Captain. We are simply certain that

you will not leave your friends and associates behind in

favor of one woman. It is an inequitable

situation and solution, and one for which we doubt you will

settle."

Slowly Kirk turned and studied the

assemblage.

"Is this what the proud Calligar come to,

then?" he asked. "Bartering hostages for the life

and freedom of a young woman? Is this what you

represent?"

"No, Captain," said Alt quietly. "This the type of behavior historically typical

of your people. It would seem that you have had an

unpleasant influence on us. We have had

to descend to your level to deal with you."

"Deal with us?" said Kirk. "Why? Because we

don't share your view about thinning? Because we find

your attitude ... distressing? Cavalier in its

disregard for life?"

"Cavalier? We are a merciful people,

Captain. We spare lives the pain of never

matching their accomplishments. Our people accept that."

"How could they?" demanded Kirk. "Who could

reasonably say that they'd want to die and give

up hope of ever surpassing their previous

accomplishments?"

"I would."

To Kirk's shock, the ^ws had not come from a

Calligarian.

They had been spoken by Dr. Richard

Daystrom.

Daystrom stepped forward, looking even older

than he had before. "They're right, Captain. They

are."

"Doctor ..."

But Daystrom continued to talk, and it didn'teven seem as if he was aware that Kirk 343

was standing there. That anyone was there. "It would have been

a blessing," he said distantly. "If someone had

come to me and shown me, after my first quarter of a

century in this universe--if they'd come to me and

said, "Look. Look at the pointlessness of the

rest of your life. Look at the tries and

failures, the breakdown, the frustrations that will be

yours--yrs and no one else's. No one to share

them. No one to care for you, or about you. A

lifetime of feeble attempts to recreate the

glory."

Not unkindly, aware of the man's personal

grief--not to mention his precarious mental condition

--Kirk said, "Please, Dr. Daystrom ...

you're not helping."

Daystrom looked at him for a moment,

refocused, and then seemed to lock onto

Kirk's presence. He sighed, his chest

trembling, and said, "My ... apologies,

Captain."

"He has nothing to apologize for," Alt said

softly. "He is simply elevated enough to understand

what every Calligarian already does. What is the

point of taking up society's resources foralife that has reached its point of anticlimax?"

"Because," said Kirk with firm authority, "you

risk missing the unexpected twist towards the end

of the second act."

He stepped over the unconscious body of

Macro and raised his voice to address everyone rather

than simply Alt. "With all due respect

to all of you, we're going in circles here. We

have reached a stalemate. And I see only one

way to break it."

"And that would be ..."

"I wish to commune directly with the Worldmind."

If Kirk had suddenly blown his brains out

before the assemblage, he could not have gotten a more

surprised reaction. There was a rush of muttering

that followed Kirk's request, and then Alt said

loudly, "That would be ... unwise."

"Perhaps," said Kirk. "But you've said that the

Worldmind made the decision. Therefore, it seems that

only the Worldmind can settle this matter. Ecma

feels that she has more to do, that her life has not

reached its peak. She wants more time to attain her

accomplishments. She should have that right. And if the

Worldmind is the entity that wants to deprive her of

that right, then that's whom I have to address." "You do not understand, Captain. You do not 345

have the mental discipline that even Calligarian children

have."

"And Calligarian children," replied Kirk,

"do not have the years of experience I have."

"We cannot allow it, Captain. You have no

idea what you would be facing. To let you go would be

tantamount to allowing you to kill yourself."

"I see," said Kirk sardonically. "How

thoughtful that you have more concern for an outsider than for the

life of one of your own people."

But now Spock stepped forward. "Master of the

Status," he said, "am I correct in

assuming that I, as a Vulcan, would have the proper

mental discipline to withstand communing with the Worldmind?"

Alt glanced at him appraisingly. "We have

had many years to study what we gleaned of

Vulcans from our first encounter, Mr. Spock.

I believe that you would be able to cope with the mental

demands. But that is--"

"Then, with the captain's permission, I wish

to be the spokesman for the Master Builder."

Kirk quickly crossed to the Vulcan and spoke

to him in a low voice. "Spock, you've been

over here most of the time. You hardly even knowEcma."

Spock raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Knowing

the individual in question is irrelevant, sir.

What is important is the concept--the value

of free will versus predestination. A gulf in

ideological discussion that has separated

philosophers for centuries. A rift, if you

will, much like the one that brought us to this pass. Do you not

find that ironic, Captain?"

At that Kirk actually had to smile. "No.

Contrived."

"What is required here," continued Spock,

"is an exercise in logic and debate. With

all due respect, Captain, if debate and

logic are required, sending a human to do a

Vulcan's job would be--"

"Illogical," said Kirk.

"Totally," agreed Spock.

"I suppose you're old enough to know what you're

doing."

"Indeed. In point of fact, I am old enough

to know better. But I wish to do it nevertheless. It will

be ... fascinating."

McCoy entered sick bay and walked overffEcma's bed. To his surprise, 347

Ecma's eyes were open, and she was staring up at

him in some confusion. He quickly glanced up at her

bioreadings and was pleased to see that they were stable.

He looked back down at her and said,

"Welcome back."

She licked her lips. "Why does my mouth

taste so bad?"

"The, uhm, contents of your stomach vacated rather

forcefully some hours ago," said McCoy.

"Oh, dear," she said, sounding remote.

"When? Where?"

"Right after the captain shouted at you about fighting.

On myself and the captain."

"I'm--I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," McCoy said

gamely. "In my case it comes with the

territory. In the captain's case ... it

looked good on him."

"You must hate him," said Ecma in wonderment.

"He and Mr. Spock. You're always insulting

them."

McCoy glanced right and left to make sure

no one was listening and then, in a low voice, said,

"Of course not. People that I hate, I jignore. Kirk and Spock I ..." His jaw

flexed for a moment, and then he said, "I put up

with their foolishness. After all, without me looking out

for them, they'd have woken up dead a long time

ago."

"I understand," she said softly. "For my mouth

... could I ..."

"Oh. Of course. Where are my manners?"

He went to the food slot and punched in a quick

code, and a glass of shimmering clear liquid was

produced. "Here," he said, handing it to her.

"Since I was wearing some genuine Calligarian

food, I took the liberty of having the computer

analyze it. Derived the basic building

blocks of your nutrition from it, and I took the

liberty of programming it into our food system.

You can eat human food, but this should taste more like

what you're accustomed to."

She took the glass gratefully and drained the

contents in one gulp. Wiping her mouth, she held

it up and said hopefully, "More?"

McCoy smiled. "Can't ask for a better

review than that." He returned to the food

dispenser and came back with two more glasses. She

drank the second immediately and nursed the third.?How are you feeling?" 349

She stared off into space. "Empty," she said

in puzzlement. "I feel ... very empty. It's

... it's a little frightening."

"I'm not surprised," said McCoy. "You were

so linked with your people--with their philosophies, with your

society--t withdrawing made you physically and

mentally ill. I believe you'll be all right now,

though."

"I feel so ... so alone." She trembled

slightly. "How do you ... how do you stand it?"

He put a comforting arm ar ound her and said, "We

seek out others, and we try to pull one another

through. That's all any of us can do."

"Joe. Where is Joe? And Captain

Kirk?"

McCoy hesitated, unsure of whether

to tell her so soon after she had come to, but she

sensed that he was holding something back and clutched his

forearm agitatedly. "Tell me," she insisted.

"They've gone through the rift," said McCoy.

"They're trying to convince the Calligar to let you

go."

"They'll never do that," said Ecma. "Never."

"Well, your people have said that they won't releaseSpock, Scotty, and the others until such time

as

we return you."

Her eyes widened. "They can't!"

"Apparently they can."

"I"--her eyes were wide, her voice

quavering--?I never thought that ... I never

realized what they might do."

"Chances are, neither did the captain, or he

might not have been so quick to grant your request,"

said McCoy ruefully. "I don't think he

counted on all of you being so attuned to one another

that they would sense your sudden attempt to break

away from them. How come they didn't know you were

thinking of running off in the first place?"

"We're not mind readers," she said, "except

in times when we're directly in communion with the

Worldmind." She stopped, surprised that she had

mentioned it so casually, and whispered, "I--I

really am separate from them now." Then, forcing herself

back on track, she said, "Shifts of thought

pattern, that sort of thing--^th are our private

thoughts. But when I made a decision to break

away, that was a determination so profound that it got

the attention of the Worldmind and caused--"

"Your withdrawal pains," said McCoy. "Iunderstand." 351

"I cannot believe that they would resort to that,"

Ecma said.

"Well, what did you think they would do?"

demanded McCoy.

"I don't know! I had not even truly

decided that breaking away was what I was going to do!

It's unprecedented, Doctor. You have to understand

that. Part of it was desperation, and the rest was just pure

spur of the moment."

McCoy sighed heavily. "Well, whatever it

was, the captain gave his ^w, and he's not going

to break it. He's there fighting for you now, charging

on his horse."

"His horse?"

"Never mind."

"But--but what could he possibly do? How could

he convince them of something about which they will never be

convinced?"

McCoy thought a moment. "This Worldmind of yours

makes the determinations about when you die?"

"Yes," she said in a small voice. "I

am scheduled for thinning two days from now."

"All right, then. Knowing Jim as I do, the

chances are he's going to want to talk directlyffthis Worldmind of yours."

"ationo!" she cried out in alarm. "No, he

can't! This is too much! Your people being held

prisoner, the captain risking himself--th can't go

on! I have to go back!"

She tried to sit up, and McCoy grabbed her

by the shoulders. "You can't!" he said. "We have no

other shuttles that can withstand the rift!"

"My ship can! The one I came in!"

McCoy blinked. "I'll be damned. I

forgot about that."

"Where is it?"

"Right where you left it, I presume. Next

to the Enterprise."

"Tell them I'm coming back."

"No," said McCoy. And before she could

protest further he continued, "It's not up to me.

We have to talk to Mr. Sulu about it. No one

enters or exits a starship without permission from the

commanding officer. You want to go back, no one's

going to force you to stay--but we clear it through him.

Now, just wait here. I'm going to get you your

clothes, and then we'll get things sorted out."

He headed for the closet where Ecma's clothes

had been hung, stopping only to tap on the communit. "Sick bay to bridge." 353

"Bridge," came Sulu's voice.

"Commander," said McCoy, feeling a little

tired, "I have some interesting news for you. After

all this brouhaha, you're going to love this."

The huge building was as cavernous as Daystrom

remembered it. He glanced at the others and saw

that they were impressed as well. In the dimness the

ceiling of the communion center seemed so far away

as to be nonexistent. The individual beams of

light that shone down during communion, to a more

fanciful individual than the scientific

Daystrom, could have been rays directly from the

eyes of God.

Unlike before, however, no one was standing in the

cones of light. In fact, there were no cones of

light except one single, solitary beam. All

of the other Calligar had been removed.

"A Calligarian," Alt had explained,

"is capable of screening out, or allowing in, the

thoughts of others as he or she chooses. Since you

may lack that facility, we have endeavored

to simplify matters by making sure that all our people

are "off line,"' as you might put it. It will beyond and the Worldmind, Mr. Spock."

"I thank you for your indulgence," Spock said

graciously.

"I will admit," said Alt, "to a certain

degree of curiosity as to what the Worldmind will

say in response to you. I have been raised

to accept and believe certain things. Only the most

closed-minded of individuals will refuse even

to speculate as to what might happen if another

philosophy were to enter their sphere. This will be ...

interesting."

"I shall endeavor to be challenging," replied

Spock.

He approached the beam of light, and Kirk

followed closely until Alt said loudly,

"Captain, have a care. The moment an

individual steps into the light he is in

communion. Best to keep a distance."

Kirk glanced back at Alt, and at the

assemblage of Calligarians behind him. Then

he looked back to Spock. "We're an

interesting experiment for them, aren't we, Spock?"

"So it would appear," replied Spock. "But

any experiment can yield surprising results."

Kirk put a hand on Spock's shoulder.?Be careful." 355

"Naturally."

Spock turned and faced the white light. The

silence was that of a sunrise in a desert. There was

no heat from the light. It was simply there, purity

and truth, bridging the gap between the real world and the world

of the mind.

For Spock, who was accustomed to striding

multiple worlds every day in his continuing fusion of

Vulcan and human influences, did not find it

intimidating in the least.

Without another ^w he stepped into the light.

His back was to Kirk and the others, and the captain

waited apprehensively for ... what? He

didn't know. Some sign. Some ^w from Spock.

Some display. Something.

He sensed, directly behind him, Dr.

Daystrom. In a very low voice, as if whispering

in a church, Daystrom said, "Captain, I wish

to apologize for earlier."

"No apology required, Doctor," said

Kirk, his eyes never leaving his first officer and

friend.

"I feel as if I weakened your arguments to the

Calligar with my ill-timed outburst. If thereis any way I can make it up to you--"

"I said it's all right, Doctor. Now, if

you--"

And then Spock's back stiffened as if he'd

been stabbed. His legs began to quiver, his fingers

clenching into trembling fists.

There was a confused murmur from the Calligar, and

Kirk shouted into the darkness, "What's happening?"

"I do not know!" called Alt. "He is

encountering problems. It must be because he is not one of

us."

And Spock suddenly twisted in place, his

head snapping around, and to Kirk's horror, a

trickle of green blood was running from

Spock's mouth down over his chin. He had

bitten clean through his lower lip.

"Spock!" shouted Kirk, and he lunged

toward the Vulcan.

Daystrom dived at the captain, trying to stop

his headlong rush. Now there was shouting from everyone,

confused babbling.

The blood was pouring down Spock's face and

onto his uniform shirt. His eyes were wide open

and looked as though they were going to leap from his head.

"Let go of me!" shouted Kirk, and heshoved Daystrom away. And Daystrom 357

tried to grab him again, throwing his full weight

into the attempt.

Their legs became tangled up, and together

Daystrom and Kirk fell headfst into the beam.

Immediately their bodies stiffened, their faces

frozen in a look of total surprise. And their

minds leapt out of their bodies and flew away.

Chapter Twenty-four

Sulu sat in the command chair, stroking his chin and

regarding the shaken but nevertheless determined

Calligarian woman in front of him. "After

all this," he asked, trying to mask his annoyance,

"after everything that's happened, now you've decided you

want to go back?"

Ecma drew herself up. "I feel it's the

only way to avoid further ill feelings and

difficulties on my account."

"And if I send you back through the rift," said

Sulu, "and while you're going through the captain

returns with the contact team, how do you think he's

going to feel about having gone through all of that for your

sake, with you not even here?" She glanced at McCoy, but the doctor

simply shrugged. "I think," said Ecma, "that

he will realize that I was trying to do what was best for

all concerned, just as he was. I put it to you

another way, Commander. How would you feel if the

captain, and Joe and all the rest, never

returned, and your letting me return to my people could

have saved them?"

Now it was Sulu's turn to look at

McCoy, but once again the Enterprise chief

medical officer was silent. The message was

clear This was a command decision.

There was no reason to rush into things, though. There

was still time, although it was dwindling rapidly.

"Uhura, put me through to the Calligar," said

Sulu. "Let's see if they'll talk to us

now."

She nodded and sent out a subspace hail into the

heart of the rift. Nearby, on the screen, were the

waiting vessels of the Andorians and

Tellarites. They had kept their counsel all

this time, but their continued presence served to remind

Sulu of exactly the amount of difficulty that

they were in. This entire business was going to have to be

h andled with a great deal of tact. In a low voice Uhura said, "You 359

do realize that they'll probably be monitoring the

conversation. Should I scramble--"

"No," said Sulu. "They'll know we're

talking to the Calligar, and if we try and cover

it, it will just irritate them further."

"Especially the Tellarites," noted

McCoy. "They were born irritable."

"You're on, Mr. Sulu," said Uhura after

a moment.

"This is Sulu, in command of the Enterprise,"

he said.

The screen shifted, and a Calligarian

appeared. To Sulu's surprise, he actually

seemed to be upset about something. Well, this should

cheer them up a bit, he thought. "This is

Stanzia of the Calligar," he said.

"Your Master Builder has stated"--Sulu

gave her a quick look, and she nodded, her jaw

set--?t she has no wish for further

difficulties between our peoples. She has

stated that she is willing to return to the Calligar

in exchange for the return of Commanders Spock and

Scott, Shondar Dorkin, Dr. Daystrom, and

Thak. Please relay this information to your leaders andffCaptain Kirk and Commodore Tyler. We

await your response."

"There may be a problem," said Stanzia

uncertainly.

"What sort of problem?" asked Sulu.

"The problem being that it will not be possible

to accommodate your request."

"I don't understand," Sulu said a trifle

impatiently. "If we have agreed to your request

for her return, there should be no prob--"

"The problem is," said Stanzia, "that Shondar

Dorkin is dead, and Captain Kirk, Dr.

Daystrom, and Commander Spock are trapped in

communion and will, in all likelihood, die there.

So you see, we cannot return them all. Will you

settle for the survivors?"

"Oh, my God," whispered McCoy.

Ecma was slack-jawed, and Sulu was cursing

himself for not having scrambled the communication.

"Mister Suluffwas Chekov suddenly shouted in

alarm. "The Belligerent is on course with the

rift!"

"Uhura, cut the channel to the Calligarffwas

said Sulu. "Give me a line to the

Tellarites! Chekov, move to intercept the.Belligerent. All hands, red alert. 361

Clear the bridge," he commanded McCoy and

Ecma.

"I didn't mean--I didn't--" She was

trying to get out, and then McCoy gently guided

her into the turbolift.

"I've got the Belligerent," Uhura

called over the alarm. "And Ambassador Fox

wants to know if there's something he can do to help."

"Yes, he can sit on his thumb.

Enterprise to Belligerent, come in,

please."

The screen shifted, and there was the infuriated

visage of Khund. "Enterprise, I will say

this once Get the hell out of our way."

"We cannot allow you to enter the rift. The

fields of your warp drive will disrupt--"

"Why should we listen to you?" bellowed Khund.

"You said you had everything in hand! That everything was under

control! Well, it's not under control. The

Shondar is dead, and every Tellarite aboard

screams for vengeance!"

"Vengeance!" came the roars from behind Khund.

"Vengeance!"

"I don't care if you're all screaming forice cream," said Sulu sharply. "If you

approach the rift, we will open fire."

Uhura turned and said, "Mr. Sulu, I have

the Stealth on another channel. They are offering

their support."

"And the Andorians will fire on you as well,"

Sulu said quickly.

"Their moral support," continued Uhura,

"and they say they trust the Enterprise to be

triumphant. They're moving out of range now."

"Give them our thanks for the vote of

confidence," said Sulu.

"Commander, the Belligerent is on course for the

rift. Estimate penetration in thirteen

seconds."

"Fire a warning shot across their bow," said

Sulu.

The Enterprise phasers lanced out, cutting just

in front of the Tellarite ship and momentarily

slowing its progress. In response the

Tellarites suddenly changed course--m quickly

than the larger and less maneuverable Enterprise

could have--and banked hard around on the starship.

The phasers of the Belligerent roared to life,

stabbing outward and striking the starship amidships.The Enterprise rocked under the 363

assault.

The bridge shuddered as Sulu gripped the arms

of the command chair. "Target their warp nacelles,"

he said grimly. "Photon torpedoes.

Fire."

"Torpedoes fire," said Chekov.

The Belligerent came around fast, and the

photon torpedoes exploded against the shields just

below the nacelles. The Tellarite ship was slowed

for a moment, but then it regained strength and, with a daring

U-turn, angled back across its tracks,

dodging another set of phaser blasts as it

screamed through the void toward the rift.

"Tractor beams!" shouted Sulu. "Grab

them!"

The tractors pierced the darkness of space and

momentarily snared the arcing Tellarite ship. But

the tractors were designed for towing ships that, more

often than not, were out of power--not for restraining

vessels that were trying to escape. The tractors

held on for barely a moment--enough time for

Chekov to lock phasers on target--but by the time

the mighty weapons of the Enterprise had fired,

the Belligerent had ripped free of the tractorbeams.

"Full phaser array!" shouted Sulu.

"Fire!"

Phaser blasts bracketed the Tellarite

ship, but Tellarites were nothing if not

singleminded. The Belligerent sustained several

vicious hits, and one of their rear deflector

shields overloaded and burned out. But with

Tellarites that was not enough. Not nearly enough.

Andwitha final, arrogant roar of engines notched

up to warp five the Belligerent leaped into the

rift and vanished.

There was dead silence on the bridge for a long

moment, broken finally by two things. First was

Lieutenant Newman, at the science station,

reporting that sensors had detected a field

disruption in the temporal structure of the rift,

rendering it prematurely unstable. She estimated

that, within ninety minutes if not sooner, it would

collapse on itself.

The second was Uhura, reporting that the

Andorians were calling to comment that they were sorely

disappointed in the performance of the Enterprise.

Sulu's response was not recorded.

Chapter Twenty-five 365

Kirk saw nothing, and plenty of it.

And then everything came crashing down on him.

From everywhere, everywhere, sounds and images,

millions of bits of information. It wasn't an

attack. It was an assault. He didn't know

where to look first, what to think first.

Logic. He needed to sort it out. He needed

to process the information, sort through it, extract

what he needed and discard the rest. But he couldn't;

it was too much, like trying to pick out one snowflake

in a blizzard.

Everything was twisting around and back on him, and

he was a philosopher, and he was a healer, and he

was an explorer, and he was a grunt, and an

architect, sculptor, singer, writer,

scientist, failure, success. Everything,

everything and nothing, and oh God oh God oh

God stop it stop it stop it

stopitstopitstopit. ...

Tears were rolling down Kirk's face,

except he had no face, he felt it melting

away, and his left leg was floating away, and he

was literally coming apart, and there went his right arm, and it" waving to him. ...

And the fields were waving to him, home, home in

Iowa. ...

Home, he had come home, after hiding on

Vulcan for months, and there had been Carol

Marcus waiting for him, and she was coming at him now,

shrieking as she never had in reality, "You let him

die you let him die you saved so many you saved

Spock and McCoy and all of them over and over

and over again and you let your son die you let him you

let him you bastard you son of a bitch you don't

deserve to live you don't you don't you

don'tyoudon'tyoudon't. ...

And Carol was screaming at him, and he heard the

screams of all who had died under his command, all the

security guards, all the crewmen who had

placed their trust in him, and he was looking at a

pile of bodies in the engine room of the

Enterprise, the bodies piled like wood,

phaser-burned or fried or sucked dry of

blood or their red blood cells gone or

crushed beneath the heel into powdered fragments, so many

ways, and they were all equally dead, and they were being

shoveled into the gaping maw of the engines, burning

hotter than the flames of hell, but no, as hotz hell, because this was hell, and then he

saw David's arm sticking out from the pile of

bodies, he saw David's face staring

lifelessly at him in its final twisted

expression of pain, and he ran toward David,

screaming into the soundlessness, and yanked on

David's hand, and the hand came off, and it upset

the pile of bodies, and they tumbled down on

Kirk, down on Kirk, burying him, and the stink

of death was everywhere, all the deaths upon him, upon him

as they always had been and always would be, and hadn't

he done it all? Hadn't he accomplished

everything? What was the point, what was the goddamn

point, there would just be endless repetition now, nothing

new, nothing different, nothing that was remotely

evocative of the days when it was all fresh and

exciting and the adventure was out there calling to him,

now it was just death and death and it was everywhere, in his

eyes and up his nostrils, suffocating in it, and in

his mouth, and he could taste it, and death tasted

sweet, much sweeter than he thought, and the starship

engines roared louder and hotter, powered and fueled

by death, his lover, his all-consuming lover that had

killed so many, killed his crewmen, killed his

son, killed itself, but it kept coming back for more, ands did he, and they deserved each other, my

God, it was so clear, just end it end it God

please, and the end was going to be so good, as a

shovel dug deep and lifted Kirk and the bodies

up high, up over the engines, the flames licking

at them, and he would finally be part of the ship, finally

and completely consumed in body as he had been

consumed his entire life in mind, and- -

And a hand intertwined with his, pulling at him,

pulling him free, and just like that the charnel house

stench was gone. ...

And he was surrounded by stars.

His arms and legs were back, and his face, and

all of him. He turned, and there was Daystrom,

Richard Daystrom, staring at him with a concerned

look on his face. "Almost lost you there," rumbled

Daystrom.

There was still the pounding feeling, the sense of being

assaulted from all around, but it was subsiding, it was

controllable now, and Kirk looked in wonder at

Daystrom. "What is ..." he managed to get

out.

"We're inside the Worldmind mainframe," said

Daystrom, "in its data base. All of the

information stored in it is just that random bits ofinformation. And if you are unable to distill

the 369

data, then I'm afraid it's not--z the saying

used to go--"user friendly."'"

"How ... are you managing it?" Kirk put his

hand to his head, trying to screen out the fierce

pounding.

"It's a computer," Daystrom replied.

"I'm in my element. I saw ... all manner

of things ... but nothing as horrible as what I've

faced in my life with my nervous breakdown."

"I was--I was almost immobilized," said

Kirk. "I--"

"The further you bury your unhappiness, the more it

hurts when the Worldmind gets at it," said

Daystrom. "Now, me, I wear my misery on

my sleeve. It's not nearly as strenuous."

"An argument for mental balance if I ever

heard one."

"Furthermore," said Daystrom, "if we just

concentrate, we can draw strength from each other.

Singly it's harder, but knowing the other is here, we

can pool our defenses."

Kirk looked around, fighting to keep his

rationality. "Before we defend anything, we've

got to find Spock." They were standing on nothing, and suddenly Spock

appeared to their right, or perhaps it was to their left. It

was difficult to tell.

A vicious-looking knife--something distinctly

Vulcan in design--was lodged in his back.

He was vaguely waving at it, trying to pry it from

between his shoulder blades.

Kirk gasped. "Spock!"

He ran toward him, and it took him a full

thirty seconds to realize that, no matter how

fast he ran, he wasn't getting any closer.

Daystrom was right behind him, and when they came to the

realization, they stopped and tried to catch their

breath.

"It's like any other data base," said

Daystrom. "You just have to manipulate the data

that's at hand. And it comes from all around you, and from in

you. It responds to what you think, what's on your

mind."

And then there was a low laugh from everywhere. It

grew louder and louder, filling Kirk's head, and

he clapped his hands to his ears to try and block

it out. But that was impossible because it seemed to be

working its way from the inside of his brain outward.

"I'm calling on the Worldmindffwas shoutedKirk. "I'm here on behalf of 371

Ecma! I'm here on behalf of Spock! If

you're so blasted benevolent, why are you doing this?

Why are you trying to destroy us? Why are you trying

to destroy your own people?"

And the laugh grew louder, and suddenly a

Calligarian melted into existence some feet

away from Kirk. "The Worldmind is benevolent,"

cried out the Calligarian. "In fact, to the

rest of Calligar, nothing has changed. But

there's just one small pocket of it that's been ...

fixed. Calligar doesn't know it. And the

Worldmind doesn't know it. I've hidden the

existence of this little subsystem far too well. And

that's where you are, and that's where I am, and you will not

leave this place. And you have only yourself to blame."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Regger, you Federation idiot!" snarled

Regger, his face twisted in fury. "I'm the

son of Ecma! I'm the next Master

Builder. And you've come so close to ruining

everything, it's not even mildly amusing. I've

planned this for so long, and you, in your blundering, have

almost brought it crashing down. I'll give you this

I never thought you would survive this far. But you'llg no further."

"What did you do to Spock?"

"He wasn't expecting an attack," said

Regger simply. "He was anticipating

interaction on a plane of intellectualism.

He was easily disposable the moment he arrived.

I couldn't let him probe too deeply into the

order for the thinning of my dear mother."

"Of course!" said Kirk. "You didn't

want him to, because the order wasn't

legitimate. It's not her time. But you wormed

your way into the Worldmind and had it issue the

order."

"Took years of my life to accomplish it,"

Regger said proudly. "Making my inroads,

hiding my progress, bit by bit."

"It was perfect," Kirk realized.

"Arrange for your mother to be slated for thinning at the

time when you knew she would be meeting with us. She

felt that it wasn't her time, but she respected the

Worldmind too much for it to occur to her that there was

outside interference. She'd never question it. So you

knew that one of two things would happen. Either she

would flee her fate and beg for sanctuary, and you

would be made Master Builder. Or she wouldaccept the decree, march to her death, and 373

you would still become Master Builder."

"I was giving her an opportunity for

happiness," said Regger. "How much fairer could a

son be than that?" And then he was holding a phaser

in his hand. "Recognize this? It's from your mind.

You'll die here, and no one will suspect what

really happened. You gave it a fair shot,

Captain, I'll grant you that. But you can't be the

hero every time."

He brought the phaser up, aimed, and fired.

And Kirk, literally with the speed of thought,

ordered, "Shields up!"

The shield came up.

It was round and large and had a spike in the

middle. Lettering forming Latin ^ws surrounded the

edge of it, and in the middle was a large

representation of an eagle. The shield was on

Kirk's arm, and the phaser beam bounced harmlessly

off it.

He looked at Daystrom in surprise.

"It's all subjective," said Daystrom.

"All of it. This isn't physical against

physical. It's mind against mind. I'm with you.

Get him." Kirk gave it no conscious thought at all.

Just that quickly he was astride a magnificent

white horse. The horse's eyes were glowing red,

and it reared back, neighing so loudly that it seemed

to fill the skies. The horse had armor covering

the upper portion of its head and its mane, and on

the fitted metal piece, as naturally as if they

should always be there, were the letters NCC-1701A.

And then Kirk realized that he was armored as

well. It glistened and glittered, and his lance was

secured under his arm.

"Yaaah!" he shouted, and the horse charged

forward.

The horse thundered across the nonexistence of the

Worldmind, and Regger fired again with the phaser.

Kirk angled his shield down, and it deflected

the phaser blast once more, and then with a roar Regger

metamorphosed.

He grew larger and larger, his maw as wide as

space, his eyes as hot as the sun, losing all

resemblance to anything humanoid.

The horse reared up, whinnying in fear, and

Kirk fought to control it. The monster took a

step forward, the nothingness shaking beneath his step, and then

another step forward, and Kirk suddenly took-mand because, dammit, he was the commander, he 375

would not lose control, he would save the day, he

would save everything and everyone. And there were

McCoy's acid comments about being a knight, about

being Galahad, and he had said it so disdainfully, but

it had been true, all true.

He charged forward, the flag of the UFP a

fluttering standard at the end of his lance. The monster

swiped at him with its vicious claws, and Kirk

ducked under, barely missing having his head lopped

off, and spurred the horse forward, shouting in

defiance as the lance slammed straight into the

monster's chest.

The lance snapped, and the monster roared, staggering

back, clawing at its chest. Kirk brought the

horse around, pulled his sword from its sheath, and

charged forward again.

The sword whooshed just over the monster's head as

it ducked and lashed out once more with its claws. It

ripped across the belly of the horse, and the

magnificent animal screamed once and went

down, its entrails spilling out. Kirk threw his

sword away as he rolled across the ground

to avoid falling on his own blade.

He rolled to a stop and got to his feet, andDavid Marcus was coming toward him, desperation on

his young face. Kirk froze in place as

David called out, "Father--let me help you!"

"You're not real!" shouted Kirk. The sword

was a couple of feet to his right, just beyond reach.

"Yes, I am! Don't you see? I was

pulled out of your mind. Your subconscious! I

want to help you. I want to forgive you. Let

me, please! Don't turn away again. Don't

let me die again. Please! I want to help you

so much!"

Everything in his voice, in his appearance, was

sincere, andfora moment Kirk hesitated. David

came toward him, reached out for him ...

Kirk leapt to his right, grabbed the sword, and

in one quick motion brought it swinging upward just as

David grabbed for him, the scientist's face

twisted in disdain. The sword cleaved David

Marcus from just under his rib cage up and through to his

opposite shoulder, bisecting his torso.

David shrieked, loud and long, his face

transposing back into Regger's.

(and somewhere, in Regger's home at that very

moment, in a very private, very personal communion

center that he had constructed for private accessffthe Worldmind, Regger slumped forward, his 377

mind gone before his head hit the ground.)

And then all of it began to melt away, the

nonground beneath Kirk's feet. He heard a

shout from Daystrom, and then he was falling, falling,

stretching out his hands to try to grab something, but there was

nothing, nothing at all. ...

Nothing

at

all

and

he

fell

and

fell

and

Stopped.

He sat up.

He was in his quarters.

Daystrom was there. So was Spock, looking

extremely puzzled.

Kirk looked up. The top of his quarters was

gone. Instead there was a sparkling blue sky, and the

earth's sun shining down on him.

And a Calligarian whom Kirk did nrecognize, but he could tell from Spock's

expression that the Vulcan did.

Before Kirk could say anything the doors to his

quarters hissed open, and his mother walked in to offer

them brownies. There was a Tribble perched serenely

on her shoulder. Kirk politely refused the

offer, and she smiled, told him how nice his friends

looked and said they should get along well together, and

then left.

Spock watched her go and then looked back at

Kirk. "Your mother seems quite pleasant,

Captain," he said.

"You'd've liked her," Kirk replied, still a

bit baffled.

"I would tend to agree. Captain ... this is

Zyo. It was his determination to open

Federation-Calligar relations that--"

"Started all the trouble," said Zyo gamely.

"I'm also Ecma's father. A pleasure to meet

you. Your efforts on her behalf have been most

gratifying."

He extended a hand, and Kirk shook it

firmly. "You are aware of what just happened?"

asked Kirk.

"Oh, yes," affirmed Zyo. "As much as Ifind it replusive, by the same token

I must admit a certain degree of admiration for

my grandson. Imagine altering our base

perceptions without our even being able to tell. He

deserved to be the next Master Builder. He

really did. His intellect was quite formidable. A

pity you destroyed his mind, Captain."

"You mean he's ... he's dead?"

"Oh, yes. q. And worst of all, there's

nothing left of his mind, his spiritual aspect,

to salvage. He will be forever denied the privilege

of joining us."

"The privilege he tried to bestow

prematurely on Ecma."

"It would have been nice to see her," said Zyo.

"But I understand now that that would be selfish of me.

Her time will come, however."

"What do you mean, her time will come?" Daystrom

asked. "After everything that's happened, you still intend

to demand that she be returned?"

"Well, of course," said Zyo, sounding

surprised that the question should even be broached.

"She's still one of us. She's still of the Calligar.

She can't be permitted to leave."

"You're not being fair. Why can't she leave?" "Because then she will never be part of the honor,

of the

beauty, of the Harmony of the Worldmind," said Zyo.

"Don't you see? Where is the fairness of

depriving her of that? If she lives a normal

life span and simply dies, then that is the end

for her. She will be forever gone from us. She will live

alone and die alone. The misery, the torture of

that ... we cannot permit that for one of our own. We

love our people too much for that."

"If you truly love her," said Kirk

quietly, "then you will let her go."

Zyo laughed softly. "That old human

saying. A rationalization by humans who allow a

relationship to dissolve rather than fight to maintain

it."

"There is a time for fighting," said Kirk, "and a

time for giving in. A time for realizing the difference

between true love and selfish love. Just because you have

believed this for however many centuries doesn't

mean that you are right."

"And simply because humans have believed

otherwise doesn't mean they are right."

"True enough," said Kirk. "But doesn't

Ecma deserve the opportunity to decide for

herself?" "But she won't be able to," said 381

Zyo. "If we let her go, and she decides

she detests it ... she can never come back to us.

By the time the rift opens once more she will very

likely be dead."

"That is possible," said Kirk. "But it is

her decision."

"We have made plans for her."

"She has made other plans."

Zyo leaned back. "I must say I'm not

totally convinced. Our way is--"

"Is not living," said Kirk.

"We have access to every aspect of living!" Zyo

protested.

"Every aspect but one," Kirk told him. "The

chance to go on living. To experience something new.

You've forgotten already what it was like to be alive.

To breathe in air, to feel the press of a woman's

lips against yours. To hold a newborn child in your

arms, or even--even, God help us--ffbury a

child who has died. To stand on the bridge of a

starship and wonder what's out there, what's next?

What will we find? The value of that can never be

diminished, and the glory of the adventure cannot, must

not, be forgotten. To feel happiness andunhappiness, joy and misery, and have the right

to choose to feel those things--t's what she wants.

That's what you must give her."

Zyo seemed to pause, and now Spock said,

"You began this, Zyo. You started events in

motion. Now they've gone in a way you didn't

anticipate. But you must allow these events

to happen. Your ideas were good ideas. Now let

new ones take their place."

"Let her go," said Kirk. "Please."

Zyo stared at Kirk. "I must consult with the

rest of the Worldmind. This will be a very long,

exhaustive discussion, I am certain. Please

wait here." And he vanished.

"Wait!" said Kirk. "We don't have time for

long and exhaustive--"

And Zyo reappeared. He sighed deeply.

"I was correct. That was exhausting."

Kirk looked at Spock and Daystrom, and

then back at Zyo. "You're done?"

"Yes."

"You said it was going to take a long time."

"Captain," said Zyo smiling, "when you're

part of a mind that is capable of making decisions within

periods of time so brief that there isn't even ameasurement for them, a discussion of more than 383

a second is considered an eternity."

"And the decision?"

He smiled, and it looked like a smile filled

with pain. "Take her, Captain. Tell

Commodore Tyler to be good to her. And tell her

her father loves her."

"You will not regret this, sir," said Spock

gravely.

Zyo looked at him sadly. "I regret it

already. When you leave, please tell Alt that he

should commune immediately so that I can relate the

Worldmind's feelings on this."

"That will be fine," said Kirk. "May I ask

how we leave?"

And then he felt the hard floor beneath him.

The light had vanished.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe, but almost immediately

he knew why. Spock and Daystrom were lying on

top of him. "Somebody want to help me out

here?" he called.

Immediately he was being pulled to his feet, and he

found himself looking into the relieved face of

Montgomery Scott. The engineer dusted him off

as Kirk said, "How long were we out?" "About forty-five seconds, sir."

"Seemed like an eternity." He looked around

to see Daystrom and Spock on their feet.

Spock was stretching his limbs slightly as if

to rid himself of a backache, and Daystrom was shaking

out his arms and legs.

And now Alt was there, saying urgently,

"Well, Captain?"

"The Worldmind would like to speak with you. And Zyo

says hello," he added as an afterthought.

Alt's eyes widened in surprise, and then

he nodded and took a step back. The light

immediately projected down from heaven, and Alt's

face went slack.

"Alt's being given our marching orders.

We're free and clear to leave."

"Two problems with that, sir."

"What?"

"We've just been informed by the Calligar that a

Tellarite ship has come through the rift and is

attacking us, and the rift is going to cycle closed

prematurely. If we're not out of here within the

hour, we're going to be permanent guests."

Chapter Twenty-six 385

As McCoy and Ecma passed the

transporter room Ecma stopped, turned

to McCoy, and said, "I am very sorry,

Doctor."

"Sorry for what?" asked McCoy.

He never saw the uppercut that knocked him

cold.

Ecma left him where he lay and walked into the

transporter room. At the transporter

console Tooch was just confirming that the red alert had

been removed and shields were no longer up, and she

looked at Ecma in surprise. "Can I help

you?"

"I am very sorry, young woman," said Ecma.

"Sorry for what?" asked Tooch.

The Belligerent soared over the Worldnet,

firing in fury at the domed cities and getting

absolutely nowhere. Whatever the domes were made

of, they were clearly impervious to the weaponry of the

Tellarites.

Khund pounded the arms of his command chair in

fury. "We must destroy them!" he snarled.?There must be revenge for the Shondar! And if we

cannot destroy them from space, then we'll beam down

through their domes and destroy them one to one!"

"Sir!" called the communications officer.

"Getting a hail from the Callig--no, wait!

It's over a frequency from a Starfleet

communicator!"

"Put it on audio," growled the

Tellarite.

"This is Captain James Kirk of the

Enterprise," came the voice over the comm

unit. "Calling the Tellarite vessel

currently firing upon the Calligar."

"This is Khund of the Belligerent! We

cry for vengeance on behalf of Shondar

Dorkinffwas

"Vengeance!" shouted the crew on cue.

"Vengeance!"

"You won't find it here," said Kirk. "You can

shoot until your phaser banks are exhausted,

and it won't make a bit of difference to the

Calligar."

"We're prepared to fight a ground war, city

by city!"

"And are you prepared to live out here? Scan therift. It's closing." 387

"You lie!" snarled Khund. "Another

lying--"

"Sir, he's right," said the science officer in

alarm. "The temporal fluctuations are

increasing. Within the hour it will close, and perhaps

sooner than that."

Bubbling with ire, Khund shouted, "This is

your fault, Kirk. Shondar Dorkin is

dead, and you're responsib--"

"He's not responsible," came a new

voice, the voice of an Andorian. "I was there

when Dorkin died. He died bravely, nobly.

He died with two dozen of his enemies crushed beneath

his fists, and one in each hand at the moment he

breathed his last. He died saving us, and we would not

be alive if not for his brave and noble

sacri fice."

Khund looked around at his officers. They were

visibly impressed. Andorians and

Tellarites historically did not get on. For the

Andorian to speak so highly of the departed Shondar

...

"He may be lying," said Khund slowly.

His first officer stared at him. "He says oneof our own died in brave combat, and you're going

to say he lies about it?"

"Good point," Khund admitted.

Now Kirk's voice came back on.

"Don't let his sacrifice be in vain," he

said. "His body is right here, at these

coordinates. Beam us all up there, and let's

go before we're trapped here."

Slowly Khund nodded. "We've got your

coordinates," he said. "Stand by." And then he

tapped a comm button and said, with great

satisfaction, "Transporter room ..."

On the surface, Kirk and company stood there

for a moment, Kirk with the communicator in hand.

Alt was there as well. "They'll bring us up,"

he said confidently. "It's a surer bet than the

shuttle. The trip through was tougher than expected,

and if I can avoid having to depend on the warp

sled--"

"Aye," said Scotty. "Before all this started

I was going to let you know about that. But now

we'll--"

Then they heard the telltale hum of a

transporter. Kirk prepared hmfffmaterialize aboard the Tellarite 389

ship.

It took him a few moments to realize that his

concern was moot. The body of Shondar Dorkin

dematerialized, but the rest of them stayed right where

they were.

"Khund!" shouted Kirk. "You said--"

"No," came Khund's voice. "You said.

I never said. Furthermore, I now understand--the

flowery ^ws and praise were simply so that we would

bring you up. Well, I'm afraid not, my

friends. Enjoy the Calligar. You're going to be with

them for a very long time."

The channel was cut off, and Kirk immediately

turned and said, "Let's get to the shuttle and

get the hell out of here. Once they go through the

rift again it'll close in minutes."

"That," said Spock, "is a very great

likelihood."

They ran like hell.

"Mister Suluffwas called out Chekov.

"Someone has just used the transporter!"

"What?" Sulu was astounded. "Where would they

go?" Chekov glanced at the coordinates that had

been set. "Ecma's ship," he said.

"Send a security team to the transporter

room and open a channel to that ship. Enterprise

to Ecma. Have you boarded your ship?"

"Yes," her voice came back. "I

apologize for the means by which I did it. Your

sensors must be telling you the same thing mine are.

The rift is closing. I'm their only hope of

getting back. And besides, I don't know if

I'm ready to leave my people. I thought I was, but

now I--I don't know. I'm not sure, and

until I'm sure, I can't turn my back

on them. I just can't."

Everyone on the bridge looked to Sulu as he

was quiet for a time, and then he said, very softly,

"Do what you have to do. Godspeed. Enterprise

out."

And that was when the Tellarite ship hurtled out

of the rift into normal space. Without answering

any hails or even slowing down, the good ship

Belligerent leapt into warp six and was gone in

an eyeblink.

Leaving behind a temporal anomaly known

informally as Pike's Rift, which--thanks to all thewarp activity passing through--was now

going to close in less than five minutes.

The shuttlecraft howled through the temporal

battering at warp three and pushing it. The battering

was intense, and it seemed as if the universe around

them had gone mad.

The ride in had been strenuous enough, but in the

moments before the rift was preparing to cycle closed

it seemed as if the bizarre distortion was doing

everything it could to prevent the last refugees from

getting out. Time twisted and turned back on itself,

and Kirk, seated just behind Spock and Scotty,

saw things spinning back and away that didn't

seem to make sense.

"Captain, we're running out of power!" shouted

Scotty. "We've got two minutes at warp

three left!"

"Full ahead, Mr. Scott. Be the little

shuttle that could."

Around them space was on fire, flaming

images dancing around them, and two minutes

ticked down to one.

"Estimating exit time in one minute, ten

seconds," said Spock. "We've only got a minute of warp

left!" shouted Thak from the rear. "We're not

going to make it! We'll be crushed at impulse

power!"

"Even when warp power ceases," said Spock

calmly, "it will still take approximately

fifteen seconds for the warp field to disintegrate

around us."

"You mean we have a five-second margin for

error!" said Thak.

"I would say "error"' is too strong a

^w," observed Spock.

Time ticked down, down, and the gauge measuring

warp power dropped down, down ... and then out.

The rift roared around them, howling its fury, and

Spock said, "Warp field disintegrating. On

my mark and ten, nine, eight, seven ..."

The shuttlecraft staggered into normal space

and out.

In front of them, big as life, eminently

welcome, was the Enterprise. Thak also

noticed the Andorian ship many kilometers

away.

"Five," Spock said serenely.

And then they saw Ecma's ship hurtling towardthem and then angling away, toward the

rift. "What the hell?" came a shout from

Tyler.

"Attention Calligarian vessel." Spock

opened a link to it. Tyler had unbelted and was right

behind him, and now Tyler shouted, "Ecma!"

Her surprised voice came over the comm.

"Joe?"

"Ecma, we're here! We're fine!"

"They--they let you go? But what about my being

thinned?"

"That was an elaborate ruse on the part of your

son," said Spock. "You are not scheduled for

termina--"

"SPOCK!" said Tyler, horrified.

"I--I don't have to die?" came her

voice.

Tyler looked daggers at the Vulcan and then

said, "No ... you don't. But ... you can stay with

me."

"But I can live with my people now! I don't have

to run away from them!"

"You wouldn't be running away from them," said

Tyler desperately. "You'd be running to me!

Ecma! Listen to me--" "Twenty seconds until closure of the

rift," said Spock, glancing at his instruments.

"Ecma! Stay with me!" shouted Tyler.

"Please! After all this, please don't--"

And Ecma's craft vanished into the rift.

There was a little spark where it went in, and then it

disappeared.

There was silence in the shuttlecraft for a long

moment, and then Tyler said darkly, "That bitch."

"Joe," said Kirk softly. "Come on, now

..."

"She used me, James. Don't you see?

You all must see it. She used me until she

didn't need me anymore, until we cleared

the way for her return, and then back she goes.

She didn't love me. She never loved me.

It was all a game to her!" As the rift grew

smaller, shrinking into nonexistence, his anger grew

greater. "That's all she ever was! Some--some link

to a great moment in our youths! That's all. A

memory of a moment when we seemed to connect but

didn't. We never did, not really. Well, she

never meant anything to me! I felt sorry for

her, and she used me, so fine! We're quit of

each other, and--" And the rift closed. 395

And a split instant before it did, something

emerged.

And a voice crackled over the comm. "Joe?"

He lunged for the comm, elbowing Spock aside.

"Ecma?"

Her voice sounded thick, choked with emotion.

"What you did for me--what all of you did for me

--I thought I would be alone. And I was scared, but

I ... it won't be alone. It'll be together. A

different kind of together."

"It'll be great," said Tyler, grinning. "You

and me. I never doubted it for a moment. I knew

it was going to be us. It was destiny. I love you,

Ecma."

"I love you, Joe."

Spock looked at Kirk. "He never

doubted it for a moment?" asked Spock.

"Doubted what, Mr. Spock?" asked

Kirk. "I don't recall the commodore

doubting anything. Do you?"

Spock stared at Tyler, back at Kirk,

and then said, "Considering the vast number of

emotional flipflops humans make in their

lifetimes, it's amazing you do not all comeequipped with trampolines as standard issue."

Epilogue 397

The marriage of Commodore Jos@e Tyler and

former Master Builder Ecma was performed

by Captain James t. Kirk while the

Enterprise was en route to Vega for rest and

debriefing.

James Kirk, in his arguments and fight for

survival with the Calligar, settled a number of

uncertainties and doubts in his own mind. He

found this ironic but never had the nerve to tell

anyone.

The Tellarite government lodged a formal

complaint with the Federation and declared war on the

Calligar. This declaration lasted ten years,

during which time not a thing was done and the Tellarites

eventually declared victory in absentia, since the

Calligar were clearly not brave enough to show up and

fight. Shondar Dorkin was enshrined in the hall of

heros on Tellar, and a minor holiday was named for

him.

The Federation Intergalactic Studies

Council thoroughly debriefed all members of the

contact team and made a recommendation that the

Calligar be contacted again upon the next opening oftherift. However, when the time came for the

rift

to reopen once more the Federation was engaged in major

hostilities as part of the Klingon-Romulan war

and unable to dispatch a research team. The rift

opened and closed undisturbed.

Thak the Andorian wrote a popular

musical play based on the Calligar and won

the Zankar-Bowles Prize for creative fiction

that year.

Dr. Richard Daystrom, combining elements of a

thought-responsive environment with his previously

discarded M-5 research, developed a

theoretical computer program that would create

images with the ability to think and respond in a

human manner. Hailed as "Daystrom's

Comback," this was the groundwork from which holodeck

technology was derived.

Macro awoke from Tyler's phaser stun

blast to be informed that he was the new Master

Builder. He was also told that the reason he had

acquired this high honor was that his sister was gone

forever, and his son was dead.

Upon learning of this, Macro began crying.

And he never stopped until the day he died.