STAR TREK

SANCTUARY

BY

JOHN BORN HOLT

POCKET BOOKS New York London

Toronto Sydney Tokyo Singapore This book

is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and

incidents are either products of the author's

imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

resemblance to actual events or locales or

persons, living or dead, is entirely

coincidental.

An Original Publication of POCKET

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Copyright at 1992 by Paramount Pictures.

All Rights Reserved.

StAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of

Paramount Pictures.

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division of Simon and Schuster Inc." under

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All rights reserved, including the right

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ISBN 0-671-76994-4

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Printed in the U.s.a.

To jean Reich, who's been our sanctuary in so

many ways. Foreword

I never met Gene Roddenberry, but his

effect on my life has been extremely

far-reaching. I might have struggled several more years

to become a published (not to mention best-selling)

novelist had he and Pocket Books not created the

Next Generation book series. G.r.

personally approved the outline for the book you are

holding in your hands, and for that I am extremely

grateful. I could go on and talk about how much Star

Trek means to me as a whole, but I think you can

judge that for yourself from this book and my Next Generation

novels.

Suffice to say, I miss you, Mr.

Roddenberry. Thanks a lot. Now, prepare yourself

for a blitz of thank-yous. My feeble memory

needed a lot of help to complete a book taking

place during the original five-year mission. First

of all, to those who read it and offered comments along the

way Andrea and Kevin Quitt and the toughest

critic of all, my wife, Nancy. Then

to Judy and Garfield Reeves-Stevens, who

loaned me ix their long-out-of-print Concordance and

offered me plenty of moral support. Thanks to that

fount of Star Trek knowledge, Jim Shaun Lyon, and

my creature researchers Priscilla J.

Ball, Cory Sims, Marte Brengle,

Jon Woolf, Carolyn Kinkead, Jim

Singleton, Anne Davenport, and Matthew G.

Mitchell. Actually, they're all human, but they

know a lot about things that aren't. Special kudos

to Kevin Ryan, my editor, who believed in

Sanctuary and persevered to get it approved.

Thanks to friends and colleagues who helped me in

various invaluable ways Ashley Grayson,

Caroline Meskell, Eric Baldwin, Phyllis

Hirsen, Steve Robertson, Barbara Beck,

Susan Williams, Marilyn Dennis, Jane

Emaus, and Linda Johnston. One theme of this

book is that space travel is a privilege that

can be taken away. In many respects, it's already

been taken away from us after the great hope that was

inspired by the Apollo moon flight more than twenty

years ago. I don't wish to belittle the space

shuttle program, but I expected more from space

travel than the Pentagon plopping a spy

satellite in orbit every now and then. The proposed

orbital space station has been compromised to death,

and NASA is on the ropes financially and

morale-wise. The once proud Russian space

program is apparently gone forever. Thanks

to visionaries like Gene Roddenberry, space

travel exists in our imaginations and popular

culture, but that's not good enough. It's time for the

private sector to pick up the fallen banner.

I speak principally of Japanese companies and

huge multinationals that haven't got anything

better to do with their money than buy expensive

trophies like country clubs and movie studios.

It's time for the Sonys and General Electrics of the

world to return to us the wonder of space travel.

They have the money, reIt

sources, and technology to do it. What about joint

ventures? What secrets does NASA have

anymore?

But I suppose our government will continue to be

xenophobic and continue to guard technology that we

no longer have the will to use.

It's sad that space travel has been taken

away from us, and there is no one who wants to give it

back. John Vornholt Xi Historian's

Note

This adventure takes place during the original

five year mission of the USS Enterprise.

CA-PTAIN Kirk leaned over his

helmsman's shoulder and stared at a tiny dot on the

viewscreen. It was barely distinguishable from the

stars around it, but the stars were moving in relation to the

Enterprise. The blip wasn't.

"Are we gaining on him at all, Mr.

Sulu?" asked the captain.

"Negative, sir," answered the veteran

officer, blinking away the heaviness from his eyes. This

chase had started twelve hours ago, and it was

beginning to take its toll on everyone.

"His top speed matches our top speed warp

for warp."

"How is that possible, Keptin?" asked Chekov

with frustration.

"That ship must be one-tenth the size of the

Enterprise. was "Approximately one

twenty-second the size of the Enterprise, was

responded a voice behind them. First Officer

Spock straightened up from his science station.

"However, size has nothing to do with warp

capability, especially on a ship with low mass

and a small crew. With minimal life-support

needs, ninety percent of a ship's energy can be

devoted to its propulsion system. It would also

appear that the designers of Auk-rex's ship were able

to avail themselves of the latest Starfleet

technology."

"And why shouldn't they?" muttered Kirk.

"They've been plundering our trading vessels for

five years now. Blast that pirate! I thought we

had him."

"Begging the Keptin's pardon," said Chekov,

"but in thirty-eight minutes, we will enter a

sector of space that has never been charted or

explored by Starfleet. Do you wish to continue

pursuit?"

"Absolutely," Kirk replied.

"Auk-rex has attacked three freighters in

the last month, and Starfleet wants an end to it."

He turned to his trusted first officer.

"Spock, you've got to figure out where he's

going. Chart his course."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow.

"That will be difficult, Captain, since we have

no firsthand knowledge of this sector. But I shall try."

Kirk rubbed his eyes and said, "Lieutenant

Uhura, radio our position to Starfleet and tell

them of our intentions."

"Aye, Captain," answered the communications

officer as her hands moved over her console.

Kirk strode toward the double doors of the

turbolift, and they whooshed open at his

approach.

"You can reach me in sickbay," he announced

to no one in particular.

"Maybe McCoy has some ideas."

Dr. McCoy smiled slyly over a snifter

of brandy.

"So, Jim, he slipped through your fingers. The

trap wasn't good enough?"

"Nothing wrong with the trap," Kirk answered

testily. Perhaps the most irritating thing about

McCoy, he decided, was that Bones liked to see

people act human. And to err was human.

"It was a good idea," he insisted.

"But somehow, that thief sensed the freighter was a

dummy. He got close to the bait, but he

didn't nibble."

"That's why he's been around for so long." The

doctor shrugged.

"I know he's been a real pain in the cahoot,

but you've got to admire Auk-rex a little bit.

It's not easy being a pirate these days, with so many

treaties and regulations. As I understand it, he never

takes life wantonly."

Kirk scowled.

"No, he just cripples a ship and

takes its most valuable cargo. He figures out

what it's carrying by tapping directly into the computer,

then he beams it off before they know what hit them,"

"Hmm. The computer data is worth something too,

I bet. What else do we know about him?"

"Not much," Kirk admitted.

"He's sophisticated but very mysterious. We

don't know if he's human, or Klingon, or

what. He never hails a ship by voice or

visual, always code. And he sticks to trading

routes on the periphery of the Federation. Starfleet

has so many questions for him, they don't want him

killed, only captured."

The doctor shook his head, clearly amused.

"And in order to capture Auk-rex, we are

basically seeing how far and how fast the Enterprise

can go."

"That's about it," answered Kirk. He took a

sip of his lukewarm coffee and frowned.

"I came here to see if you had any ideas, but it

sounds like you're rooting for the pirate."

"Well," said McCoy, smiling, "it's that part

of me that always roots for the underdog. Here we are, a

big starship, and we can't capture one little puddle

jumper

"Hardly a puddle-jumper," Kirk said

evenly.

"That little ship is the equal of anything in

Starfleet." The captain mustered a smile.

"He's fast, but not fast 3 enough. He can't

lose us, and sooner or later he'll have to come out of

warp. When he does, we hit him with a tractor

beam and it's all over."

The doctor nodded.

"But will it be sooner or later?"

"I wish I knew," admitted Kirk.

A high-pitched tone sounded, followed by the voice

of Mr. Spock" Bridge to captain."

The captain crossed to the wall and switched on the

comm panel.

"Kirk here. What is it, Spock?"

"We are crossing into the uncharted sector now,"

Spock answered.

"No change in status, but I have a theory about

where Auk-rex may be headed."

"I'm on my way," answered Kirk, switching

off the panel. He turned to his friend and smiled.

"So, Bones, do you want to come along and root for

your underdog?"

"Wouldn't miss it." The doctor

grinned.

When Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy reached

the bridge, everyone but Spock glanced

expectantly in their direction. The slim

Vulcan stood motionless over his science console,

absorbing data that were scrol ling by too fast for a

human to read. Kirk waited patiently until

Spock turned to face them.

"Where do you think he's going?" asked Kirk.

"I can't be certain," Spock admitted, "but

long range scanners indicate that the course of the

pirate vessel will take it directly into a solar

system with nine planets, one of which may have an

atmosphere capable of supporting humanoid

life. Although Starfleet has never officially

explored this sector, we have compiled a number of

reports and rumors."

"Why, Spock," remarked McCoy, feigning

astonishment, "it's not like you to traffic in rumors."

"Perhaps not, Doctor," agreed the Vulcan, "but

everything we know about this sector is

unsubstantiated. Therefore, we have no choice but

to traffic in 4 rumors." Spock turned

to Kirk.

"Have you ever heard of a planet called

Sanctuary?"

"Sure," answered McCoy.

"It's a mythical planet, a place where

fugitives from all over the galaxy can go to escape

their persecutors. It's one of those places like El

Dorado or Atlantis-sounds good, but there's never

been any proof that it exists."

Spock nodded.

"It does not exist in any area explored

by Starfleet.

However, most of the galaxy has not been explored

by Starfleet. Klingon charts list such a planet in

this vicinity, and the sanctuary planet is mentioned in

the mythologies of numerous spacefaring worlds. According

to legend, Sanctuary accepts all who fear

capture or harm, both the justly and unjustly

accused. It accepts no appeals from pursuers, and

no one who has reached Sanctuary has ever been

captured later."

"What are you saying?" asked Kirk, striding

to his captain's chair.

"That Sanctuary is a real planet, and that's

where he's headed?"

"I cannot say whether Sanctuary is real,"

replied Spock.

"But the Klingons believe it exists, and so may

Auk-rex."

Kirk nodded, gazing thoughtfully at the tiny dot

on the giant viewscreen.

"He doesn't have many options, does he?"

"No, Captain."

James T. Kirk straightened up in his chair.

"We didn't get much of a look at his ship, but

do you think it's capable of atmospheric reentry?

Could he land on this planet?"

"His ship is small enough," answered

Spock.

"It has already proven quite versatile, and

atmospheric reentry would help it elude larger

ships that must remain in orbit, such as the

Enterprise. Even if his destination is not the fabled

sanctuary planet, landing on a 5 planet's

surface would seem to be his only means of

escape."

"Mr. Sulu," asked Kirk, "how long before

we reach this unnamed solar system?"

"Forty-four minutes," answered the helmsman.

Kirk punched the communicator on the arm of his

chair.

"Captain Kirk to shuttlebay.

Prepare shuttlecraft Ericksen for immediate

launch."

"Aye, Captain," came the reply.

"How many in the party?"

Kirk glanced back at Spock and McCoy.

"Three," he answered. He switched off the

communicator and smiled slyly.

"Bones, would you like to make a bet with me that your

pirate won't get away?"

"Sure." The doctor shrugged.

"What have you got to wager?"

Spock raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"If I lose," said Kirk, "I'll take that

physical you've been nagging me about. If you

lose, you quit nagging me about it."

"All right," agreed the doctor.

"But don't you still intend to lasso him with a

tractor beam when he comes out of warp drive?"

"I do," said Kirk, nodding with determination.

"But he'll come out of warp drive slightly

ahead of us, and there may not be enough time. If he

makes it into the planet's atmosphere, we'll have

to follow him to the surface in the shuttlecraft.

Then we'll send his coordinates back here and beam

Auk-rex and his pirates off their own ship,

just like they beam the loot off the ships they attack."

McCoy observed wryly, "You seem to have thought

of everything."

Kirk nodded, the smile fading from his lips.

"I hope

S.

They were still a hundred million kilometers

away from the planet, but the scanners magnified and

stabilized its image until it filled the

viewscreen. The aquamarine sphere was wrapped in

swirling white mists and tied with darker strips of

rain clouds. Where the surface peeked through the

clouds, it revealed the turquoise of endless seas

or the occasional speck of verdant green.

From this angle, there appeared to be only one

good-sized continent, but the seas were speckled with

islands, some of them in long chains that resembled

broken necklaces. One pole was completely

covered with ice, and the system's sun glinted so

brightly off its blinding whiteness that it looked like a

neon skullcap. No one needed a sensor to know that

the shimmering planet brimmed with life. If it was not

named Sanctuary, it would surely be one for any

traveler weary of the blackness of space.

"A pretty planet it is," observed

Montgomery Scott, chief engineer of the

Enterprise. As third in command after Kirk and

Spock, Scotty had joined his comrades on the

bridge in case he had to assume the captain's

chair.

"And I'll be glad to be coming out o'warp drive,

I'll tell you. The engines canna take much more."

Captain Kirk smiled at the familiar

remark, but his good humor was shortlived.

"The quarry has slowed to warp one," announced

Sulu.

"We'll overtake him in two-point-five

minutes, about the same time we reach the planet."

The captain leaned forward tensely.

"Steady as she goes, Mr. Sulu-take us

down to warp one. When he goes to impulse power,

I want to be only a second behind him."

"Keptin," said Chekov, "we are close enough that

I can lock on with phasers."

"That's a last resort," Kirk warned.

"Starfleet won't learn much about Auk-rex if

we blow him to bits. But we don't want him to know

that. Ready tractor beam."

"Aye, sir," answered Chekov in his clipped

Russian accent.

"Uhura?" asked Kirk.

The lieutenant swiveled around in her chair.

"I'm hailing him on all frequencies," she

reported, "but there's still no response."

Kirk nodded.

"I doubt if he wants to negotiate, but

let's keep trying."

"Captain," said Spock, a trace of

curiosity in his voice, "I am receiving odd

readings from the planet. Our sensors are not

registering as they should-was "Captain!" exclaimed

Sulu, cutting off Spock.

"He has stopped completely and is reversing

course, heading toward us!"

"He has launched a photon torpedo,"

Spock announced with no emotion.

Kirk barked, "Shields up!"

Chekov pounded a button on his console, and a

second later the Enterprise was rocked by an

explosion.

"A miss, sid" proclaimed Chekov.

"But a close von."

"He has reversed course again and is headed to the

planet," said Spock, who turned away from his

instruments and looked at Kirk.

"His approach is non orbital I would say

he is preparing to land."

Kirk pounded the arm of his chair.

"Damn him! If he thinks that little stunt will

save him, he's wrong. Sulu, take us

to impulse power."

"Impulse power," said Sulu, sliding down his

trim pot controls. There was a slight whine in the

engines as the ship dropped out of warp drive.

"Activate tractor beam," Kirk ordered.

Chekov plied his controls for a moment, then shook

his head, puzzled.

"Negative reaction, Keptin," he

reported.

"Something on the planet is counteracting the effect

of the tractor beam. It's like an unusual gravity

field."

Captain Kirk bolted from his chair.

"Bones, Spock," he ordered, "follow me!"

The captain paused at the turbolift and motioned

to his chief engineer.

"Scotty, you have the bridge. Take us into standard

orbit and have the transporter room stand by for

coordinates. Get a security team down there,

too. Tell shuttlebay to prepare for

launch."

"Aye, Captain," said the Scotsman. He

eased himself into the captain's chair as Kirk,

Spock, and McCoy rushed out.

"Take us in, Mr. Sulu. I'll inform

security to prepare a little welcoming party for our

visitors."

"Separation successful," Spock relayed into the

radio as the shuttlecraft Ericksen veered away

from the Enterprise. Kirk, in the pilot's seat,

got his first look at the planet through a cockpit

window and not a viewscreen.

It appeared even more serene and inviting in its hazy

blueness. In every other direction, innumerable stars

twinkled with an immediacy not captured by the

electronic imaging of the viewscreen.

"We are gaining on Auk-rex's ship," said

Spock, studying the copilot's instruments.

"It has just entered the outer atmosphere of the

planet. Close to the planet's surface, we will

have far more maneuverability than they have."

Captain Kirk leaned forward in the pilot's

seat, pushing the controls of the small craft

to maximum speed. Behind him, he could hear Dr.

McCoy shifting uneasily in his seat.

"What's the matter, Bones?" he teased.

"I thought you wanted to be right in the thick of

things-to root your pirate on."

McCoy shook his head.

"I don't know, Jim," he muttered.

"Something about this just doesn't seem right. I have a

feeling Auk-rex knows more than we do.

"I would have to agree with the doctor," said Spock.

Kirk blinked with surprise at his trusted

comrade.

"You agree with McCoy about his vague feelings

of unease?"

"Not vague feelings," corrected Spock.

"But I was unable to complete my scan of the

planet, and it possessed some very unusual

characteristics."

"It's class-M," said Kirk, "you can see that

from here."

"Agreed," said Spock.

"However, I would have preferred to complete my

examination."

"Can we delay at all," asked Kirk, "and not

lose their trail?"

"Negative, Captain," came the reply.

"The success probability of our plan

is very high, barring unforeseen circumstances."

"My favorite kind," muttered McCoy.

A voice chimed from the intercom "Scott

to shuttlecraf t."

Kirk hit the switch.

"What is it, Scotty?"

"I don't want to alarm you, sir," came the

response, "but there appear to be at least six

ships orbiting the planet. Three of them are leaving

orbit in order to intercept the pirate ship, or

us, I can't tell."

"What!" exclaimed Kirk.

"What kind of ships?"

""Unable to verify at this time," Scotty

replied.

"They were stationed on the other side of the planet when

we approached. This seems to be a very busy

place.. .." His voice was obliterated by waves

of static.

"Entering atmosphere," Spock announced.

"Please brace yourselves."

Kirk manipulated the controls as the

shuttlecraft was jostled slightly upon entering the

upper atmosphere of the aquamarine planet. The

invaded air roared in their ears, and speech

seemed like the most pointless of efforts. Heat rose

inside the tiny cabin as their view was obliterated

by streaks of ionized flame. Whatever was happening

above the planet faded in importance as they

gradually entered the ecosystem of the living astral

body.

When they emerged below the clouds a few minutes

later, Kirk noted that it was as if they had embarked

on an ocean cruise. For countless kilometers in

every direction, nothing was visible but the clearest aqua

seas, so clear that clumps of seaweed could be seen

waving to them from the depths.

The ship skimmed over the dancing waves for

several seconds.

"We should have Auk-rex's ship in view in a

matter of moments," Spock reported.

Kirk had other things on his mind.

"Scotty? Scotty?" he repeated, trying

to raise the Enterprise. There was no answer, even

when Kirk tried again on his personal

communicator.

"What's going on here?" he complained.

"That entry shouldn't have knocked out our

communicators."

"Visual contact with the quarry," said

Spock. Although Kirk and McCoy peered

relentlessly into the dimpled horizon, they could see

nothing but sloshing sea. But Kirk's eyes caught

movement in the clumps of sargasso like weeds

beckoning from the bottom.

He jammed the controls hard to port as a thick

brown tentacle lashed at them from a cresting wave.

The shuttlecraft banked around the sinewy

appendage, and they swiveled in their seats to see a

gigantic mollusk lumber to the surface and roll

lazily in the sun. Its purplish body blotted

the turquoise sea like an ink spill. "Nice

welcoming committee," said the captain, leveling off

the small craft at an altitude that no longer

skimmed the waves.

"We're not as close to the water as we appear."

"We're close enough for my taste!" snapped

McCoy.

"Isn't there any land on this planet?"

"Yes, there is," Spock replied.

"And we are approaching it rather rapidly."

Kirk pointed excitedly at a dot of

activity on the hazy horizon.

"I see him!" he exclaimed.

"To starboard. I think I also see land."

"Quite correct, Captain," Spock agreed.

"We will be passing over what might be considered a

large island, or a small continent. If we were here

for any length of time, I would prefer to study the

marine life, which I am sure is more varied and

abundant than the terrestrial life."

McCoy scowled.

"Get us out of here in one piece, and I'll buy

you a ticket back."

Captain Kirk tried his communicator again.

"Kirk to Enterprise. Uhura, do you hear

me?" He waited for an answer that never came, then

tried the shuttlecraft's comm panel-with the same

results.

"The communicators are still out," he grumbled.

"Spock, how are the other shuttlecraft

systems?"

"Other systems are operating efficiently," the

Vulcan replied, shifting his gaze from the cockpit

window to his instrument panel.

"Auk-rex is headed toward a mountain range.

Do you wish to pursue?"

"We've come this far," Kirk said gravely,

"let's get him."

Lieutenant Uhura swiveled around in

her chair, not biding the concern in her voice.

"Mr. Scott," she called, "still no word from the

captain. And we're being hailed by one of the ships in

orbit. A Klingon ship." Scotty stiffened in the

captain's chair.

"Has he armed his weapons?"

"No, sir," she answered.

"Shields are still up," said Chekov.

"We can go to red alert on your order."

"Put his ship on the screen," ordered

Scotty.

At once, the threatening figure of a Klingon

warship popped onto the viewscreen. Its

predatory visage was softened by the bluish outline

of the planet behind it, and it kept a respectful

distance in its own orbit.

"And the other five ships" 2" asked Scotty.

Sulu shook his head.

"One of them fired some shots at both the

shuttlecraft and the pirate. But the atmosphere,

or something, deflected them. I can't place the

origins of the other ships-they all seem of different

types. I'll put the computer on it."

"Fine," said Scotty, not really thinking that any

of this was fine. His captain, first officer, and

ship's doctor were out of contact, and he was sharing

orbit with a Klingon and God-knows what-all.

"Put the Klingon commander on the viewscreen,"

he said disgruntledly.

The image of a Klingon officer appeared on the

screen. He was an older Klingon, with bumps that

undulated down his forehead and gray hair that hung

to his shoulders in a haphazard tangle. His face

looked thin and wiry and was graced with a slim

patrician nose. But beneath his short-sleeved leather

armor, huge biceps bulged and forearms rippled with

tough sinew.

He pounded the console in front of him.

"Earth Captain," he growled, "I salute

your bravery!"

Scotty blinked in surprise.

"Bravery? What do ye mean by that, sir?"

Magnanimously, the Klingon flung his arms

open. "I have always heard that humans are cowardly,"

he replied, "but this was a magnificent act! I have

orbited this planet for many years-1 have no idea

how many in your reckoning-and I have never seen such

devotion to duty. I salute those brave warriors

who pursued the fugitives to the surface of the

planet. May they live to catch them and

disembowel them in the public square!"

"Aye," said Scotty uncertainly.

"We will give them your regards, when they return

to the ship."

"Return to the ship?" asked the Klingon,

puzzled.

"What ship?"

"The one I'm sitting on."

The Klingon roared with a laughter so fierce he

dissolved into tears.

"That is a rich jest," he finally sputtered.

"Surely you do not expect to see them again? That's

what is so brave about their action-to know they will never

return!"

"Never return?" asked Scotty. He could

hear Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu echoing the same

words.

"Of course," said the Klingon.

"You know there is an impenetrable shield around the

planet. Ships can go in, but they can't come out. Or

else we would all go in and disembowel our

fugitives."

"I see," Scotty replied, leaning forward

intently.

"Tell me about this place. Is this the

sanctuary planet?"

"Yes, this is Sanctuary. Where did you think you

were? The other scum about here are bounty hunters, so

we two are the only representatives of

imperial powers. My orders are to intercept and

prevent Klingon fugitives from reaching

Sanctuary, so I will choose to ignore the

hostilities between us for the moment. Will you station yourselves

here to intercept other fugitives?"

"We are awaiting orders," Scotty answered,

trying not to betray any more of his ignorance than he

14 already had.

"We are investigating. In your experience,

nobody ever gets off the planet?"

"Nobody," answered the Klingon

sympathetically.

"That is why I hope your landing party is

successful, to teach that riffraff down there a

lesson.

Or else you have lost your men in vain."

Captain KiRK leaned forward in his seat,

adrenaline pumping, as he watched a disc like

vessel weave between green foothills and towering

spires in a desperate attempt to elude them.

He heard a loud gulp and glanced back

to see McCoy covering his eyes with his hands.

Kirk's own knuckles were tightly clenched on the

controls. Although they had chased the pirate vessel

over thousands of light-years of space, none of that

compared with this harrowing pursuit over a few

kilometers of rugged terrain.

As Spock had predicted, the sleek pirate

vessel was clumsy and unwieldy compared to the

shuttlecraft.

"We could easily pull alongside

Auk-rex's ship," said Spock, "but he is

flying too erratically to risk getting closer."

"We can see him fine from here," agreed

McCoy.

"What are we going to do, with the communicators out?

We can't send his coordinates back to the

Enterprise. was "He's right," said Kirk.

"We need a new plan. Any ideas,

SpocWill?"

"He will undoubtedly run out of fuel before we

do," answered the Vulcan.

"Flying a warp-class vessel this close to the

surface is very fuel-inefficient."

McCoy growled in reply, "That's not a

plan-that's just waiting him out.

What's the matter with that idiot? Doesn't he

know he's beaten?"

Kirk smiled.

"Why, Bones, I thought you were rooting for

Auk-rex. The last of the rugged individualists."

"That was before the communicators went out," grumped

McCoy, "and before we found out this planet is ringed

with ships. I knew there was something fishy about this

place."

"All right," said Kirk, "if he doesn't land

soon, or we don't reestablish contact with the

ship, we'll abandon our pursuit and go back.

We can send a larger search party later."

"Now, that's a plan," said McCoy.

"Mountains ahead," remarked Spock.

Kirk turned his attention back to the horizon.

"Mountains ahead" was the kind of understatement only

Spock was capable of making, the captain thought.

Anyone else would have said, "Awesome towering peaks that

reach into the clouds."

Like the smaller spires that graced the

foothills, these giant spires appeared to have been

carved by the erosion of millennia. Unlike the

graceful sl opes of Earth, they were angular and

twisted; lush green shrubbery did little

to soften their rugged appearance. Probably this entire

landmass had been covered in water not so long ago,

thought Kirk, and the tips of these majestic fingers had

once been islands, the first grip of land on this

watery world. Now the mountains poked their way through the

dense clouds as if they were trying to grab the heavens.

And Auk-rex's ship was headed straight for the

tallest summit.

"What's that idiot doing now?" McCoy asked,

anticipating Kirk's own thoughts.

Spock answered, "I would say, Doctor, that

he is leading us into the mountain range, hoping we will

not be foolish enough to follow."

"He'll crash!" Kirk exclaimed, leaning

forward intently.

"Quite likely," Spock agreed.

"His ship does not have the maneuverability necessary

to avoid the mountains."

"He'd rather die than be captured," McCoy

said in amazement.

Kirk flipped open his communicator.

"Kirk to Enterprise! Come in, Enterprise!"

he begged. There was no response. He hit

another button.

"Shuttlecraft to Auk-rex!" he

shouted.

"Come in, Auk-rex!" The silence was as still as the

jagged peaks that loomed ever closer, The pirate

vessel no longer weaved back and forth; it blazed

toward the highest mountain on an inevitable path

to self-destruction. Kirk pulled back on his

controls, allowing their quarry more room, but its

course remained true. The deadly fingers of rock

drew steadily closer, and the captain was forced to gain

altitude, brushing against the dense cloud cover.

No one breathed in the tiny cabin as destruction

towered all around them.

The peaks of the tallest mountains were totally

obscured, and the peaks of the smaller ones were all too

visible. But more horrifying was the sight of the gleaming

pirate ship, hurtling toward a cloud enshrouded

mountaintop.

"Pull up!" urged McCoy.

"For God's sake, pull up!"

It was unclear to Kirk whether McCoy was

talking to Auk-rex or to him.

He increased speed, and the shuttlecraft bore

down on its quarry as if it had talons and could

pluck the ship from destruction at the last moment.

Kirk watched in horror as the pirate

ship was obliterated in a fiery crash that pulverized

the mountainside. The captain pulled up on his

controls just in time to avoid the same fate.

"Merciful heavens," breathed McCoy, slumping

back in his seat.

Kirk pitched the shuttlecraft into a deep

bank and circled the mountain to cruise past the crash

site. They watched in morbid fascination as a

rock slide carried the flaming wreckage into a

deep gorge. Seconds later, it was as if nothing

had happened to disturb the cloud-enshrouded stillness of the

mountains.

Kirk again cruised past the crash site.

"Jim," said McCoy, "if you're looking for

survivors, I think you can forget it."

"On the contrary, Doctor," said the Vulcan,

"I think there is a fair possibility that there are

survivors. Seconds before the crash, two people

ejected."

"What?" said Kirk, peering out the window.

"I didn't see them."

"You were undoubtedly watching the crash," answered

Spock, "whereas I was trying to track the path of the

ejection pods. I am afraid that in this rough

terrain, it is uncertain whether they could

survive ejection. Also, the shuttlecraft

sensors have stopped functioning."

"Great," muttered McCoy.

"How are we going to find them?"

Spock suggested, "We could land and search for them

on foot. I believe I know their approximate

location, and there is some terrain in the vicinity that is

level enough for a landing."

Kirk strained to look out the window.

"Do you 19 really think there's a chance two people are

alive down there?"

"A fair chance," answered Spock.

"They may very well be injured."

"We should land," McCoy said forcefully.

"We can't abandon two people who need help-this is

a medical emergency. Besides," he added, grinning

at Kirk, "you're going to lose your bet if we

stop now."

The captain nodded.

"We've come this far-we might as well see it

through.

We'll look for them until dusk, then we'll

return to the ship and do a complete scan. I hope

Scotty is making friends up there."

On the bridge, Scott paced as

Sulu rattled off a litany of hull types and

ship standards, gazing at his computer screen.

"In addition to the Klingon," he summarized,

"there is a Saurian ship, an Orion ship,

two more that could best be described as mongrel, and one

that defies any description. All are armed, but

none appear aggressive.

Like the Klingon, they seem to have accepted us as just

another bounty hunter."

"Bounty hunters," said Scotty distastefully.

"so this is what we've been reduced to, begging

help from bounty hunters." He motioned to the

beautiful aquamarine sphere that filled the

viewscreen.

"All because of that accursed planet. Any word from

them or the captain?"

"I've hailed the planet on every frequency,"

answered Uhura.

"There's no response. Shall I hail the

Klingon again?"

"No," Scotty said, sighing, "try one of the

others. Try the Orion ship.

They're semicivilized."

A few seconds passed as Uhura sent standard

greetings over several frequencies.

Scott watched her grip her headset and frown

intently as she listened to 20 the Universal

Translator. Finally, the lieutenant turned

disgustedly to the chief engineer and reported

"The Orion captain is very busy and can't talk

unless we have some prisoners of value on board.

If we do, he is willing to trade slave women

for them."

Scotty shook his head with dismay.

"Heaven help us. And heaven help the captain,

the doctor, and Mr. Spock."

Captain Kirk piloted the shuttlecraft between

the mountains in a series of lazy circles that brought

them into a narrow valley. They landed in a dry

rainwash that was the flattest and least overgrown terrain

in the lush basin. The plants and trees had a

distinctly bladder like appearance, with leaves that were like

thick pods and branches covered with green

globules.

Orange flowers dotted the tops of the larger

pods, and thick vines snaked along the floor of the

arroyo.

The door of the shuttlecraft rose, and Spock

leaped out, followed by Captain Kirk and Dr.

McCoy. Spock pointed his tricorder

at the nearest vegetation and twisted its dials. After

a moment, he closed the tricorder and clipped it

to his waist.

"My tricorder is inoperative," he said.

"Mine, too," added McCoy, following suit.

"What is it about this place?"

"Whatever it is," said Kirk, "it's consistent.

All our equipment has been affected." He

took a few steps and filled his lungs.

"Nothing wrong with the air here, though. You can smell

those flowers from ten meters away. And the temperature

is comfortable. This part of the planet is certainly

habitable."

"Well," said McCoy, "there must be some reason

all those ships are in orbit."

"Sanctuary," answered Spock.

"Their reasons are probably no different than

ours. May I suggest we 21 follow the wash to the

north? It will take us into the approximate area of the

crash, and the walking will be easier."

"Lead on," said Kirk.

"Watch out for sinkholes and quicksand. I think it

rains fairly often here."

Watchfully, the three explorers walked along

the floor of the valley, which was shrouded in

perpetual shade by the immense peaks surrounding it.

Twice they stopped to watch herds of pale fish like

creatures crawl laboriously across the gully on

pseudo-legs that looked like fins. Spock suggested

that they were an evolving species that probably moved

from pond to pond as the water dried up. McCoy

got a start when several fist-sized rocks he was

standing near suddenly sprouted legs and scurried

away. The largest animal they saw was a winged

creature that leaped from a fissure in the mountainside

and sailed like a glider after a herd of the ambulatory

fish, snatching one up in its reptilian jaws and

sailing away to the opposite side of the basin.

As the day wore on, the clouds over their heads

dissipated, and they found themselves craning their necks

to study the majestic peaks. The mountains rose in

profusion like stalagmites, one outdoing another in

spindly splendor, but none of them bore signs of

life other than native species. They walked

until the shadows deepened from one end of the gully to the

other, accenting the stark crevices and fissures in the

moss-covered rocks. Kirk wondered at the

strange calls, neither fully birdlike nor

animallike, that echoed in the rugged canyon.

Finally, Spock stopped abruptly.

"Captain," he said, "without tricorders or

scanners, we could search this terrain for weeks before

locating something as small as an escape pod. They

could have fallen into a crevice, or they could be in those

thickets twenty meters away. We have

effectively exhausted the small 22 chance we have

of finding them under these circumstances."

Kirk nodded and turned to McCoy.

"What do you say, Bones? Are you ready to turn

back?"

The doctor heaved a sigh.

"I suppose so, Jim. I hate to leave

anyone who might be injured, but there are worse

places to be stranded than this."

"If we pick up our pace," said the captain,

"we'll get back to the shuttle before it's

completely dark. Let's go. tilde 1

As the shadows lengthened, the strange howls and

cries increased, as if there was a different set of

denizens who made their appearance at nightfall.

This caused the three searchers to pick up their pace

considerably, even as they took turns trying

to raise the Enterprise on their communicators.

They were almost running along the arroyo when Spock

stopped suddenly, twisting his head in every

direction.

"What is it, Spock?" asked Kirk.

"Don't you recognize this place?" asked the

Vulcan.

"Come on, Spock," said McCoy, "we

haven't go t time for sight-seeing. Let's get

back to the shuttlecraft."

"Precisely," answered Spock.

"We are at the site of the shuttlecraft. This

is where we left it."

"What?" barked Kirk, scanning the dark walls

of the canyon.

"Where is it?"

Spock bent down and placed his hand in a slight

depression in the sandy soil.

"The forward strut touched down here. As to where the

vessel is, I cannot answer."

Determinedly, Kirk cupped his hands around his

mouth and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Who's

there? Is anybody out there?"

"No need to shout," said a mellifluous voice.

The trio whirled around to find a slim,

white-robed humanoid standing in a spot they had just

passed. In the fading light, Kirk could see a

pleasant, unlined face and a welcoming

smile, but he couldn't determine the sex of the

creature. Its demure manner and slight build

suggested it might be female, but the timbre of its

voice and its substantial height led him to consider

the male sex. Its head was shaven bare, and the white

robe reached from neck to ground, revealing no trace

of breasts or sexual organs.

"I am Zicree," said the figure with a polite

bow.

"I am a Senite; we are the keepers of

Sanctuary. You will see us wherever you journey on this

fair planet, so let me explain a bit of our

history.

"As you may have surmised," Zicree continued,

we are androgynous. We were bred to be sexless by a

religious order that was the first to seek sanctuary on

this planet many centuries ago. The original

mission of the Senites has been lost in antiquity,

and now the order serves to greet new arrivals and

welcome them to Sanctuary. If you like, I will

transport you to one of our villages."

"What we would like," said Kirk bluntly, "is

to have our shuttlecraft back."

Zicree bowed slightly and maintained its

pleasant smile.

"You will have no need of your shuttlecraft,"

explained the Senite.

"We will afford you all the creature comforts you

desire. Please, come with me to the village, and you

will see for yourselves."

"We don't intend to stay here," Kirk insisted.

"We pursued a craft to the surface of this

planet, but it crashed. Now we intend to leave."

The face was pleasant no more. In fact, it

recoiled in phorror.

"You are persecutors!" gasped the Senite.

"Let me explain," said Kirk.

"We didn't know-was "Foul persecutors!"

Zicree hissed. Then, as if ashamed of its

anger, the humanoid collected itself and rose to an

imposing height.

"You have invaded 24 our planet to harm the

persecuted, but Sanctuary accepts all. Someday,

may you be worthy."

Zicree waved its hand in a deliberate

gesture and disappeared.

"That's a fine how-d'ya-do!" snapped Dr.

McCoy.

"He ... she ... it steals our shuttlecraft,

then accuses us of being foul persecutors."

Mr. Spock raised an eyebrow and looked at

the captain.

"This is a serious matter," he intoned.

"We are totally without supplies, communications,

and the ability to leave this planet."

"You don't need to tell me," answered Kirk,

flipping open his communicator.

"Kirk to Enterprise. Come in, Enterprise.

Come in, Enterprise!"

The captain waited a few seconds for a reply

that never came, then snapped his communicator shut.

"We're going to find a way off this planet,"

he vowed.

"From this moment on, everything else becomes

secondary."

Spock suggested, "We may want to find

shelter for the night."

As if to accentuate his statement, several eerie

howls erupted from the mountains overhead and echoed

throughout the darkening valley.

McCoy snapped his fingers and pointed to the spot

the Senite had occupied a few seconds before.

"Zicree mentioned some villages," he said

hopefully.

"Maybe there's one not too far from here.

Which way should we go to find it?"

"We flew in from the east," answered Spock,

"and we passed nothing that looked like a settlement.

This mountain range extends to the north, and we may

assume that a village would be built in the lowlands,

or near the coast. Therefore, I suggest we proceed

to the west or the south."

The captain looked doubtfully at the sky.

"Does this planet have any moons?"

"Two moons," answered Spock.

"There's one of them now," said McCoy, pointing

overhead. A pinkish disc was peeking around the side

of the tallest mountain, the one where Auk-rex's ship

had crashed.

"Let's get going, then," said the captain.

"We should have enough light to see by. We'll follow

this creek bed south, assuming it must run eventually

into the sea."

Kirk knew that there was nothing else to be said or

done, so the three off-worlders followed the gully in the

opposite direction to the one they had explored

earlier. In the darkening gloom, they tripped over the

vines that crisscrossed the dry gravel, but that was

preferable to trying to negotiate the jungle of

bladder plants on either side of them.

The strange howls increased in intensity at one

point, and a swarm of flying creatures swooped

overhead. But Kirk shouted back at them, and they

kept their distance.

The night wore on, and McCoy couldn't

remember a time when he had seen the captain

angrier, or more determined. They had been stranded on

planets before, but he couldn't recall anyone ever

stealing the captain's shuttlecraft before. Despite

the affront, McCoy hoped his old friend would be more

tactful the next time they met a Senite. It

seemed the Senites held all the cards in this

situation. It was their planet, and if they wished

to glorify criminals and belittle authority, that was their

business.

McCoy only wished he hadn't been so

cynical about Sanctuary being a real planet. It

was all too real. If they had thought the myths were

true, they might have been more careful in their headlong

chase.

The doctor didn't worry much about the

Enterprise, knowing Scotty was a prudent and

cautious man who 26 loved the ship more, than

anyone and would never endanger it. But McCoy could

see the worry in Kirk's furrowed brow and

determined stride, and he knew it wasn't

entirely due to their predicament on the planet.

Jim worried about the ship all the time, more so when

he wasn't on it.

This dichotomy never failed to amaze McCoy

Here was a man who loved and fretted over his ship like

a jealous husband, yet he was always the first in line

to lead a landing party. Well, thought McCoy, a little

compulsion never hurt anybody, especially a

starship captain.

The second moon made an appearance; even in

mid crescent it was a large white beacon that made

their journey easier. The doctor watched as

Spock stopped to try an experiment with one of the

bladder plants that grew in profusion. He

plucked a fist-sized bladder from a healthy-looking

specimen and made an incision in it with his fingernail.

Then he cautiously sucked some of the liquid that was

stored within.

When the Vulcan didn't keel over, McCoy

tried some of the juice. It tasted a bit oily and

alkaline, but he supposed it wouldn't kill him-at

least, not right away. While they stopped to drink,

Kirk surged ahead, unmindful of thirst or rest.

Spock and McCoy had to run to catch up.

"If the Senites are androgynous," said the

doctor, trying to make small talk and break the

monotony, "how do you suppose they reproduce?"

Spock cocked his head thoughtfully.

"Zicree said they were bred to be sexless, which

rules out natural evolution. That would indicate

genetic engineering with an origin in traditional

male and female parentage. How they could exist for

centuries as an androgynous species, I do not

know, unless they have a large store of frozen

embryos that they incubate at given intervals."

McCoy nodded approvingly.

"I knew you could figure it out, Spock."

Spock cocked his head at the doctor, wondering

whether that was a compliment or not.

"I only know they're thieves," grumbled

Kirk.

"This whole planet would seem to be nothing but

thieves. The sooner we get off, the better."

The words had no sooner left his mouth than a

rock came sailing out of the gloom, striking the

captain hard in the shoulder. Kirk grunted in pain

and dropped to his knees.

The doctor and Spock barely had time to react

before a fusillade of rocks pummeled them;

they scrambled along the ground, trying to find cover

among the bladder plants. One rock struck

McCoy in the back, knocking the wind out of him, and

he felt Spock drag him out of the line of fire.

Through half-closed eyes, McCoy saw Kirk

draw his phaser and aim it in the direction of the

attack. Nothing happened when the captain pressed

the trigger, and a new hail of rocks forced him

to scramble for his life.

Kirk crouched beside the others.

"No phasers," he breathed.

At once, Spock gripped one of the thick

vines that covered the dry creek bed and ripped it from

the gravel with a burst of inhuman strength.

As McCoy gasped for air, Spock broke the

root into club-sized sections and handed one to the

captain.

"The doctor is injured," he whispered.

"We must arm ourselves as best we can."

No amount of weapons could have prepared them for the

blood-chilling screams that rent the night air. They

were screams of rage and attack, intended to terrify.

Several large figures rushed out of the darkness, and

Mrk jumped to his feet to meet them. Spock was

a second behind him, and McCoy could do little

more than observe the fight amidst excruciating

efforts to catch his breath.

The captain swung his club and smashed it over the

head of a burly creature, which promptly crumpled

to the ground. His club in splinters, Kirk was easy

prey for two attackers who wrestled him off his

feet and rolled with him into the gully. Spock fared

better, jamming his club into one attacker's stomach

and applying the Vulcan nerve pinch to another.

He stepped over the two unconsci ous bodies

and was about to aid the captain when a bolo like weapon

came whipping out of the darkness and wrapped around his

neck. Spock was too stunned to resist a second

wave of monstrous figures who leaped upon him with

horrid cries.

Still racked with pain, McCoy picked up one of

Spock's makeshift clubs and staggered to his

feet. Determined to do something, he swung his club

at the nearest figure, a reptilian creature of

solid muscle. It looked back at him almost

pityingly, then snarled and smashed him in the face with a

massive fist. McCoy tasted his own blood

streaming from his nose and wondered if he was going

to die. He tried to swing the club again, but arms

wrapped around him from behind and yanked him off his

feet.

The last thing he remembered seeing was a metal

wrench, glimpsed out of the corner of his eye and swerving

toward the center of his face. Chapter Three

Paiation-and a splash of water in his face-brought

McCoy to his senses. The pain was no longer

localized in his rib cage but stretched the entire

length of his body, from his face to his tightly bound

arms and legs. The water that revived him also washed

flakes of dried blood into his mouth, and he

wondered if his nose was broken. The mere act of

opening his eyes brought a blast of pain from a wound on

his forehead.

When McCoy saw the monstrous apparition of a

bipedal lizard staring down at him, growling with

laughter, he didn't particularly want to keep his

eyes open. But he wanted to know what had become of

his comrades, so he twisted around as much as his bindings

would allow. He saw Kirk and Spock behind him,

getting similar dashes of cold water in their

faces. His relief at seeing them alive was

tempered by the fact that they were bound as he was-seated

on the ground with their arms behind them and their legs tied in

front. Their tunics were torn and dirty, and their

faces were covered by various welts and

lumps.

Captain Kirk looked far worse than

Spock, with nasty abrasions on his arms and chest, but

that didn't stop him from glaring at his captors.

Spock sat in almost peaceful repose, his

expression its usual combination of calm and alertness,

despite the streak of dried blood. that stretched from

his hairline down his angular cheekbone to his chin.

Early rays of dawn were creeping into the valley, which

afforded McCoy a good look at the motley crew

that had ambushed and seized them. Judging from the size

and grizzled appearance of the gang members, who

numbered eight, they were lucky to be alive.

The giant reptilian creature was obviously

a Gorn, or some kind of closely related

species. There were two Klingons with long hair and

unkempt beards, and they glowered at the captives

with pure hatred. One of the Klingons kept twisting

a crude knife in his belt as if he was anxious

to use it. A green-skinned Orion was a member

of the party, but he paid scarcely any attention to the

captives, being far more interested in ransacking their

utility belts and studying their phasers and

tricorders.

There was also a burly Tellarite, with his

distinctive snoutlike nose.

The other three members of the band looked mostly

human, but none of them would win prizes as prime

specimens of humanity. One of them wore a

crude eyepatch and a deep sear that obliterated

half his nose. The other two sported long beards

and the craggy appearance of mountain men, as McCoy

remembered them from Earth history. All eight were

male and were wearing clothes that could only be described

as rags.

After his cursory examination of the odd tribe,

McCoy turned his attention to their camp. It

appeared to be a more-or-less permanent encampment,

with several ramshackle huts made from dried bladder

plants stitched together. Larger leaves formed the

roofs. A stream about two meters wide meandered

down the center of the clearing, and there was a large fire

pit full of smoldering embers.

Three strange animals that looked like a cross

between rodents and goats were tied to stakes in a

makeshift corral, and fish bones were littered all

over the camp. Several unappetizing strips of

meat hung drying on a line.

McCoy looked back at Kirk, who,

despite his anger, was not going to give his

captors any cause to further abuse them. They were

hog-tied and hornswoggled, as McCoy's daddy

used to say, and there wasn't any point in being

belligerent.

The Klingons, however, did not feel the same

way.

"I don't like the looks of those uniforms,"

muttered the one with the knife.

"I say we kill them."

"What art, those uniforms?" asked the Gorn in a

guttural voice.

"They are definitely of the Federation," answered the

Tellarite in stentorian tones.

"Although what they are doing here, I cannot say."

"The same thing you are," Kirk answered quickly,

"trying to get away from the Federation."

The Gorn moved menacingly toward the captured

human.

"You speak when we tell you," he ordered.

The human with the eyepatch stared curiously at

Spock with his good eye.

"Is that a Romulan?" he asked.

"No Romulans in the Federation," answered the

Tellarite, blinking his pinkish beady eyes.

"He must be a Vulcan."

"We stole these uniforms," McCoy found himself

growling, trying to sound as tough as he could. He

expected a swift blow to the head, but instead he

got everyone's attention. Apparently, this bunch was

bored enough living in isolation to listen to a tall tale.

"We're pirates," said McCoy.

"You ever heard of Auk-rex?"

The green-skinned Orion stood up, a phaser

in his hand.

"I've heard of Auk-rex," he said.

"So have I," said a grizzled human.

"I tried to sign up with him on Rigel 11,

but he had just left."

"Well, you can sign up with me now," snapped

McCoy, "if you untie these ropes. But I'm

afraid I haven't got a ship anymore."

A Klingon stared suspiciously at McCoy and

twisted the knife in his belt.

"Tell us what happened."

"They laid a trap for us near Capella

IV," began McCoy, "Starfleet, I mean.

Sent out a dummy freighter and had a big starship

lying in wait for us. We got wind of it just in time

to make a break for it. We knew about Sanctuary,

so we headed here, but that damn Enterprise

chased us all the way.. .."

"Enterprise!" hissed the Klingon.

"Captain James T. Kirk." He said the

name as if it were one of the vilest curses in the

galaxy.

"Indeed, a scoundrel," added the Tellarite.

"Scourge of the galaxy," McCoy agreed.

"Anyway, we've been looting Federation ships

for so long, we have a whole collection of their

uniforms. We knew we couldn't outrun them, so we

changed into these uniforms and beamed ourselves aboard the

Enterprise just before it destroyed our ship. Once

on board, we killed the transporter operator and

had the run of the place. They thought Auk-rex was

dead and had no idea we were walking around the

Enterprise like we owned it. It was a piece of

cake to put a phaser on overload, blow up the

engine room, and steal a shuttlecraft during the

confusion. So here we are!"

The Gorn gave them a crocodilian smile.

"That's smart thinking," he growled.

"Can you prove it?"

"We're here, aren't we?" asked Kirk.

"If we were really Starfleet officers, what would

we be doing on Sanctuary?"

None of them had an answer for that.

"You might end up wishing you had stayed on the

Enterprise, was grumbled one of the humans.

"Sanctuary may look like paradise, but it's

not."

For the first time, Spock spoke "We would

appreciate it more if we weren't tied up."

The Gorn turned and surveyed his comrades.

"What do you say?"

"I believe one thing," answered the Orion,

"they just arrived on Sanctuary. All their

equipment is new. The electronic stuff is

worthless, of course." He gave McCoy a

terrible start by turning a phaser on him and pressing

the button. Fortunately, he was right-it was

worthless.

"That I don't understand," said Kirk.

"Why won't any of the equipment work?"

The Tellarite shook his furry head.

"Those blasted Senites!" he cursed.

"Who knows what they are up to, or what they

want? They have a means to disable everything

electronic, except what is theirs, of course.

The one thing that unites our little group is that none of

us trust the Senites."

A bearded human stared suspiciously at

Spock.

"I don't suppose the Senites sent you to find

us, did they?"

Spock shook his head and replied, "The one

Senite we have met refused to return our

shuttlecraft and proved somewhat disagreeable."

"You'll never see that shuttlecraft again," said the

talkative Tellarite.

"I say we let these three go. What harm can

they do us?"

When no one could provide an answer, the Gorn

growled, "Cut them loose." Reluctantly, the

Klingon drew his knife and sliced the bindings around

their arms and legs.

"Don't make me regret this," he whispered

to Kirk.

The captain, Spock, and McCoy stood

stiffly and massaged their aching limbs. Kirk and

McCoy staggered to the stream to get a drink and wash

the blood from their faces. Spock stood stoically,

but McCoy knew the watchful Vulcan was poised

for action, should the need arise.

His face dripping wet, McCoy looked up from

the stream and pointed to the medikit on his

utility belt, which the Orion held in his green

hand.

"Could I have that back?"

The Orion narrowed his eyes.

"I thought you said you were a pirate, not a

doctor."

"You beat us up so badly," grumbled the

doctor, "that we need first aid."

"No," grunted the Gorn.

"We keep everything."

The Tellarite smiled.

"Consider it a payment for passing through our camp.

We might be able to trade them for something."

Kirk hid his disappointment, but he felt

surreptitiously under his tunic and was reassured

to find his communicator.

"In exchange for the equipment," he said,

"may be you can give us some information. Is there any

way to get off Sanctuary?"

The Tellarite snorted a laugh, his piggish

nostrils flaring. There were several guffaws, and a

Klingon sneered, "You can die."

The laughter died quickly, and a pall fell over the

camp, despite the magnificent sunrise that was

bathing the mountaintops in a golden light.

Kirk's simple question and the Klingon's blunt

answer had apparently uncovered a truth that was

seldom spoken, and even harder to accept. "Flying

days are over," said the Gorn with melancholy

lifting its reptilian face toward the golden

sky. The Gorn didn't look like it could cry, but

McCoy saw its heavy eyelids blink several

times.

More to change the subject than anything else, the

doctor asked, "Are there many camps like this one?"

"There are more survivalists," answered the one

eyed human, "but most people live in the villages.

We don't like the villages-they're all run by the

Senites."

"What is your specific dislike of the

Senites?" asked Spock.

"We don't trust them," hissed a Klingon,

"like we don't trust you."

The Tellarite shrugged.

"It is mostly a general dislike of being

dependent upon the Senites for everything we eat,

drink, and own in the world. Like Red says, we are

survivalists and prefer to live by our own rules and

wits. Plus, we've heard rumors."

"About what?" asked Kirk.

A Klingon snarled, "Why don't you go to the

village and find out?"

"Perhaps we should do that," Spock offered.

The Tellarite pointed down the stream, which wandered

through lush hills and disappeared in a golden mist on

the horizon.

"Just follow the stream," he said.

"It connects to a river that flows to the sea. At

the sea is a village-Dohama, I believe."

Sheepishly, one of the mountain men stepped forward and

said, "If you see any women, tell them it's not so

bad up here."

Kirk smiled.

"We will."

After a brief farewell, Kirk, Spock, and

McCoy were on their own again, hiking along the bank

of the stream. McCoy noticed the two Klingons

following them from a distance, and he wondered if they

might attack. He warned Kirk and Spock, but

the Klingons turned back after a few kilometers,

apparently satisfied that the strangers were leaving their

valley.

Spock lowered his voice to ask, "Captain,

considering the Prime Directive, should we have left

our phasers and tricorders with them?"

"I don't see that we had much choice," Kirk

muttered.

"And this planet is already an amalgam of useless

technology. At least we still have our

communicators. Believe me, I'll be happy

to explain to Starfleet how we lost our

equipment-if I get the chance."

"Owl" groaned McCoy, massaging his still tender

nose.

"I wish I could have gotten my medikit back."

"Perhaps," Spock suggested, "the Senites will

repair our wounds."

"I don't know," said McCoy doubtfully.

"We were told not to trust the Senites."

"Doctor," replied the Vulcan, "we can

surmise that all of the people we met in that camp were

antisocial criminals before arriving on

Sanctuary.

They can hardly be expected to like authority."

In spite of their predicament, Kirk grinned.

"That was some story you told them, Bones."

"Not bad, huh?" The doctor nodded, quite pleased

with himself "But highly inaccurate," Spock added.

"The computer would alert us if three intruders

beamed aboard the Enterprise, and the

shuttlebay would be sealed if there was an explosion in

the engine room. Plus-was "It was fiction!"

snapped the doctor.

"And it served its purpose," agreed the

captain.

"Now, if we could just talk our way off this

planet. Spock, do you think we should trust the

Senites?"

Spock replied, "They have not sufficiently

demonstrated their trustworthiness. However, their

position of authority cannot be disputed."

The captain nodded grimly.

"You're right about that. We'll have to find a way

to get them to help us."

With that final thought, the three walked wordlessly beside

the pristine stream that flowed from the mountains of

Sanctuary.

Montgomery Scott paced the bridge of the

Enterprise, pounding his fist into his palm

repeatedly. Uhura glanced back at him from her

communications console. She wished there were something she

could say to ease the acting captain's worry, but there

had been no contact with Captain Kirk, Mr.

Spock, and Dr. McCoy for more than thirteen

hours.

Countless attempts to contact anyone on the

planet had failed, and the other ships in orbit were more

of a threat than a solution.

Uhura was waiting for Scotty to turn to her and

ask her to send a message to Starfleet. The

message would report the disappearance of three of

Starfleet's finest officers, but it would report the

Enterprise as being safe. She knew what the

consequences would be Starfleet would be alarmed, but

they would realize that the Enterprise was more important

than any three officers, no matter how skilled

and experienced. As a precaution, they might order

the Enterprise to evacuate orbit immediately. Even

if they listened to Scotty's impassioned plea

to stay, they would soon realize he could not risk

searching the planet.

Eventually, in a day or a month, there would be

urgent business for the Enterprise elsewhere, and

Scotty would be ordered to leave. Uhura knew she

would be the conduit for this disturbing series of

messages, and the prospect filled her with dread and

sorrow.

"Commander Scott," she said softly, "I can try

to contact the planet again, and beg them to respond on

humanitarian grounds." Scotty stopped

his pacing and stood at attention.

"Let us try contacting our Klingon friend," he

said, not hiding the irony in his voice. To think that a

Klingon was perhaps the most civilized of their partners in

this futile orbit was hardly reassuring.

Scotty then turned to Chekov.

"Ensign," he ordered, "ready another

probe."

"But, sir," Chekov said politely, "we have

already launched eleven probes, and not one has

reported back."

"Make it an even dozen," Scotty replied.

"I have the Klingon commander," Uhura reported.

"Shall I put him on the screen?"

"On screen." The engineer nodded.

The gray-haired Klingon appeared on the

viewscreen, his roughhewn features softened by what

almost looked like a smile. How boring it must be,

orbiting this planet year after year, thought Uhura.

She could hardly imagine feeling sympathy for a

Klingon, but she did for this one, a dutiful officer

at the end of his career, stuck in the most dead-end of

assignments.

The Klingon rubbed the back of his neck with a

towel.

"You must excuse me for being winded," he said.

"I have just come from my exercise period.

It is my only pleasure."

Judging by his physique and the impressive

size of his biceps, Uhura figured he must have

plenty of time to indulge his pleasure.

Scotty bowed his head cordially.

"We didna exchange names, so permit me

to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant Commander

Scott of the USS Enterprise. The Klingon

nodded.

"I am Commander Garvak of the cruiser Rakhon,

from the Klingon Empire. I suppose you are

calling to say you are leaving."

"On the contrary," Scotty lied, "we've been

ordered to try to retrieve our men from the planet.

Do ye have any idea how we might accomplish that?"

Garvak shook his head, not bothering to hide his

disbelief "You earthlings will lose my respect with

such foolish schemes. Perhaps what I've heard is

correct-you are an inferior species. I have

told you, no one leaves Sanctuary. The best we

can hope to accomplish is to prevent other

fugitives from reaching the planet."

Scotty took a deep breath, and

Uhura knew he was trying to keep a cordial

tone to his voice.

"I understand that," he replied, "but Sanctuary

must have guardians, someone who maintains the shield and

makes the rules. Is there any way to contact

them?"

"The guardians you refer to are called

Senites," answered the Klingon.

"Communication with the Senites happens very rarely,

at their convenience. Some time ago, we succeeded in

destroying a ship before it reached their protective

shield, and the Senites contacted me. They offered a

considerable reward for me to leave orbit forever. I

refused and have not heard from them since."

"Is there anything you can tell us about their shield?"

Scotty asked.

The Klingon nodded.

"It extends approximately thirty

kilometers from the surface. They have spot

deflectors that they use to stop phasers and other

weapons farther out in orbit. That is why most

attempts to stop fugitives are unsuccessful.

In fact, if I tried to open fire on you right

now, it would probably do me little good. The Senites

have learned a great deal from all the

technology they have amassed."

"If their defenses are so good," asked

Scotty, "how do ye know so much?"

Garvak shrugged.

"We attacked Sanctuary with an entire

fleet. We were unsuccessful, but we did learn the

40 extent of their protective devices. Since

then, I have been stationed here, guarding and watching. If

I have sufficient warning, I can leave orbit and

destroy a ship that is trying to elude Klingon

justice.

Otherwise, I am powerless. As you are."

Uhura wished the Klingon didn't have to be so

blunt-or so right.

"Powerless" was the only word to describe their

situation.

Scotty cleared his throat and said, "Thank you

for the information, Commander Garvak. I won't detain you

any longer."

Even the Klingon looked melancholy when he

replied, "It was not an inconvenience, Commander

Scott."

The screen went blank for a moment, then was filled

with the aquamarine planet, looking so serene yet so

inscrutable.

Glumly, Chekov asked, "Shall I launch the

probe?"

Scotty shook his head and slumped into the

captain's chair.

"Lieutenant Uhura," he sighed, "we have t a

prepare a message for Starfleet."

Despite the cloud cover that flowed and ebbed with a

persistent breeze, Captain Kirk was unprepared

for the fury of their first rainstorm on Sanctuary. It

drenched them in a matter of seconds, making a

search for cover futile. But the shower was over in a

few minutes. Spock took to calling the landmass

they inhabited an island, saying the weather patterns

were typical, and Kirk found no reason to disagree.

The stream they had been following had widened

to approximately ten meters across and was rushing

along at a considerable pace. Kirk stopped in

midstride along the well-worn path, knelt, and

watched the rapid flow of water. Because he was in the

lead, Spock and McCoy stopped, too.

"Are you all right, Captain?" asked Spock.

"I'm not tired, mind you," answered Kirk, "but

if we built a rail, we could float along this

stream. It's gotten substantially wider since it

joined up with that underground stream."

"It's also gotten faster," McCoy pointed out.

it1's really moving, in case you hadn't

noticed."

Kirk countered, "We could reach the village in a

few hours, instead of a few days."

"Captain," Spock replied, "may I

remind you that we do not know where this stream leads,

into rapids or other bodies of water. We would have

to go wherever the river took us."

"True," said Kirk stubbornly, "but we

wouldn't have to walk. And we would travel ten times

faster unless you really want to do this for the next couple

of weeks."

"We would travel considerably faster," Spock

agreed, "at a certain amount of risk."

"I'm willing to take it, because the one thing we can't

waste is time," said Kirk.

"We can't be sure how long the Enterprise will

stay in orbit, so we have to find our way back

quickly. The Senites are the key to escape, so we

must get to their village."

Spock nodded.

"Very well. I believe we can lash vines together.

It will be crude, and we will get wet."

Kirk pinched his damp uniform and shrugged.

"I'm already wet."

"Well," muttered Dr. McCoy, "I never

thought I'd make a good Huck Finn, but let's

try it."

"Let me try this first," sighed the captain,

reaching for his communicator. He performed the ritual

that was by now so familiar, with the same result-they

remained out of contact with the Enterprise.

Kirk took the lead in gathering the same kind of

vines they had employed as weapons during the

attack. Because the creek bed wasn't dry

anymore, they had to search through thickets of bladder

plants before finding vines that were dry enough to uproot from

the ground and break into sections.

Kirk ordered McCoy to look for something that could

be used to lash the sections together, and the doctor

discovered a sort of creeping parasitic plant with

long shoots that intertwined with the bladder plants.

By stripping away the thorns and braiding the shoots,

they found they could make a natural twine with a fair

amount of tensile strength. McCoy's deft fingers

set to braiding, while Spock and Kirk uprooted

their building material.

Despite the wealth of materials, they were

hampered by their lack of tools. They worked the

better part of the afternoon and didn't finish the crude

vessel until dusk. Captain Kirk had no

desire to navigate strange waterways in the

dark, so he commanded his tiny crew to look for food and

try to get some rest. Spock had turned himself into a

guinea pig, stopping often to taste new varieties

of bladder plants as he discovered them. Spock had

suffered no ill effects from any of his taste tests,

but Kirk knew that his Vulcan physiology was

unusually hardy; so he and McCoy ate only the

mildest varieties. The only alternative was if

they chanced upon a herd of ambulatory fish, which

didn't seem likely this close to water. They

couldn't risk stuffing themselves with strange greenery, so

they ate just enough to keep the gnawing in their stomachs to a

dull roar.

A strong wind favored them, blowing away the

clouds and granting them a dry, starry sky to sleep

under. Taking the second watch, Kirk was awake

during the deepest part of the night, and he watched the

moons of Sanctuary jockeying for prominence. First

came the pinkish moon, rising swiftly from the

mountains and climbing to an apex that commanded the whole

valley. Kirk decided its strange color and

43 fuzzy appearance might be caused

by dust and debris that were caught in the moon's own

gravity. Perhaps it had begun its career as a

captured comet, he surmised, which could explain the

shifting tides and sudden regression of oceans on the

planet. The second moon appeared later, but its

neon brightness took over the night, leading Kirk

to believe that it was considerably larger than the pink

moon.

With no ground lights visible in any direction,

the stars glittered like spilt sugar on a black

tabletop. But they looked far away to Captain

Kirk. When you were among them, he recalled, they

streaked by at warp speed, or glowed like the lights of a

familiar city. From solid ground, the stars appeared

nebulous, indeterminate.

Was this what it was like on Earth, Kirk wondered,

before they perfected space travel? How did they

deal with the realization that spaceflight was possible, but

beyond their capabilities? How did they fight the

longing, the thirst to explore, the need to see what was

behind those twinkling lights? The vast new land under his

feet was not without a certain allure, but to be shut

off from the stars was unbearable.

Kirk still seethed with anger at the thought of the

Senites stealing his shuttlecraft.

Sanctuary was protection with a price. It

welcomed fugitives from the farthest reaches of the

galaxy, but it clipped their wings and made them

exiles from space. The thought made Captain

Kirk shiver more than the constant wind at his back and

his damp clothes. Chapter Four

THEY EA-SFD the raft into the swift

current and hung on, unable to climb aboard. The

bundle of hollow roots was about two meters long

and a meter wide and would have allowed three men to sit

comfortably, but the rushing water wouldn't allow it. The

current spun the little craft around and around until

all they could do was cling. Luckily, the water was

only waist-deep, and by concerted effort they were finally

able to find footing and hold the raft still. McCoy

climbed on in front, Spock in the middle, and

Kirk leaped on at the last, and they rode the

lumpy conveyance as one would a log. They still spun

around out of control, only now they were seated and hanging

on.

Keeping their balance was a major effort, and

keeping dry had been forgotten after the first second,

but they were moving briskly. The banks were nothing but a

blur, and Kirk found he had to concentrate on the

far-off horizon to gain any perspective.

The spinning and speed were so disorienting that he finally

watched only the raft in front of him and the backs

of his comrades. Spock had been right-they were going

wherever the river took them.

They were buffeted the hardest where other tributaries

joined the river, but each new influx widened it and

made the center of the river smoother.

To avoid rocks and debris, they learned

to paddle with their hands to stay in the center, about twenty

meters from either shore. The water tasted good, and enough

sloshed in their faces for them to get plenty to drink,

but there was no time to relax. It was a grueling

struggle to keep their grip on the sodden vines,

while kicking and paddling the raft away from trouble.

McCoy, in particular, had to muster most of his

strength for hanging on. For long intervals, they

spun aimlessly in the center of the waterway.

During an out-of-control period, they suddenly

hit white water and were bounced and jostled along at

a much greater speed. The water roared in their ears and

made talking impossible, and it took all their

efforts just to stay afloat. McCoy nearly

slipped into the frothing water once, but Spock's

strong arm was there to slam him back onto the raft and

hold him in place until he found a

grip. They were moving too swiftly to take any

sort of bearings, and Kirk merely watched and

waited for whatever would happen.

The roaring abruptly grew louder, and they were

catapulted into midair. A waterfall! thought

Kirk. Now the raft was over his head; he groped

for it, but it floated just out of reach. He heard

McCoy yelling as they dropped several meters through

the misty air, but the weightless experience was not

unpleasant. It ended abruptly with a collision

against very cold water.

Kirk sank many meters toward the bottom and had

to swim with all his might to break out of the downward

current. Gasping for air, he broke to the

surface, and then he had to swim furiously

to escape the plummeting waterfall.

Several meters away he saw McCoy clinging

to the raft, and he smiled. The time it really counted,

the doctor had held on. Spock, however, was

nowhere in sight, even after Kirk stroked his way

to McCoy's side.

"Are you all right, Bones?" he panted.

"Okay."

"Where's Spock?"

McCoy looked around, puzzled.

"I thought I saw him.. .."

Captain Kirk gazed across the smooth surface

of the water. They had been dumped unceremoniously

into the most beautiful lake he had ever seen.

Pristine water the color of amethyst was

surrounded by gently drooping trees whose tentacle like

branches seemed to be drinking from the lake. The

closest bank looked like an easy swim.

But where was Spock?

The Vulcan rocketed to the surface a few

meters away.

"Get on the raft!" he barked hoarsely.

Kirk grinned.

"Spock, we made it through! We're all right."

"On the raft, immediately," the Vulcan

reiterated.

"No time to explain."

McCoy wasn't waiting for an explanation, and

he clambered from the chilly but peaceful water onto

the shaky bed of roots. Spock wasn't far behind

him, and Kirk could see that the Vulcan was as serious

as he sounded. It wasn't until all three sat

astride the raft that the captain noticed a gash on

Spock's calf and a substantial stream of green

blood.

"Spock, what happened to you?" Kirk demanded.

"I was bitten," Spock replied simply.

"I stayed down there in order to find out what did

it."

"And what did it?" asked McCoy.

The Vulcan nodded toward the surface of the

water. 47 "I believe, Doctor, that if you

watch the water, you will shortly see. We would be

wise to keep hands and feet aboard."

That was easier said than done, and Kirk didn't

pull his feet out of the water until he began to see

languid silvery shapes streaming back and forth

directly under them. The creatures snaked their way

to the surface, as if they preferred the cold

bottom where the amethyst turned black. He drew

every limb toward the center of the raft as the eel like fish

swam closer and he saw their ferocious jaws, the

equal of any pike's or barracuda's. Their

long, silvery bodies looked like women's belts,

but they were many times larger and full of teeth and sinew.

Two of them broke the surface with ribbonlike

dorsal fins that were two meters long, stretched across

sleek spines. The fish had the vapid eyes and

lazy attitude of bottom dwellers who were

slumming by feeding at the surface.

Kirk gulped.

"Swimming to shore is out."

Spock observed, "This lake probably

empties over another fall on the other side, if

we can reach it. This is probably the crater of an

inactive volcano."

"Smoke!" said McCoy, pointing furiously.

"There's smoke!" The doctor gestured toward a

wisp of gray smoke that rose over the drooping

trees only to be swept away by the wind.

"A settlement," breathed Kirk.

"Could that be Dohama?"

"Unlikely," answered Spock.

"The survivalists said Dohama was on the

ocean, not a lake."

Kirk peered intently at the far-off bank.

"I see something more useful than smoke," he

said.

"Someone is watching us from the bank."

The captain began to wave his arms as much as he

could without rocking the raft.

"Hey! Hey!" he called.

"Throw us a line. A rope. We're surrounded

by these fish. Throw us a rope!"

Upon being directly addressed, two

naked children with stark white hair stepped out from the cover

of one of the tentacle trees. They stared with frank

curiosity at the unfortunate rafters, not sure

what they should do. It was obvious neither one of them had

a rope to throw. The smaller child said something to her

playmate, and they both laughed. No matter what

Kirk said or how hard he waved, the children were content

to watch.

This could have gone on for several hours, but an

adult female with a similar shock of white hair

appeared on the bank of the lake. She promptly

grabbed both children by their arms and made off with them. This

prompted even more frantic yelling from both Kirk

and McCoy, and McCoy let his foot slip into the

lake. At once, he yelped and pulled his foot

out of the water with a hideous fish attached. It tried

to sink its teeth deeper into his boot, whipping its

long body in an attempt to pull him off the

raft.

Spock smashed the beast with his only available

weapon, his fist, and it lashed out with its tail and

nearly knocked the Vulcan off his precarious

perch. Reaching quickly, Kirk yanked a loose

root from the raft and inserted it between the fish's jaws

and McCoy's limb. With an effort that

brought a scream of pain from the doctor, he pried the

jaws loose. Or, rather, the hideous creature

finally turned loose and slithered away.

The doctor examined his own foot briefly and

found there were only a few scratches, no deep

punctures.

"Thank God for good leather," he breathed.

They were careful not to make any more rash moves

aboard the raft. The white-haired children were gone,

along with their overzealous protector, but shortly a

man and a woman of different species appeared on

the bank.

The dark-haired woman carried a rope, which she

tied to a fist-sized stone, while the blue-skinned

man cupped his hands to shout at them.

"Do not attempt to swim!" he warned.

"The lance fish are dangerous!"

"Now he tells us," McCoy said, smiling with

relief.

It took several attempts for the woman to throw the

weighted rope directly to the raft, but she had

obviously been well chosen for such a rescue

mission. Each throw was a near miss until at

last Spock made a one-handed grab of the stone in

midair. They secured it to the bow of the raft

and let the man and woman slowly tow them in.

When they got close to shore, the woman sprinted

away, allowing them only a fleeting glimpse of

her rugged beauty. The blue-skinned humanoid

looked like he would be glad to leave, too, but he

reluctantly remained to pull them safely to the

bank.

Before they could even thank him, he spoke to them

brusquely "Go past Seaside Falls--he

pointed to the far end of the crater-sized lake--and set

your whatever it is-in the water at the wide part of the

channel. I can help you no more than that. We are a

closed community."

He turned to leave, and Kirk called

desperately after him, "Dohama! The Senites!

Where are they?"

"Do as I have said," commanded the man.

"But do not follow me to our village. We kill

strangers."

It was spoken as a matter of fact, not a warning,

and Captain Kirk was not at all inclined to doubt his

word. So they didn't investigate the small band of

men, women, and children who lived in the forest by the lake.

They hefted their soggy raft and trudged around the

crater, looking for a place past the

Seaside Falls to put it in.

"Lieutenant Scott," said Uhura with

urgency, 44message coming in." Scotty

twisted around in the captain's chair.

"From Starfleet, I'll wager."

"No." Uhura blinked, trying to concentrate on

the intermittent syllables.

"From one of the ships in orbit, the Gezar tilde

v, she calls it. She says a fugitive ship

is about to enter orbit, and that if we score a hit,

she will split the reward with us."

"What in blazes?" muttered Scotty.

"Put this woman on the viewscreen, and let's

see what she's up to."

Uhura shook her head.

"She has broken off contact and is leaving

orbit."

Scotty sat up in his seat.

"Yellow alert," he ordered, "full

shields."

"Shields up," Chekov responded.

"If they're going to start shooting," said

Scotty, "let's try to stay out of their way.

Sulu, be prepared to leave orbit."

"Aye, sir," answered the veteran

helmsman.

Chekov broke in, "Two more ships have gone

to impulse power and are leaving orbit. And the Klingon

ship is readjusting its orbit."

Scotty sat forward.

"Can you get a fix on their course?" he asked.

"What about the incoming craft?"

Chekov punched buttons and waited for a long

moment.

"Their courses are converging," he answered.

"The Gezary is the farthest out, followed by two

others, with the Klingon in a new orbit, which puts him

closest to the planet." The ensign turned to look

quizzically at the acting captain.

"It's almost as if they are forming a gauntlet."

"Taking up stations," Scotty surmised.

"Each one trying to guess where the ship is going

to be when it comes out o" warp drive. I wonder

how many times they've been through this drill?"

Sulu added, "I've located the incoming

vessel. I can estimate its arrival and put it

on the viewscreen."

"Go ahead," Scotty ordered.

"In fact, put some distance between us. Let's

watch the whole thing from the back row."

They accelerated briefly.

"Shifting to polar orbit," Sulu announced.

"Short-range scan on the viewscreen."

Ship's sensors joined forces with the computer

to re-create a scene that would have been difficult

to see firsthand. Four bounty hunters, some commissioned

and others rogue, lined a strip of space that

stretched for a thousand kilometers from Sanctuary. The

viewscreen showed the farthest ships as silvery

blips, but the Klingon bird of prey and the

green-hued Orion cruiser loomed much larger.

They hung in space like vultures, hovering over the

well-used approach path.

A streak entered the gauntlet and slowly

materialized into a silvery missile. At once,

phaser fire erupted from every corner of the screen, and the

blackness of space filled with a blazing

crisscross of destruction.

As they tracked the fleeing vessel, the colorful

rays converged and shattered the starscape with silent

explosions. Seconds later, the aftershocks rocked

the Enterprise.

"Shields holding!" announced Chekov.

Somehow, through it all, the incoming ship spiraled

toward the aqua planet. The Klingon ship

laid down a pattern of three photon

torpedoes, any one of which should have atomized the tiny

craft, but the torpedoes veered off at the last

moment and fizzled harmlessly in the atmosphere.

Scotty blinked, not sure he could believe what

he had just seen, but he felt that Garvak knew what

would happen and was treating them to an example of the

Senites' remote deflectors. Despite the

impressive fireworks, the all-out attack consumed

only a few seconds; then the renegade ship had

disappeared into the planet's atmosphere and the space

around Sanctuary was peaceful again. Scotty turned

to Uhura, who was working her console furiously.

"Was there any disruption in the shield during all

that?"

Uhura shook her head with frustration.

"I tried every channel, but there was no response.

There was a momentary flux in the wave generation

field.

Maybe if the landing party tried to contact us when a

ship entered the atmosphere, they might get through....

I don't know."

"You tried," Scotty said, mustering an

encouraging smile.

"We'll be ready for that opportunity when

it happens again."

Then the engineer's brow furrowed thoughtfully under his

boyish bangs.

He rose slowly from the captain's seat and began

to pace.

"We can be ready if we're warned in advance,"

he mused.

"And we were warned in advance."

"By the captain of the Gezary, Uhura reminded

him.

"I know the frequency they use."

"One second," said Scotty slyly.

"Let's play their game a wee bit. Maybe

we'll learn more that way. Lieutenant Uhura,

please inform the Gezary that we apologize for not

firing at the fugitive. At future

opportunities, we will be happy to cooperate.

11 Chekov looked back and shook his head,

puzzled.

"Now we are the bounty hunters?"

"You can win more flies with honey than vinegar,"

answered Scotty. He added, "We need friends.

We need all the help we can get."

The Scotsman stopped directly in front of the

viewscreen and stared at the majestic orb

called Sanctuary. They were flying over her

enormous frozen pole, and the planet looked as

white and pure as a child's snowball.

"I'll find yer weakness," Scotty vowed to the

icy globe.

"I'll break you yet."

Bruised, battered, cold, and hungry, the

three rafters drifted into a wide channel where the

river could finally stretch out and rest. The sun had

vacated the sky, leaving a charcoal smear of

clouds, but there was enough light to see the endless

silhouette of the ocean, and most of that illumination

came from a display of colored lights on the eastern

half of the bay. The lights swayed on high standards

in a stiff breeze and didn't do much to illuminate

the cluster of buildings beneath them. The longer you

watched, thought Kirk, the more the candy-colored lights

seemed to wave in a welcoming fashion. They were

paddling in that direction before he could muster enough strength

to actually give the order.

Putting thoughts of unusual aquatic life out of

their heads, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy abandoned

the raft to its own fate as they neared the shore and

swam with desperation. At last they scrambled up the

bank and collapsed on the gravel. Too

tired to speak, the three staggered to their feet and

trudged slowly in the direction of the swaying

carnival lights.

As they drew closer, the wind shifted, and they

caught the tinkle of music and the smell of food on

the ocean breeze. It was a greasy, meaty smell,

redolent of fat and spices, the kind that sets taste

buds to watering. Despite his bruised face and

painful foot, McCoy grinned foolishly at

Kirk and picked up the pace. The captain glanced

at what was left of his grimy uniform and wished he

could make a better impression, but the growling in his

stomach told him to ignore such niceties.

Spock marched stoically beside him, but the Vulcan's

stride lengthened as they got closer to the tempting

sights and sounds.

Laughter mingled with gay flutelike music, and

people could be seen lounging by an arched doorway in the low

ornamental wall that surrounded the village. There

seemed to be no guards and nothing to stop them From

entering.

The colored lights twinkled and danced on the

standards above the wall, beckoning them. Despite

their bedraggled appearance, Kirk, Spock, and

McCoy were given little more than passing

glances as they strolled through the crowd of revelers,

each of whom carried a goblet and a shank of grilled

meat. It was as if somebody were throwing a party, and

everyone was invited.

Inside the wall, the village looked quaint,

like something from Earth's Renaissance period, with

crooked little two-story houses, a few grander

buildings with porches and porticoes, and a village

green. From every rooftop were strung the ubiquitous

colored lights, but it was another type of light that

caught their attention. In the center of the village

green, sparks were shooting from huge iron braziers,

upon which mammoth chunks of meat were roasting in open

flames. A white-robed Senite dutifully

manned each barbecue pit, grilling the

delicacies to perfection before doling them out to waiting

diners. Other Senites were filling goblets with sudsy

amber liquid drawn from wooden barrels, and

McCoy began drifting toward these libations.

Kirk caught up with McCoy as he was accepting

a goblet from a smiling, shaven-headed Senite.

"Bones, we don't know anything about this food or

drink. Is it safe?"

"It's not safe to do without food and drink," said

McCoy, "and that's our only

alternative. I'll tell you more about the drink in a

second."

The doctor chugged the liquid for several

seconds and came up with a sudsy but satisfied

grin.

"Tastes like the finest Elysian ale," he

pronounced.

"I say it's fit for consumption, and I intend

to test that meat next."

com55 Kirk sighed not too reluctantly and

took a goblet proffered by the agreeable Senite.

He was tempted to ask the Senite about their

shuttlecraft, but the androgynous being was suddenly

deluged with requests for more ale. The crowd included

Klingons, Saurians, humans, and creatures

too bizarre to be called humanoid. The captain

hadn't seen so many different races in one place

since the time the Enterprise had transported

dozens of ambassadors to an important conference.

Despite the lowlife appearance of many of the

fugitives and a few drunken shouts, the gathering was

peaceful. And why shouldn't it be peaceful, thought

Kirk, with all the free drink and food anyone could

want?

He took a sip of ale and had to admit

that it tasted better than muddy river water.

Strains of lively flute music reached his ears,

and Kirk looked up at one of the balconies to see

a small orchestra composed entirely of Senites.

Like the other Senites in attendance, they toiled

tirelessly on behalf of the revelers, creating

intricate music to which many were dancing a jig or

walking with a skip. Under a colorful awning, there were

tables set up, and groups were eating, playing dice

or cards, and guffawing loudly. If there was a

cheerier place than Dohama on this windy night,

Kirk never expected to see it.

He turned around and discovered that McCoy had

vanished. After a moment's panic, Kirk spotted

the doctor standing with Spock beside one of the barbecue

pits. The Senite on duty was grilling a portion

of meat and several large vegetables split

lengthwise.

As Kirk approached, Spock turned to him.

"Our host has graciously offered to cook

vegetables for me," the Vulcan explained.

"Is there anything they won't do for us?" Kirk

asked sarcastically. "Nothing, sir," the Senite

said without a trace of irony, smiling.

"After you have finished eating, I will direct

you to the inn, where you can bathe and select clean

clothes."

"Sounds good to me." McCoy grinned.

"How is my chop coming?"

"Done, sir!" the Senite answered

pleasantly. The being gripped the meat with tongs and

wrapped it in a cloth napkin before handing it to the

hungry doctor.

"You know," McCoy said to Spock, "on Earth

there was a tribe of people called Eskimos. Their

entire diet consisted of nothing but meat and whale

blubber, and they lived a long time."

Spock replied, "Longer than the whales, I

presume."

Within a few seconds, both his comrades were

wolfing down their food, and Kirk could resist no

longer. He couldn't remember when he had tasted

food as delicious as the thick chop prepared for him

by the Senite, and he made a mental note to let

everyone on the Enterprise have shore leave in the

village. Then he remembered that, no matter how

inviting Sanctuary seemed, they were not here by choice

and could not leave of their own free will.

"Where do the Senites put the shuttlecraft and

spaceships they corifiscate?" he asked

the cook.

"I wouldn't know, sir," the Senite answered,

smiling agreeably.

"My duty is to serve the persecuted."

"Leave him alone, Jim," McCoy scolded

his friend.

"At least while he's cooking."

"Technically speaking," said the Senite, "I am

not a "he." 11

"Sorry," said the doctor, wiping sauce off his

chin.

"Tell me, what's the occasion for this big

shindig?"

The Senite shook its head in momentary confusion.

"There is no occasion-this is the evening meal."

"Fascinating," said Spock.

McCoy shook his head.

"I don't see what those crazy mountain men could

have against this."

"Dohama is not for everyone," the Senite

replied.

"Yes," said Kirk impatiently, "and we

appreciate the food. But who can tell us about our

shuttlecraft?"

The Senite pointed toward an older

building at the far end of the main street. It had a

big portico and lots of iron railings, several

cheerfully lit rooms, and enough banners, awnings, and

colored lights to attract attention.

"Go to the inn," said the Senite.

"The important thing is to rest after your long

journey."

"Right," muttered Kirk. He felt he was being

talked down to, and he didn't like it. The

Senites reminded him of a distant aunt who used

to talk to him like a child, even when he wasn't one.

"Cheer up, Jim," said McCoy, hefting his

goblet.

"We should be happy to get off that river. The

Senites seem like reasonable people-I'm sure all

we have to do is explain what happened."

Kirk murmured, "If we can find somebody

to explain to. was Spock finished his meal and wiped

his mouth with the thick napkin.

"We have very little choice but to confront the

Senites," he agreed.

"However, in our present condition, I feel rest

is a more prudent course of action."

Kirk nodded toward the garish building.

"Lead on. 91 They strolled down a

miniature boulevard, which was decorated with

impressionistic statues and well manicured

bladder plants sporting crowns of vivid orange

flowers. Carnival lights lined the rooftops, and

shops on both sides of the street were open. The

businesses were as varied as the creatures in them a

tattoo parlor, a sweets shop, a library, a

game parlor, a hat store, a museum of

oddities-all ru n by the 58 ubiquitous bald

Senites. At one house, which was bathed in green

lights, women dressed in frilly nightgowns

leaned provocatively from the windows and

balconies. They should have looked attractive, but

there was something wrong with them, thought Kirk. Their

expressions were so cold.

"Senites," said Spock.

"They have been decorated as women. Their purple

and red hairstyles are obviously wigs. With a

shortage of women on the planet-was "That's quite all

right, Spock," said the captain hastily, "I get

the picture. All I want from the Senites is a

way off this planet."

Despite the wigs and provocative poses on

display, very few customers were frequenting the

green-lit house. The smoke shop next

door was much more popular, judging by the plumes of

dingy smoke that billowed from it.

Kirk paused and stared through the window; he saw

various combustibles being dispensed, but no money changing

hands. It seemed incredible, but the Senites

apparently gave everything in this town away for free,

including themselves.

Outside the smoke shop, a dutiful Senite was

sweeping tobacco butts and other litter into a

receptacle. Kirk watched the white-robed

figure for a moment, wondering what it thought of the

menial labor. His question was answered when the Senite

looked up and smiled beatifically at him. Like a

monk assured of his special relationship with God,

the Senite walked on, scooping up the debris of

hundreds of unmindful carousers.

Kirk shook his head and stumbled onward.

Despite his immense curiosity and lingering anger,

exhaustion was taking its toll. Now that the thought of

sleep had planted itself in his brain, he could think of

little else.

He caught up with Spock and McCoy as they

stood on the steps leading to the inn. 59 "Whatever

happens in here," said Kirk, "let's stay together."

"Agreed." Spock nodded.

McCoy yawned.

"I'm liable to do anything for a bed."

The door swung open in their faces, and a

veritable giant of a man stood in their path. He

looked mostly human, except for an

overabundance of facial hair, and he cast a

disdainful eye on the bedraggled strangers.

"Fresh meat," he sneered.

"What do you mean by that?" Kirk bristled.

"I mean you just got here." The giant scowled.

"That's the truth, isn't it? You don't look like

you've grown fat and happy in Dohama."

"We just arrived." McCoy nodded wearily.

"Will they let us spend the night here?"

"Oh, sure," answered the big man, muscling

past them.

"They'll let you do anything you want. But when

you've had your fill of this life, come and see me on

the waterfront."

"Bed first," said McCoy, yawning again and heading

into the inn.

"Can you get us off the planet?" Kirk asked

hopefully.

The behemoth sputtered with laughter.

"You are fresh meat, aren't you?

Come and see Billiwog. We'll work out a

deal." He saw someone in the crowd he knew,

hollered an unpronounceable name, then swaggered off.

"Dohama does not lack for colorful characters,"

observed Spock.

"Hey!" they heard the doctor call. McCoy

had proceeded ahead, finding himself in the restaurant

section of the inn, and Kirk and Spock wearily

followed. It was a friendly place; every spare

centimeter was decorated with scraps and mementos from

hundreds of visitors and their useless technology.

From the walls and ceiling hung strange weapons,

odd devices, chunks of metal with the names of ships

on them, holographic photos, emblems, tattered

flags, helmets, hats, blackened circuit

boards-a cornucopia of space junk.

"At least we know where some of the stuff goes," said

Kirk, staring in.

awe at the walls.

Senites bustled about, serving food to an

appreciative and loud group of diners. The food

looked and smelled marginally healthier than the meat

cooking in the open air. A rather chubby Senite

approached the newcomers.

"My, my," it remarked, frowning, "you

boys look a mess. Have you had anything to eat?"

"We've eaten, thanks," said Kirk, reacting

cordially to the mother-hen quality of the Senite.

"We're looking for a place to sleep."

"Then you've come to the right place." The innkeeper

smiled, taking a key from the pocket of its apron

and handing it to the captain.

"Go up to room six and make yourselves comfortable.

You'll find robes and towels in the closet, and

I'll send somebody by in the morning with fresh

clothes."

"That's very gracious of you," said McCoy, "but

we can't afford to pay."

"Pay what?" asked the jovial Senite.

"There's no money on Sanctuary.

You're safe now from your former life, be it

deprivation, persecution, or the pursuit of false

idols, such as money. To show that you have discarded your

past life, we ask you to contribute something to our

collection from all over the galaxy." The being

motioned around the festooned walls.

"We haven't got anything," lied the captain,

feeling his communicator in his pocket.

"That's not true," countered the Senite. Before

Kirk could respond, the androgynous being

fingered the insignia on his chest; it was barely hanging

on to the tattered cloth.

"I've never seen one like this. You don't intend

to keep wearing these clothes, do you?"

Kirk shook his head, unable to deal with the

prospect of losing his command insignia and,

by extension, his identity.

"Tomorrow, maybe," he said.

"Ah, yes, tomorrow," replied the Senite, letting

the insignia slip from its fingers.

"Sleep well, my children." The innkeeper bustled

off to greet more new arrivals.

"Fascinating," remarked Spock.

"Apparently, the purpose of this society is

to make people feel welcome."

"A little too welcome," muttered Kirk.

"I haven't got enough energy tonight, but tomorrow I'm

going to get some answers."

McCoy dragged himself toward the stairs.

"Jim," he said through yet another yawn, "will you

quit looking a gift horse in the mouth?"

Kirk glanced around doubtfully as he trudged

up the stairs. Behind him, he heard two Klingons

growling as they arm-wrestled. No, he wasn't going

to look a gift horse in the mouth, not tonight.

But he was going to give it a closer inspection in the

morning.

The room was clean and functional, and it had a

settee, two cushiony beds, and a full bath.

Kirk got into bed, put his head on the pillow, and

was asleep in the shortest unit of measurable time.

That night over Sanctuary, a large warship was

blown up by bounty hunters seconds after coming out of

warp drive. But the scanners aboard the

Enterprise picked up fifteen fugitives beaming

to the planet, all but one of them safely. The

unlucky crew member was probably the

transporter operator, and his molecules were

scattered with the ship's. Nevertheless, it proved

to Scotty that the mission of the bounty hunters was a

62 futile one. For all the fish they netted,

most of them dead, they were powerless to stop the vast

majority who sought Sanctuary.

And what of those who found Sanctuary? Unless they

had gills, thought Scotty, the inhabitants had

precious little of the planet to play with.

He gazed at the sparkling aqua globe. It had

better be paradise, he decided, because the people who

went there were gone as surely as if they'd gone

to heaven.

A GENTLE RAPPING on the door awoke

Captain Kirk, and he sat up in the unfamiliar

bed to see Spock sitting on the settee across from

him, looking quite elegant in a gold-embroidered

robe of royal blue. The Vulcan might have been

awake for hours, judging by the alertness in his eyes

and the sun streaming through the cheery lace curtains.

McCoy was still snoring away in the other bed, even

after the rapping sounded again.

"Somebody wishes to enter," said Spock.

Kirk reached for his own robe before calling out,

"Come in!"

The door swung open, and they saw the plump

Senite from the night before, pushing a rack of clothing

in a conveyance that took up the entire hallway.

"Come now, no sleeping until noon," scolded

the Senite.

"We've got to clean this room. Remember, you

can only stay here for two nights. After that, you have

to see the landlord about getting a house. Now, what

size are all of you?"

Kirk was bursting with questions and residual anger, but

he recognized the need to have clothing that wasn't

ripped to shreds. From what he could see of the offerings

on the rack-mainly nondescript

windbreakers and trousers-he knew they would be less

conspicuous wearing such clothes. They would look like they

fit in, which was all right as long as they didn't

feel like they fit in. Despite the happy

hordes milling around Dohama, Captain Kirk

had no desire to spend the rest of his days in mindless

carousing.

He knotted the robe around his waist and strode

to the open door. The rack of clothing stretched for

several meters, but Kirk quickly selected brown

pants, a flannel shirt, and a blue windbreaker.

All seemed well-made and clean, if not

exactly new.

The Senite handed him shoes, socks, and underwear.

"Just take what you can wear," it directed,

smiling.

"You can get new whenever you want-just go to any

clothing shop."

"What tis your name?" asked Kirk.

"Lincree." The Senite bowed politely.

"But you don't have to tell me yours."

"I would like to tell you mine," the captain continued.

"It is James T. Kirk. I command a

Federation starship that is orbiting this planet as we

speak. I can appreciate what your order

is doing here, but we came to this planet unaware that

it was Sanctuary, or what the rules were. As you

said last night when you looked at my insignia,

it's a very rare one in this sector of space. In

fact, no one from Starfleet has ever been here before.

All we ask is that you return our

shuttlecraft and let us leave. We won't bother

you again, and we'll put this planet on our charts, so

everyone will know."

Lincree nodde d thoughtfully.

"James T. Kirk, I've run this inn for many

years, and I've met almost everyone who ever came

to Sanctuary, and they all wanted to leave after the first

day. It's new, it's strange, it's not what they

expected. But mostly they're bothered by the fact that

they can't leave the planet to return to space."

McCoy was sitting up in bed, too, listening

intently. Kirk held his tongue and let the

Senite complete what sounded like a well-rehearsed

speech.

"This planet works on one basic principle,"

Lincree went on.

"Integrity.

We are successful in keeping the persecutors

at bay by maintaining the integrity of this

planet and our mission. If we were to allow people to come

and go, the persecutors would send spies to the planet

in order to kidnap refugees, or kill them.

Everyone is safe here, knowing they are free from

persecution, and everyone enjoys creature comforts and

freedom.

You know, Dohama is not the only place you can

live. There are many other settlements, some much

different from this one."

"In your terminology," said Spock, "we would

be called persecutors. Is there no special

method for dealing with persecutors?"

"No," answered Lincree, still smiling

agreeably.

"That is the other bulwark of our mission. We

don't care what you've done before you came here. We

don't judge you by your past-you are a part of

Sanctuary now."

Quietly, Spock selected his wardrobe,

while Kirk racked his brain for a line of logic that

he could employ against the Senite. At the same

time, he fought the sinking feeling that the Senites really

backed up every one of their claims. From a security

standpoint, a one-way ticket to Sanctuary had many

benefits, but not for him.

"What can we do to prove to you that we are sincere?"

he asked.

"We can't stay on Sanctuary, no matter how

lovely it is." The innkeeper looked honestly

aggrieved as it replied, "If you insist upon that

attitude, I'm afraid your stay here will be

disappointing."

"Where is our shuttlecraft?" Kirk asked

bluntly.

Lincree smiled. "if you came here in it, then it

must be on the planet somewhere." The Senite turned

to Dr. McCoy.

"Your turn, dear boy. We haven't got all

day."

After exchanging the remains of their uniforms for

clothing that was at least clean and inconspicuous, the

newcomers ate a breakfast of rich pastries-all

that was offered in the dining room-then took to the streets

again. By day, Dohama was not much different than

by night, thought Dr.

McCoy. The same mind boggling mixture of

humanoids wandered through seedy pleasure parlors,

lively game establishments, and greasy food

emporiums, all lubricated by ale dispensaries.

If anything, Dohama looked seedier

by daylight, minus the shadows and colored lights. The

nearby sea cast an odor about the city that was both

pure and alien.

McCoy had been disturbed by Lincree's little

speech about everyone feeling hemmed in when they first

arrived on Sanctuary, then later adapting. But the

more he thought about it, the less he believed it. Some people

were looking for a life of ease; others, like the captain

and Spock, would never he happy just lazing in the

sun. The doctor admitted to himself that the idea had

some appeal, but he couldn't envision a life without

any challenges. That seemed more of a sacrifice

than giving up space travel. He suddenly had

a grudging respect for the survivalists they had

encountered earlier.

They strolled down one clogged street after

another, studying everyone they passed. By the harsh

light of day, the motley populace of Dohama

did not appear so jovial, and more than a few were

hung-over. They growled and grumbled at each other,

and there was the occasional unyielding shoulder when passing

a stranger at close quarters. Still, most of the

denizens of Dohama loped along in a satiated

daze. Why bother thinking or stealing when everything was

free? thought McCoy. It was the perfect

solution to the homogenization of lowlifes and riffraff

from all over the galaxy. No wonder so many of them

had accepted this life-it was painless.

Spock was trying to appear unobtrusive, but it

was impossible. Re looked too interested in what was

going on, the doctor decided, and he didn't

look hung-over enough. It was easy for the doctor

to look bedraggled-his nose was swollen, there was a

gash in his forehead and a crust of beard on his chin, and

he walked with a limp from the lance fish attack. A

well broken in but sturdy pair of boots

furnished by the Senites was doing some good to cushion his

tender foot.

It was inevitable, thought McCoy, that Spock should

stare too hard at someone. In this case, it was a

lopsided, red-skinned humanoid with arms that

dangled to his knees. The thing was bare-chested and

covered with black fur, except those parts where naked

skin lay exposed in unappetizing folds of

flesh, due no doubt to the rich Dohaman diet.

He waddled up to Spock.

"Look, here's a Romulan," he slobbered,

"or maybe a Vulcan. I get them two

confused. What are you?"

"Vulcan," replied Spock.

"Right answer." The creature winked a

bloodshot eye.

"Bastard sons of the Romulans."

"That is incorrect," answered Spock.

"The Romulans, are. an offshoot of the

Vulcan race, not an older race."

Captain Kirk stepped to his friend's side.

"It's not 68 important, is it?" he asked

amicably.

"We're all friends."

The red humanoid lisped, "Moguru would like

to be friends."

McCoy joined his comrades, taking heart in their

strength in numbers.

Moguru had approached Spock alone, so it was

three against one.

"Three of you, yes," the bulky humanoid said,

bobbing a head that had almost no neck to bob from.

"That is what they told me. They say you are

looking for a shuttlecraft?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Kirk in a whisper.

"Do you know where our shuttlecraft is?"

"Well, hmm, maybe," answered Moguru.

His rheumy eyes glimmered hopefully.

"What would you give to know?"

Kirk shook his head dejectedly.

"We don't have anything to give."

"Oh, too bad," slobbered Moguru.

"I would give you a shuttlecraft for one thing."

"What's that?" whispered McCoy.

"A woman." Moguru leered.

"You go get me a woman on the island of

Khyming, okay? Then I take you

to shuttlecraft. I'll take any woman, even

human. Easy, for a smart Vulcan."

McCoy asked suspiciously, "How do you know

there are women on this island Khyming?"

"Where else they go?" Moguru shrugged.

"All right," said the doctor, "suppose we do

it. How do we know you're telling the truth? How do

we know you can hold up your end of the bargain?"

Moguru looked hurt at the suggestion he

might be less than honest.

"I

have big friends," he boasted.

"They know you." He lowered his voice.

"You are the persecutors."

That got McCoy's interest, because they hadn't

told anyone on Sanctuary about their

circumstances69 except for the Senites.

Kirk looked like he was making a decision.

"We believe you. The captain nodded.

"I don't know how long this quest will take, because

I don't know where Khyming is. Will we be able

to find you later?"

"Yes-s-s," sliavered Moguru.

"Price will not change comshuttlecraft for

woman." With a precarious rocking motion, the

creature ambled away.

McCoy shivered.

"No wonder those women on the lake ran away

so quickly.

They're the only attraction the Senites can't

furnish."

"We learned a couple other things in that

exchange," said Kirk.

"The Senites have been talking about us behind our

backs, and there's an island named Khyming."

Spock observed, "Because one Senite has

talked to Moguru about us doesn't mean he knows the

location of our shuttlecraft."

"True," muttered Kirk.

"We don't know who we can trust, or if we can

trust anybody. What was the name of that big fellow

we ran into last night, in front of the

inn?"

"Billiwog," answered Spock.

"He resides at the waterfront, I

believe."

"Let's see what kind of deal he can make,"

announced the captain, waving his men toward the

unmistakable smell of the open sea.

Scotty tugged at the tunic of his

gold-brocaded dress uniform, wondering if he

had put on a few pounds lately. There had been

too much time in the last few days for drinking coffee,

eating, and worrying, as the Enterprise cruised

lazily around Sanctuary. The occasion for the dress

uniform was a break in the monotony, however, as the

chief engineer was about to beam over to the ship of a lady

bounty hunter.

The Enterprise had tightened its orbit

to cruise beside the Gezary, keeping station within

transporter range. After testing the transporter

with inert samples, they were sure the Senites"

interference applied only to weaponry. After all, more

than a dozen fugitives had transported to the

planet only the night before, although Scotty doubted

whether they could transport off the planet so

easily. That was his main mission in meeting

with the captain of the Gezary, to learn everything she knew

about the Senites. Scotty was determined to get some

respect from the keepers of Sanctuary, and the

Gezary had been able to warn him in advance about an

incoming ship. They must have some sort of inside

information, or at least insight, as to how Sanctuary

worked.

Scotty pulled at the tight collar of his

uniform and positioned himself on a transporter pad.

"Do ye have the coordinates they gave us?" he

asked the operator.

"Locked in, sir," responded the female

ensign.

The engineer took a deep breath and said,

"Energize."

His molecules reassembled in what appeared

to be a jail cell, with rusty iron bars all around

him. At once, Scotty grabbed his communicator

and was about to contact the Enterprise to make a

retreat, when a small viewscreen over his head

crackled on, and a beautiful woman with slightly

greenish skin and red hair appeared.

"Do not be alarmed," she assured him.

"You are not our prisoner. Our line of business

often makes it necessary to transport

prisoners to and from the ship, so we take the

precaution of beaming directly to our holding cell.

It is a common procedure, I assure you. If

you will be patient, my jailer will meet you and bring you

to the dining room." The image winked out.

Scotty took an even deeper breath and

wondered if he shouldn't have been more careful. But the

captain of the Gezary wouldn't consent to coming aboard the

Enterprise, even though she was the one who'd suggested

that a face-to-face meeting was the only way

to avoid having the Senites eavesdrop on their

conversation. He spent several anxious moments

waiting, until a hidden door slid open and a

large, bearded humanoid walked in. The man,

who had extremely pale skin and the outlines of

antennae around his ears, was carrying a weapon that

looked like a steel coil.

"Commander Scott?" growled the jailer.

Scotty stood at attention and nodded.

"I am he."

The jailer reached outside the hidden door and

tripped something in the corridor. Scotty's cell

door finally creaked open, and he stepped out with

relief. He followed the jailer into a dingy

corridor that badly needed paint and

maintenance-the wall lining was cracked and chipped,

lighting fixtures were broken, and exposed wires

poked out from a circuit box. This was not a favorable

impression to make on the Enterprise's chief

engineer, and he began to wonder about the wisdom of

dealing with such unsavory characters.

His doubts were reinforced a few moments later when

he was ushered into a friendly but equally run-down dining

room. Large tapestries hung on the walls, but

they were so dusty that it was hard to tell what sorts of

scenes they depicted. The overstuffed chairs and dining

table looked elegant but old-and badly in need of a

vacuuming. Overhead, a light flickered

annoyingly, but the worst of the offenses was the musty

smell that assaulted his nostrils. The only

redeeming quality of the Gezary's dining hall was the

presence of the female he had seen on the

viewscreen, a lovely green-skinned lass with red

hair that tumbled down to her waist.

"Welcome," she greeted him with a smile.

"I am Pilenna, captain of the Gezary.

"Commander Scott." He nodded formally.

"Montgomery Scott of the USS Enterprise.

was "May I call you Montgomery?" she asked.

"We don't stand on formality much around

here."

Scotty eyed the dirty surroundings with disgust.

"That, I can see."

"Oh, you don't like our housekeeping?" remarked

Pilenna.

"Well, we're shorthanded at the moment, and we

don't have the parts to repair our support system.

I suppose I could get slaves to do the cleaning,

but unlike most Orions, I don't believe in

slavery."

Scotty shrugged.

"You have to live here, not me. But it wouldna take

much to make the Gezary shipshape."

"No, I suppose not." Pilenna sighed.

"But we've exhausted almost all our resources

just staying in orbit. I didn't want to go back

to my home port without anything to show for all the time

we've spent here, but I might have to."

Scotty asked, "Are you affiliated with the other

Orion ship that's in orbit?"

"No!" snapped Pilenna, seething.

"Filthy slavers, that's all they are!

I should have made myself clear-I am only half

Orion. I'm an escaped slave myself, and my

biggest thrill is to capture slavers who

have bounties on their heads. There are a goodly number

of both slavers and escaped slaves below on the

planet."

"I see," said Scotty.

"What else do ye know about Sanctuary?"

"Let's not talk business over an empty

table," said Pilenna. She clapped her hands, and a

short humanoid who was barely a meter tall

brought cups and a carafe into the room.

Captain Pilenna seated herself.

"Don't worry, Montgomery," she said with a

hint of mockery, "we wash the cups and pitchers.

I have only a bit of Regulan wine to offer, but

it's quite good."

For the first time, Scotty smiled.

"I have a fondness for Regulan wine."

"You see," she replied, "we have much in common.

What brings you to Sanctuary, besides the wish to see

criminals brought to justice, and their captors

amply rewarded?"

"It's not so much what brings us here," answered

Scotty, "as what keeps us here. Before we knew

much about Sanctuary, we sent a shuttlecraft to the

surface of the planet in pursuit of a pirate

vessel. Now we're out of contact, and we

dunna know how to get our men back." He

neglected to mention that one of the missing men was his

captain; better to let Pilenna. think she was

dealing with an equal.

"Hmm." The woman nodded thoughtfully.

"That is quite a problem, much greater than our dirty

ship. I would say your only hope is to appeal to the

Senites, although I doubt that it will do much good."

"How do we get their attention?" asked Scotty

with frustration.

"We've hailed them on every channel, we've

appealed to them on humanitarian grounds all to no

avail."

Pilenna took a sip of wine.

"I can arrange for you to talk to the Senites. For

some reason, probably because they know I'm an

escaped slave, they are willing to answer my

hail. I can also tell, from increased gamma ray

production, when the Senites are arming their

deflectors to protect an incoming ship. That's

how I warned you the other day, for all the good it did

us."

Scotty sat forward excitedly.

"How soon can we contact them?"

Pilenna raised one hand and smiled

sweetly.

"First we must discuss payment for this small

service. How soon can you get a crew over here

to clean and repair my ship?"

Scowling, Scotty stared at her for several

moments. Finally, he reached for his communicator and

flipped 74 it open to accompanying beeps.

"Scott to Enterprise, he said.

"Bridge here," Uhura answered efficiently.

"Patch me through to engineering and life support,"

said the chief engineer, glaring suspiciously at the

beautiful green-skinned woman sitting across from him.

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy wandered along

Dohama's picturesque wharf. It differed from

other streets in the village in that there were shops and

bars only on one side instead of both. On the

other side was a vast blur of choppy water, with a

few flying creatures skimming along the white

capped waves. Farther out at sea, a fog

engulfed the horizon, making it appear as if the

sea and the sky were one entity. It was a lonely and

forbidding sight, and Kirk couldn't banish the memory

of the giant mollusk whipping its tentacle at them.

There were shouts and a fight broke out in front of

them, as a half dozen strange creatures

tumbled out of a bar and began belting each other with

goblets, fists, and whatever they could lay hands on.

Instantly, an army of Senites seemed

to materialize, and the white robed peacekeepers

gathered around the combatants and pushed them en masse

off the wharf into the sea, as a throng of onlookers

howled with laughter. The brawlers sputtered to the

surface and sloshed ashore, all the fight washed out

of them.

"Quite efficient," observed Spock.

"And cold-blooded," McCoy added.

"Let's avoid them," said the captain, leading his

small party in a circuitous route around the crowd.

At the far end of the wharf, tied to pilings and bobbing

in the water, was a collection of rickety

sailboats. On the shore was a pile of discarded

lumber, and they could see a giant figure sawing

away at what looked like a broken light standard.

As they drew closer, they could tell that the worker was

none other than the hairy humanoid they had met the

night before, Billiwog.

He waved as he saw them approach.

"What's all the commotion about?" he asked

good-naturedly.

"A fistfight." Kirk shrugged.

"The Senites pushed them into the water."

"Hmm," said Billiwog, wiping sweat from the

only part of his body that wasn't covered with hair,

his forehead.

"Hope they can swim." He went back to sawing

the wooden post.

"What are you doing?" asked Spock.

"Well," answered Billiwog, "these

lampposts make good masts for my sailboats.

On windy nights like last night, usually one or

two of them come down. The Senites won't bother with

"em if they're broken, so I grab term . It

"You made all these boats?" asked Kirk,

impressed.

"Who else?" muttered the builder, not stopping his

work.

"I'm the only one in this town who does anything

useful. So, have you fellows had enough of Dohama?"

"Yes," Kirk and McCoy answered in

unison.

Billiwog stopped sawing.

"Then you're ready to buy a boat?"

Disappointed, the captain asked, "Is that what you

meant by getting away from Dohama?"

"What else?" replied the giant.

"You didn't think you could fly away, did you?"

"We had hoped we could get our shuttlecraft

back," said McCoy.

"Hmm," remarked Billiwog with a smirk, "then

you're stupider than those guys in the water. Get a

boat from Billiwog, and see something of this

planet!"

Kirk lowered his voice and asked, "Have you ever

heard of an island named Khyming?"

"Oh, you're interested in women. was The

shipbuilder winked.

"Can't say I blame you, there's precious few

of them around here. And a rouged Senite just doesn't

cut it."

"Then Khyming does exist," said Spock.

"It sure does, Pointy Ears. And if you're

fixing to go there, I've got just the craft for you."

Billiwog led them toward the most lopsided,

rickety-looking boat in the water.

"This one's special, sealed with lunk juice.

It'll get you to Khyming, easy, and there's room enough

to bring a couple women back!"

The captain sighed.

"This isn't really what we had in mind, and

we're not interested in kidnapping women.

What else is on that island?"

"Lots of stuff," said Billiwog

mysteriously.

"Maybe what you're looking for. Take a trip

and see. There's no point in hanging around here."

Kirk could certainly agree with that, but the choppy

sea looked more dangerous and alien than anything they

had seen in Dohama.

"What else is out there besides Kbyming?" he

asked.

"Who knows?" Billiwog shrugged.

"You could play it safe and sail along the coast.

You're sure to find other villages, maybe some that

aren't controlled by the Senites."

That wouldn't do them any good, thought the captain.

Thanks anyway," he said.

"I don't think we're ready to go seafaring

yet."

"Suit yourselves," answered Billiwog, picking

up his saw.

"But I'm a good judge of character, and I say

you'll be back." The shipbuilder went back

to cutting a new mast.

As they walked away, the captain turned to his

comrades.

"I'm at a loss," he admitted.

"I don't want to explore this whole planet

looking for our shuttlecraft, and kidnapping women

is out of the question. So what are we going to do?"

"Captain," said Spock, "I have been

formulating a plan. The probability of success,

however, is far from certain."

McCoy responded impatiently, "What is

it, Spock? Nobody else has any ideas."

"We have explored most of Dohama," the

Vulcan explained, "and we have seen how and where the

fugitives live. Although there are many Senites in

the village, they do not appear to reside here. They

must live elsewhere, coming here only to perform their

duties."

"I see what you're getting at," Kirk said

excitedly.

"We know the Senites have the ability

to transport themselves--we saw Zicree do it the first

day. How can we find their transporter?"

Spock lowered his voice.

"My suggestion is to follow a Senite after its

work period is over."

"Good thinking," said McCoy, glancing around the

busy waterfront.

"Let's pick one."

Within a few seconds, a stocky Senite

strolled by, sweeping bits of litter into a trash

receptacle. It seemed to be headed toward the

center of the village, and Kirk quickly nodded his head

for his friends to follow.

Thanks to its white robe, there was no

difficulty in distinguishing the Senite from the

fugitives, even when Kirk, Spock, and

McCoy followed at a distance of several meters and

spread out to look less conspicuous. In a town where

the only real activity was aimless wandering, the

captain felt fairly confident that they wouldn't be

noticed. The Senite seemed to pay them no

attention as it steadfastly performed its menial task.

Kirk only hoped that there was an end to the

Senite's work shift, that it eventually went somewhere

to rest and sleep.

It was midafternoon before the stocky Senite stopped

to empty its trash receptacle into a bin set up

for that purpose. Kirk and company stopped as well,

pretending to study a selection of earrings and jeweb

y that were free for the taking. The Senite running

if.e jewelry stand suggested that McCoy have his

ca-s pierced, and the doctor politely

declined. Their qua'ry, meanwhile, cleaned its

trash receptacle thoroughly and handed it to a fellow

Senite. The shift was over, Kirk thought

excitedly, and he nudged his comradcs to continue the

chase.

The Senite moved swiftly now, its hands

folded in the billowing sleeves of its white robe.

Kirk and h s men had to walk briskly to keep

up, and the captain was concerned that their pursuit would be

noticed. But they had no other recourse, and no

other plait. After leading them through numerous side

streets, the Senite went down a narrow alley,

opened an unmarked door, and stepped inside. The

door slammed shut, and stood waiting for Kirk,

Spock, and McCoy.

"This is it," said Kirk.

"What's behind that doorl" "There is only one

means of finding out," answered Spock.

McCoy swallowed hard.

"Maybe we don't all have to go. One or two

of us could wait here."

"No," answered the captain.

"The last thing we need is to be separated.

With our communicators net working, we might never

find each other."

"Agreed," said Spock.

"With your permission, Car comtain, I will lead the

way."

The captain nodded. The Vulcan strode toward

the." unmarked door, with Kirk and McCoy

following close behind. To their disappointment, they entered

what appeared to be nothing more than a large broom

closet. Trash receptacles, bins, and cleaning

materials neatly lined one wall; empty clothing

hooks and shelves lined another. There were no other

doors, no windows, and no sign of the stocky

Senite they had followed.

Kirk slapped his thigh and muttered, "Dead

end."

"Perhaps not," said Spock. Meticulously, the

Vulcan began to feel along the walls, rapping

them with his fist to see if there were hollow spots.

McCoy shook his head.

"Something tells me they've thought of everything."

Suddenly, the door to the alley opened, and

Lincree, the chubby Senite from the inn, stood

blocking the sunlight. The Senite they had followed

stood behind Lincree, and there were more Senites visible

in the alley.

Gone was the cheerful expression that

Lincree had exhibited earlier in the day.

"You are becoming rather tiresome," said the Senite.

"Why can't you simply accept Sanctuary the

way it is? As so many others do."

"Because we want to leave!" snapped Kirk.

"We came here by mistake, and now you're holding

us against our will. If you won't give us back our

shuttlecraft, at least let us contact our ship.

Or transport us there yourselves. To us, this isn't

sanctuary, it's a prison. was "Persecutors!"

sneered the stocky Senite behind Lincree.they are a

disruptive influence."

141 agree," said Lincree.

"It is rare for us to refuse anyone sanctuary,

but this is a crucial time in Dohama. We cannot

afford dissension," The Senite reached into the folds of

its robe and brought forth an object that looked

suspiciously like a weapon. Kirk didn't wait

to see what it was; leaping forward, he smashed into the

Senite's chest and gripped its hand, just as a blue

beam shot from the weapon and seared a black streak

along the wall. The androgynous creature was

surprisingly strong, almost his equal, but Kirk

fought with the strength of a man who feared for his life.

Luckily, their position in the doorway

prevented any other Senites from aiding Lincree,

and Spock was soon at his side. He applied the

Vulcan nerve pinch and Lincree sank to the

floor, leaving Kirk in command of the weapon.

Kirk aimed the weapon from one Senite to another

until they stood well back from the door, allowing

him and his comrades to exit into the alley and move

toward the street. They heard raucous laughter from the

streets nearby, reminding the captain that they were

three among many. There was no doubt in his mind that many

of the contented lowlifes of Dohama would side with the

Senites against them, if given the chance.

"Will you help us?" he asked again.

"We mean you no harm."

"You will not be able to use that," a Senite warned,

stepping toward him.

Kirk glanced at the silver object in his hand.

It bore more resemblance to a lopsided piccolo

than a weapon, and he could find no trigger

mechanism. When he looked up, the pack of

Senites was advancing, and none of them wore their

usual beatific smiles.

"Retreat would seem to be in order," said

Spock.

"Let's go, Jim!" McCoy urged.

Kirk nodded, and the three ran from the alley into the

street.

Scotty suppRessED a cough and held his

breath as a cloud of dust spewed from the Gezary's

air filtration system. He motioned to a masked

assistant, who stepped forward and removed an air

filter that should have been removed years earlier.

"Replace all the filters," Scotty

ordered.

"I believe our n-4 filters should do the

job. Whatever ye put in there, it will undoubtedly be

an improvement."

"Aye, sir," said the assistant.

"I'll send over to the ship for them."

Scotty nodded and stepped away from the billows of

dirt.

"I'll be supervising the repairs in the engineering

department."

He strode into the main corridor of the Gezary and

took a breath of relatively clean air.

Scotty had twenty-six Enterprise personnel

slaving away on the Gezary merely to make it

presentable. In all his years of cruising the

galaxy, he had never seen a spacefaring vessel

that was so dirty and in such ill repair. Of

course, he thought with some charity, Pilenna was not

affiliated with an organization like Starfleet, which

maintained numerous star bases for the purpose of

sustaining its fleet. She was reliant solely upon

her crew and tier own wits; spare parts had to be

begged or, in this case, bartered.

Under normal circumstances, he would never have

committed the Enterprise's crew to such a cleanup

effort, but, like everyone in orbit around this infernal

planet, he faced the problem of combating boredom

and low morale. Every member of his crew was well

aware that the captain, the doctor, and Mr. Spock

were lost, and there was precious little they could do about it.

He could only hope that the charity effort aboard the

Gezary would, in small part, take their minds off the

terrible loss they were facing.

His communicator beeped, and Scotty flipped

it open.

"Scott here."

"Lieutenant Uhura," came the response.

"I just received a reply from Starfleet concerning our

message.

Scotty's stomach did a wrenching turn. This was

the moment he had dreaded. He had been totally

frank in his appraisal of the situation

to Starfleet, and he could well imagine their

reaction. What he couldn't imagine comand didn't

want to imagine-were the needs that had arisen in the

meantime, needs that required the presence of the

Enterprise in some other far-flung sector of

space.

"What did they say?" he breathed.

"They express their concern," Uhura

summarized, keeping her voice as unemotional as

possible, "and they want reassurance that the

Enterprise isn't in any danger. They also

remind us that the Enterprise is due to take part in

maneuvers near the Neutral Zone in

seventy-two hours." "Seventy-two hours."

Scotty sighed.

"They like ta stick ta their schedules, Starfleet

does."

"Should I acknowledge receipt of their

message?" asked Uhura.

"No," said Scotty.

"Ask them to resend it. Tell them ... there was

interference."

"Yes, sir," Uhura replied. Scotty

thought he detected a note of relief in her

voice.

"Scott out," he said, snapping his communicator

shut.

The work was far from done aboard the Gezary,

Scotty knew, but it was time to demand his half of the

bargain. If Pilenna wouldn't help him contact the

Senites immediately, he would simply leave her ship

in a shambles. With determination, Scotty strode

down the corridor toward the private quarters of the

bounty huntress.

Kirk, Spoc-k, and McCoy dashed through the

crowded streets of Dohama until they realized the

Senites were not following them. Only then did they

stop to catch their breath and consider their limited

options. Kirk stuffed the useless weapon into the

pocket of his drab jacket.

"What now?" he asked, disheartened.

"Captain," said Spock, "I apologize for the

failure of my plan."

"It wasn't your fault," McCoy pointed out.

"It's obvious we're not going to get any

favors out of the Senites."

A Senite running an ale dispensary on the

corner gave them a curious look, and Kirk

motioned his men to keep walking. There was no sign of the

pack of Senites who had cornered them.

And why should the Senites make a spectacle of

themselves running through the streets? he thought. They had

eyes and ears everywhere; Dohama was their turf. They

could afford to wait for the three troublemakers to go

to sleep or otherwise let down their guard.

"We've got to get out of Dohama," Kirk

said finally.

"There's no point staying here and some very good

reasons to leave. But we can't spend days walking

somewhere else. I think it's time to find out more about that

other island."

Billiwog smiled and waved when he saw them

coming. The hirsute humanoid was sitting on his

pile of lumber, grilling a fish over an open

fire.

"I

knew you'd be back," he said simply.

"Why are you cooking your own food?" asked

McCoy.

"Senite cooking isn't good enough for you?"

He smiled.

"Let's just say I like a change of pace."

"We want your best boat," said Kirk.

"I know a little bit about sailing, enough to know a good

boat when I see one, and that one you offered

us wasn't a good one."

Billiwog's face darkened, and he rose to his

full, impressive height.

"What boat you get depends on what you have

to trade."

Kirk frowned, considering. Then he reached into his

pocket and pulled out the mysterious Senite weapon.

"How about this?" he asked.

"We took it from the Senites when they tried

to use it on us. It's some kind of weapon."

"Oooh!" exclaimed Billiwog, his eyes

beaming with delight. Gingerly, he took the silver

object and held it up to the sun.

"For this, you get any boat you want. I'll

even throw in a couple oars. Do you know how to make

it work?"

"No," answered Kirk.

"I'd be careful with it, though."

Spock was already walking along the wharf, studying the

co liection of crude vessels. He stopped in

front 85 of the one with the highest mast and began

to inspect the workmanship of its hull. He climbed

into the boat, checking the inside for dampness.

"Of" Pointy Ears knows what he's doing,"

said Billiwog, nodding in Spock's

direction.

"That's the best boat I have. I traded for

it-didn't build it myself. If you're not sure

what you're doing, you might be better off sailing up

the coast."

"Be straight with us," said McCoy.

"What exactly is on Khyming?"

"Women," answered Billiwog, "and

political refugees. It's common knowledge that a

better class of people gets sent to live on

Khyming. One time I was there, I saw what you

might call a seminary, where they train the

Senites. I can't tell you that you'll find what

you're looking for, but I can tell you that you won't

find anything in Dohama but a hangover."

Spock rejoined the group.

"I have selected a vessel," he reported.

"I can find no leaks in the hull or holes in

the sail. The mast, rudder, and tiller appear to be

sturdy."

Billiwog licked his finger and stuck it into the

air.

"You're in luck," he announced.

"There's a southerly wind that should take you right

there-with a full sail. If you leave now, you

might make it before dark."

"Which way?" asked Kirk, peering gloomily at

the sea and the fog bank beyond.

"Straight into the fog," said Billiwog.

"You would probably be able to see Khyming from here

if it weren't fogbound. Just don't sail past it.

And look out for the lunks."

"Lunks?" asked McCoy.

Billiwog smiled.

"Giant sea creatures."

Pilenna slowly buttoned her low-cut tunic,

obviously enjoying Scotty's embarrassment. But

she had admitted him into her quarters while in a

partial state of undress, and he was not going to be

dissuaded from his task by a bit of Orion teasing.

Except for her flesh being green, it wasn't

anything he hadn't seen before.

"Why do you want to contact the Senites now?" she

asked with mild disapproval.

"You haven't finished your end of the bargain yet."

"Because, I've just received word that I may have to leave

Sanctuary very soon. Please, it's a matter o'

life and death."

"Isn't everything?" The bounty huntress reached

for a brush and began combing her lustrous red

tresses.

"It would be a shame to see you leave so soon.

We were just getting to know each other."

"Were this another time and another place,"

Scotty murmured, "I would be pleased to get to know

you better."

Pilenna smiled.

"I once heard a human say, "There is no

time like the present." But he did not have your sense of

duty."

She sat down at her purple vanity and

swiveled a small viewscreen into place.

"I generally call them from here. It's more

private." Pilenna waved her hand over a

colored panel, which flickered on. The screen did

likewise.

"This is Pilenna of the Gezary, she said,

"calling the keepers of Sanctuary. May I

please speak with the hallowed order of Senites?"

There was a substantial wait, but Pilenna did

not repeat her request. She smiled at Scotty,

who fidgeted nervously.

"They will reply," she explained, "in their own

good time."

Finally, a serene face below a bald

pale appeared on the viewscreen and a lilting

voice replied, "I am Felcree of

Sanctuary How may I help our sister in the

sky?"

"I am humbly in your debt," she acknowledged.

"With me is the captain of another vessel that

orbits 87 your peaceful planet. He is

confused and wishes to speak with you."

"So be it," said the Senite, not looking very

enthusiastic about the prospect.

Pilenna rose and let Scotty take a seat

in front of the viewscreen.

"I am Lieutenant Commander Scott of the

Federation starship Enterprise. Until three days

ago, we had no idea Sanctuary existed. This

sector of space is unfamiliar to us-in error,

we sent a shuttlecraft with three crew members

to the surface of your planet. They arena

fugitives, and no one was pursuing them. We ha

vena been in contact with them since they entered your

atmosphere, and we hope ye will help us locate

them and return them to our ship."

"Impossible," answered the Senite.

"As you have no doubt learned, we offer sanctuary

to all who seek it, and we cannot determine in

advance their motives or worthiness. We

safeguard the persecuted by refusing to permit anyone

to come to the planet and leave again. This simple

security system has discouraged persecutors for

hundreds of years, and we see no reason to change

it."

Scotty struggled to keep his voice calm and

reasonable.

"Ye cart speak to them yerselves," he

suggested.

"I'm sure they will tell you they want to leave.

Surely you must be able to rectify mistakes like

this."

The Senite shook its head and replied sternly,

"All who come to Sanctuary do so of their own free

will. You must not fear for the safety and well-being of your

friends. All who come to Sanctuary are afforded

dignity, respect, and creature comforts." The

image flickered off.

Desperately, Scotty waved his hand over the

panel and begged, "Come back!

Come back! You dunna understand!"

He felt tender hands on the back of his neck.

"They 88 understand all too well," sighed

Pilenna.

"They simply don't care."

Scotty slammed his fist down, shaking the

purple table down to the deck.

"I'd like ta blow that planet out o' the sky!"

"But you won't," breathed the Orion, her deft

fingers massaging the knots of anger from his shoulders.

"I've never known the Senites to lie about

anything. Your friends probably are enjoying dignity,

respect, and creature comforts." She cooed in his

ear, "There's nothing wrong with creature comforts."

The Scotsman closed his eyes, feeling too

numb and helpless to do anything. He let

Pilenna's skilled hands play across his chest for a

moment. Then, with an effort, he roused himself and

stood.

"Madam," he said, bowing politely, "I have

too much to do to enjoy yer company at the moment."

"I'm not going anywhere," she answered, smiling.

"And, perhaps, neither are you."

A giant wave slammed the tiny boat, as

sheeting rain and wind ripped the sail from the mast.

Spock tried heroically to wrap the sail around the

boom to save it, but he lost his footing as the boat

tipped, and the sail tore from his hands and vanished.

McCoy hung on to the tiller as if it

would do some good, but the boat spun in the maelstrom,

out of control.

Captain Kirk gripped the two oars tightly,

knowing they were probably their only hope of salvation.

The squall had struck suddenly when they were

barely out of sight of the shore, just after they reached the

fog bank. Before then, their spirits had been as

buoyant as the tiny craft, as the sail billowed and

they skimmed along the waves enroute to a new

destination. Kirk remembered quite a bit from the sailing

he'd done as a boy, and Spock knew the

rudiments. 89 They let McCoy steer as they

manipulated the sail, the ropes, and the boom;

managing a boat with a single sail had proved

relatively easy, as long as they kept the wind

leeward, at their backs. Even entering the fog

hadn't dampened their spirits, because they knew it meant

they were closing or, Khyming.

Unfortunately, the fog had masked the pending

storm, and they didn't know enough about the sea to realize

that the choppy waves meant a squall was brewing.

Before they knew it, they were in the squall. Now there was

nothing to do but ride it out somehow

"Keep low!" yelled Kirk.

"Keep to the center of the boat!" His

greatest fear was that one, or all, of them would go

overboard.

Like three men riding a giant. bucking bronco,

they lurched up and down over the waves. The howl of the

wind was horrific, thunder shattered their senses, and

lightning punched the sky with jagged rays. With the sail

gone, Spock set to bailing water with a small can

Billiwog had tossed into the boat at the last

moment. Incredibly, he held onto the boom with his

other hand and kept it from sweeping back and forth, taking

their heads off. Kirk longed to pull out his

communicator and make a desperate attempt

to contact the Enterprise, but he didn't dare let

go of the oars, not for a second. McCoy huddled in the

stem of the boat, wrestling with the tiller.

This nightmare made their day riding the river seem

like a walk in the recreation room, thought Kirk.

He was drenched and so sick of water that he vowed never

to take a shower again. The sky was getting darker, and not

just because of the storm. What would they do if they were driven

way off course, past Khyming? The captain

squinted his eyes against the spray and tried not to think

about it. Finally, mercifully, the wind began

to abate. The rain was still coming down in sheets, but it

brought only discomfort, not a terrifying

ride at the mercy of a frenzied sea. One by one,

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy lifted their heads.

The waves continued to jostle the boat, but they weren't

as fearsome as a few moments earlier. Except for the

relentless rain, the storm seemed to be losing force.

Kirk finally loosened his grip on the oars and

handed one to Spock.

"You take the port side," he ordered,

"I'll take starboard."

"Which direction are we going?" asked McCoy.

"I had a compass in my pack, but those damn

survivalists took it."

Kirk smiled. Relief that they were still alive

washed over him like the warm rain.

"Well," he remarked, we have to make a

guess. In one direction should lie the island, in

another Dohama, and in a third, more of the coast.

If we guess wrong and row in the fourth direction,

we'll row ourselves farther out to sea."

Spock furrowed an eyebrow and said, "I beg

to disagree, Captain. We do not have to guess. The

storm was accompanied by a

one-hundred-eighty-degree change in wind

direction. Therefore, rowing into the wind should take us

south, toward Khyming. There are two

unknown factors, however-that we were blown off

course, and that the wind will change again."

"So," the doctor concluded, sighing, "your guess

is we should row into the wind?"

Spock nodded.

"I would categorize it more as a theory than a

guess, Doctor, but I do believe the windward

direction will take us near our destination."

"Sounds good to me," said Kirk, plunging his oar

into a peaking wave.

"Let's put our backs into it!"

Spock stroked his oar through the turbulent sea,

trying to stay in unison with his captain, while

McCoy laid into the tiller, maintaining a course

straight into the ragged wind. With muscles straining,

they began a slow pull toward an unseen shore.

Scotty strode onto the bridge and took the

captain's seat with a vigor that surprised Uhura,

watching from her communications console. He stared at the

aquamarine planet on the viewscreen, as if

making up his mind about something.

"How did repairs on the Gezary go?" she

asked conversationally.

Scotty cleared his throat and straightened in his

seat.

"Very well," he answered.

"Although I think the captain of the Gezary wasn't

completely satisfied."

"Were you successful in contacting the Senites?"

she asked.

Scotty's shoulders drooped slightly, and he

gazed around at the expectant faces of Chekov,

Sulu, and the other bridge personnel.

"I talked to them, all right." He frowned.

"But they refuse to change their rules for anything

or anyone. They maintain that all who come

to Sanctuary do so of their own choice, and their greatest

protection is that no one can leave. Short of mounting

a full-scale attack on the planet, I

dunna know what we can do ta change their minds."

The acting captain stared at the planet and set his

jaw firmly.

"I've reached the conclusion that we must depend upon

Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Dr.

McCoy to arrange their own escape, however they can.

We must be ready to help them at a moment's

notice. That means listening, watching, monitoring,

and being aware of everything that happens below on the

planet. We know there are fluctuations in radio and

gamma waves when the Senites are forced

to use their deflectors, so we must be aware of any

minute changes."

Scotty took a deep breath and concluded,

"If anyone can escape from that heathen planet, it's

those three. We just have to stay here as long as

Starfleet will let us, then be ready to help them."

CONSTANT raIN CHILLED Captain Kirk to the

marrow of his exhausted bones, but every pull of the oar

brought them closer to the island, he hoped.

Beside him, Spock strained in unison against his

oar, while McCoy wrestled with the tiller to keep

them on a course into the wind. One result of the rain

was that the fog had been washed away, and Kirk could

see the pink moon creeping over the horizon

directly behind the boat, casting a strange salmon

glow over the rippling waves.

Kirk peered into the drizzle, hoping Khyming would

have its share of lights. Otherwise, they could row right

past the island in the thickening darkness. At least the

sight of Sanctuary's first moon gave Kirk some

indication that Spock had been right; they were still heading

south. He vividly remembered the pink moon

rising over the northern mountains on their first night

on Sanctuary.

The Enterprise, the shuttlecraft, the

chase and horrendous crash of Auk-rex's ship-it

all seemed eons ago, in another lifetime.

Kirk would never admit defeat, but He had

to admit that time was running out for them. Every day they

spent on Sanctuary, every day out of contact, was a

day closer to the moment when the Enterprise would be

summoned elsewhere. Perhaps the ship had already been

called to an emergency, Kirk thought glumly. Of

all people, her captain knew the value of the

Enterprise to the Federation, and it far outweighed the

lives of any three crew members. Unless there was

an emergency, Scotty could jockey for a certain

amount of time, but what else could he do? The captain

could only hope that Scotty hadn't risked sending

anyone else to the planet in search of them

The sun was setting on their fourth day on

Sanctuary, and they were no closer to discovering where their

shuttlecraft had been taken. Kirk knew why,

of course. The Senites' logic was so sound that even

Spock had found no reason to quarrel with it-they

kept the fugitives safe by separating them from their

persecutors forever. Everyone was forgiven his crimes,

even those persecutors foolish enough to chase their

quarry to the planet.

Kirk had never given real thought to the

concept of sanctuary before.

This version, he mused, denied everyone what they

sought The persecutors lost their prisoners; the

prisoners lost their freedom; and the saviors were

turned into jailers. Kirk didn't know whether

to hate the Senites or feel sorry for them.

"Captain," queried Spock, "can you verify

whether that is a light I see to starboard?"

Kirk leaned eagerly over the right side and peered

into the gloomy distance. Rain pelted his face, making

it difficult to stare, but he did think he saw

something shining in the distance-a star on the water.

"McCoy!" he barked.

"Make for that light."

"Where'," Where?" rasped the doctor, squinting

into the rain. He couldn't see the light immediately, so

he aimed the boat in the direction Kirk was leaning.

Spock and Kirk took up their oars in earnest.

Ignoring bodies that were shaking with exhaustion and

cold, they drove the tiny craft through cresting

waves. Finally spying the solitary light,

McCoy set an unyielding course. Kirk

began to imagine he saw a faint silhouette of

land to go along with it. No matter where they landed on

Sanctuary, the captain vowed to himself, he

was not going to take any more journeys by water.

As they neared the light and saw that it was no

mirage, Kirk began to worry about rocks. All

they could see was a simple white light, like a

lantern, where a searchlight would have been much

preferred. For all he knew, the light might be

perched on deadly boulders, where they could be sucked in

and pulverized without warning.

As if in answer to an unspoken prayer,

Sanctuary's huge white moon gleamed through rents

in the racing clouds as it slowly rose from the east,

fitfully lighting the way through a small harbor

dotted with reefs, made more dangerous by low tide.

At the sluggish pace at which they were rowing, they had

no difficulty avoiding those accumulated remains

of billions of microscopic anima ls, but

Kirk wondered what might have happened if they had

scudded into the harbor with a full sail and the wind at

their backs. They might be swimming at this point,

he decided, or sprawled across a reef with their

boat.

The island itself was barely visible as a dark and

forbidding outline.

There was apparently nothing on shore but a simple

adobe hut, where the light hung swinging on

the porch. No one seemed to be around; the darkness had

taken hold, broken only by flashes of

moonlight, and rain continued to pelt them.

"I see a beach," Kirk called, pumping the

oar through the water.

"Do you see it, Bones?"

"Yes, yes!" the doctor called.

"I'll make for it."

But the closer they got, the stronger the offshore

current became, dragging the boat away from the

elusive light. Kirk and Spock rowed like whipped

slaves, but they couldn't make any headway in the

tumultuous surf.

"Stop! Stop!" Kirk gasped, his body spent

and his muscles quivering.

"We're not, getting, closer."

"I volunteer to swim," said Spock, taking

off his boots.

"No, no!" protested Kirk.

"I will-was "Jim," said the Vulcan, "I am

weary, but I am not as close to exhaustion as you.

Please, tie the end of this rope to the boat and feed

me the line as I swim."

Every passing wave buffeted them in a new

direction, and McCoy had a difficult

time trying to keep the tiller pointed in the right

direction.

"Listen, you two," he shouted, "let me go. I

haven't been pulling an oar."

But Spock had stripped off his jacket, shirt,

and boots, and had one end of the rope tied around his

waist. He stood poised to jump into the water.

"With your permission, Captain?"

Kirk was busy wrapping the rope around a spar,

then his own waist.

"We don't want to lose you, Spock!" he

shouted over the slathering surf.

"If you feel yourself weaken, pull on the rope a

few times, and we'll pull you back. That beach must

have a steep drop-off to create such a strong

current, so watch your step."

"I will heed your advice," Spock replied.

A second later, he dove gracefully off the

side of the boat and was soon slicing his way

efficiently through the waves.

Spock had only one plan, and that was to get beyond

the breakers where the offshore current wasn't so

fierce. As long as he swam on the surface, it

couldn't impede him too much, and he felt the incoming

waves giving him impetus. But if he

slowed for an instant or let his legs dangle in the

water, a whiplash effect threatened to hurl him

backward. So he kept his arms and legs

moving-despite utter exhaustion comtrying to ride the

waves to aid his progress.

The beach was getting deceptively closer, but

Spock knew from the strength of the undertow that he must still

be over the drop-off. The sand lay just a few meters

away, and he could see their beacon-an electric

light bulb or lantern, he realized-swinging

jauntily in the wind. Obeying a very human

impulse, he put his foot down to see if he could

touch bottom.

Almost immediately, Spock realized that what he'd

touched was not the bottom, but something lying on top of

it. His foot struck what felt like cold jelly,

or an ice pack. It clung to him gently at

first, then more insistently, as flaps of sticky

coldness wrapped around his foot and consumed his

ankle. Spock didn't waste a precious

moment; he instantly pulled on his rope to signal

the captain.

His sudden motions intrigued the beast, and he felt

it ooze up en masse from the sodden sand and wrap

around his entire leg. Spock began

to kick with his other leg and paddle his arms with all his

might. But the creature clung and he could feel a

thousand little suckers begin to explore his flesh. He

pulled on the rope as hard as he could and bellowed,

"I am in need of assistance!"

In the boat, Kirk and McCoy tugged on the

rope for all they were worth, and they quickly pulled in

the slack that trailed after Spock. Spock felt

the rope tighten around his waist, and he knew his friends

had heard him.

But when they began to wrench him away from the slimy

entity at the bottom of the drop-off, 98 they began

a tug-of-war contest. The thing retreated deeper into the

sand, trying to take Spock with it.

For the first time, the Vulcan was yanked underwater.

Fortunately, he had taken a breath and used that

moment to give his captured appendage a firm

yank. He didn't completely free himself from the

cold stickers, but he got part of his leg free, and

he kicked at the tentacles with the other, bobbing to the

surface long enough to gulp air before the creature

regained its slimy grip and dragged him deeper.

In the moment before the water closed again over his

head, Spock saw Kirk and McCoy reeling in

rope, getting closer to him at a fast

rate. He went under just as the boat picked up an

incoming wave and began rushing toward the beach. Kirk

staggered to his feet and grabbed an oar, ready to do

battle or make a rescue, whichever came first.

Spock's breath was nearly running out, and he

tried to control his strength as he swam steadily

toward the surface. The thing still gripped his foot-but

leisurely, as if it no longer felt threatened.

The tug-of-war was over for the moment, and Spock felt

the rope scratch his shoulder and head in the other

direction. With powerful strokes, he reached the

surface and took a deep breath before the mollusk

pulled him under again.

A wave dumped the boat on the shore, smashing

it into pieces. Kirk and McCoy scrambled

to untangle themselves from the mess and claim a

foothold in the sand. Suddenly, the rope around

Kirk's waist yanked taut, dragging him across the

wreckage, and he grabbed his oar. As a wave

crashed over his head, he felt McCoy gripping

him under his arms and halting his slide back into the

water. Kirk scrambled to his feet and helped

McCoy get to his, and they dug their heels into the

sand as their opponent renewed its claim on.

Spock. The rope pulled tight, yanking

them off their feet and smashing them into an incoming

wave. Sputtering, Kirk struggled to his feet,

and he knew the thing was winning. Then suddenly he

heard gasping and splashing, and he realized that

Spock was alive and only a few meters away.

He redoubled his efforts, pulling in the rope

hand-over-hand. Spock was unsure why the thing had

retreated, but it no longer held his leg. He

clung gratefully to the lifeline until he felt

himself tumbling into Kirk and McCoy.

They hauled the bedraggled Vulcan ashore, far

from the breaking waves, and all collapsed on the sand.

Panting, Kirk looked up-and saw the slim

Senite standing by the house. Even with the hood over its

head, the being was recognizable as Zicree, the first

Senite they'd met-the one who knew the most about their

missing shuttlecraft. Zicree held a small

blue instrument in its hand.

Kirk stared at Zicree for a moment, then turned

to check on his friend.

Spock was kneeling on all fours, spitting out

water and trying to fill his lungs with air instead.

"He'll live," McCoy reported, "but that was

awfully close. What was that, Spock?"

"A giant ... mollusk," the

Vulcan rasped.

"Try to imagine ... a snail that is as large

... as the bridge of the Enterprise. was "We call

it a lunk," said a voice behind them. Zicree had

strolled from the house to the water's edge.

"In fact, that lunk is well known to us.

We call him Old Hemcree."

"He retreated," panted Spock.

"Somehow ... you drove him away."

"With this," the Senite replied, holding up the

blue instrument.

"Sound waves. Few humanoids can hear them,

but the lunks are repelled."

Kirk stood up and smiled gratefully.

"Then you

SANCTUARY

saved Spock's life. Thank you. I

remember you ... your name is Zicree."

The Senite sighed disgustedly.

"I remember you as well. Because it was I who

welcomed you to Sanctuary, you are more or less my

responsibility."

"Give us back our shuttlecraft," said

Kirk, "and we'll be gone."

"You were almost "gone" a second

ago," the Senite replied wryly.

"As difficult as this may be to believe, we

Senites admire initiative.

Therefore, you may stay on Khyming. To live on

Khyming is a privilege, and your behavior will

determine how long you may stay. You will find clothes

and food in the small house that guided you here." The

Senite turned and started toward the dark forest beyond the

shore.

"Wait!" called Kirk.

"We have many questions. We need help."

The Senite turned briefly and replied, "I

just helped you, and I wasn't obliged to do so. I

want the population of this planet to have drive and

initiative, as you three have. Therefore, I will help

you if I can. But don't expect to leave

Sanctuary. That is beyond my powers, and certainly

beyond yours."

The white-robed figure disappeared into the thick

foliage that surrounded the spit of beach. With the rain

still coming down hard and each man exhausted to the bone,

Kirk wasn't about to look another gift horse in

the mouth. He motioned his men to follow him to the little

hut with the welcoming lantern.

True to Zicree's word, they found

clean clothes of the same ilk as they were wearing and a

simple but plentiful meal of coarse grains cooked

with considerable skill and seasoning. They even had

bowls and spoons, Kirk noted. Already, the

dietary standards of Khyming seemed to be far

different from those of Dohama. They now had warm

porridge sitting in their stomachs, dry clothes on

their backs, and a sturdy 101 roof over their heads.

Kirk watched Spock and McCoy fall asleep

and felt himself drifting off into a sleep as heavy,

he imagined, as the Junk under the waves.

The captain stepped out of the hut the next morning

to find that the rain had stopped and fog had reclaimed

the island. The morning mist was so thick that he could

hear but not see the waves that pounded the treacherous beach

a few strides away. He stepped forward

cautiously and found several chunks of the boat that had

washed farther ashore. The landing party was tough on

watercraft, Kirk thought ruefully.

Then he shuddered at the thought of the creature that had

nearly gotten Spock, and perhaps all of them. Of

course, the Senites had learned bow to control the

lunks, just like they controlled so much of their

environment.

were there limits to their control? wondered

Kirk. Did they ever make a mistake, ever

leave the barn door open?

"Captain!" he heard the familiar voice of

Mr. Spock calling.

"Over here!" answered the captain. He kept

talking so that Spock would find him in the pea soup.

"I'm not sure what kind of special

privilege it is to live in this fog all the time."

"We haven't seen the rest of the island," Spock

observed.

"How do you feel?" Kirk asked.

"Any ill effects?"

"Only this." Spock indicated his bare foot,

lifting it to show the captain a rash of circular

welts that covered his appendage from toe to midcalf.

"Ouch," said Kirk sympathetically.

"Does it hurt?"

"I can bear it," replied Spock, "if I do

not wear a boot. Actually, I feel quite well."

Kirk stretched his arms and took a deep breath

of 102 cool mist.

"I feel good, too. It's amazing what a

couple good meals and lots of exercise will do."

"Nearly get you killed!" called a third

voice from the fog. Dr. McCoy

straggled over to join them.

"Are we on our way somewhere else already?"

"Yes," answered the captain, "I believe we

are. Unless, Bones, you want to become a

beachcomber."

"Oh, I'm all in favor of finding a town or

something," countered the doctor.

"But I'm all for staying there, too. That is,

unless we have a chance to get back to the ship."

Kirk looked around but saw absolutely nothing

but dense gray humidity.

"The Senites must have transporter rooms,

computers, and central controls," he said, "and I have

a feeling this may be a base or something. Let's

find that seminary Billiwog was talking about. First,

we have to answer the usual question-which way?"

"Captain," said Spock, "last night

Zicree walked into the forest rather than transported.

I believe we should look for the path it took."

They retraced their footprints in the moist sand and

found their way back to the hut, where they gathered up

whatever they thought they might need in the way of

clothing. Their only other possessions were their useless

communicators. Kirk tried to contact the

Enterprise on each of the communicators in

turn, but they remained inoperative. Someday they would

find a way to make them work again, he vowed to himself,

sticking his communications device into his most

secure pocket.

At the edge of the forest, the fog broke up enough to show

the ghostly shapes of mammoth bladder plants,

covered with parasitic vines and muted flowers. The

constant rainfall and warming currents of Khyming had

apparently created giant plant life that far

out103 shone anything on the larger island. From the

forest echoed a variety of calls and shrieks from the

lower forms of animal life, and Kirk saw an

occasional bladder tree tremble as something moved within

its thick branches. He forced himself to look along

the ground, where Spock had said they should find the

beginnings of a trail. It was McCoy who finally

motioned excitedly for them to join him.

What the doctor had found was little more than a faint

trail, and Spock surmised that it might be a path

frequented by the small mammals they had seen in the

survivalists' camp. But it was all they had, so

they followed it, ducking under overhanging moss and

vines. The deeper they progressed into the jungle,

the more the fog seemed to retreat but the less there was

to see, except for higher and higher bladder

trees with denser things clinging to them.

They nearly ran head-on into a solid wall of

rock before they realized they were in a valley. Along

the cliffs, they found a pond fed by a small

waterfall, which tumbled from such a height that its

origin was obscured by fog. The gurgling water

tempted them to take long drinks and spend a few

moments in contemplation of the majestic forest and its

cacophony of sounds.

That was when they heard voices from deeper in the

jungle. Kirk put his fingers to his lips and

motioned Spock and McCoy to spread out. He was

expecting to meet more Senites, and was pleasantly

surprised when two young women stepped into the clearing.

The women were clearly not Senites, not in the

simple white shifts they were wearing and the unadorned

long hair that flowed around their shoulders. Their

reactions, however, to seeing three male strangers were

entirely different The fair-haired one smiled

amiably, and the dark-haired one bolted for the forest.

104 "Wait," said Kirk, holding out his hands,

"we mean you no harm."

"I appreciate that," said the fair-haired

woman.

"I don't expect anyone to do me

harm on Khyming. Renna!" she called.

"These gentlemen say they are harmless."

Cautiously, a lovely young brunette stepped

from the mist that clung to the swollen bladder plants.

She could be no older than twenty-five Earth

years, thought Kirk, but she had a hard wariness about

her black eyes that made her seem much older.

She also had a clean bandage across her forehead and

another on her knee.

"You have no weapons?" she asked.

"None," said Kirk.

Spockadded, "Even if we had weapons, they

would not function."

"You'll have to excuse my friend," the fair-haired

lady replied, "but she only arrived on

Sanctuary a few days ago, and she isn't quite

acclimated.

It's okay, Renna," she insisted, "Khyming

is closely monitored. These men couldn't be

dangerous."

"Permit me to introduce myself," said McCoy

with all the southern charm he could muster.

"I'm McCoy, this is Jim, and that's

Spock. We're new on this island, too-we

sailed over from Dohama last night."

"Oh, Dohama," said the fair one

distastefully. She took a step away from them.

"We didn't like it there either," Kirk assured

them.

"We have a friend among the Senites on this island

by the name of Zicree."

"I know Zicree," replied the dark woman.

She turned and looked reproachfully at her friend.

"Where are you going, Kellen? Now it's your turn

to be rude, and you have lived here for many years."

Kellen lowered her head sheepishly.

"Renna is correct. I shouldn't judge you because

you came from 105 Dohama, but some of the stories we

hear about that place ... never mind.

You have seen more of the world than I have, that is

certain."

Kirk smiled.

"We haven't seen anything of Khyming but the beach

and a small hut. Can you show us to the village?"

"Is it permitted?" Renna asked her friend.

"I suppose so," Kellen said reluctantly.

"But you and I were going to look all around the island

today."

Renna glanced at Kirk, then touched the bandage

on her forehead.

"Let's return to the village," she declared.

"I want to see how my father is doing." With that,

the slim brunette turned and marched back into the

forest, and everyone hurried to fall into line behind her on

the narrow path.

Kirk found himself walking behind the lithe Kellen.

"What did she mean about her father?" he asked.

"Her father was tortured before they escaped and came

here," explained Kellen.

"They were both badly injured, and her father remains

in grave condition. She was only released

yesterday."

"You have a hospital here?" asked McCoy,

having overheard.

"Yes." Kellen shrugged, as if the question were

stupid.

Kirk jogged up the path in an attempt to catch

the fleet Renna.

"Wait a minute!" he called.

She slowed her pace slightly.

"I am sorry. I haven't made many friends

here, except for Kellen," she explained, "and this

is all a little strange for me. If my father

recovers, I'll be a lot happier."

"You are political refugees?"

asked Kirk.

Renna nodded and dabbed at her eye for a moment.

"It was terrible. People can be beasts, you know. All

because we opposed the dictator of our country. Many

people sacrificed to help us escape, but in the end, this

was our only refuge."

"What planet did you come from?" asked Kirk.

"Alloseng," answered Renna.

"Alloseng?" Kirk pondered.

"I've never heard of it. And you seem to be

human, like McCoy and L" "I suppose you've

been to every planet in the galaxy?" scoffed the young

lady.

"No," Kirk said, smiling, "but a fair

number."

"Then maybe you won't mind if I query you,"

said Renna.

"Where are you from?"

Kirk debated whether to lie to this fellow

newcomer or tell the truth.

The only advantage to lying was to avoid

repulsing her with the knowledge that they were persecutors, somehow

related to the beasts who had tortured her father and

pursued them to this forgotten garden. Telling her the

truth, on the other hand, might allow him

to enlist her aid in their predicament.

"You hesitate," observed Renna.

"That probably means you are about to tell me a

lie. Save it for someone else."

"No," answered Kirk, "I've decided

to tell you the truth. My friends and I are

persecutors."

Renna jerked her head, startled, then began

walking faster. Kirk struggled to catch up, as some

kind of creature in the trees mocked him with cawing

laughter.

"We're not political persecutors," Kirk

insisted, "and we know now we shouldn't have come here. But

we made a mistake. We were chasing a criminal,

someone who had plundered innocent trading vessels,

leaving them crippled in space."

"A murderer?" asked Renna.

"No, not really," the captain admitted.

"A pirate."

"Perhaps they only took what they needed," Renna

suggested.

Kirk shook his head and lowered his voice

to reply, "What brought us here isn't important.

What's important is that we're trying to find a

way off this 107 planet. Have you seen

any sign of the space vessels confiscated by the

Senites? A transporter? Anything that might

help someone escape?"

Renna slowed her pace again and couldn't disguise the

interest in her voice.

"Kellen would be horrified if she heard you

talking like that. So would the Senites. To them, everything

about Sanctuary is perfect. Why would anyone

want to leave?"

"You've only seen this one island," answered

Kirk.

"Believe me, some other parts of Sanctuary are

far from perfect. In the mountains, there are people living like

animals, barely surviving. But they prefer that

to Dohama, and I don't blame them."

They heard light footsteps running up the path

behind them.

"We'll talk about this later," whispered the

dark-haired fugitive.

"Renna!" called Kellen, passing Kirk and

taking her friend's arm.

"If we take this other path, I can at least show

you the wind turbines. They harness the wind's energy and

make electricity for us."

Renna smiled politely.

"Maybe some other time. I really must see how

my father is doing. I have the rest of my life for you

to show me around."

"That's right!" Kellen giggled.

The women walked arm-in-arm down the widening

path, and Kirk turned to meet Spock and

McCoy.

"I want to see that hospital," said McCoy.

"We'll have to move cautiously," answered the

captain.

"But I told Renna who we are and that we want

off Sanctuary."

Spock raised an eyebrow and asked, "Was that

wise, Captain? The Senites might consider that

unacceptable behavior."

"We haven't got any choice," answered

Kirk.

"We need help. And I don't think Renna

wants to live here the rest of her life either."

"On the other hand," said McCoy, "Kellen

told me she was practically born on

Sanctuary. She came here with her parents, and this

is all she knows."

"Just like the Senites," remarked Kirk, frowning.

He motioned with his head, and the three

explorers jogged up the path after the women.

The trail began a steady ascent, and the fog

lifted to the point where they could just make out the

silhouette of a huge mountain that dominated the

island. Near the base of the mountain, they glimpsed a

ghostly stand of white propellers twirling in the

wind. Kirk assumed that the sleek windmills must

be many times larger than they appeared at this distance, and

he wondered if the Senites had also harnessed the

rivers and waterfalls. The peak of the mountain was

invisible in the sunken cloud cover, but he imagined

it to be a delicate spire, like the mountains to the

north.

Their first glimpse of the village of Khyrning was

of a white pavilion mounted among the bladder trees

on the side of a cliff. The expansive open-air

deck was obviously positioned to afford a congenial

view of the jungle-as much as the fog would allow. There

came the tinkling sounds of conversation and silverware

dancing on plates, and Kirk could see vague

figures moving about on the high pavilion.

"If you are hungry," said Renna, "you should get

something to eat. Kellen and I are going to the clinic."

"May I come along?" asked McCoy.

"I promise not to get in the way, and

I'll leave if you ask me to. I'm a

doctor. At least, I was before I came here."

"I have no objection," said Renna.

"I'm afraid we won't get to see him for very

long."

McCoy glanced hopefully at his captain.

"I promise not to be gone long, Jim, and

I'll come right back here."

"What are you worried about?" scoffed Kellen.

"No harm can befall you on Khyming. This is the

most blessed island on Sanctuary. Only the best

people live here."

Kirk cleared his throat and said, "I can imagine

that. We'll wait for you here, Bones. Keep your

eyes open."

"See you later." Renna smiled, then turned and

walked off so briskly that Kellen and McCoy had

to run to catch up.

That left Kirk and Spock alone to confront the

gleaming pavilion. The wind had changed slightly,

and the spicy smell of fresh pastries came wafting

through the fog. Kirk spotted a spiral staircase

that dropped down through the floor of the giant

treehouse, and he motioned Spock to follow him.

They emerged into what could only be called

an elegant outdoor cafe.

Aproned Senites bustled back and forth between

sedate tables filled with politely chattering

diners. No one was dressed as shabbily as the two

new arrivals, but no one seemed to pay them much

attention as they stood gaping at the plates of food

that whizzed by. There were baked bladder plants stuffed

with seafood, various greens and tuber like vegetables,

some yellow grain that smelled delicious, and

loaves of dark bread piled high at every table.

Looking past the food, the view from the pavilion

was indeed magnificent-a blossoming jungle bathed

in wisps of fog. Above them stretched the poles and

superstructure of an immense awning, which could

apparently be rolled out in an instant in case of

rain. At the rear of the pavilion, a phalanx of

doors opened into what smelled like a flavorful

kitchen. Small shops and Senite vendors dotted

the walkway that led from the cafe to other parts of the

whitewashed village.

"Two for lunch?" asked a Senite, breaking

Kirk's reverie. "Please," the captain

answered.

"Does lunch require payment?"

"No, sir," answered the Senite,

looking quite shocked.

Spock replied, That is convenient."

"A table, with a view," Kirk added.

"Certainly, sir."

They followed the Senite to a small round table

on a balcony overlooking the sumptuous foliage

of the jungle. Having spent the last few hours down

there, Kirk swiveled in his chair to survey instead

the village of Khyming and its denizens. Simple

white houses built along the cliff side were

connected to similar shops and bungalows perched in the

bladder trees by swaying rope bridges. The

bridges were linked by intermediate pagodas and

pavilions, rising like mushrooms from the floor of the

canyon. Creatures of various races strolled the

spidery bridges, oblivious to the depths beneath them.

Every building in Khyming was painted an unrelenting

white, which gave the town a strangely sterile and

bland appearance, despite its remarkable design.

"Those bridges look flimsy," he said

to Spock, "but they make travel between one level and

another very convenient."

"They are adequate in a town where the only

mode of transportation is walking," Spock

pointed out.

"The population appears to be in good physical

condition, due, I would say, to constant walking and a

healthy diet."

"Healthier than Dohama," Kirk agreed.

He shook his head in puzzlement.

"Why feed two towns entirely different food?

This whole place makes no sense."

Spock cocked his head.

"I would disagree, Captain. I think it makes

considerable sense from a logistical point of view.

In Dohama, the Senites have a large and

potentially dangerous population to feed and ill

placate. Ate and fatty food seem

to accomplish that task. On Khyming, the aim is

apparently to keep the population healthy, which stands

to reason if the Senites themselves live here."

Kirk glanced around at the wide variety of

humanoid species calmly eating lunch. He

saw blue skin, green skin, brown skin, and one

creature with black on half of its face and white

on the other half, perhaps a native of Cheron who'd

fled during the racial wars that decimated that

planet.

The ratio of females to males was probably

two to one, which meant that the popular wisdom

of Dohama was correct-the women got sent

to Khyming. That was probably for the Senites'

benefit, too, thought Kirk, because it prevented

fights over women in Dohama. Nobody dining in

the outdoor cafe seemed to be in any sort of

hurry, and many conversations lingered after the dishes had

been carted off.

At that moment, two Senites hovered over them,

one setting the table and another pouring glasses of

water. A third one headed their way with a tray of

bread and steaming bowls of food. Kirk wanted

to make conversation with them, but he could see that they were

busy and had several tables to service. The food

looked and smelled delicious, reminding him of

Earth delicacies like eggplant and tabouli.

"Fascinating," said Spock, after the efficient

servants had padded away.

"I

have never seen such conformity among non-Vulcans."

"Being all of one sex must help," Kirk

grumbled.

"All I want to do is get back to my ship.

If we could just find a weakness in their security

system. ."

Spock motioned about the thriving outdoor

cafe and replied, "If the Senites have been

functioning in this manner for hundreds of years, with this

degree of 112 efficiency, it will be difficult

to find a weakness in their security system."

"We can try," Kirk insisted under his breath.

"I think this island is the place to look."

"That may be," answered the Vulcan, "but the

Senites are accustomed to dealing with strangers. We

have been told we are on probation, and we are

probably under surveillance as well. We are

surely on our own, with no prospect of intervention

from the Enterprise. Plus, no one has any

recollection of anyone ever leaving the planet."

Kirk shook his head and muttered, "There must be

something in our favor."

"We are alive," Spock replied, holding

an aromatic spoonful of black vegetables under his

nose, "and the Senites are good cooks."

RENNA, KEUEN, AND McCoy made their

way across a long rope bridge that spanned the

distance between the base of the cliff and a nondescript

two-story building perched among the trees. The

women led the way with the doctor following uncertainly

behind. The doctor was frowning; he was getting seasick

with all the blasted swaying.

Kellen stopped and mildly reproached him,

"What's the matter, McCoy? Afraid of

heights?"

"Not on your life," snapped McCoy.

"I'm afraid of falling. And I like bridges

that stand still when I walk on them."

"These bridges are quite well maintained,"

replied the longtime resident.

"I think they're beautiful."

"Will you two hurry!" Renna said impatiently,

gripping the rope handrails and climbing determinedly

toward the white building. She was so far ahead that

McCoy was in no danger 114 of catching up, not

at the rate he was moving.

"Is her father badly injured?" he asked

Kellen.

"The Senites are doing all they can," she

answered.

"If they can't save him, no one can."

They caught up with the dark-haired woman at the

door to the clinic. On the door was a blue star, which

apparently marked it as a medical facility. A

burly young Senite stood guarding the entrance.

"Admittance is impossible at the moment," the

Senite told Renna in a high-pitched

voice.

"Please," she begged.

"You wouldn't let me in this morning either. I must

know how my father is doing."

"One moment," said the guard, pushing open the door

and disappearing inside.

Renna was clearly distressed, and McCoy's

heart went out to her.

"Maybe he's resting," suggested the doctor.

"I felt better when I was inside there with him,"

she said, frowning.

The Senite returned a few seconds later.

"You may come in for a brief period," it said,

holding the door open for them.

They entered a waiting room that was conspicuously

empty, suggesting to McCoy that the population of

Khyming was fairly healthy and well adjusted.

Another Senite, this one older and more distinguished

looking stood waiting beside a pair of double doors.

Upon its white robe, noticed McCoy, were

various stains and smears of blood.

The older Senite nodded in greeting.

"We operated on him again this morning," it

explained, "but his internal injuries are very severe.

He is sedated, but if you wish to see him

for a moment.. .

"I do," Renna insisted.

Kellen shivered.

"I'll wait here."

McCoy said nothing, not wanting to offend the 115

Senites and ruin his chance of seeing their facility.

The Senite doctor, as McCoy assumed it

was, held open the double doors.

McCoy followed Renna into a large and well

equipped recovery room with six beds, each

surrounded by monitoring devices that were the equal of

those in McCoy's own sickbay, if not better.

Through thick glass panels, he could see two

operating rooms beyond, and they looked every bit as

impressive.

Only two of the beds in the recovery room were

occupied, but there were six Senites in attendance.

Renna walked directly past the first patient, who

appeared to be an elderly Senite, and made her

way to the other bed, where a frail, white-bearded

man lay sleeping. Suspended from the ceiling over the

bed was a silver canopy that bathed the patient in a

warm orange glow. Renna stood beside the bed, gazing

at the thin man and wringing her hands.

"He is in stasis," said the Senite

doctor.

"Stasis?" replied McCoy with concern. "is his

blood pressure that low?"

The Senite gave McCoy a curious glance.

"He was dead when he was brought here. We

resuscitated him, but his internal organs are

crushed, and his hip and both legs are broken. We

have not replaced his hip, feeling that it is pointless

unless we can stabilize his circulation. He needs

heart, liver, and kidney transplants at the very

minimum. He has also suffered brain damage."

"if he was tortured that badly," asked

McCoy, "how could he even live to get here?"

The Senite raised an eyebrow and replied in

its furry voice, "That is a very good question."

Renna was oblivious to their conversation.

"Father?" she asked urgently.

"Father, can you hear me?"

"He cannot hear you," the Senite doctor said.

"if he were conscious, the pain would be unbearable, no

matter what we gave him."

Again, she seemed not to hear them.

"Father, father .. ." she breathed, her voice

choking.

McCoy lowered his voice.

"He's not going to make it, is he?"

The Senite doctor shrugged.

"We can keep him alive, of course, but that is

not our way. Quality of life is more important

than simply life."

"What about artificial organs?" asked

McCoy.

"We gave him an artificial heart this

morning," answered the Senite, "but arterial

damage is extensive. He is more comfortable now, but

his prognosis remains unchanged."

Renna began to sob, and McCoy gently took

her arm.

"Let's go," he whispered.

She didn't fight McCoy as he led her

back into the waiting room. Seeing their crestfallen

faces, Kellen turned away and rubbed her eyes.

Somberly, the three of them stepped out into the hazy

sun of the mountain village.

"Well," said McCoy with forced cheerfulness, "the

doctor said he's hanging in there."

"That's not what he said," muttered Renna

darkly.

"If you were his doctor, what would you tell me?"

"To be brave."

"Brave!" she spat contemptuously.

"All my life I've been brave-done things

no young girl ever ought to do. That man is all I've

ever known my entire life. I have followed him, and

he has been there to teach me.

I've never been alone."

"Don't you have a mother, or other family?" asked

McCoy.

Renna shot him a glare.

"Not on Sanctuary, I don't."

"You're not alone," said Kellen brightly,

"I'll be 117 your friend. Let's not talk about

depressing things. Come on, there's still time to see the

wind turbines!"

The blond woman took Renna's arm and led her

toward one of the three bridges that stretched from the

clinic.

"Are you coming, McCoy?" she called.

"No, thanks," he answered.

"I'm going to find my friends."

Renna looked back plaintively, as if she

didn't want to go look at wind turbines with her

overly cheerful escort. Then she bowed her head and

dutifully followed Kellen down the swaying

bridge.

"I tell you, Jim," said McCoy over a

glass of very tasty olive-colored wine, "that man

could not have gotten those injuries from being tortured.

Well, he could have, but he wouldn't have lived to get

into a spaceship and come here. They're more like the kinds

of injuries you would get in an accident-or a

crash."

Spock raised an eyebrow and asked, "Are they

the kinds of injuries one might sustain in an

escape pod that ejected too close to the ground?"

"Yes." McCoy nodded.

"That's exactly the kind of injuries they are."

Captain Kirk stroked his chin and looked over the

balcony at the alien terrain of the lush island,

stretching beneath him into the misty distance.

All afternoon he had spent sitting in an outdoor

cafe, drinking, eating, and talking. That might be a

good life for a gigolo on Rigel IV, but it was

not the kind of life he had grown accustomed to as a

starship captain. He ached to do something to escape from

this plush prison, but what?

"Okay," he answered, "maybe that dying man

is Auk-rex and Renna is what's left of his

crew. What good does it do us? We can't get

ourselves off this planet, let alone a

prisoner." 118 McCoy looked chastened.

"You told me to keep my eyes open. I thought

you might be interested."

Kirk smiled and patted his friend's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Bones. Of course I'm

interested in what you've found out. I would just be more

interested in getting back to the ship."

The doctor shrugged.

"Can't help you there. But I do think Renna,

whoever she is, feels the same way we do."

"What about her friend?" asked Spock.

"Surely Kellen must know her way around this

island as well as anyone. She has lived here almost

her entire life."

"Hmm," said Kirk thoughtfully.

"Maybe we should try to be extra nice

to Kellen. Let's go find those two. I can't stand

to sit here any longer."

He rose decisively to his feet.

"Wait a minute," protested McCoy,

"I'm not done with my wine."

"Don't get too relaxed," warned Kirk.

"We're not staying here forever."

They strolled the rope bridges and narrow

catwalks of the whitewashed village,

glancing into the occasional shop or inspecting the wares

of a Senite street vendor. In many respects,

Kirk decided, Khyming was a high-class variation

of Dohama. The food was healthier, but it was still

prepared and served exclusively by the Senites,

making everyone dependent upon them. There were sedate

cafes instead of rowdy bars, but the populace still

spent much of the day sitting and drinking.

If one desired new clothes, jewelry, or

toilet articles, one simply walked into a store

and took them, just like in Dohama. Instead of tattoo

and gaming parlors, Khyming had hair salons and

tea rooms Instead of rouged and wigged Senites,

Khyming had the real thing-women-and several of them

smiled flirtatiously at Kirk as he passed

them on the narrow walkways. Now and then, a

family passed by with children in tow.

A young woman with yellow skin and a pattern of

bumps on her forehead brazenly held out her hand and

stopped Kirk. With wide purple eyes, she

looked appraisingly from him to Spock to McCoy.

"You three are new here," she remarked, smiling.

"I know every man in Khyming. Here is my card.

If you would like a wife, or even something less

long-term, please stop by my salon. I

perform an introduction service for many eligible and

desirable females, of all races. Many of them

are quite willing to share a husband."

Kirk fingered the paper card, which bore an

address they had passed earlier.

"We'll think about it," he said, smiling back.

"You could have your pick," she added, purple eyes

twinkling.

After she sauntered away, Spock raised an

eyebrow.

"Fascinating," he observed.

"Here they have the opposite problem they have in

Dohama-not enough men."

"She's like Billiwog," remarked McCoy.

"She doesn't have to work, but she's still trying to do

something useful."

"That's just it," said Kirk with exasperation.

"What kind of life is this, if everything is just

handed to you?"

McCoy shrugged.

"Some would think that isn't so bad."

"Some isn't me," said Kirk. He glanced

around the cliff side retreat, noticing that darkness

was starting to filter through the fog.

"We had better find a place to stay

for the night."

The doctor cleared his throat.

"Maybe if we asked that lady who gave you the

card .. "You'll end up married," Kirk warned

him.

"With three or four wives," McCoy agreed,

grinning.

A Senite passed by, scooping bits of

litter into a trash receptacle at the end of a long

handle.

"Excuse me," Kirk asked the androgynous

being, "where do new arrivals spend the night?"

"The guesthouse," answered the Senite, pointing

to a sprawling structure at the base of the cliff.

Unlike the glorified treehouses, this building

looked like a ranch house from Earth's Midwest,

thought Kirk, and he eagerly led the way. They

trod across a rope bridge to a small

pavilion, then wound their way down a spiral

staircase to the ground.

McCoy sighed.

"Feels good to be on solid ground again."

"Captain," said Spock, pointing in the

direction from which they had just come, "I believe that may

be the seminary we were told about."

Kirk and McCoy followed the line of his

outstretched hand and saw a magnificent white

building, perched on the highest visible ledge of the

mountain and partially hidden by twisted spires of rock.

The encroaching fog made the place look ethereal,

like a palace from a childhood fairy tale. From the

village itself it would be impossible to see the

structure, and Kirk wondered how people got to it.

He could see no bridges connecting the palace with the

rest of Khyming.

"We've got to get in there," Kirk vowed.

"There you are!" called a familiar voice.

They turned to see the lissome Kellen striding

toward them from the guesthouse.

"You've got to help Renna," she said.

"I can't seem to do anything to cheer her up. If

her father dies, I don't know what will happen

to her."

Captain Kirk bestowed his most charming smile upon

the young woman.

"We were just looking for you. Tell me, what is that

building up there?"

"The seminary. It's where the Senites live."

"What a magnificent building," he mused.

"Can you take us to it?"

"Only Senites can do that," she said with confusion.

"Why go there? The Senites live very simply, and

there's not much to see."

"We are very interested in architecture," replied

Spock.

"Not now," insisted Kellen, grabbing Kirk's

arm and dragging him toward the guesthouse.

"Please, try to cheer her up. I want her to like

it here."

"Why is that so important?" asked Kirk.

The question stopped Kellen in her tracks, and she

gave him a quizzical stare.

"Because this is where she has to live, and the Senites

built all of this for our happiness."

Kirk looked pointedly at Spock and

McCoy and said, "Why don't the two of you go

ahead and arrange rooms for us. And see if you can

find Renna."

His comrades nodded and moved quickly toward the

sprawling white house, while Kirk took

Kellen's hand in his. He chose his next words

carefully, not wanting to offend an ally they

desperately needed.

"Kellen," he began, motioning to the dusky sky,

"there is a great deal out there that you don't

know about. Renna has seen other worlds, other

cities, and she probably has family and friends in

places far away from here. Even if her father were not so

badly injured, this would be a difficult adjustment for

her, coming to Sanctuary. It's been difficult for

all of us. Can you understand that a person might not be

happy here?"

She bit her lip.

"Maybe not right away, but in time .. ."

"If you want Renna to be happy, you should think

about the possibility of helping her-and us-leave

Sanctuary."

"That's impossible!" exclaimed the blond

woman, clearly shocked by the idea.

"I don't think it's impossible," answered

Kirk.

"I know the Senites have transporters, and they

must have impounded thousands of spaceships over the

years. I'm not asking you to betray anyone-I just

want you to think about what I've said," The young

woman nodded, as if she would try to keep an open

mind. She didn't pull her hand away, but instead

gave his a tiny squeeze.

"You are strange, Jim," she said, puzzled.

"I don't have the feeling that you have been

persecuted, as my parents and so many others have been.

If you'd been persecuted, you might understand what

Sanctuary is all about."

"I understand its purpose," Kirk replied.

"But I also think people can make a mistake in coming

here. This life, as beautiful and simple as it is,

is not for everyone."

"No," Kellen answered sadly, "I have seen

a few who were unhappy."

"What happens to them?"

She shrugged.

"They go away."

The captain didn't press for details, but he

doubted they had "gone away" into the stars. Instead,

he gripped Kellen's hand warmly and began to walk

with her among the profusion of orange-crested bladder

plants.

"Let's just walk for a while," he said, smiling,

"and you can tell me about your life here."

Even inside, Khyming's guesthouse bore a

marked resemblance to a ranch, thought Dr.

McCoy. Warm wood paneling and rustic

furnishings graced its bright and airy rooms, and

Spock and McCoy had no difficulty securing

a sumptuous suite with a bedroom, 123

a sitting room, and four large beds. The

tight-lipped Senites who ran the place would not

tell them who else was staying there, but they had seen a

large party of dark-skinned humanoids, numbering

about a dozen, in the dining room. They huddled together as

if still under attack by some unseen force, and McCoy

was tempted to tell them they didn't have anything

to fear-except perhaps their Senite hosts. There was no

sign of Renna, and the doctor assumed she must be in

her room.

He sat in a plush chair on a wide veranda

at the rear of the house, sipping a glass of

olive-colored wine and watching darkness and fog

consume the towering jungle. Spock was not exactly

pacing, but he stood stiffly, watching the doorway

to the dining room.

"Relax, Spock," urged the doctor.

"Watching that door won't make anybody come

through it."

Spock stiffened to attention and replied, "The

captain said we should not relax too much."

"No"-McCoy yawned--but relaxing too much

is not something you have to worry about. You could at least

sit down."

The Vulcan considered the idea for a

moment, then took a seat in one of the plush chairs

scattered about the veranda. He still didn't look

relaxed.

"I wonder what they're doing on the

Enterprise?" mused McCoy.

"They're probably having a helluva time

explaining all this to Starfleet. And Starfleet is

probably having a helluva time making do without the

Enterprise. All because we wanted to catch one

lousy pirate, who is either dead or stuck here like

we are." He craned his neck to peer into the gloomy

sky.

"Do you think they're still up there, Spock?"

"Unknown," answered the Vulcan.

"It would be logical for them to remain in orbit

for a period of 124 time, but it has been five

days. Starfleet regulations require a search

period of forty-eight hours for a missing landing party,

and we have exceeded that time."

"Yeah," muttered the doctor, "and they couldn't

search for us even if they wanted to. It doesn't

look good."

The Vulcan nodded in agreement.

"Our situation would seem to be rather untenable."

A grim silence followed as darkness

descended completely upon the whitewashed house at the

edge of the jungle. Salmon-colored lights

flickered on, giving the veranda a strange glow that

matched the sky, which was lit from behind by Sanctuary's

first moon. They heard the footsteps of a solitary

figure approaching from the side of the house and turned

with relief to see who it was.

"Hello," said Renna, slumping into one of the

chairs. She glanced around.

"Where's the third musketeer?"

"I don't know," McCoy lied.

"What have you been doing?. was "Looking around." The

slim brunette shrugged.

"Interesting what stuff you can find in this

village."

"You referred to The Three Musketeers, was

Spock observed.

"Are you familiar with Earth fiction?"

"Uh, well," stammered Renna, shifting

uneasily in her chair, "it's just a phrase I

picked up somewhere."

McCoy suggested knowingly, "From Federation

computers, maybe?"

"Look," she said angrily, "as far as I can

tell, we're all in the same fix.

None of us wanted to be on Sanctuary, but here we

are. You people don't represent anybody now, so

stop pretending you do."

McCoy lowered his voice to ask, "Are you still

interested in leaving this planet?"

"Not while my father's in the clinic," answered

Renna. Then she sat forward conspiratorially.

"If he were well, and we had the right plan . his

The door from the dining room opened, and Kellen and

Kirk strolled onto the veranda. Upon seeing

Renna, they let go of each other's hands.

Renna smiled archly at Kellen.

"I see the welcoming committee is working

overtime."

"Well, you haven't been much fun," the blond

woman answered defensively.

"At least Jim is interested in learning about our

lives here. Khyming isn't really so bad."

"I bet he's interested, all right," said

Renna, gazing pointedly at the captain.

He returned her gaze for a moment, then pulled

up a chair.

"So tell me," he asked cheerfully, "what do

people do for amusement in the evenings?"

"We have tea dances!" Kellen said

excitedly. Then she looked downcast.

"But there's not one tonight. We also have a library where

you can take out books. Mainly, we have dinner and

talk." She smiled at Kirk.

"And take walks."

Renna stood up and stretched her arms.

"I think I'll take a walk-to the clinic

to see my father."

"There is no need for that," came a lilting

voice.

Everyone turned in unison to see a white-robed

figure standing in the doorway of the guesthouse. It was

Zicree.

"What do you mean by that?" Renna asked warily.

The Senite stepped onto the veranda, its hands

folded politely in its long white sleeves and a

look of care upon its ageless face.

"Your father is dead, my dear. We are sorry."

"Dead!" she shrieked, stunned.

"But you said you could keep him alive!"

"A decision was reached not to do so." 126

"What!" she shrieked again.

"Nobody consulted me about that."

The slim Senite said nothing. It simply

turned and padded back into the rambling

guesthouse.

Kellen moved to comfort her friend.

"The Senites wouldn't have done it unless it was for the

best," she assured her earnestly.

"Oh, shut up, you little twerp!" snapped

Renna, shoving the woman away.

Fighting tears, she stormed into the house. Kellen

looked pained and confused for a moment, then ran after her

new friend.

"Hmm," said McCoy, "now there's somebody who

likes the Senites even less than we do."

The three reluctant fugitives stood

quietly on the veranda of Khyming's guesthouse,

waiting to see if Renna, Kellen, or Zicree

would return. When no one appeared, the captain

finally motioned Spock and McCoy to follow him to the

edge of the jungle and gather close.

Kirk whispered, "It took a lot of small

talk for me to get it out of her, but Kellen told

me that the Senites do indeed have a transporter

room inside their seminary. She said the entrance to the

place is through a cave and is heavily guarded, and

there's no other way to get up to the ridge.

But she says that people from the village are occasionally

taken there for religious training. She went

there often as a child."

"Yes," said McCoy, "but will she take us

there?"

"I'm not sure," answered Kirk.

"She's very loyal to the Senites."

"Did she go by herseIP" asked Spock.

"Or was she always accompanied by a Senite?"

Kirk replied glumly, "I gather she was always

accompanied by a Senite."

The Vulcan concluded, "It will be very difficult

to convince a Senite to help us."

"Maybe you don't need that," whispered a fourth

voice.

With alarm, they swiveled in the direction of the

voice and saw Renna crouching in the shadows of a

bladder tree. She stood and made her way

quietly toward them.

"How long have you been listening?" asked Kirk.

"Long enough," she answered.

"Don't worry-I ditched Kellen. I made

a discovery of my own today. I found a closet in this

very building where a few Senite robes are stored.

I suppose they have extras in case they get theirs

dirty. None of you could pass as Senites, but I

might be able to."

"I'm sorry about your father," said McCoy.

Renna turned away and dabbed at her eyes.

"As far as I'm concerned, they killed him. You

may not have noticed, but there aren't any people in

wheelchairs around here. Nobody disabled or mentally

diseased. I think the Senites like to keep things a little

too perfect in Khyming. I bet if my father had

been in your sickbay, McCoy, you would've

managed to save him."

"That's kind of you to say," replied the doctor.

"I certainly wouldn't have pulled the plug after

only a few days."

"Renna," said Kirk in a businesslike tone,

"you know who we are. And I think we know who you are.

Why are you willing to help us?"

"It's not to help you," she answered.

"I said I'm from Alloseng, and that's true. In

fact, I'm a wealthy woman there, with an estate

that makes their seminary look like a dump. As far as

you knowing who I am, you don't really know, and it's

going to stay that way. If we help each other

escape, you have to pledge to me that you will let me go

free. I will pledge to you that I will, uh, lead a

simpler life than I used to.

You came here looking for a pirate named

Auk-rex, and 128 you can safely put in your

records that Auk-rex is dead."

"Agreed." Kirk nodded.

"Captain," Spock interrupted, "regulation

2477.3 prohibits us from-was "Damn

regulations!" McCoy cursed under his breath.

"Regulations won't do anything to get us off this

planet."

"Auk-rex is dead," Kirk told his first

officer.

"Let's leave it at that." The turned to Renna.

"About this plan?"

"We no,-d more information from Kellen," she

replied, gazing at Kirk with intense black

eyes.

"You seem to be on better terms with her than I

am, so I'll leave that to you. We need to know the

hours and the types of classes they have in the seminary,

so that if I come up there leading you three, it won't

look suspicious. And we need to know where the

transporter room is."

"All right," agreed the captain.

"What about you?"

"I won't steal a robe until we're ready

to go," she whispered.

"They may count them. Don't worry about me-I

have some experience in these matters."

Kirk smiled.

"I'm glad you're on our side."

Renna shrugged.

"Strange bedfellows, as they say. We can't do

anything more tonight, so I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Good night," the men muttered in unison, and

Renna marched swiftly back into the house.

"A remarkable woman," observed Spock.

"That she is," agreed Kirk.

"I hope we can trust her."

Chapter Nine

ScoTty STOOD at the science station on the

bridge of the Enterprise, thinking about Mr.

Spock, who usually stood there. He tried to keep

his attention on the tilde ensor readings that pranced

across the screen, changing constantly with subtle

shifts in wave patterns emanating from the planet,

but thoughts of his missing comrades kept intruding. If

Mr. Spock were here now, would he know what to do? The

Scotsman was fresh out of ideas on how to respond

to this predicament with any sort of reasonable action.

He now viewed the loss of the captain, first officer,

and doctor as a tragedy, perhaps

irreversible. He could not guess what they were facing

below, or how to help them.

Starfleet had understood the predicament and, for

once, there seemed to be no immediate crises in star

systems closer to home. The maneuvers would go on

without them, and Starfleet had dispatched another ship

to Sanctuary, the USS Neptune oceanic

research ship. Starfleet had decided to follow a

backdoor policy to see if the gates

to Sanctuary could be opened by an offer to exchange

information on aquatic life and oceans. Scotty

didn't want to dissuade them from this notion, although he

doubted they would make much headway with the single minded

Senites. He was glad the Neptune was coming, because

it would help to corroborate his reports, but the

engineer also knew the smaller ship might be coming

to keep vigil after the Enterprise was inevitably

called away.

He turned to look at the planet on the

viewscreen, filled with aqua seas and strafed

by gleaming white clouds. It was strangely compelling,

he had to admit, and he could see why there was an almost

daily influx of new arrivals. But did they

realize what they were giving up? There was no way of

knowing what they were getting in exchange for their

freedom.

He heard Uhura speaking into her mouthpiece.

She was so skilled that she could conduct her business

without interrupting anyone else on the bridge, but

Scotty was attuned to everything that happened around him.

In fact, so little had happened in the endless hours of

waiting that he'd turned into an eavesdropper, and

he was waiting for Uhura when she looked up.

"I don't suppose the Senites have called?"

he asked with forced cheerfulness.

"No." She shook her head forlornly.

"But Captain Garvak of the Klingon vessel

wishes to speak with you. He says he only has a

moment."

"Put him on the screen." Scotty strode to the

captain's chair.

"Greetings," said the gray-haired Klingon.

He was dressed incongruously in a formal green

uniform plastered with insignias and decorations, instead

of his usual short-sleeved leather tunic. "I come

to bid you farewell." I "Indeed?" Scotty

smiled broadly, knowing this was an occasion for rejoicing,

for several reasons.

"Yes." The Klingon nodded smugly.

"It seems my superiors finally read

my dispatches. They have reached a conclusion I reached

years ago Sanctuary is the most effective

prison in the galaxy. No one who goes there is

ever seen or heard from again. Why in Kronos should we

try to stop our enemies from reaching that pest hole He

shrugged.

"I am sorry if that appraisal does not sit

well with you, but my days of futility are over.

Henceforth, there will be no imperial Klingon vessel

stationed at Sanctuary. We are well rid of most

of those who flee there."

With a quick salute, he added, "Good-bye, Commander

Scott. I hope we never meet under conditions of

war, but I know that is possible."

"Perhaps not forever," answered Scotty.

"I have included in my dispatches a full

report of all the aid and advice ye've given

me. I wish I could've proven your assessment

wrong, but ye've been correct and straightforward in

every regard."

"Experience is a harsh teacher," declared Garvak.

"I will die before I come back here. Farewell."

The image of the hardened warrior was replaced

by another view of the glimmering planet.

"I'll put the Klingon ship on the

viewscreen," offered Sulu.

The bridge personnel of the Enterprise watched

with a mixture of sadness and envy as the sleek

Klingon warship eased out of orbit. As if in

salute, it tilted a gull-like wing at them for a

moment, then achieved warp speed with a flash of light,

and was gone. At least someone had escaped

Sanctuary, thought Scolty.

Hand in hand, the attractive fair-haired

couple strolled among the shops and vendors of the

picturesque cliff side village. People smiled

as they passed them, because everyone knew Kellen, and

her new beau seemed quite presentable, especially in

the new clothes she had picked out for him that morning.

Captain Kirk nodded pleasantly in

response, even at the Senites. He looked like

he was having a grand time, when all he could think of was

how to steer the conversation in the direction he needed it

to go. A light drizzle began to fall, and they

ducked into a tearoom.

"So," he said, shaking raindrops off the sleeve

of his new beige jacket, "tell me more about what

it was like to grow up here. What kinds of classes do

the Senites teach?"

"Philosophy, mainly," answered

Kellen.

"They are a very ancient order, and their teachings

explain much of what they are doing for everyone in this part

of the galaxy."

"If I wanted to take a class," asked

Kirk, "what would I ask for?"

Kellen frowned in thought.

"I suppose you could take a class in beginning

philosophy."

"Is that class taught every day?"

"I don't know. I could find out."

"Would you please?" Kirk smiled at her.

Kellen nodded and walked to the back of the small

restaurant to consult the Senite proprietor.

Kirk peered out the window at the falling rain,

wondering what time of day it was and how he could

extricate himself from Kellen without making her

upset, or suspicious.

She returned with a smile on her face.

"Jancree says there is a beginning class this

afternoon. But you must consult your adviser-that would be

Zicree."

"Of course," said Kirk.

"Shall we have a seat?"

Kellen beamed with delight, and Kirk

steered her to a table by the window, far away from the

Senite's station in the rear of the room. He waited

until the white-robed figure had served them steaming

helpings of tea and biscuits to continue his

interrogation.

"You know," he remarked, "it seems odd to me that

you have never seen any more of Sanctuary than this

island. Having done it myself, I wouldn't advise you

to take a boat between here and the mainland, but you could

transport over. The Senites would let you use

their transporter, wouldn't they?"

Kellen looked shocked at the idea.

"I don't think so," she replied.

"I know they transport people when they first arrive

on Sanctuary, but none of the refugees use it after

that. No, I don't think the Senites would let us

use their transporter."

"But I would like to explore this planet with you," said

Kirk, reaching across the table to take her hand.

"There's so much we could see and do.

Then again, maybe the Senites' transporter

isn't advanced enough to send us anywhere we want to go."

"Oh, I certainly think it is," she

protested.

"I've seen their transporter room

inside the seminary-it's huge, large enough to send an

army somewhere."

"I'd love to see it," Kirk declared.

"Once you reach the seminary, it's right inside?"

"No, you have to go up to the second floor,"

answered Kellen.

"The door is marked by a red circle. But you had

better ask Zicree about all this."

"Oh, I plan to," he assured her, stroking

her hand gently.

"I want to team the Senite way of doing things."

Renna, Spock, and McCoy sat as

patiently as they could on the veranda of Khyming's

guesthouse, waiting for the return of Captain

Kirk. Renna rose to her feet and strolled with

forced nonchalance into the warmly paneled library.

She began scanning through the miscellaneous

volumes available on the reading 134 terminal.

She had already determined that it was a stand-alone computer

that contained nothing but stored texts, albeit of a very

eclectic nature.

As she scanned various topics, she began

to think that she and the Senites had much in common, because they

were both robbers of technological information. If this

small sample was any indication of the

sorts of data they had gathered over the centuries,

then they were in a league far above hers. Of course,

there was a measure of sadism in the fact that space

travel and the application of most of the knowledge in the data

bank were forever denied to the inhabitants of

Sanctuary.

At least, that's the way the Senites wanted

to make it appear. Renna had her doubts, because she

couldn't imagine that the Senites, or any race,

could figure out every angle. They had missed something in

their vaunted defense strategy, and she was pleased with

her choice of cohorts to help her find it.

True, Kirk and company had been her enemies

until a few days ago, but she and they were natural

allies at this stage, because they'd all jumped into the

same dark pool with their eyes closed. Having been

a thief and a pirate all her young life, Renna was

quite certain that she recognized fellow travelers in

the sterile Senites. They were bent, to use an old

Earth phrase, in more ways than one.

Of course, she and her father were originally from Earth,

and she didn't care anymore whether the Three

Musketeers knew it or not. They had other

problems, and she enjoyed seeing their discomfort at

having been trapped in an even bigger web

than the one they had spun for her. Renna had always

known that she and her father would be caught one day, but she

couldn't have foreseen the strange form of her punishment.

Sanctuary had just enough freedom to be tempting, but

she couldn't stand the fact that all her 135 years of

work-and her father's-had gone for nothing. If retirement

was to be the fate of Auk-rex, let it at least be

in the midst of the spoils.

But her father was gone, and she was alone. In the last

few years, she had been the captain of their tiny but

effective enterprise. He was the computer genius

who had figured out how to tap, via microwaves,

into almost any computer before its owners knew what was

happening, often during negotiations. Once a

ship's shields came down, the computer was theirs for the

picking; they simply located the most valuable

cargo and transported it to their own hold. Then it was

good-bye, Charlie.

There had been imitators, of course, and the

legend of Auk-rex had grown by leaps and bounds.

That rigorous life was now over, and he was gone. The

ending had come with a fierceness that made her feel like they

were being punished. Well, the loss of her father, best

friend, and partner was a hard enough blow, and Renna was

determined to salvage what she could of the

business.

She heard Kirk enter before his men heard him, and

she watched him stride past the open doorway. He

stopped, considering whether he should speak to her, but he

finally kept marching through the dining room and out onto the

veranda. She turned off the computer terminal and wandered

after him. He fascinated her, but she was going to keep

her hands off for the time being.

She wanted to keep her wits about her, and she

suspected Kirk did, too.

Renna knew he was expending his energy on

Kellen, and she was relieved that the woman had a

new hobby.

Yes, she thought, these were good co-conspirators.

They were honest and she wasn't, which gave her the

advantage. It also made them predictable, which was

what she wanted. Of course, the captain could

renege on his promise to let her go comandthe

Vulcan certainly 136 wouldn't mind-but she

didn't think he would. If they ever got off this

confounded planet, they would all be too grateful

to complain.

She spotted her associates in their usual

place, huddled at the edge of the patio, next to the

looming bladder trees. They looked like

conspirators, but she didn't care-boldness was their

only weapon. No one expected them to escape from

Sanctuary, so they had to try.

Upon joining the group, she whispered to Kirk, "So

what did you find out?"

"There's a beginner's philosophy class this

afternoon," he answered.

"I

told Kellen I was going to find Zicree

to enroll in it. More important, the transporter

room is on the second floor, and the door is

marked with a red circle."

"Very good," approved Renna.

It was Spock's turn to report.

"Dr. McCoy and I have located the entrance to the

cave. There was one Senite guard on duty."

"Is there any reason why we should wait?" asked

the captain.

"None," answered Renna.

"There are two Senites in the guesthouse-the

three of you do something to distract them, while I steal

a robe. Let's meet at the first pavilion at

the top of the spiral stairs."

"All right," said Kirk with a bemused smile.

"If you need my advice in any of this

planning, please ask."

"I will," she said casually, "but it's very simple.

You have done your part, Captain Kirk, by getting the

information, and I will do mine by getting us inside.

Spock and McCoy will do their parts by figuring out the

transporter controls. It's called teamwork, and

if you can think of a better way .. ."

"Not at all," protested Kirk.

"I only wonder if there's something we might have

overlooked."

"I agree with Renna's plan," said Spock.

"The 137 element of surprise is crucial.

We can overpower the guard, if need be."

"That's what I like about you, Spock," remarked the

slim brunette, "you're practical. You know

we'll get one chance at this, and that's it."

Grumbled McCoy, "The worst they can do to us is

make us take another boat ride."

Kirk nodded, then bellowed, "Wine! Can't we

get a bottle of wine out here?"

Renna winked at them and scurried off around the

side of the rambling house.

Kirk could see that both Senites who were in

attendance that day were hovering around the large party in the

dining room, so he turned to McCoy and

screamed at the top of his lungs, "How dare you

call me that!"

"But that's exactly what you are!" yelled

McCoy.

"And I'll call you that any time I like!"

"Oh, yeah!" thundered Kirk.

"I'll make you eat those words!"

By now, the Senites had come running, and several

of the new arrivals were peering out the curtained windows

at the loudmouths on the veranda.

"Now, now," said Spock with reasoned assurance,

41 anger never solved a problem. Let us order

some wine and have a toast."

461 can't drink with him, snarled Kirk, pointing

a finger at McCoy.

"Did you hear what he called me?"

"No, I did not," Spock answered

truthfully.

"He called me a ... what was it?"

"A pompous windbag," the doctor replied.

"That was it!" shouted Kirk.

"Those are fighting words."

"We can bring you some wine," one of the Senites

offered.

"Very well," muttered the captain.

"Do so at once!" 138 He winked at

McCoy as the two Senites, scrambled to do his

bidding. Kirk motioned with his head, and the three

troublemakers followed the Senites into the dining room.

Kirk and McCoy continued to glare at each other,

as one Senite returned to the large party and the other

padded into the kitchen.

Kirk couldn't see Renna, but then he didn't

know the location of the closet she was raiding. As long

as the Senites were kept busy, that was all that

mattered for the moment. When the Senite returned with a

bottle of hazel wine, McCoy promptly

spilled it.

"You're clumsy, too!" growled Kirk.

"I'm not going to drink with a pompous windbag,"

countered comThe doctor.

"I'm leaving!"

McCoy marched out, and Kirk motioned

imperiously.

"Forget the wine. We'll get something in the

village."

The Sertite sighed with exasperation.

"As you wish."

"We are sorry for the commotion," Spock assured

him.

Kirk and Spock made their way slowly out the

front door of the guesthouse, seeing nothing of either

Renna or McCoy, Finally, they spied the

doctor loitering near the bottom of the spiral

staircase; it led up to a small white gazebo that

connected several rope bridges to various parts of the

village. He started to climb as Kirk and

Spock meandered toward the small structure.

At the top, they found Renna and McCoy already

occupied. The doctor held a white robe in one

hand and was helping Renna strip off her jacket and

pants with the other. She stood shivering in the drizzle

in her unisex Senite underwear.

"Here!" she whispered, tossing a dish towel

to Kirk.

"Wrap this around my breasts. Got to strap them

down if I want to look like a Senite."

He blinked in surprise for a moment, then drew

the towel around her shivering torso. He pulled her

roughly to him as he tied the towel in a strong knot.

She paid him scant attention as she adjusted the

towel to camouflage her feminine attributes.

"McCoy," she said, "here's some string. Tie

my hair back. I have to wear the hood, but that will

look normal in this rain."

Efficiently, they transformed the lithe young woman

into a lithe young Senite. She looked too pretty

to be a Senite, thought Kirk, until she began

to practice a bland expression that would make the most

blissedout street sweeper proud.

He chuckled under his breath.

"You know, Renna, in Dohama they do just the

opposite-some of the Senites dress like women."

"I don't doubt it," replied Renna.

"They make my skin crawl. But listen, while

I'm a Senite, call me Rencree."

"Rencree," repeated Kirk, stepping back

to admire their handiwork. She was small for a Senite,

but she had selected a small robe. He thought he

could still detect her breasts, but then again, he knew

to look.

"I must talk like this," she said in a furry,

nondescript voice.

"Spock, lead the way to that cave."

The Vulcan nodded and strode onto a rope

bridge that stretched upward two levels into the

hierarchy of Khyming. Renna pulled her hood down

over her face and folded her hands into the ample

sleeves of her robe, looking every bit like one of the

ubiquitous caretakers of Sanctuary.

Kirk and McCoy fell in behind them and stepped

carefully across the wet slats of the bridge. The

rain made the swaying seem all the more treacherous, and

they pulled on the handrails to climb the last few

meters.

They found themselves standing in a honeycomb of apartments

carved into the cliff side Or maybe they were

caves. thought Kirk. The Senites might have begun

their struggle on this planet in caves, hidden from the

original persecutors, and now they refused to leave

their hive like domain. His idle theory was

corroborated a few minutes later when they stood

at the entrance to what appeared to be a labyrinth of

cave tunnels. Most led to apartment entrances, but

one stretched away into the distance, where a white robed

figure could be seen seated at a desk.

"Permit me," said Renna in her Senite

voice, stepping in front of Spock and leading the

way down the tunnel. Kirk, Spock, and

McCoy fell in behind her, trying to look more

curious than nervous. They were on their way to class

to learn about their new world, Kirk reminded himself, and

he planted an eager smile on his face.

Renna, or Rencree, stopped at the desk, where

her counterpart looked up lazily.

"Greetings," it said.

"Greetings," she replied, still waiting. Kirk

admired her act-she wasn't going to volunteer

any more information than was needed.

The Senite guard peered at her. It was one of

those young, burly Senites who appeared to be used

often for such duty.

"You are not a resident here," it concluded.

"What is the purpose of your visit with these

fugitives?"

"Beginning philosophy class," she replied in

a lilting but low-pitched voice.

"Ah, yes," said the guard, consulting a schedule

frozen under plastic on its desk.

"But that is not for one hour yet. Why are you so

early?"

"Testing," the ersatz Senite replied.

"Testing?" The guard smiled, looking Kirk,

Spock, and McCoy over. More and more, Kirk was

beginning to feel like tilde a prisoner. "You

may pass." The Senite slid its hand over a

colored panel in a peculiar fashion. The

metal door behind the Senite's desk slid open and

allowed them passage to a turbolift.

Renna swallowed hard, trying not to look

at Kirk and the others. When the door clanged shut

and nothing happened, she said hoarsely, "Second

floor."

"Thank you," responded a metallic voice.

With a barely discernible movement, the turbolift

journeyed upward for several seconds before opening

onto what looked like a vast bunker carved from a

cave. Lines of various colors stretched along the

floors and walls; Kirk decided they were

indicators, and marched down the redlined corridor.

His bold decision was rewarded a few moments later

when they spied a double door with a melon-sized red

circle painted in its center.

The captain could hardly believe the ease of their

entry, but this was no time to stop or reconsider. He

scanned every corner and corridor about them while

Renna pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Spock and McCoy swiftly followed, but the

captain waited to assure himself that no one had seen

them enter before going inside.

It looked like a cargo transporter room, with

huge chambers dozens of meters in height and

width, gigantic lenses suspended from the ceiling,

and rows and rows of controls and sensors. McCoy

didn't know where to start, but Spock strode

to the nearest control panel and began to study it.

Motorized carts stood empty in a neat row, and

cargo doors lined the farthest wall. This

transporter looked capable of sending them all the

way back to Earth, thought Kirk.

He rushed to Spock's side.

"Can you locate the Enterprise?"

"Unknown, Captain," answered the Vulcan.

"This transporter room is designed to be run

by a team of technicians. It is sufficiently

complicated that I will need time to study it before I know

its operations in detail."

"You haven't got any time," Kirk replied,

more to himself than to Spock.

Nervously, he prowled the row of alien computers

and scanners, wondering which one would find the

Enterprise and get them home.

McCoy hovered over what looked like a steering

panel for the robot carts, but he was hesitant

to touch any of the strange levers and dials. Renna

started for the door to see if she could lock it, but she

was a moment too late-the door swung open, and

Zicree entered, followed by a triumphant

Kellen.

"Do you see?" sneered the blond

woman.

"I told you we'd find them in the transporter

room. Kirk did everything but ask for a map to this

place."

The Senite shook its head with disappointment and

drew a weapon that looked like a silver piccolo.

"What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious what they are doing?"

Kellen asked.

"They are trying to return to the persecutors! You

were right to have me watch them. None of these fugitives

can be trusted."

While Kirk glared at the young woman, Spock

edged closer to Zicree.

"Why not let us go home?" asked McCoy.

"It won't affect anything you're trying

to accomplish."

"It is forbidden!" snapped Kellen.

"That is what the persecutors want, to be able

to come and go from Sanctuary."

"I gave you a second chance to redeem yourselves,"

said Zicree, "and you have repaid me with deceit. This

is a very grave offense."

Kirk ducked behind the row of controls, distracting

Zicree for a moment.

That was all Spock needed to 143 leap forward and

apply a Vulcan nerve pinch to Zicree's

neck, making the Senite slump to the ground in a

white-robed heap. Kellen made a dash for the

door, but Renna was all over her, wrestling the

bigger woman back into the room. Captain Kirk

slammed the door shut and threw a desk in front

of it. Then a piercing alarm sounded so loudly that it

seemed to vibrate the cave and everything in it.

Spock rushed to Renna's side and applied a

nerve pinch to the blond woman, who slumped into a

stupor.

Kirk shouted over the wrenching alarm, "Spock!

You've got to get that transporter working!"

"I believe," responded the Vulcan, "that I

can beam us to the transporter's last setting. Without

more time, I cannot beam us to the Enterprise or the

destination of our choice."

"Where is the last setting?" asked Kirk.

"Unknown," answered Spock.

A ngry fists pounded and shouts sounded behind the double

doors, and a Senite tried to push his way in.

Kirk threw himself against the door, smashing the

Senite's arm and eliciting a howl of pain.

McCoy piled a chair and more furniture

against the doors, and both men leaned into the barricade

to keep the Senites out.

"Get it working!" yelled Kirk.

Sp9ck immediately began to manipulate one of

several sets of controls.

Lights danced in sequence between the lenses in the

ceiling and the illuminated pads upon the floor, as he

mastered the rudiments of the system.

"Everyone to the activated pads!" he called.

He didn't have to yell twice as Renna,

McCoy, and Captain Kirk leaped upon the glowing

transporter pads, and Spock eased the levers

forward.

Their molecules sparkled in columns of

phosphorescent light before gradually fading away.

With the doors deserted, the Senites smashed through the

makeshift barricade. They came streaming into the

room just as Spock dashed from behind the controls and

onto the pad. A Senite fired a weapon that

missed him by centimeters and bored a hole in the

wall of the cave.

A second later, Spock was gone in the

transporter beam, and the pack of Senites stood

dumbfounded.

As THE SEN ME transporter

scrambled his molecules, Captain Kirk had no

idea where he was headed, but he didn't expect

to end up where he had already been. Nevertheless, he,

McCoy, and Renna materialized on a main

thoroughfare in the rowdy seaside village of

Doharna. It was the middle of the afternoon, but there was not a

single creature in sight in this town that two days

earlier had been teeming with undesirables from all

over the galaxy. The wind, which had so recently

carried laughter and the smells of ale and grilled

meat, was silent except for the dirty awnings it

flapped. Dohama was completely deserted.

Before Kirk had time to mouth the obvious question,

Spock materialized beside him.

"We should run," suggested the Vulcan.

"I tried to reset the transporter, but the

Senites may find these coordinates and come after

us."

Kirk nodded, and the small party set off at a

determined jog down the center of the abandoned 146

street. Without people to enliven them, the empty

storefronts and gambling parlors looked

fraudulent, like the scenery for a play that was over.

"This is Dohama, isn't it?" asked the

captain, mystified.

"Yeah," answered McCoy.

"That jewelry stand was where a Senite wanted

to pierce my ears."

"Where did everyone go?" Kirk wondered aloud.

"Unknown," muttered Spock.

Kirk glanced over his shoulder, then led the

runners around a corner. As soon as he felt they

were out of the line of sight of the transporter

coordinates, he slowed to a brisk walk.

"This is most peculiar," admitted the

Vulcan, peering into a deserted tattoo parlor.

"Two days ago, the residents seemed to have

nowhere else to go."

McCoy pointed to a three-story building with

several quaint balconies.

"That's where the Senites were hanging out-the ones

dressed as women.

Where are they all?"

"I don't know." Kirk twisted around, trying

to make sense out of it, when he discovered that someone

else was missing.

"Where's Renna?"

Like whirling dervishes, Kirk, Spock, and

McCoy turned in every direction, trying to find the

woman who had so recently joined their

desperate quest. But they were back to three-Renna

was gone, too.

McCoy stumbled into Kirk and muttered,

"What's happening, Jim?"

"Calm yourself, Doctor," said Spock.

"It is quite possible that Renna chose to desert us.

Although not a very loyal decision, it could be considered a

logical one. Disguised as a Senite, she may be

safer traveling alone."

"Renna!" Kirk shouted angrily.

"Renna!"

"Be quiet, you damn fools!" cursed another

voice over their heads. They looked up to see the

hulking, hirsute figure of Billiwog leaning

over one of the railings of the Senite pleasure

palace.

"Get your big mouths up here," he whispered,

"so you can see what's happening."

They quickly obeyed, entering the narrow three story

building and climbing the velvet-lined staircase to the

top floor. There they found the shipbuilder waiting

for them. He put his finger to his lips and motioned them

toward a window with lacy curtains.

"Look out there," he whispered, "and you'll see

what the Senites are up to. But don't

let them see you."

Surreptitiously, Kirk, Spock, and

McCoy took turns peering from the upper window, which

commanded a view all the way to the beach, the one they had

crawled up from when first arriving at Dohama. Although

the town was deserted, the beach was not. A horde of

Senites was busy piling what appeared to be

bodies into several large conveyances. The motorized

wagons had various gated compartments, each large enough

to contain a sleeping, or dead, humanoid. The

Senites were filling the slots as rapidly as they

could, because a hundred more fugitives lay waiting,

stretched out like dead fish along the sand.

"Good God!" breathed McCoy.

"What are they doing?"

"Harvesting," said Billiwog.

"I've been through several of these. You fellows were

lucky you got out when you did."

"Fascinating," remarked Spock.

"What is the purpose of this harvest?"

Billiwog shrugged.

"I'll be damned if I know. It happens

maybe once a year, as soon as the village

fills up to the rafters with fugitives. The

Senites must put something into the food and

drink, because people start passing out in droves."

"How did you escape it?" Kirk asked

suspiciously. The burly humanoid winked.

"Remember the other day-you asked me why I was

cooking my own food? As soon as I see the

village getting crowded, I start eating nothing but

fish I catch myself. I'm sure the Senites know

I know what they're up to, but I'm careful not

to tell anyone and start a panic. I do what I can

by telling people to get out of here, and I give them boats

to do it."

"Why do you stay in this place?" asked McCoy

with a shiver.

"I could ask you the same thing," Billiwog

replied.

"Why did you come back?"

The captain sighed.

"That's a long story. There was a woman with us.

Actually, she was dressed like a Senite. Did

you see her?"

The humanoid scratched his beard and answered,

"I didn't see any of you until you started

bellowing." Then it dawned on him.

"You brought a woman back with you?"

"Well, we thought we did." Kirk

peered out the window again.

"What's going to happen to all those people?"

Billiwog shook his furry head.

"Can't say. But they don't ever come back, and

Dohama is a lot more peaceful without them. Now,

about this woman.

You can have your pick of my boats-in fact, you can

have all my boats-was He was interrupted by a noise

downstairs, like a door slamming shut.

"Ssshh!" hissed the big man, motioning the others

to be quiet.

"Somebody's coming!"

Whoever they were they made no secret of their

approach, as determined footsteps clamored up the

staircase. Billiwog made for the open window,

tried to climb out, and got stuck, preventing anyone

else's escape. Kirk shoved a chest of drawers

against the door, and Spock grabbed one end of the bed and

began to drag it toward the door. McCoy made a

futile attempt to free the giant from the window

frame. Then he saw how pointless it was-another

squad of Senites; was gathering in the street below.

The door and the bureau suddenly glowed with a blinding

light and vaporized, as Kirk and Spock

scrambled to get out of the way. There was nowhere

to hide in the gaudy bedroom, and Billiwog

plugged the only escape route. All they could do was

stand their ground and glare defiantly at the Senites

who streamed through the blackened doorway. Each

Senite stared grimly and leveled a silver weapon

at them.

"Hey! Hey!" came a muffled shout from

Billiwog, as he finally extricated himself from the

window.

"I'm your friend, Billiwog!"

He was instantly zapped by a blue beam, and his

huge body spun in agony before it crashed to the

floor, shaking the entire room. McCoy leaned

over the body, preparing to check its pulse, but he

was cut down before he could even reach it. Two more

Senites aimed weapons at Kirk and Spock and

discharged their beams.

Just before ajolt charged up his spine and blackness

overtook his mind, Kirk had a horrible feeling

he was going to find out what it meant to be harvested.

Renna was not sure why she had deserted her

newfound comrades so quickly after reaching the strange,

empty town. But her instinct for survival had

seldom failed her, and their mad dash down the

vacant street had given her ample

opportunity to duck out of sight into an abandoned

bar. She wasn't a moment too soon, as it

turned out, because a squad of Senites quickly

materialized on the same spot they'd arrived at

moments earlier and started to search for the escapees.

Figuring the Senites would have portable sensors,

Renna ran from the back of the bar and dashed across the

empty street into another empty building. She

kept going from one hiding place to another, always in a

straight line, putting as much distance between herself and the

white-robed troopers as she could. If they had

portable sensors, as she figured, they would

probably go after three life-forms instead of one.

She felt a pang of guilt about saving her own

skin, but she told herself that it was Spock's fault

for sending them to a hideout in a ghost town.

After fleeing from the last row of buildings, Renna

ducked into a small guard post beside an archway in a

wall. She gulped several mouthfuls of air and

tried to compose herself and her disguise. As she

leveled her breasts with the towel, she heard far-off

voices and the cawing of what sounded like a bird of some

sort, and she made her way cautiously to a tiny

window in the wall.

It was then that she saw something that terrified

her into near panic, something so awful it was beyond anything

she'd expected to see on Sanctuary a whole

army of Senites dragging bodies across the beach and

tossing them into narrow cages on huge wagons.

Her mouth felt as dry as the sand the bodies were lying

on.

Among the carcasses were creatures of every

description, of races she'd never known existed,

all of them male, as far as she could tell.

Occasionally, the Senites checked the bodies,

holding meters to their mouths or jabbing them with hypos.

They must be alive, she thought-most of them, at

least-and the Senites seemed intent upon keeping them in

a comatose state.

Suddenly, four more carcasses were dumped upon the

beach in the sparkling aurora of a transporter beam.

Renna swallowed hard, recognizing the young

captain, the doctor, and the Vulcan, but she'd never

seen the great hairy being who accompanied them. She

took no pleasure in the fact that she had

evidently done the right thing by deserting them, and she

shivered under the knowledge that she would have to save them from whatever

fate the Senites had in mind. By now, Renna found

herself thinking of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy as her

men, her crew. Though they would be

horrified to hear that, they weren't in any position

to contradict her, she thought grimly.

Unfortunately, she couldn't walk into the midst

of the Senites, sling three grown men over her

shoulders, and carry them off. She would have to stick with

her men until they woke up, helping to rouse them,

if possible. In her favor, there were at least

sixty or seventy Senites, working in a

disorganized fashion to drag bodies to the

conveyances. More Senites were coming and going, and more than

a few had their hoods up to protect their bald

pates from the sun. Without giving it a great deal of

thought, Renna drew her hood over her head, making

sure her hair was hidden, and stepped out of the

guardhouse. Folding her hands into the sleeves of her

robe, she strode briskly across the sand and into the

midst of the Senite work party.

They paid her scant attention, and Renna saw a

Senite of about her size struggling with the hairy

creature who'd been beamed over with Kirk,

Spock, and McCoy. She proceeded to grab a

leg and begin hauling. In that way, without speaking a

single word, she made one friend and kept close enough

to make sure that her men were handled with reasonable care.

After the wagons were loaded, she gathered in

a single file with the other Senites and began to march

behind the automated body carts. She had no idea

where they were going, except away from the beach and

deserted 152 town and toward the impressive

mountain range to the north.

Scotty got up from the captain's chair and

stretched his arms, suppressing a yawn. Tedium and

waiting made him more tired than the most demanding

crisis, and he almost longed to be flat on his back

in the fusion reactor, nothing but a wrench between him and the

destruction of the ship. If that were the case, at least

Captain Kirk would be on the bridge, barking

orders and impossible timetables. Spock would be beside

him, completely unruffled although the ship was going

to explode in thirty seconds, and Dr. McCoy

would be glowering and pacing. That was the way Mr,

Scott wanted things, back to what passed for

normal aboard the USS Enterprise.

The ship was in fine fettle-after all, the crew

had nothing to do but the equivalent of swabbing the deck

four times a day. Their ship wasn't the only one that

had benefited from all the free time, thought Scotty;

the Gezary was also in better shape than it had been

in years. That thought reminded him of the bounty

huntress, Pilenna, and the fact that he

had an open invitation for some rest and recreation

aboard the Gezary.

Probably more recreation than rest, he thought with a

smile. But he couldn't enjoy it, not knowing what was

happening below to his captain and mates.

Blast that bloody planet, he cursed to himself,

staring at the inscrutable turquoise sphere on his

viewscreen. What was it, a haven or a trap?

were the Senites the greatest humanitarians of the

galaxy, or misguided jailers? More

important, were his friends alive and well and enjoying

the creature comforts the Senites talked about, or were

they sick and injured, perhaps even dead? Scott

knew the risks of transporting to the planet

now-knew them all too well-but the temptation was

almost overwhelming to march into the transporter room,

beam down there, and find them. Damn the consequences!

At least he would know if they were alive and safe.

If only there were some sort of lifeline he could

hold on to, a way to be dragged back to the

Enterprise. Without such a lifeline, he was not going

to the surface of Sanctuary, and neither was anybody

else. Failing that, if only there were some way to get

the Senites' attention, some way to twist their arms a

little bit.

"Commander Scott?" said Uhura, breaking into his

angry reverie.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"The Neptune is close enough for ship-to-ship

communications," answered Uhura, "and Captain

Mora wishes to speak with you."

"Ahead of schedule, aren't they?" observed

Scotty.

"Put Captain Mora on the screen."

He was not surprised to see the wizened features

of Donald Mora, one of the oldest captains in

Starfleet. He was also one of the Federation's foremost

experts on oceanography, and the two careers had

dovetailed nicely with his assignment to the

Neptune. He was a good choice to send on this

mission, decided Scotty, because his maturity might

give him patience. And he would need plenty of

patience to deal with the Senites.

"Hello, Commander Scott," Mora greeted

him with a smile.

"Good to see you again. It's been many years."

Scotty couldn't help his own scowl.

"I wish it were under better circumstances."

"I've been reading your reports," said

Captain Mora with concern, "and I can

appreciate your frustration. Is it really your

assessment that the Senites will refuse all contact

with the Federation?" "You may be able to contact them,"

replied Scotty.

"I was, but only through the graces of another

ship in orbit. As far as communicating with them, their

entire society is based on one directive

Come to Sanctuary if you want, but expect a

one-way trip."

Donald Mora frowned.

"That attitude doesn't seem possible from a

race that sounds so advanced."

"They're advanced enough," said Scotty.

"They have a shield around that planet that withstood a

full-scale Klingon attack. It cuts off

communications, sensors, everything that's within thirty

kilometers of the surface. And they have long-range

deflectors to protect incoming fugitives, as

they call them. I must admit, their refusal to let

anyone leave the planet is the only thing that

discourages a pack of bounty hunters from going down

there."

"Let me think about all this," said Captain

Mora.

"At warp six, I should be there in about

four hours."

"Captain," added Scotty, mustering a smile,

"if you can find a way to get through to the Senites,

I'll buy you a fish dinner," "I don't eat

fish," replied Captain Mora, "too many of them

are my friends. But I'll think about your problem.

Ou."

When the gleaming curve of the planet reclaimed the

viewscreen, Scotty turned away. Looking at

it only made him feel sad and helpless.

The motorized body carts rumbled up a mountain

pass, followed by a single line of Senites that

stretched for a hundred meters behind them. No one

spoke to Renna during the long march into the

mountains-in fact, no one spoke at all, even

during the brief periods when they stopped to attend

to bodily functions and sip a bitter tea like

substance. Occasionally, there would be a groan or shout

from one of the wagons, and a Senite would shoot a blue

beam into the cage to silence the prisoner. Darkness was

falling swiftly, casting eerie shadows from the

spindly peaks, and Renna wondered if they would march

all night.

She tried to console herself with the thought that, even if

she couldn't rescue Kirk and his men, she

might reach another transporter room or

otherwise learn how to circumvent the Senites'

security shield. But where could she go without them? she

wondered. Her whole plan for escape depended upon

that big ship of theirs riding in orbit. No, she

decided, she had to find a way to save them, no

matter what the risk. The only alternatives were

to continue impersonating a Senite, which was doubtful for

any length of time, or to escape into the mountains and

live like an animal, as Kirk had said people were doing.

Both prospects were equally unattractive.

As she watched the Senites marching stoically all

around her, Renna decided they were pathologically

insane. They had extensive transporter

technology, yet they marched all night through

treacherous mountains instead of using the transporter.

At least the sedated prisoners got to ride

to wherever they were going. Even considering the amount of

energy that would be required to move hundreds of people,

such sacrifice bordered on masochism.

Of course, she thought, the Senites reveled in

their sexlessness, conformity, and sacrifice. They even

found a way to impose it upon their guests by separating

the sexes into villages like Khym+ and Dohama.

They professed sympathy for the

fugitives, yet treated them like recalcitrant

children, spying on them and monitoring their actions. They

also raised snakes like Kellen. And what kind of

beings coddled their guests one day, then knocked them out

and threw them into cages the next?

Crazy beings, that's what kind.

Renna was so lost in psychoanalysis and trying not

to trip that she wasn't aware of the searchlight beaming

through the thick fog ahead of them. Finally, she lifted

her head and saw it, and she picked up her painful

feet and walked a little more quickly, as did every Senite

in the meandering line. Finally, they rounded a bend in the

trail, and she saw the source of the light--a gaping

passageway in the base of the highest peak. It

loomed before them like a sheer tower of light, large enough

to pass a hundred wagons, bearing a million

sedated fugitives.

Renna gulped, fearful and relieved at the same

time.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she heard someone

whisper.

She tunied to see her small friend, the one she'd

helped in carrying the hairy giant to the wagon.

"Yes," she whispered in agreement.

"The Reboming is so beautiful," the

small Senite added.

"Yes," Renna agreed, staring ahead at the

column of light. She guessed she would soon find

out what a Reborning was.

The gigantic doorway swallowed the wagons

one by one, and the Senites marched reverently after them.

Renna craned her neck to get a better look at

what appeared to be an immense cavern, but the

golden lights that rimmed the doorway were all but

blinding. She had to close her eyes as she passed

under them, and she felt a queer tingling and warming

sensation. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck

twitched unpleasantly, and she hurried under the

lights as fast as she could without bumping into the Senite

ahead of her. Renna had read enough medical journals

stolen from various ships to guess that the lights were some

sort of sterilizing or antibiotic precaution.

She could well imagine how dirty the marchers were from

their long trek, but why did they need to be sterile?

Renna began to fear that they would be required

to strip and change into clean robes, but that minor fear

was erased as soon as her eyes cleared and she got

a 157 good look at her surroundings. The cavern

was as mammoth as she had imagined from the outside, with a

ceiling that was a dozen stories high.

She could count at least that many levels of tiny

rooms, or cells, lining the walls of the cavern.

On the main floor of the cavern, she saw

hundreds of shining metal beds in row upon uniform

row. But they weren't just beds, she noted-they were

operating tables!

Around each table was a compact cluster of

monitors, life-support equipment, and what

appeared to be laser operating instruments. She

shivered, and the hairs on her neck stood by themselves this

time. Only the most disastrous war could demand this sort

of massive medical facility, assumed Renna.

Before she could give it any more thought, the other

Senites began to unlock the wagons and remove the

comatose prisoners, and she quickly followed their

lead.

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy were in the last

wagon to arrive, and the other wagons were unloaded

first. Renna marveled at the way the Senites, who

must have been as tired as she was after their grueling

hike, pitched in without complaint. A bit more

carefully this time, they hauled the strange collection

of humanoids to the operating tables and strapped each

one down. It was loathsome work, but Renna had

to assist. The straps were of a dark, spongy

material that felt like it had the tensile strength of

steel. Doctors, or at least Senites who were

carrying monitoring devices and whose white robes were

spotless, inspected each unconscious patient in

turn.

"This one's dead," said a furry-voiced

doctor, hovering over a Klingon.

It motioned to the others to take him away, and the

Klingon's bed was quickly cleared for a living

specimen.

Another doctor peered curiously at a

homely alien with red skin and arms that dangled from the

operating table to the floor. The creature barely had

any neck.

"Not humanoid enough," pronounced the doctor.

"Durup him somewhere out in the mountains."

Hmm, thought Renna, there were times when it paid not

to be too humanoid.

This scenario was repeated several times, as dead

bodies were discovered among the living and several of the

stranger races were reprieved. Renna kept her

eye on Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, because it was

obvious that the operating tables were going to be filled

before their wagon was unloaded.

She longed to ask someone what all the

preparation was about, but she didn't dare. were they going

to be revived, then imprisoned? If so, what was the

point of the operating tables?

Finally, Kirk's wagon was unloaded, and he and

his men were carried to turbolifts and taken to the cells

that overlooked the immense operating arena. Renna was

about to follow them up when a voice sounded on a

loudspeaker. It echoed throughout the vast cavern

"We thank you all for your participation in the

Reborning," intoned the voice.

"This is a glorious day for those assembled here.

Each of you was reborn in the same hallowed manner

that has been employed by our order for centuries.

We regret that you have no memory of this unique

experience, and so we will take a few moments

to review the Six Holy Steps of Reborning

"First, the ritual washing and shaving of the

initiates. Second, the brain operation, in which

harmful past memories are erased. Third, the

sexual organs are removed forever. Fourth,

hormone treatments to remove any residual

trace of gender. Fifth, electrolysis and

cosmetic surgery are used to ensure a uniformly

pleasing appearance. Sixth, recovery and training.

In approximately seventy days, the

initiates will return to our community as loyal

members of the order, devoted to the mission of

Sanctuary."

There was a murmur of appreciation, and the speaker

continued, "We realize how weary you must be, and you

are not required to perform any further services. But

if you wish to take part in the ritual washing and

shaving, please report to level three for clean

robes. The rest of you are relieved of duty and

may report to the transporter room on level

two.

Praise be to the holy order of Senites."

"Praise be," echoed dozens of lilting

voices.

Renna felt herself reeling, as if she was about

to faint, and it took a major effort of will to stay on

her feet. Her friend caught her by the elbow and smiled

beatifically at her.

"You are weary," said the Senite.

"I am staying for the ritual, but I will escort you

to the transporter."

Renna shook her head and composed herself.

"I am staying, too," she answered in a firm

voice.

"It is my duty."

The small Senite nodded appreciatively and

joined an exodus of fellow Senites to the

turbolift. Renna followed them, wishing she could

take a torch to this whole lousy planet. Maybe

she couldn't do that, but she would do everything in her power

to see that Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and

Mr. Spock were spared from being lobotomized and

castrated.

ScoTty PERSONALLY operated the transporter

controls that brought Captain Donald Mora

aboard the Enterprise. He was a trim man with

energy that belied his eighty-some years, although his face

looked every minute of it, thanks to a good portion of a

life spent working outdoors and underwater.

"Hello, Commander Scott." He beamed,

stepping down from the transporter platform and shaking

Scotty's hand.

He managed a smile.

"Good to see you, Captain Mora. I trust ye

had no difficulty with the other ships in orbit?"

"My, no," he answered.

"In fact, they're a friendly lot. As I was

coming out of warp, an Orion contacted me to see if

I wanted to trade any criminals for slave

girls."

"Aye," replied Scotty, "salt o' the

earth. Ye missed meeting the Klingon who was in

orbit. He was finally

recalled after his superiors decided that

Sanctuary was the most effective prison in the

galaxy."

Mora nodded glumly.

"From your reports, I gather they are not far from

wrong. May I speak frankly, Mr.

Scott?"

Scotty motioned around the empty transporter

room.

"We are alone here."

"Very well," began Captain Mora.

"You are no doubt aware that we have been sent here

to replace you. The Enierprise, I mean."

"Aye. It was not likely we'd be left here

indefinitely."

"But you'd like to stay indefinitely?" asked

Mora.

"Indefinitely, no," answered Scotty, "just

until we rescue the captain, Mr. Spock, and

Dr. McCoy."

"But there's the problem. You see, you have no real

plan to rescue them, and Starfleet knows

that."

"May I speak frankly, too?"

The captain nodded.

"Please do. This is a private conversation."

Scotty paced as he spoke.

"Starfleet doesna know those three men as I know

them. Although there is little we can do at the moment, I

feel-somehow they will be able to make an escape

attempt. I don't know how. I don't know when.

But I know we must be ready to help them when that time

comes."

"Spoken as a loyal friend," Captain Mora

said sympathetically.

"But without a concrete plan, Starfleet will not

let the Enterprise be tied up here. If I could just

report to them the slightest bit of progress, the

beginning of a plan .. ."

Scotty grinned slyly.

"Ludeed, Captain, I have the beginning of a

plan.

I think we ought to invade the planet."

"Invade the planet?" Captain Mora

frowned.

"I thought you said it was dangerous to go down there."

"Not necessarily dangerous," replied

Scotty, "simply one-way. I'm sure you or

I could beam down there safely this very moment.

Inorganic matter by itself is destroyed-we've already

seen that with the numerous probes we've tried to send

down. But organic creatures are accepted without

reservation. If we could assemble the correct

invasion force, one that could intimidate the Senites

without firing a shot, they might be forced to negotiate

with us."

Now it was Donald Mora's turn to smile.

"You're a very devious man, Commander Scott."

"I am," he replied grimly, "when the lives

of my shipmates are at stake."

Quite on purpose, Renna stood at the end of a

long line, waiting to receive a fresh robe. From the

third floor of the mammoth cave , she looked down

upon the hundreds of creatures strapped to gleaming

metal tables and tried to imagine the horror of what

was about to happen. To be stripped of one's identity and

memories-and sex-it was too much to fathom. Maybe

most of them weren't the best specimens of whatever

stock they came from, but they didn't deserve to end

up as Senites.

Her mind somersaulted over every possibility and

escape route. Each of the dozen or so

levels that ringed the operating arena seemed to consist of a

catwalk and a combination of cells, offices,

recovery rooms, and the like. On level three, she

had passed a small theater and had seen a group of

Senites sitting there, as if waiting for a show to begin.

She well imagined there were many observers and

specialists who wouldn't be called on until

later in the process. The Reboming, as loathsome as

it was, was a major medical achievement; it was

mass-production surgery on perhaps a thousand

patients at once.

The specialists, doctors, whatever they were,

all appeared to be older Senites, as if it took

many Rebornings to learn the job fully. They

prowled every level of the cave, inspecting patients in

the private cells above and on the production

floor below. After the drudge work of shaving and

cleaning, thought Renna, the brain surgeons would go

next. If she didn't rescue Kirk and his men

by then, it would be too late. But how could she escape

having to clean and shave the unfortunates below? The

only answer was to kick herself up a notch and become

one of the doctors.

Renna's surreptitious inspection ended when she

found herself at the front of the line, eyeing a

bulky Senite behind a counter. What had it been in

its previous life, she couldn't help but wonder,

an Elysian or a Saurian? Now it was a

Senite in charge of robe distribution in the Cave

of the Reborning.

"May I have two robes?" she found herself

asking. She quickly added, "My friend is sleeping, and

I will take one to X."

The round-faced Senite studied her closely with a

rather stupid gaze, and Renna fought the temptation

to squirm under her hood. Finally, it scolded,

"Sleeping is prohibited. Your friend should come itself"

"It is weary," added Renna, "but it does not wish

to miss the ritual."

"If it wishes to sleep, send it home,"

replied the Senite.

"What sizes?"

"Small for me," answered Renna, "and large for

my friend."

Renna grabbed the robes, trying to suppress a

sense of triumph-she now had three robes, counting

the dirty one she wore. That was one robe short, but

a plan was percolating in her mind. From close up,

none of her three comrades would pass muster as a

Senite, but they might from a distance. First,

she had to confront the hurdle of changing into her clean

garment, and she peered along the catwalk to see where the

other Senites were disrobing. To Renna's relief,

they were as modest as sexed beings-one by one, they entered

the tiny cells that stretched along the Curved

corridor, drawing the curtains behind them.

Most of the cells she passed were occupied, which

stood to reason considering that she had been among the

last in line. Finally, a curtain parted in front of

her, and she waited for its occupant to emerge. She

and the gangly Senite smiled benignly at one

another before she ducked inside and closed the white

curtain behind her. It was a small but presentable

hospital room for a single patient, with gleaming

equipment that looked capable of sustaining life forever.

There was a fountain in which to wash her face and hands, and

she proceeded to do so. And then her eyes lit upon

something else-another robe wadded up in the corner.

Renna removed her own soiled garment, much

relieved that she could do so in privacy, and finished

cleaning up. She rearranged her clothing, wondering

grimly if the Senites ever practiced their

conversions on women. She didn't see why they

couldn't, but there were apparently so few women on the

planet-most of them congregated in one

place-that she didn't imagine they would be considered

plentiful enough. She gulped when she remembered that

the Senites thought they were doing the initiates a

tremendous favor.

After tidying herself, Renna was stuck with the problem of

hiding three large robes under her small one. She

stole the sheets from the bed, wrapped them around the

robes, and tied the bundle to her stomach.

It made her into a rather portly Senite, but not

all the Senites were slim, especially the older

ones, likely a side effect of the loss or

testosterone. Renna peered into the mirror and shaped

her paunch for several moments before noticing that her

face still looked too young. She needed makeup and

some kind of instrument to carry that would make her look

like a member of the medical team.

As quietly as possible, Renna began to root

through the drawers and equipment in the little room.

She found some brownish powder that she combined with tier

own saliva to create makeup. Luckily, she was

getting more worry lines by the moment, and she applied

the dark substance to the burgeoning lines in her face

and turned them into age lines, she hoped. Renna

knew she would have to be careful to avoid letting

anybody gaze into her face for more than a

second or two. By this time, the voice and

mannerisms were the easy part.

No hand-held instruments were lying around, and she

rifled through the drawers in a desperate search.

Finally, she took a deep breath, stood, and gazed

calmly around the cramped room. She would have to make

an instrument, she decided-and then her eyes alighted

on the silver handles of the water fountain. The

faucet handles had the same sort of

unsymmetrical kidney shape as the Senites'

hand weapons. If they were waved around real fast,

thought Renna, they might look like medical

instruments.

She grabbed the closest handle, discovered which way

it was supposed to turn, and twisted it the opposite

way. Brute strength enabled the young woman to loosen

the handle, as water started spouting into the air like a

plumber's nightmare. Renna thanked the stars that she

hadn't put on her clean robe yet as she spun

the handle and fought the spraying water. One handle would

be all she could get, and it would have to do.

Freeing the handle, she looked around for something

to stuff into the geyser, then decided the raging leak

might make a nice diversion. Renna adjusted her

paunch and her makeup one more time, then

slipped into a robe that fit tightly but still covered

her fake stomach. Taking a deep breath, she

plunged into the corridor and joined a steady exodus

of Senites toward the turbolift.

As she walked, she stole a peek over the

railing to see what was happening below. Several

Senites were rapidly stripping the fugitives of

their filthy clothing, while a handful had begun to bathe

and shave them in a ritualistic fashion that started

at their toes and worked its way up. She couldn't

worry about those poor creatures now, Renna

decided, and she tried to put them out of her mind.

The ersatz Senite hid her ersatz instrument in

the sleeve of her robe and wondered how long it would

take before somebody noticed a flood of water

spewing onto the catwalk. She didn't have long

to wait; shouts sounded almost immediately, and several

Senites ahead of her stopped and turned.

Renna, however, bolted through the packed crowd and

entered the first empty turbolift she could find.

Unfortunately, a younger Senite stepped in after

her.

"Level six!" she blurted to the computer.

Renna looked up and found the younger Senite, who

was quite handsome for an androgynous being, staring at

her. It quickly looked away and muttered, "Level

one."

"Is this the first Reborning you have seen?" she asked

in a fatherly way.

"Yes," admitted the Senite, looking

embarrassed.

"Is it so obvious?"

"Tell me," whispered Renna in her huskiest

voice, "do you ever have dreams of a previous life?"

"Yes," breathed the young Senite.

"What does that mean?"

"It means they didn't get everything," Renna

replied as the door snapped open. She stepped out

on level six, and the door closed behind her on the

stunned expression of the young Senite. For the first time

since reaching this horrid place, Renna had a chance

to catch a normal breath. Level six was

exactly what she wanted-a place where not much was

going on. She strode along a catwalk that was about

halfway up the beehive shape of the great cavern,

and she could see considerably more activity on another

t1oor higher up, The strange complex was not even

close to its maximum capacity, and she didn't

want to think about what that meant.

She continued down the empty corridor,

which was lined with darkened rooms. From a level above

came an inhuman howl, and it froze her in mid

breath The wretched creature yelped again but stopped

abruptly, and she heard voices for a moment. All

this action occurred about two floors above her,

Renna estimated, and she wondered if that was where they

had taken the other prisoners. She turned around and

made her way back toward the turbolift.

On level eight, Renna was forced to keep her

head down, because Senites were all around, dashing between

various cells and sedating prisoners as they

awoke. The initiates were strapped down in their

beds, not as tightly as those on the operating floor,

but not free to move. One would start groaning or

tossing, and a medic would rush to sedate him. They

used hypos exclusively, and Renna assumed it

was because a number of stun blasts in a short period

of time would probably prove dangerous, if not

fatal. She gripped her faucet handle as if it

was a hypo and started rushing from cell to cell, staying

only long enough to see who was in each one.

Her determined checking of each patient in every

cell was only slightly more frantic than wh at

most of the other Senites were doing, and it finally paid

off. In one cell, she spied the

taciturn face of the Vulcan-his complexion more

sallow than usual and his eyes closed serenely.

Damn it, thought Renna, if only she 168 had a

real instrument that could revive him. She bent over his

inert form to make sure he was still alive.

With heart throbbing quickness, his hand shot up and

gripped her around her neck. She couldn't even

struggle, because his grip was immobilizing.

"Spock," she croaked, "it's me-Renna!"

His hand loosened and fell limply to his side.

His eyes were still closed serenely, but he spoke as

Renna leaned over him.

"I am sorry I did not recognize you, but

feared you were a Senite. I have lain awake for some

time. I am very relieved to see you under these

circumstances."

"You don't know how relieved you should be," she

whispered, pretending to examine him. Other medics

continued to pass by outside the cell, and there were no

curtains to shut. These were holding tanks.

"Where are we?"

"It's a Senite factory," she murmured.

"They're lobotornizing and castrating people from that

village in order to turn them into Senites."

"A somewhat radical method of

reproduction," answered Spock.

"Do you have an escape plan?"

"First," said Renna, "we've got to get you

into one of these robes I brought." She lifted her

robe, removed a wad of fabric from the bundle,

and laid it on the Vulcan's chest.

"I think that's the clean one."

"Go to the door," said Spock, "and distract their

attention from the cell.

I will be out in a moment."

Renna nodded and slipped outside onto the

catwalk. A Senite was walking toward her,

alertly peering into each cell it passed. Renna

walked toward the specialist and pointed downward.

"What has happened?" she asked urgently,

peering across the great chasm at cells and rooms on

the other side, farther down. Because of the curvature

of the cavern walls, she was able to find the minor

commotion caused by the geyser she had set loose in the

169 changing room. She pointed it out to the

approaching Senite.

"There, do you see?"

Another Senite approached from behind them and paused

to see what the fuss was about. Had this Senite turned

to look behind it, it would have seen Spock

slipping the robe over his Senite-issue shirt and

pants. The Vulcan pulled the hood over his

distinctive ears and stepped into the corridor to join the

onlookers.

He caught Renna's eye, and she rocked back

on her heels in relief.

"It's under control," she announced, before

scurrying down the corridor. A tall, thin

Senite followed her, while the others were still trying

to figure out what was going on.

Renna and Spock couldn't stop to search the

adjoining cells, as they would have liked-they had to put

some distance between themselves and the crowd Renna had

attracted.

"The captain?" Spock asked.

"And Dr. McCoy?"

"They must be in some of these cells," she whispered.

"None of you were taken down there, thank your

gods."

"We shall need some way to revive them," said

Spock, "because they don't have my metabolism."

He spotted another Senite making the rounds a

few meters ahead of them, and tapped Renna's

shoulder.

She nodded, and they slowed to allow the

Senite to walk ahead of them, until it entered one

of the cells. Then they sped up.

"Praise be to the holy order," intoned Renna

as she and Spock entered the tiny chamber.

The Senite blinked at her with surprise, which

gave Spock ample time to reach out and grip its

neck. The Senite dropped into a well of

unconsciousness. Renna caught the falling figure

and helped Spock lay it on the bed, next to an

unconscious fugitive with scaly, checkered skin.

"That nerve pinch thing is a handy talent,"

re170 marked Renna as she aided Spock in

searching the body.

"Can you teach it to me?"

"No," the Vulcan answered. He took a

small medikit from the billows of the Senite's

sleeve and opened the silver case. There was a single

hypo and perhaps twenty colored vials for it, most of

them blue and a handful red.

Several of the blue ones had evidently been

used.

"I surmise," said Spock, "that the blue

vials are a sedative and the red ones, of which there are

fewer, are a couateractive stimulant. Let us

hope that these hypo sprays are not encoded

to the Senites like their weapons. I suspect the

reason we cannot operate their weapons is that the

Senites may have implants and transmitters

inserted into their bodies during the surgery."

"If you say so." Renna shivered.

"There are a lot worse parts to the surgery than

that."

The scaly fugitive on the bed began to twitch

slightly, and Spock quickly loaded a red vial

into the hypo and delivered it into the alien's arm. The

Vulcan motioned Renna to step back, while he

loosened the fugitive's bonds and took a

position behind the bed. Groggily, the scaly being

came to his senses and sat up. He looked first

at the unconscious Senite beside him, then gazed at

Renna; it didn't take long before he growled

angrily and lurched toward the woman. Luckily,

Spock was behind him and applied the nerve pinch with such

strength and precision that the fugitive toppled back

into unconsciousness.

"Whew!" breathed Renna as she helped Spock

return him to the bed.

"At least we know it revives them."

"Yes," said Spock, "we can revive the

captain and the doctor when we find them, but

how do we escape?"

"There are transporters," offered Renna, "but

we may be faced with the same problem we had before not enough

time to learn how to control them."

"I feel confident I can disable the

transporters," answered the Vulcan.

"Then we could escape by other means without being

followed."

"The door is wide open," said Renna,

indicating the blaze of golden lights around the

entrance to the vast cavern.

"Very well," said Spock, loading another red

vial into the Senite hypo.

"Let us search the cells closest to where you found

me."

Activity was still intense on the catwalk of

level eight, with numerous Senite doctors rushing

to and fro, keeping the waiting fugitives sedated.

A strange sort of chanting issued from below, as the

young Senites ritualistically bathed and shaved the

comatose initiates. Renna tried to ignore what

was happening down there as she followed Spock from

cell to cell.

The Vulcan had adopted a stooped posture and

slow manner of walking that made him look

ancient, but that was preferable to revealing his unshaven

chin. There was too much activity and too many

Senites on urgent missions for them to pay much

attention to the odd pair, and it wasn't long before they

found a cell where a handsome young human lay strapped

to the bed.

"Watch the door," Spock ordered.

Renna did just that as the Vulcan bent over the

sleeping figure and injected him. He left

Kirk's bindings fastened for the moment, even when the

captain began to awaken and strain against them.

"Jim," cautioned Spock, "be still. Renna and

I have come to free you, but we are in grave danger.

This is a place where fugitives are surgically

altered to become Senites. You cannot simply jump

out of bed, do you understand?"

"Yes," muttered thecaptain, ceasing his movements

and closing his eyes once more.

"Where's McCoy?"

"We have not located him yet, but we will return

when we find him. I am loosening the straps, but you

must appear unconscious or you will be sedated again."

"Understood," breathed Kirk.

Another Senite walked by the door and peered

inside, and Spock pretended to reinject

Kirk.

"Is everything under control?" asked the Senite.

"Yes," answered Renna, turning away and

leaning over Kirk, so that all the Senite had

to address were the backs of two white robes.

"Sadly," remarked the Senite, "two

initiates have died, and we have two tables open below.

Is this initiate healthy?"

"No," Renna answered immediately, "he is having

trouble breathing."

"Make him comfortable," replied the Senite

doctor. It turned and addressed someone in the

adjacent cell.

"Take that one below."

When the Senite moved to direct operations in the

other cell, Renna poked her head out and saw-to

her shock-two white-robed figures carrying the

unconscious body of Dr. McCoy to the

turbolift. The Senite who was apparently in

charge followed them.

She rushed back to Spock and Kirk.

"It's McCoy!" she gasped.

"They're taking him down to the operating table."

Kirk snapped off his restraints, swung his

legs over the side of the bed, and leaped

to his feet.

"Let's get him."

Renna yanked the pair of dirty robes from around

her waist and tossed one to Kirk.

"At least put this on," she insisted.

He complied, quickly pulling the robe over his

clothes and covering his head with the hood. Then he 173

stepped into the corridor and followed the retreating

Senites with their limp cargo. By moving swiftly,

the trio was able to catch up with the three real Senites

just as they carried McCoy into a turbolift. Staring

at the floor, they took up uneasy positions in

the crowded conveyance.

The door shut, and the Senite in charge ordered,

"Level one." He then peered curiously at

Kirk and asked, "Why aren't you wearing a clean

robe?"

Kirk lowered his head farther and tried to ignore the

query, hoping the turbolift would come to a quick stop.

But his inquisitor persisted, "I asked you a question.

Look at me!"

The Senite gripped Kirk's chin and gazed

into his face-wishing immediately it hadn't.

"You-you're not of the order!" it sputtered.

"Guards!"

The captain smashed the Senite in the face with his

fist, sending the being careening into another Senite, who

dropped McCoy to the floor. As the third

Senite lunged for the captain, Spock intercepted

him and slammed him against the wall.

Ren na kicked another in its kneecap, then

delivered an uppercut that sent it tumbling

into Kirk. In the tight quarters of the turbolift,

it was sickening thuds, elbows smashing into mid

sections heads butting heads, and a wild

free-for-all that rocked the turbolift on its

descent. A Senite tried to draw a weapon, and

Spock wrestled it from its hand and applied a nerve

pinch. Soon the floor was littered with white-robed

bodies, and Kirk and Spock bent to extricate

the unconscious McCoy from the pile.

"Correction!" Renna gasped to the turbolift

computer.

"Level six!"

The turbolift, which was already shaking from the

turbulent battle, reversed itself with a groan and

ascended to level six. Fortunately, that level was

still 174 quiet, and Kirk, Spock, and Renna were

able to carry the four unconscious figures off the

lift before it was summoned elsewhere. Renna

located a darkened classroom, and they dragged the

Senites and McCoy inside. While Renna

stripped a robe off one of the Senites for

McCoy, Spock deftly operated the

hypospray. First he injected a red vial of

stimulant into McCoy, then blue vials of

sedative into the three Senites.

"Bones," said Kirk, leaning over his friend.

"Bones, can you bear me?"

The doctor was gradually coming to.

"Oh, my head," he moaned, struggling to sit

up.

"What's going on? Where the hell are we?"

Kirk grinned.

"We just saved you from becoming a Senite."

"Good," moaned McCoy, "I don't look

good in white."

"We have inadvertently learned how the Senites

perpetuate their species," said Spock.

"By castrating and lobotomizing a large number of

fugitives."

"Ugh!" gulped McCoy.

"You're not out of here yet," warned Renna, handing

McCoy the robe she'd just pilfered.

"You might all still become eunuchs if

we don't figure out how to escape. They're not

likely to let anyone go from this place

voluntarily, to spread the word."

"My suggestion," said Spock, "is that we disable

their transporters, so they cannot immediately come after us, as

they did last time."

"Where are the transporters?" asked Kirk.

"Are they at all secluded?"

"They're on level two," answered Renna,

"and behind curtains. But Senites are coming and going

constantly. Spock would get only a few

seconds, and he might need a diversion for that. The

only entrance 175 to this place I know of is not

guarded, but it's in plain sight."

Kirk opened his mouth to say something, but a scream

erupted over their heads and a muffled explosion

sounded. They rushed out of the classroom to peer over the

railing, along with hundreds of other white-robed

figures on other levels, and saw a fugitive

wildly thrashing a Senite two floors over their

heads. Several Senites on the main floor were

aiming weapons, but they were reluctant to shoot for

fear of hitting their fellow Senite. Plus, an

errant shot had apparently caused a small

explosion in a room behind the escapee.

Spock could make out checkered skin on the rampaging

fugitive.

"That's the first one we injected," he told

Renna.

"Your nerve pinch didn't last too long," she

answered.

"Must've been the stimulant."

The Senite's howls increased as the fugitive

picked him up over his head and tossed him over the

rail and eight stories down onto a row of

monitors that clattered with a racket that echoed throughout

the cavern.

Senites started to converge on the renegade with

hypos, but he pummeled them one by one in the narrow

corridor and sent two more hurtling to their deaths. A

trigger-happy Senite on the bottom cut loose

with a brilliant blue laser beam, which crumpled a

piece of the catwalk and turned it into molten metal

but missed the maniac entirely.

"This is our chance," said Kirk.

"Renna, lead us to the transporter."

She nodded, knowing there was no point arguing over who

was giving the orders. They were a team, and it was time

to act like one. They moved swiftly toward the

turbolift and waited only seconds for

one to appear, as most of the Senites were preoccupied

with the ungrateful initiate on the eighth floor.

Renna gave 176 the destination as level two, and

everyone adjusted their hoods as they made the swift

descent.

Renna emerged first from the turbolift followed

by three extremely hunched Senites, who walked

a bit too much like aged monks for her taste.

Luckily, every Senite in the crowded corridor

was standing at the railing, craning its neck to view the

drama on deck eight.

"Look! There's another one!" yelled a

Senite, pointing upward.

Kirk paused briefly to look and saw a

hirsute humanoid crash into the railing with a

Senite under each arm. He dangled one of them over

the edge, screaming, and the other he gripped in a choke

hold and held in front of him as a shield. The

Senites on the production floor twitched their

weapons nervously but did not shoot.

"Don't fire at me!" he bellowed.

"You dirty blighters! I'll kill them!

I swear I will!"

"That's Billiwog!" whispered a startled

McCoy, gripping Kirk's arm.

"More of them are starting to wake up, and the Senites

aren't paying attention."

Reminded about paying attention, the captain looked

around but couldn't locate Renna and Spock.

Finally, he saw a slim Senite waving to him from a

bank of red curtains at the rear of the anteroom.

She disappeared as soon as she got his attention. The

captain tapped the doctor's arm, hunched his

shoulders, and strode toward the spot. McCoy

trailed behind, but they could still hear Billiwog

ranting "Free them! Free them! You dirty

blighters!"

They slipped behind the thick curtains and found a

second cavern with an immense array of

transporter pads spread across the floor and

giant crystal coils hanging from the ceiling. Lining

the walls was a bewildering collection of instruments and

replicators. 177 Spock stood working at one

of the many consoles, and Renna was bent over an

unconscious Senite, rifling through the folds of its

robe.

She held up a medikit and remarked to Kirk,

"This is all the creeps ever carry."

The captain managed a tight smile but didn't

stay to chat. He still felt confused and

disoriented by coming to in this elaborate cave, strapped

to a bed, surrounded by creatures who wanted to alter

his mind and body.

But there wasn't time to analyze the situation, or

to decide whether the Senites were more deserving of

hatred or pity. After all, each of them had been a

victim strapped to the same metal table. All he

knew was that escape from Sanctuary was more urgent

than ever.

He strode to Spock's side.

"How is it going?"

"As well as can be expected," answered the

Vulcan.

"I will need more time to operate the scanners, but I

have located the emergency override that shuts down

power to the transporter. There will be a lengthy delay

before they can use it again."

"What about finding the Enterprise?"

"Given enough time-was And just then, time got shorter, as

a squad of armed Senites began to materialize

on the transporter platform. As the half dozen

Senites solidified on the platform, one took

aim at Kirk and looked like it was about to squeeze

off a laser shot, but Spock's slim fingers danced

on the controls. Instantly, the Senites

began to de materialize once again. Their confused

images wavered in and out for a few seconds, then

finally vanished.

"Where did you send them?" asked Kirk.

"Back to wherever they came from," replied the

Vulcan.

"I believe now would be a good time to disable the

transporter."

"Do it," said Kirk.

A pulsating siren suddenly pierced the

relative quiet of the transporter room, and there

were renewed shouts outside. Renna glanced at

McCoy, and the two of them dragged the unconscious

Senite out of sight. A second later, the glowing

energy coils went dark, the machines blinked off,

and the transporter room was immersed in darkness.

THE SCREAMING SireNS from the main cavern

and the cool darkness of the transporter room seemed

at odds, but they combined to give Kirk, Spock,

McCoy, and Renna enough time to duck behind equipment and

squirm into corners . By the time a Senite pulled

open the curtain, sending a streak of light lunging

across the floor, the transporter room looked to be

useless and deserted.

Another Senite appeared in the

doorway, making two silhouettes.

"Who shut this down?" it shouted over the siren.

"Must have been the overseer," answered the first.

"At least none of them can escape this way. We

don't need a guard here, but let's get some

guards to the main door."

The curtain shut, and the streak of light retreated

across the floor.

Still huddling in the darkness, Kirk called out,

"Renna! How else can we get out of here?"

"The main door is all I know about," she

answered.

"But I was thinking-there are the wagons that brought you

here. They're parked just inside the door."

"Captain," Spock interjected, "some Senite

equipment we can operate, and some we cannot, such as their

weapons. I believe the Senites implant

transmitters during their surgery, and this enables them

to encode certain equipment against unauthorized

use."

"So the trucks may or may not work," concluded

the captain.

"Has anyone else got a better idea?"

There was no response. Kirk stood and pulled

his hood around his face.

"Lead the way, Renna."

The four fugitives stepped through the red curtains

into sheer bedlam.

Senites were running in every direction, most of them

fumbling with weapons. There were screams and piercing

sirens, and a full scale uprising was in progress

on level eight as more fugitives regained

consciousness.

Several unfortunates strapped onto tables on

the operating floor were also howling in confusion,

especially whenever a Senite was tossed over the

railing to come crashing down amongst them.

Renna. led her small party to the turbolifts,

but there were already dozens of Senites waiting to board,

even pushing and shoving against those who were trying to get

off. She turned to the hooded figure of Kirk.

"We're only on the second floor," she

explained.

"We can jump."

"We'll follow you," said the captain

decisively.

They bolted through the chaos, away from the

turbolifts, past the transporter room, and around

the curvature of the catwalk, making their way

steadily toward the aurora of golden

lights at the exit. Kirk could see where the

natural archway opened on the floor beneath them, and the

idea that they were so close to freedom made him run

all the harder. But Renna was slowing down, taking time

to peer over the railing at the anarchy below.

She stopped Kirk and pointed down.

"There it is-one of the trucks."

He followed her eyes to a contraption parked

directly beneath them. The thing looked like a flatbed

railroad car full of coffin-sized cages. It

didn't look like much of a drop, but Kirk couldn't

tell how sturdy the wooden slats were that covered the

top of the crude vehicle. He could see Senites

taking up positions around it, and he knew there

wasn't time for drawn-out thought processes. The

sirens blared urgently, and a major brawl was

taking place outside the turbolifts on level

eight. The armed Senites didn't know who to shoot.

He gathered Spock and McCoy around them.

"We're jumping down onto that wagon below us and

driving it out the door. Spock, you and Renna find

the controls-she's seen this thing operating. We're

liable to attract some attention, and McCoy and I

will keep them at bay. Ready?"

"Lead on," declared Renna, grinning.

Kirk gripped the railing and swung himself over,

landing with a loud crash on top of the wagon. One of the

Senites looked up, and Kirk rolled out of

sight. Several shouts distracted the Senite guard,

and Renna and Spock leaped upon the roof and rolled in

the same direction as Kirk. The Senite started

to climb up the wagon to investigate at the same

moment that McCoy got enough courage to leap.

"What are you doing?" it shouted at the startled

doctor as he landed.

Spock and Kirk reached over the side of the

wagon, grabbed the Senite under its arms, and hauled

it to the roof. Kirk covered its mouth while Spock

delivered a 182 nerve pinch that silenced its

struggles. They looked around, expecting an

onslaught of Senites, but each of the white-robed

guards had its attention directed to noisier

scenes. Had they glanced at the truck, they might

have seen what looked like two Senites pulling a

third one aboard.

Crouching low on the rickety slats, Kirk

nodded to Spock and Renna, and they crawled toward the

robotic cab, where the directional equipment was

housed. As they got closer, they saw they weren't the

only ones with that idea Two Senites were

climbing from the other direction.

Renna kept her head down and moved faster, and

she swung into the narrow cab before Spock got there.

She began to study the instruments, having used plenty

of equipment without the benefit of a manual. She

heard angry voices, and the Vulcan swung down

beside her, leaving the two Senites to Kirk and

McCoy, who were converging quickly. She and Spock

eyed different sections of the machinery as a thumping

fistfight commenced over their heads. She hoped

Kirk and McCoy were winning, because if they weren't,

it was too bad-she and Spock were pulling out of here.

Renna flipped a switch, the vehicle shuddered,

and instruments lit up inside the cabin. Spock

nodded approvingly.

"We have power. I can see no steering mechanism,

so I presume the vehicle has photoelectric

sensors and an automatic guidance system. But which

control is forward?"

"Take a guess," offered Renna, "like I

did."

They heard a scream overhead that continued down the

side of the truck, and they knew somebody had fallen

off. A laser blast jarred the roof over their heads,

shearing off several centimeters of wood and

metal, and there wasn't time for more than a guess.

183 Spock waved his hand over a prominent

sensor panel, and the vehicle lurched backward,

knocking both of them off their feet. The Vulcan

tried to brace himself, while helping Renna get her

footing.

Above, Kirk and McCoy had no sooner

ducked from the laser blast than they were surprised by the

sudden movement. They ignored the remaining Senite

to grab anything they could to keep from falling. McCoy

slipped off the roof of the wagon and clung

precariously to the iron grating of one of the cages,

while Kirk smashed his fist through the wooden slats

in an attempt to grab the metal frame underneath.

The Senite floundered for a few seconds, then got

his arms around a post that separated two sections of

cages. He might have hung on all day had

Kirk not belted him in the face with the heel of his

boot. The Senite flopped off the vehicle as it

thundered toward the cave wall, and McCoy closed his

eyes and cringed, anticipating the crash. But the

wagon sensed the impending obstruction, reversed

course, and rumbled toward the glowing lights of the

entrance.

They were the center of attention now, and both

the anxious Senites and the crazed fugitives

converged upon them. From nowhere, a hairy figure

swung from the tattered remains of a curtain,

swooped to a spread-eagle position over their

heads, and dropped with a banshee yell. The roof

didn't begin to hold him, and he ended up trapped

in the mangled wreckage of several cages,

bellowing like a moose.

There was nothing, in fact, that Kirk and McCoy

could do to prevent picking up passengers as the giant

body cart rumbled toward the gleaming lights of the

exit. They had all they could handle just to hang on,

and it didn't help that Senite laser blasts were

tearing holes in the vehicle, reducing it to a

twisted skeleton. Kirk's skin felt oddly

warm and prickly as the 184 golden lights washed

over him, and that was followed by the cool sensation of

night air, a welcome taste of freedom from a very

unpleasant place.

The bumpy ride and sudden darkness were disorienting,

and Kirk wasn't sure what to do next, except

hang on. The jarring reminded him of hay rides

he had taken as a kid, when somebody had kicked the

tractor into high gear.

"Help! You filthy blighters! I'll

kill you! Help me!" yelled their loudest

passenger.

"Quiet, Billiwog!" ordered Kirk.

"We can't free you now. We're all along for the

ride. Everyone-don't make any false moves.

McCoy, are you all right?"

"I can't move!" yelled the doctor.

"I'm barely hanging on!"

"I'll try to locate you all," promised

Kirk. Before he could move, he was startled by a hand

that alighted firmly on his shoulder. It was Spock.

"Good timing," breathed Kirk.

"Can you see how many people we're carrying?"

Despite the jarring ride, the Vulcan used his

uncommon sense of balance to get on his hands and

knees and crawl along the twisted spine of the

wagon. Kirk heard him assuring their unseen

passengers that he wasn't a Senite and that they would

be stopping soon.

"We damn well better!" growled a voice that

could only be Billiwog's.

Kirk peered into the hazy darkness off the rear of the

wagon and could make out nothing but the faintest glow of

golden lights. Within a few seconds, even that

weak glimmer was gone, leaving the captain with

no sign as to their direction or whereabouts. Spock was

creeping back over the top of the wagon.

"There are seven in total," he reported.

"The four of us, Billiwog, and two other

fugitives. Nobody seems to be following us from

the Senite complex."

"They're probably running for the

transporters," said Kirk with satisfaction.

"I still can't believe what was going or, in that

place."

"What was going on," said Spock, "was

procreation without sex. Very illogical."

"I'm glad you think so." The truck bounced on

a deep furrow and sent Kirk's jaw pounding against

the roof.

"Ouch!" he cried.

"Are we going to let this thing run rampant all

night?"

"We can stop it to rearrange our seating," said

Spock.

"However, since we cannot survey the terrain in

darkness, I suggest we continue to put distance between

ourselves and the Senites."

"Just stop it for a moment," Kirk ordered.

The Vulcan maneuvered deftly along

the blackened roof and disappeared down a narrow hatch.

A few moments later, the conveyance lurched and

shuddered to a stop. With McCoy leading the way, the

bedraggled passengers let go of their hazardous

perches and dropped to the ground. Kirk stopped

to grab a hairy wrist and help Billiwog

extricate himself from the mangled cages before he

leaped to the ground. When he did, he found

McCoy, a blue skinned Andorian, and a

snout-nosed Tellarite, all rubbing aching arms and

shoulders. Renna and Spock remained in the tiny

cab, evidently studying the controls.

"What an escape!" exclaimed the

Tellarite, shaking his fist triumphantly.

"We owe you our lives."

"Yes," said the tall Andorian, bowing regally.

"How can we repay you?"

"Well," said McCoy, "we've been looking

for our shuttlecraft .. ."

The Andorian cocked his antennae thoughtfully.

"I believe I may be able to help you."

"Really?" Kirk turned sharply toward the

alien. "What do you mean?" "There is a place

comnorth of here, I would figure called the

Graveyard of Lost Ships. It's where the

Senites store all the spaceships and other

debris they don't need."

"I think I've heard of it," mused

Billiwog.

"Have you really been there?"

"I lived there for two years," answered the

Andorian.

"I'm not much of a tinkerer, not like most of those people, but

I shall be glad to go back there. Believe me, I will

never go in search of a free meal again."

"Do they ever manage to get any vessels

flying?" asked Kirk.

Perhaps it was th e darkness, but the Andorian's face

did not look encouraging.

"Sometimes," he muttered.

"Look, I will be happy to take you there,

considering we can ride most of the way on this strange

craft.

What we should do is set our course due north

and look for a river I know."

"All right," said Kirk, climbing back up the

side of the wagon, "we'll trust you to lead us there.

We can't stay here very long, so don't anybody

wander off. And keep a lookout to the rear-the

Senites might still come after us."

"The Graveyard of Lost Ships," muttered

McCoy to no one in particular.

Scotty stood on the main deck of the

Neptune, staring into a two-hundred-liter fish

tank. The greenish water was teeming with a million

tiny yellow larvae, each about three centimeters

long. They twisted and curled over each other like

worms in hot ash, both repelling and mesmerizing the

visiting engineer. All of the other tanks were empty,

awaiting the hoped-for wealth of aquatic life-forms

from the seas of Sanctuary, life-forms that Scotty

doubted were ever going to arrive. His doubts were verified

a few moments later when a dour Captain Mora

joined him in the aquarium section.

"Well," he said glumly, "I tried again

to contact the Senites. I've tried on every channel

with a request that was entirely scientific and

nonthreatening. No response whatsoever. No

acknowledgment of our presence.

What kind of society won't even acknowledge

a scientific vessel that is orbiting its

planet?"

"That's the Senites," remarked Scotty.

"We can orbit all we want, but that's all we

can do."

Mora shook his gray-cropped head.

"I did something else," he said.

"I

contacted Starfleet about our invasion plans."

"Very good." Scotty beamed.

"And who-or what comd we intend to send down there

to get their attention?"

"You were looking at them a second ago,"

answered Captain Mora, staring past him at the

teeming larvae in the green tank.

"What?" The Scotsman followed his gaze.

"Aren't they a tad small to make much of an

impact?"

"They're small now," explained the captain,

"but those tiny larvae will grow into one million

Regulan locusts, each about as long as your index

finger."

He gazed fondly at the mad activity in the

tank.

"We keep a huge supply of them for food.

Small animals can eat the larvae or the eggs, and

larger creatures find the locusts themselves quite tasty."

"A plague of locusts," remarked Scotty with

an approving glint in his eye.

"That seems appropriate for the

Senites." Then he cautioned, "But we can't do

anything that would actually damage their ecology."

"I've thought of that," answered Captain Mora,

"and this batch has already been irradiated comthey're

sterile. If we time it correctly, in a couple

of days we can transport the entire tank down just

as they're about to emerge from the larval state

into adulthood. 188 A few will get eaten by fish

or whatever's down there, but the rest will become a

swarm that is bound to make life miserable for whoever

they encounter." He glanced at Scotty and added,

"That is, if you can guarantee they will pass through the

Senites' shield."

"Aye, they will," answered the engineer.

"Their shield must have some sort of filter that

detects living matter and allows it to pass through.

Our sensors dunna work within their shield, but

we've located a few population centers with our

telescopes. And we'll make damn sure ta

let the Senites know it was us who sent them this little

plague."

Captain Mora smiled.

"The locusts will be gone entirely in a week

to ten days, but I doubt if they'll be forgotten."

Scotty surveyed the writhing

life-forms with new respect.

"Aye, ye're wee buggers," he told them,

"but you have a big job to do. Ye've got to get those

bloody Senites mad enough to give us back our

captain and officers."

"They'll be mad," Donald Mora assured

him.

"Anybody who's ever been attacked by a swarm

of Regulan locusts remembers it."

It was almost noon on Sanctuary before the morning

sun finally climbed over the immense mountain range

that surrounded the narrow canyon. The flying

creatures that swooped from the crevices and the odd

fish that strolled from pond to pond all kept their

distance from the noisy machine that rumbled up the pass.

Seven weary souls clung to the twisted metal

carcass as it rolled deeper into the wilderness.

Captain Kirk was beginning to have his doubts that the

tall Andorian knew what he was talking about. This

land looked wilder than the place where they had first

landed, as if no one had ever set foot here, not even

crazy survivalists. It was depressing to think they

were back where they had started, lost in the rugged

mountains of Sanctuary.

Only now they were worse off, because they were

fleeing for their lives.

Into what? The captain tried not to think too hard

about it.

At least, he thought grumpily as he tried

to fashion a seat amid the mangled bars of one of the

cages, they were making good time. The Andorian had led

them to a river, but that was hardly unusual in a land

where it rained at least part of every day. Following his

instructions, they had found a shallow place that

allowed them to ford the river with little difficulty. But

again, what did that prove? Since then, they had

proceeded due north into a canyon that was growing

progressively narrower and more difficult

to navigate.

The giant conveyance ran on solar power and

apparently stored enough energy during the day to keep it

going all night, but it couldn't keep climbing up a

steep grade full of boulders and rutted streams

forever.

Already, the treads were spinning on the loose

gravel, and Spock had taken over manual steering

because the automatic guidance system had refused

to allow the wagon to go any farther.

Water was no problem, but the captain was getting

hungry, as he assumed everyone was.

To their credit, none of them-Spock, McCoy,

Renna, Billiwog, the chubby Tellarite, the

well-mannered Andorian-had complained about hunger.

But Kirk couldn't see how they could keep up this

pace without stopping to hunt for food. Only fear

of the Senites kept them moving, but the memory of those

gleaming rows of operating tables was a powerful

incentive. The captain finally decided they could go

on for several more hours before getting desperate enough

to stop.

The decision was suddenly made for them. With deadly

accuracy, a fusillade of rocks came crashing

down from the canyon walls, striking the cab where

Spock and Renna were ensconced. The wagon careened

oil' the streambed and up the slope of the arroyo. There

were screams and shouts from almost everyone on board, and

they scrambled across the top of the wagon to keep from being

crushed. Another wave of boulders came thundering

down, and Kirk saw the Tellarite get struck

by one and vanish under the gnashing treads. McCoy

lost his handhold in the mad scramble and tumbled off the

rear of the vehicle.

"Bones!" shouted Kirk. He reached

instinctively for his friend. but he was too late.

"You scummy blighters!" yelled

Billiwog, shaking a fist at the unseen

attackers.

"Show yourselves!" He never stopped shouting as the

vehicle teetered up the embankment.

Kirk saw Renna trying to claw her way out of the

cab, and He crept forward to help her. She

looked at him in sheer terror and barely managed

to duck out of sight before another hall of stones

pummeled the bouncing wagon. Kirk covered his head

and felt the thunderous vibrations all around him.

Abruptly, the truck came to a complete stop,

and its treads spun uselessly on bare rock. Its

momentum gone, the giant vehicle listed like a

sinking ship and began a slow collapse. With a

frightening roar, it flopped onto its side and spewed

a cloud of dust many meters into the air. Kirk

hung on with all his might, but he was still flung from the

vehicle into the dry riverbed. He tucked into a

ball and rolled until he could regain his feet,

then dashed for the safety of the boulders on the other

side of the arroyo.

The captain wanted desperately to help his

comrades, but as long as the rock attack continued,

he was helpless.

WHEN McCoy was tossed off the back

of the runaway wagon, he grazed the canyon wall

and rolled several meters down an incline until

he sprawled face forward in a rain-soaked rut of

mud. He groaned and felt himself lapsing

into unconsciousness. What brought him back to his

senses was a monstrous grinding sound, followed by a

crash that shook the ground and spewed gravel onto his

head. He coughed and spit out dirt, then looked up

to see the giant vehicle lying on its side, like

some kind of fallen prehistoric beast.

When nothing moved after a few seconds, there

came a strange trilling sound from on high, like a

dozen youthful voices shrieking an off-key

la-la-la. The eerie cry, echoing through the canyon,

was frightening enough to make McCoy want to run for

cover. Then he thought better of it, knowing that he was still

within range of their deadly missiles. He waited

and watched, wondering if the assault would continue.

But all he heard was the strange victory sound.

Their attackers were apparently content at the moment

to have stopped the advance of the wagon, so McCoy

rose stiffly to his feet and brushed himself off. It

was then that he saw the body lying in the bladder

plants a few meters away.

Inside the dusty cab, Spock shifted

under Renna's weight. The woman was dazed but not

unconscious, despite the warm trickle of

blood coming from above her left ear. Upon losing

control of the vehicle, Spock had braced himself

inside the cramped cabin, anticipating the

inevitable crash, and he had suffered no ill

effects. He had also managed to catch Renna before

she could be seriously injured.

"Oh," she groaned, "are we still ali ve?"

"Quiet, please," answered the Vulcan. He

was listening to the victory trilling from atop the

bluff, and he wondered what sort of creatures

had attacked them. Knowing what he knew about the

Senites, he could hardly blame anyone for

attacking one of their body carts, and he hoped the

victorious attackers could be reasoned with. As

suddenly as it began, the strange cry stopped.

Spock then heard shuffling outside the vehicle.

"Yo, in there. You all right?" called a gruff

voice. It was Billiwog.

"Relatively speaking, yes," answered

Spock.

"Can you see who attacked us?"

"No," snapped the big humanoid, "but if I

do, I'll wring their necks!"

"Help us out," said Renna, reaching for the big

man's hirsute arms.

Spock moved her gently across his chest and over his

head, until Billiwog could grip her under the arms

and pull her out. Then the Vulcan crawled out after

her.

The hairy humanoid stood admiring the petite

white-robed figure.

"Is this the woman you brought back for me?" he

asked, grinning.

"I am grateful."

"Hardly," spat Renna.

"You should be grateful without me, you'd be on your

way to becoming a Senite. Although it might've taken

them a week to shave you."

Billiwog snarled, "The dirty blighters!"

He craned his neck and surveyed the ridge.

"Speaking of dirty blighters, where are they? Why

don't they finish us or" "Unknown," answered

Spock. He looked down the arroyo to see a

slight figure jogging toward them.

"Dr. McCoy," Spock hailed him.

"Have you seen the captain?"

"No." McCoy scowled.

"But I've seen the Tellarite, and

he's dead. Crushed under the wheels."

McCoy started to examine Renna's head wound,

but she brushed his hand away.

"I'm all right. Where's the captain and the

Andorian?"

They didn't have to look far for Captain Kirk,

who came jogging toward them from the other side of the

wrecked vehicle.

"The Andorian took off at a dead run," he

panted, "and I chased him for a while.... So much for

our guide. Let's get to those rocks on the other

side of the canyon."

As soon as they were well away from the deadly

ridge, they stopped and took stock of their situation.

"The Senites could be after us," Kirk said. He

pointed to the far ridge.

"Or whoever attacked us."

"Then we'll make our last stand right here,"

McCoy replied.

"It's as good a place as any."

Spock cocked an eyebrow and remarked, "We

cannot be certain, but it would seem that the Senites could have

found us by now, if they were so inclined. And whoever

attacked us from the ridge was apparently content to stop

the Senite wagon, and our advance."

Kirk slumped down onto the dirt and sighed.

"Yeah, I guess we sort of made a mess

of the Senites' operation. They must be busy cleaning

up. So everyone's accounted for, though the Tellarite

is dead and the Andorian has run off."

"Who cares about them?" growled Billiwog.

"We're alive, and I'm hungry.

Anybody want to help me look for food?"

That night, the odd party of two human males,

one human female, a Vulcan, and a giant of

indeterminate species dined quite sumptuously on a

large number of ambulatory fish, a herd of which was

located by Billiwog. The brawny humanoid also

knew which rocks could be struck to start a fire and which

vines were fibrous enough to burn. They roasted the fish

on spits over an open flame and ate their fill

of the oily but tasty flesh.

Once the shadows started to race across the canyon,

darkness was not far behind, and they were soon joined

by Sanctuary's two moons-the small pink one and the

giant white one. Due to the mysterious attack,

Kirk insisted upon posting a guard for the entire

night. He also insisted upon taking the first watch.

While the others slept peacefully for the first time in

days, Kirk watched the parade of stars and

moons across the narrow swath of sky that was visible between

the towering peaks. All was still as the hours passed, and

Kirk gradually relaxed-until something touched his

shoulder from behind. Kirk gasped and leaped to his

feet, snatching up a length of vine to use as a

club.

"It's only me," breathed Renna. Her head was

wrapped in a makeshift bandage made from the hem of

her white garment. "Sorry," he sighed, sitting

back down on the ground.

"You're supposed to be sleeping."

"I know, but I've been sleeping for hours already,

and McCoy will never know. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." Kirk smiled at her.

"You would be welcome company at any time."

"Oh," she said, alighting beside him, "that's not

entirely true. If I were really the pirate you

thought I was, you certainly wouldn't introduce me

to Starfleet High Command. Or to your mother."

Kirk grinned.

"I would introduce you to my mother. But I wouldn't

tell her what you did for a living."

Renna watched the young captain as the merriment

faded from his lips and his eyes drifted back to the

gleaming beltway of stars. They watched the

stars together for a long time.

"Do you think we'll ever get back up there?" she

asked, swallowing hard.

"Yes," Kirk said solemnly, "I do.

Don't ask me how. I just know that I'll never

stop trying to get back."

Renna took the bandage off, freeing her lustrous

black hair, and smiled wi/lly.

"Space was my playground, even when I was a

baby. My father and I have houses and property, but

they aren't really home. They never were."

She pointed upward.

"That's home. And now it's gone."

Kirk's voice was hoarse when he replied,

"To be separated from the things you used to take for

granted comisn't that the real definition of a

prison?"

Renna tried to say something, but her voice caught

in a sob. Kirk moved closer to her and put his arm

around her trembling shoulders. They gazed fondly,

affectionately-not at each other, but at a million

sparkling diamonds scattered through the black web

called space. In the morning, they all gnawed on

a few leftover fish and doused the smoldering embers

of their fire. The Andorian had not

returned during the night, and Kirk was growing

increasingly skeptical. Was there such a thing as the

Graveyard of Lost Ships? Or was it just a myth

that the inmates of Sanctuary took some small comfort

in telling one another?

Unfortunately, there were only two courses

available in the deep canyon

back to the Senite stronghold, or straight

ahead into the unknown.

Kirk chose the unknown, but he also chose not to go

unprotected. They stripped a few metal

plates off the wrecked wagon and wrapped vines

around them for handholds. Armed with these lightweight

rectangular shields, they prepared to march

northward up the narrow wash.

"All right," said Kirk, "spread out-at least

ten paces apart, so we don't make too good a

target. And keep your eyes on the top of the

ridge. At the first sign of rocks, shields

up."

McCoy hefted the piece of sheet metal in his

hands and muttered, "I wish they were real shields."

"They are real shields, Doctor," said

Spock.

"Unfortunately, they're from the wrong

millennium. They would have been considered quite

adequate in your Bronze Age."

McCoy shrugged.

"I guess they fit in with rocks as weapons."

Captain Kirk took the lead and motioned everyone

to follow him.

"Let's go. Keep your eyes open."

Despite Kirk's admonition about traveling

ten paces apart, Renna walked directly behind

Kirk, and McCoy bumped into Billiwog a few

times. Spock brought up the rear, keeping his shield

at chest level. They had traveled a few

kilometers, climbing into ever more rugged terrain, when

the first rock came 197 sailing off the ('edge above

them. Kirk jumped back, and it landed at his feet.

"Shields up!" he called.

Everyone lifted their sheets of metal and waited

for the onslaught. It came quickly as dozens of

melon sized and fist-sized rocks came arcing over

the cliff a hundred meters above them. There were

thundering sounds when the rocks hit the shields, and

dull thuds when they struck the ground. Renna took

a direct hit and dropped to her knees, and Kirk

rushed to protect her.

"Form a phalanx!" he ordered,

motioning to the others to draw closer.

The party of five pressed together and lifted their

shields to make an armored canopy. This gave their

unseen attackers a better target, but it also

allowed them to bolster each other and absorb harder

blows. Billiwog stood like a tree trunk in the

middle of the group, purposely warding off the biggest

rocks.

"The sneaky blighters can't stop us!" he

growled.

"Let's keep going."

They did exactly that and were soon stumbling forward

through the assault like a ten-legged turtle. But they

made progress, and the ferocity of the attack began

to lessen.

"They are running out of ammunition," Spock

observed.

He was right, thought Kirk, as the attack

trickled off to an occasional dirt clod. A few

moments later, they were walking as before, completely

unmolested, but with shields held at the ready.

Ahead of them, the creek bed narrowed to a small

fissure in a rock wall. This was probably the

source of the stream when it was running, thought the

captain, but they would have to climb ten meters

or so to reach it. That would leave them vulnerable

to attack. Past that hole in the wall was-who

knew what? They had come to the end of the trail, such as

it was. The Andorian who had led them here was gone,

and they couldn't turn back. Kirk stopped and handed

his shield to Billiwog.

"Cover me," he said.

"I'm climbing up there to see what there is

to see."

"No!" cried Renna.

"It's too dangerous. They could pick you off with

one well-thrown rock."

Spock nodded.

"I would have to agree, Captain. Our attackers

could be waiting in ambush."

"What do you want us to do?" asked Kirk.

"Stay here the rest of our lives? Besides, I'm

willing to bet that we 've made faster progress

than they have we been walking on relatively

level ground, and they've had to scamper along that

ridge. Besides, anybody can throw a rock. Pick

some up and cover me. 11

Billiwog grabbed a rock that was as big as a

watermelon.

"Go, Kirk," he said.

"I'll bash the dirty scum."

"Thanks." The captain smiled.

"But keep your eyes open, too

Kirk pulled up the sleeves of his jacket,

dug his fingers into the porous stone, and began to climb.

Where there weren't toeholds and handholds, he dug

them, and he was soon scaling the rock wall like a

gecko. All eyes scanned the horizon for

signs of attack, but none came. The sky was a

peaceful if overcast gray Grunting the last

meter, Kirk finally threw his arm into the fissure and

lifted himself up to see what lay beyond. Through the hole

in the rock, he could see thick greenery and a path so

wide it looked like a road. He pulled himself up

until his stomach pushed against the ledge and he leaned

forward to hoist himself up-then suddenly a claw

gripped his arm, and a fearsome gargoyle with red eyes,

wild hair, and sharp teeth loomed in his face.

Kirk recoiled, almost screaming, and he struggled

to keep from falling.

The snarling visage snapped at him and lifted a

claw to rake his face.

He teetered there, helpless, trying to maintain his

balance. Then a missile whistled over his shoulder and

struck the creature in the center of its

frightful face. The thing howled and stumbled backward,

and Kirk quickly lifted himself through the hole.

Kirk scrambled to his feet, prepared to fight,

when he saw that his assailant was less than half

his height, and almost childlike. It scampered

away, making a few trilling sounds.

Kirk hastily surveyed the outcrop of rocks

and determined that he had been attacked by a lone

specimen of whatever it was. He called back through

the hole, "Come on! Hurry!"

One by one, the rest of the party climbed the rock

wall, using the toeholds and handholds Kirk had

chiseled in the soft stone. Before the last one,

Billiwog, started to climb, he passed up the

metal shields.

Kirk and the others struggled to pull the giant

humanoid through the crevice, and he barely

squeezed through.

"Who threw that rock?" asked Kirk.

"That was a great throw," "it was Ieasd Spock,

"although several of us threw at the same time."

"A lucky shot." McCoy scowled.

"Lucky for me." Kirk glanced around.

"I don't know exactly what that creature

was, but it seemed childlike."

Billiwog shrugged his hairy shoulders.

"There are lots of creatures who grew up in

these mountains. They crash-landed or were abandoned

by adults worried about survival. They are no

better than animals." 200

SANCTUARY

"I don't know," said McCoy, "they put up

a pretty spirited defense of this mountain pass. They

obviously consider it to be theirs."

Renna shivered, but not from the cold.

"What would any of us be like, if we'd lived all

our lives in this place? Can't we go on?"

"Yes," agreed Kirk. He turned to survey

the plateau they had reached.

Unlike the rain-carved gully they had traversed

below, the plateau opened into a rolling valley full

of bladder trees, dense vines, and hanging moss.

The cliffs were far enough away that ambush was out of the

question, and beneath their feet lay a well-worn

footpath. Kirk really couldn't blame the

creatures for fighting to keep strangers out of their

lush valley.

"Let's go," he said, "and show them we are only

passing through."

Once again, the ragged party embarked on

a journey into the unknown. As they walked, Kirk

pulled his beat-up communicator from his back

pocket.

"Kirk to Enterprise, "he said plaintively.

"Come in, Enterprise. was Renna smiled.

"You are a dreamer, Kirk."

"You never know." He repeated his request, then

listened for several seconds. But there was no

response, and Kirk snapped the communicator

shut.

"But not today."

McCoy glanced up at the sky, where there was

nothing but thick gray clouds that threatened rain.

"I wonder what the heck they're doing to get

hold of us?"

"Unknown," said Spock.

"They have probably exhausted all of the logical

courses of action. They may be resorting to somewhat

desperate measures by now."

"Or they've given up," suggested McCoy,

frowning.

Kirk shook his head.

"If I know Scotty and the rest of our crew,

I don't think that's likely."

There was an ominous crack of thunder, and the

clouds dribbled raindrops upon them that felt as big

as the stones thrown by their unseen attackers. One

by one, they lifted their sheet-metal umbrellas and

trudged forward in silence.

Some distance away, it was sunny on the island of

Khyming. At the rear of the magnificent seminary,

there was a special outdoor cafe reserved for high

ranking Senites and trusted refugees. It was there

that the slim Senite Zicree was enjoying a

leisurely lunch of healthful salad with his

companion, Kellen. Zicree had just returned from

an emergency on the mainland, but the Senite didn't

want to burden the young woman with details, except

to say that the same gang of persecutors had been

causing trouble again. It took comfort from the familiar

mist swirling around the central mountain, the white

bungalows clinging to the cliffs, and the swaying network of

rope bridges.

Kellen's pretty face sported a pout.

"I can't believe that persecutors would actually

come to Sanctuary to pursue their hateful goals.

It's bad enough that they hunt innocent refugees-why

can't they stay where they belong?"

The Senite shook its head and replied, "I

misjudged them. Even though I knew they

were persecutors, I thought they had the intelligence

to adapt and learn to live in peace."

"What did they do now?" asked Kellen.

Zicree narrowed its eyes at the thought of the

havoc they had caused in the Reboming facility, but

it didn't say anything to the impressionable young

woman. The pampered refugees of Khyming were

ignorant of the Reborning, as well they should be.

Recent events had proven again the need for

secrecy.

"I don't wish to speak of their crimes," said

Zicree.

"We can only hope that we are rid of them."

The Senite was about to take a bite from its salad

when something fell into the bowl. Zicree jerked back

in revulsion as its salad began to twitch with a life

of its own. Something long and green, with numerous

crooked legs and flapping wings, struggled

to extricate itself from the sticky salad dressing.

On a planet where insects were mostly

microscopic, such a thing was unheard of. The

Senite stared in awe at the hideous creature.

"What is this?" it shrieked.

An ominous humming sounded. Another flying thing

struck Zicree's cheek, and soon the

Senite was bombarded by buzzing, whirring beasts.

Kellen leaped to her feet with a mass of giant

locusts clinging to her chest and her hair.

Her screams of horror rent the air, as did a

horde of winged invertebrates.

The swarm of Regulan locusts engulfed the

outdoor cafe, sending both servants and patrons

fleeing in panic.

Waving its arms frantically, blinded by a

million wings and deafened by the buzzing, Zicree

staggered into the building. A Senite tried to hold the

door shut against the horrible attack, but other

screaming patrons forced it open, seeking refuge.

Locusts poured into the seminary, and everywhere there was

bedlam. Outside, Kellen lay curled in a

ball beside her table, sobbing, although no harm had

befallen her. The swarm lurched from one part of the

village to another, causing terror and panic, but

no real damage.

Zicree swatted a few remaining insects off

its clothes and demanded of no one in particular,

"What is the cause of this?"

To its surprise, someone answered, "The

persecutors! The new ones in orbit.

They have sent word that they are

responsible."

That chilled the slim Senite to the very core of its

altered body. The persecutors! It hardly needed

to be told which ones. The recent arrivals had

caused more problems in the few days since they had

appeared than all the other persecutors and

scavengers had caused in three centuries! For a

split second, Zicree almost wished that it had

returned the three strangers to their mother ship. But

no! That would be appeasing the persecutors-the one thing

no Senite would ever do.

Through clenched teeth, Zicree vowed, "I will

speak with them."

"That is forbidden," the other Senite cautioned.

Zicree grabbed its associate by the robe and

forced it to look out the door at the havoc caused by the

locust attack.

"Do you wish to let this continue?" asked Zicree.

"Do you wish to invite them to do worse? The

programming of the shield will not stop living creatures

from entering our atmosphere. We must force them

to stop!"

"But how?"

Zicree considered for a moment, then let go of the

Senite's robe.

"Get me the Observation Unit."

Commander Scott and Captain Mora stood

expectantly on the bridge of the Enterprise,

waiting to see if their little messengers to Sanctuary

would be acknowledged. Scotty had spent several

hours reading scientific texts on the sterilization

process, assuring himself that no damage could occur

to Sanctuary's environment from releasing the locusts.

At this point, Scotty hated the Senites, but that

wouldn't allow him to disobey the Prime

Directive. If they wanted to behave like

pigheaded heathen savages, that was their right-as long as

they understood they had to return his captain,

doctor, and first officer.

Uhura swiveled around in her chair.

"We are being hailed from the planet," she

announced. Sulu and Chekov glanced over their

shoulders at the acting captain. Scotty stiffened

to attention. Then he turned to the officer beside him.

"Captain Mora," he asked, "do you wish

to conduct this negotiation ?"

"No, Commander," he said, "you're doing just fine.

Good luck."

Scotty nodded.

"Put it on the screen,

Lieutenant."

"Aye, s1r," Uhura answered.

A second later, the ageless face of Zicree

appeared on the viewscreen. The Senite's

normally bland expression was contorted with anger.

"We wish to protest this unprovoked attack.

This is biological warfare of the worst sort!"

"What attack?" said Scotty benevolently.

"As my esteemed colleague Captain Mora

said when he tried to contact you, we wish to exchange

information on various species. We have sent you a

few Regulan locusts for you to study.

By the way, we have millions more, when those run

out."

"That will not be necessary," the Senite replied.

"We consider this a most barbaric act."

Scotty continued, more grimly, "in return,

we wish you to send us Captain James T.

Kirk, First Officer Spock, and Dr.

McCoy. We have repeatedly sent you visual

likenesses of these men, and we can do so again, if need

be."

Zicree managed a tight-lipped smile.

"There is no need for that-we know quite well what they

look like. Apparently, you do not believe us

when we say that your crew members-who came here of

their own free will-are living lives of peace and

contentment. To prove to you that such is the case, we are

furnishing a visual record that was taken only a

few hours ago. I direct your attention to your

viewscreen."

The Senite's face blinked off, to be replaced

by a perfectly tranquil scene in a pleasant

outdoor cafe. There was no audio, but the image

on the screen was stunning in its clarity Sitting at

a table, apparently enjoying a hearty meal, were the

captain, Spock, and McCoy! Everyone on the

bridge leaned forward to stare at the screen, and they

watched with amazement as a white-robed waiter came

by to serve the trio more delicious-looking food.

"Blimey," Scotty murmured.

"Uhura, close the audio."

"Audio closed," she said, troubled.

"We can talk freely."

"Those are the missing men, aren't they?" asked

Captain Mora.

"Or their spittin' images," answered

Scotty, stepping closer to the tranquil scene.

"Chekov, run a scan of that visual. Make

sure it's not computer-generated, or they're

not imposters9' "They don't look like they're

suffering," said Uhura.

Chekov shook his head and reported, "Computer

positeevely identifies that as the keptin, Mr.

Spock, and Dr. McCoy. It is an un

retouched visual record." His face was puzzled

as he looked up at the unmistakable likenesses

on the screen.

"Could they have been brainwashed?"

"Just because they're eating doesn't mean they like it

there," suggested Sulu. But no matter how hard they

stared at the civilized setting, it was hard to find

anything about it that a person would not like.

The visual faded away, to be replaced by the

Senite, who looked much calmer. At Scotty's

command, Uhura restored audio.

"So you have seen with your own eyes," said Zicree,

"that your former officers are well treated, happy, and

fulfilled."

"If that's the case," replied Scotty, "can

we talk to them?"

"I'm afraid not," said the Senite.

"Because no one ever leaves Sanctuary, all of

our refugees must become 206 acclimated to their

new lives. For them to talk to you now would

only be upsetting and unproductive- for both of

you. Why don't you admit that your attempts

to'rescue'them are misguided? We would all be

better off if you would simply accept what cannot be

changed."

Scotty slammed his fist into his palm, because

words eluded him.

"Please," admonished the Senite, smiling for the

first time, "no more childish pranks. They are beneath you.

We recognize the Federation as a great power that is

usually a force for good in the galaxy. We ask that you

recognize our sovereignty and our mission. That

is all."

The scrbbtilde en went blank, as black and

final as the expression on Scotty's face.

"At least we know they're alive," said Uhura

softly.

Captain Mora shrugged and walked toward the

turbolift.

"I must return to my ship," he said.

"I'm afraid, Commander Scott, I must also

put this in my report to Starfleet."

"Aye," Scotty acknowledged, "as will I.the

door swished open, and the officer left the bridge.

"This doesn't look good, does it?"

asked Sulu.

Scotty slumped into the captain's chair.

"Do ye mean," he sighed, "do I think we'll

ever see those three again? In person, and not on some

flippin' video? I don't know. But I won't

give up till they tell me with their own lips that

they want to stay on that blasted planet. And I

dunna believe that mealymouthed Senite for a single

minute."

For several moments after Scotty's declaration,

there was no part of space as silent as the bridge of the

USS Enterprise.

LoNG sHadows were stretching across the valley,

which was arguably the prettiest part of Sanctuary that

they had yet seen in their reluctant travels,

thought Kirk. Fed by numerous streams, ponds, and

underground rivers, the bladder trees grew as high as

those on the island of Khyming and sprouted orange

flowers as large as a man's head. Lush moss

several centimeters thick covered the ground, and

thick vines snaked everywhere like a network of veins

on a human heart.

The party of five had seen impressive herds of

both the lungfish, as they'd dubbed them, and scrawny

rodent like mammals, and neither species

showed much fear of the intruders. The sky was dotted with a

flock of batlike creatures that swooped from one

cliff to another, chasing the herds of fish. Even a

constant drizzle could not dampen the beauty of this

wild place.

Kirk and Renna found themselves walking together,

swiveling their heads in unison at each new

sight. They often glanced at one another, and Kirk

felt uncomfortably like the male half of Adam and

Eve.

"There are uglier places to live," said Renna

offhandedly.

"I suppose so." Kirk shrugged.

"You wouldn't have to worry about the neighbors getting

on your nerves."

"It's going to be dark in another hour," Renna

remarked.

"We should keep our eyes open for a place

to camp."

"Food and water are no problem," added Kirk,

feeling like he was making small talk.

"If we have to stay here .. ." Renna began. But

she didn't finish.

"Yeah." Kirk nodded, managing a smile.

"If we have kids, Spock can be our

babysitter."

"Pardon me, Captain?" asked the Vulcan,

who was striding along a few meters away.

"Nothing," answered the captain.

"We were just admiring the view."

"Captain," said the Vulcan, "I cannot be

certain, but I believe we are being followed."

Kirk turned to look behind him, but he didn't

stop walking.

"How do you know?"

"That flock of flying creatures was startled

by something about eighty meters behind us," answered

Spock.

"We cannot see them, but the animals know they are

there."

Kirk stroked his chin thoughtfully and said, "The big

group that attacked us before has had time to catch up.

They can't ambush us, but they could certainly rush us.

What do you think we should do?"

The captain's hushed voice attracted the

attention of Billiwog and McCoy.

"What's going on, Jim?" the doctor asked.

"Spock thinks our attackers are following us."

Billiwog whirled around with hairy fists

clenched.

"Where are the blighters? Bring "em on!"

"Not so fast," said Kirk.

"Just keep walking. Judging by the number of

rocks they hurled at us, there could be thirty or

forty of them."

"Well," said McCoy, "maybe they're just

following us to make sure we get out of their

territory."

"What is their territory?" asked Spock.

"And how will we know when we have left it?"

"I don't know," muttered McCoy.

"Why don't you go back and ask them?"

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Doctor, either you are being facetious, or you are

not very concerned about my welfare.

"More likely," said Renna, "they're going

to wait until we fall asleep, then jump us."

Billiwog smashed his fist into his palm and

growled, "I say we hit them before they hit us."

The captain's jaw clenched with the weight of

decision making.

"We can't allow them to follow us," he said

firmly, "and we have to find out for sure if they're

there. So McCoy is right-let's ask them."

Kirk stopped suddenly, turned, and

shouted, "Is anybody back there? Are you following

us?"

"Show yourselves!" bellowed Billiwog.

Slowly, like the cry of a flying creature coasting

toward them, a strange trilling sound began with one

voice, was joined by others, and increased in volume

until it was a chilling clamor. Then, like a horde

of apes, a huge pack of creatures broke from the

underbrush and loped toward them, screaming their frightful

war cry.

"Do you have any more ideas, Doctor?" asked

Spock.

"Yes," shrieked McCoy, "run!"

This was a popular notion, even with Billiwog,

and the five some took off at a full dash. Kirk

figured they had a lead of about fifty meters, but the

horrible cries made it seem more like fifty

centimeters. They still clutched their sheet-metal

shields, but those only served to slow them down.

Kirk and Spock soon outdistanced the others, with

Renna in the middle and McCoy and Billiwog

falling behind. The lumbering giant was in real danger

of being overtaken by at least forty smaller and swifter

pursuers, and Kirk realized that only he and

Spock stood any chance of outrunning them.

Kirk stopped and yelled, "Form ranks! Use

your shields!"

He and Spock planted their feet and formed the first

line of defense, and Renna and McCoy darted behind

them. Huffing and puffing, Billiwog staggered into their

midst with several of the scrawny gargoyles clutching

at his heels. Kirk waded into them, swinging his

shield like a club and bashing them onto their

haunches. Spock did likewise, and McCoy

and Renna tried to protect their flanks.

From the corner of his eye, Kirk saw

Billiwog recover and hurl his shield like a discus

into the oncoming throng, cutting several of them down in

a gruesome pile. Then the humanoid charged the

attackers, bellowing like an elephant and pummeling

them with his fists. Despite the number he left

crippled, they were soon clawing all over him, like

dogs attacking a bear.

Kirk and Spock tried to drive off

Billiwog's attackers, which left Renna and

McCoy alone, fighting their own battles.

Renna's screams joined the horrible sounds, and

Kirk whirled around to see her tackled by two howling

savages. A creature leaped onto McCoy's

shield, while three more wrestled him to the

ground. The captain ran to help Renna, kicking

one of the creatures in the midsection and sending it

flying. 211 Spock fought his way to the doctor and

gripped two attackers by their necks, dropping them

into unconsciousness. Despite their heroics,

Kirk realized they were fighting a defensive

battle against overwhelming odds.

Three snarling gargoyles jumped on him, and he

tumbled to the ground with one creature in each hand and

another at his throat.

Like a lightning bolt hurled by Zeus, a

terrific explosion shattered the air and rocked the

ground. Another explosion thundered even closer, and the

fierce child-sized creatures scrambled off the

captain. Kirk sat up as a third explosion

shook the ground, and he was relieved to see that the

strange beings were in full flight, dragging their wounded

with them.

He and Spock staggered to their feet and went

to help Renna and McCoy, both of whom were dazed

and battered. Billiwog remained on his knees, his

thick fur red with blood. Nevertheless, they all

turned to look northward, in the direction they'd

been heading before the attack. On the darkening

horizon, they saw the silhouettes of a

new band of creatures, who appeared to be headed

toward them.

"Now what?" panted McCoy.

"Unknown, Doctor," answered Spock.

"If these are savages, they are armed with

explosives."

"Senites?" asked Kirk with alarm.

"They're the only ones who have weapons."

"We will know soon," Spock concluded.

Despite their injuries and weariness, McCoy,

Renna, and Billiwog all managed to stagger to their

feet to greet the new arrivals. There was no run

and very little fight left in them, but they would not meet the

unknown lying down.

"Ho, Kirk!" a voice called to them.

Spock glanced at the captain and raised an

eyebrow. Kirk grinned in amazement and began

to lead his bedraggled band toward the strangers. As they

got closer, they saw the tall Andorian in the

lead, his antennae standing at attention and his blue

face beaming. He was followed by a motley

collection of aliens, humanoids, and

near-humans-a typical crowd for the planet of

Sanctuary. Unlike the denizens of Dohama or

Khyming, however, this group was distinguished by the

fact that they carried crude weapons, binoculars,

and hand-held sensors.

Kirk and his party nearly ran the last few

meters, despite their exhaustion.

"Are we glad to see you!" exclaimed Kirk.

"We thought you'd deserted us!"

The Andorian looked slightly hurt.

"Never," he said solemnly.

"When the rocks hit the wagon, I knew that we

had been attacked by the Lost Ones, and that we would

need help. So I ran ahead while they were

occupied with you.

Unfortunately, we were farther from the Graveyard

than I remembered, and it has taken me some time

to return."

"That's okay," declared McCoy, beaming.

"We're delighted to see you!"

"Your timing was quite excellent," said Spock.

He studied a tubular weapon that was strapped to the

back of one of the rescuers.

"May I ask how you produced those timely

explosions?"

"This old thing?" asked an albino humanoid,

tapping the pipe.

"It operates on a very simple

mixture of potassium nitrate, sulfur, and

charcoal."

"Gunpowder." Spock nodded.

McCoy glanced at the tube and its folding stand

and said, "On Earth, they would call that weapon a

mortar."

"Crude but effective," commented the albino.

"It works very well against the Lost Ones. We could

eliminate them, I suppose, but we like to keep them

on this perimeter. They act as a deterrent

to Senites and others who get too curious."

"We have a million 213 questions, but most of all

we want to see this Graveyard of Lost Ships."

"We are many hours away," the Andorian

replied.

"We made a forced march to get here, and you look

as if you could use some rest, too. Perhaps we would be

better off to make camp here and proceed in the

morning."

"I agree," put in McCoy.

"I want to take a look at some of these cuts

and bruises. You don't happen to have a first-aid

kit, do you?"

"Of course." The Andorian took a pouch off his

shoulder.

"At the Graveyard, we have something else that

might interest you."

"What's that?" asked Kirk.

A snaggletoothed female stepped forward and

peered at them.

"Is your shuttlecraft called the Ericksen?"

she asked.

Kirk nodded eagerly.

"Yes!"

She smiled a truly gruesome smile.

"Then we have it."

Kirk was awake before dawn, anxious to get

to his shuttlecraft. He felt like they had been

away from the Enterprise for a year, when it had

actually been less than two weeks, about as long

as a good overhaul in space dock

Intellectually, he reasoned that it would not be such a

simple matter as firing up the Ericksen and flying

back to the Enterprise, but the fact that they were so

close brought back all the old optimism. He

was quite relieved when his own party and the dozen or so

residents of the Graveyard gradually arose and

started to break camp.

On the brisk walk to the north end of the valley,

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy got to know

several of their rescuers, and they soon knew why the

Andorian had referred to them as "tinkerers." They

loved gadgets and technology. The old

snaggletoothed woman, Sherfa, knew their

shuttlecraft nearly as well as they did, and she

described the controls, the engine, and the fuel

capacity and made good guesses as to its range and

speed.

"Will you help us get it flying again?" asked

McCoy good-naturedly.

At that remark, the old woman's face darkened.

"I don't know about that."

She scowled.

"As you'll find out, it's not entirely intact.

The Senites are a peculiar variety of sadists.

They dump all this stuff in our Graveyard, but they

always remove a few crucial parts. High-end

weaponry is always missing, and I doubt if the

Ericksen has its stabilizers or fuel.

Despite that, we occasionally cobble something together that will

fly. In fact, you're just in time to see the latest

flight-it's due tomorrow."

"Can they take three more passengers?" asked

Kirk, quite seriously.

The woman frowned.

"I think you'll be better off watching."

Her attitude reminded Kirk of the Andorian's

response when he had first suggested they could get their

shuttlecraft flying. What was it they were afraid

of?

Billiwog spent his time on the long walk

relating the horrors of the Senite Reboming

factory, as well as their extraordinary

escape-with himself cast as the hero. Then he regaled

them with stories of Dohama, such as monumental

drinking tournaments and fistfights. But he was quick

to add that he would never frequent that hell-trap again,

a vow with which the Andorian heartily agreed.

Renna described to them the genteel island of

Khyming and their dramatic escape from that place.

By the time the noonday sun was overhead, it was

apparent that all five of them would be warmly

welcomed into this new community. But Kirk preferred

to think of the Graveyard of Lost Ships as a way

station enroute to their real destination-the Enterprise.

At the end of the valley, they climbed crudely

cut steps in a rock wall to yet another

plateau. This one sloped downward to the center of what

appeared to be a very large and very dead volcano that had

been filled over centuries with fertile

soil. Belkot, the albino, climbed to the top of the

ridge, removed his broad rimmed straw hat, and

swept it across the panoramic view.

"Welcome to the Graveyard!" he crowed.

The entire crater was choked with lush shrubs and

undergrowth, and speckled among the trees at

intervals of thirty meters or so were the hulks of

countless spaceships. Some of them were as large as

houses and were, in fact, serving as houses, with children

playing out front and clothes strung on lines.

Others were junkyard wrecks, rusting and picked

apart, reduced to technological carrion. A few

were escape pods and other vehicles too small

to become anything but shiny and peculiar works of art.

The majority were shuttlecraft of one sort or

another, and they sat interspersed among the trees like

the camping vehicles Kirk had observed in

pictures of old campgrounds on Earth. He

felt like running into the valley and grabbing the first thing

that would fly.

"Spock," he said with awe, "it's all there,

all the accumulated spacecraft of centuries.

We can get out of here!"

"Captain," Spock replied, "the fact that they

are still here would indicate that most or more

likely all are unable to fly."

"Yeah." Kirk frowned with dawning realization.

He turned to Sherfa.

"Can you take us to our shuttlecraft?"

The older female nodded glumly.

"I can, but you must be realistic, Kirk. The

Ericksen is now your home on Sanctuary, nothing

more. Our evaluation is that it cannot fly."

Kirk jutted his chin defiantly.

"We'll see. I have great faith in Mr.

Spock and Dr. McCoy."

"Don't put your faith in me," grumped

McCoy.

"I can fix people, but not machines. I do understand,

though, that some of their medical equipment is working, and

they have geothermal electricity. So if you don't

mind, Captain, I'll go and investigate that while

you and Mr. Spock tune up the shuttlecraft."

Billiwog and some members of the rescue party were

waving good-bye and starting down the hill.

"They're taking me home for a meal," called

Billiwog.

"I'm going to talk to them about building sailing

ships. Catch you at high tide!"

Sherfa stayed with the newcomers, along with

Errico, the Andorian, and the albino, Belkot.

Renna was unusually quiet as she stood on the lip

of the crater, staring into the green valley dotted with

silver spacecraft.

The captain turned to the subdued dark-haired

woman and asked, "What are you going to do, Renna?"

"Make a home, make a life." She

shrugged.

"I'm going to follow Sherfa's advice. I'm

going to be realistic."

"Let me take the young one with me," said Sherfa,

wrapping a withered arm around Renna's shoulders.

"Errico can show you to your shuttlecraft."

"I would be honored," the Andorian said, and bowed.

"And I will take Dr. McCoy to the

infirmary," said Belkot, tipping his large hat.

The Andorian held up a long blue finger.

"Do not forget, the launch of the Lujexer is tomorrow

at sunrise. I expect you will all be very

interested, as I am. This is the best opportunity

yet for someone to 217 escape the atmosphere. We

have the shields operating on that one, don't we,

Sherfa?"

She said disgruntledly, "We'll see. I

think they're damn fools myself."

"Are you sure there's no room?" asked Kirk.

"You come and watch the launch," she advised,

smiling malevolently.

"Maybe you'll learn something."

McCoy and Belkot jogged down the hill, and the

doctor called back to say, "I'll find you-as

soon as I check out the infirmary!"

"Don't be too long," Kirk called after him.

He bowed stiffly to Renna.

"I guess we'll see you later."

"I imagine you will," she answered with a bemused

smile.

"It doesn't look like a very big town."

Renna waved briefly as she accompanied the

older woman down into the vast crater. Errico set

off in a slightly different direction, and Kirk and

Spock followed.

"Fascinating," said Spock as the trio strolled

among the space hulks and the families who lived

inside them.

"You realize, Captain, that the Senites cannot

fail to know about this community. Therefore, we must consider

that they approve of it, as they do Dohama,

Khyming, the survivalists" camp, and perhaps

hundreds of diverse communities."

"A place to put the techies," remarked

Kirk, glancing around.

"Errico, have you ever had a "harvesting" here, like

they had in Dohama?"

"Never," said the Andorian.

"Generations have lived here without problems. In

fact, there are some members of the community who wish

to strengthen our ties with the Senites. We shall be more

cautious of them, however, now that we know how the

Senites reproduce themselves."

"How do the spacecraft get here?" asked

Spock.

Errico shrugged his bony shoulders.

"They just 218 appear-transported from wherever they

land. Large ships are sometimes sent in pieces, which

we put back together. Tinkerers study every vessel

to see what the Senites have removed and what they have

left. If the bona fide owners ever show up, as you

have, they are granted ownership. Otherwise, the town

council grants ownership to the neediest domestic

unit."

"Logical," commented Spock.

The Andorian continued, "For the immediate future, the

three of you are considered a domestic unit. I

hope that is acceptable?"

"Most of the time," Kirk said with a grin.

They were startled by an eruption of water a few

meters behind them, and they whirled to see a geyser

shooting twenty meters into the air. Kirk and

Spock approached the natural fountain, until

they reached a clearing that had been roped off. From the

ground around the geyser issued a number of coils and

pipes that led to a small turbine, which powered a

simple generator, from which wires snaked into the

trees and supplied electricity to about a dozen

households. The geyser roared for a few seconds

more, then sputtered to a stop, but the generator kept

clattering softly.

"That is the pride of the community," said Errico,

"one of about fifty steam turbines that produce

geothermal energy."

"Are there any dilithium crystals?" asked

Kirk.

The Andorian shook his head.

"Forget about dilithium or any complex fuel.

We have been left some machinery and tools, but

all energy sources must be indigenous."

Spock cocked an eyebrow.

"With such pressure and heat in the magma, how can

you be sure that the volcano is not

potentially active?"

"We can't be sure," answered Errico.

"But the geologists among us say it has been

at least a thousand years since the last eruption, and

they monitor it closely. We try to control the

seepage of water into the magma, so there isn't a

buildup of steam. Besides, this is where the Senites

put the ships, so this is where we are. Come, your

shuttlecraft is near."

They passed what looked like the remains of a

Romulan warbird, picked over like the giant

skeleton of some real avian species. Only

twisted chunks of metal and infrastructure

remained, and there were gaping holes where viewscreens

and instrument panels had been plucked out. They

passed a family of albino children playing in the yard

of a troop transport, and saw parachutes that had

been converted into greenhouses. All in all, the

Graveyard of Lost Ships was a testament to the

ingenuity, spirit, and cooperation of intelligent

species from all over the galaxy. It also had its

eerie quality, thought Kirk, like a junkyard or a

failed amusement park, which the denizens of the

Graveyard seemed reluctant to disturb.

The captain saw the streamlined

bread-loaf shape of the Ericksen before Errico even

had time to point it out. He jogged toward it,

closely followed by Spock. They ducked through the

open doorway and walked reverently through the small

craft, stunned by the feeling of recognition and

familiarity. Kirk thought Spock would go to the

instrument panel, but instead the Vulcan rushed

to check the ship's stores and rummage through the

cabinets.

"They have left us a tricorder," he announced.

"And our emergency provisions appear to be

intact."

Kirk ran to the radio and flipped it on.

"Kirk to Enterprise, was he called.

"Come in, Enterprise!"

The tall Andorian stood crouched in the

doorway.

"I am sorry," he said, "but your ship has

been drained of power and fuel. That is typical,

I'm afraid."

Kirk flipped every switch on the console, but no

lights or sweet little chirps responded. It was a

dead ship, as dead as the skeleton ship a few

doors down. 220 "We can arrange

electricity," said Errico.

"In fact, I will go do that now, if I may be

allowed to take my leave."

Captain Kirk turned to the regal Andorian,

slightly ashamed that he hadn't been more grateful for

their remarkable deliverance.

"Errico, I never properly thanked you for saving

our lives. You have been a true comrade."

Errico's blue skin turned slightly

purplish.

"It has been my honor." He bowed.

"After all, it was you who saved me from that terrible

Senite stronghold."

"Actually, it was Renna who did that." Kirk

frowned.

"She's another one I haven't thanked

properly. But I will."

"Thank you, Errico," put in Spock.

"An electrical hookup in the range of nine

to fifteen volts would be quite satisfactory."

"I will attend to it," said the Andorian, and he

bowed himself out of the doorway.

Spock turned on the tricorder and lifted an

eyebrow appreciatively at the comforting beep and

display of lighted indicators.

"Captain," he said, "apparently the

force field which the Senites use to disable alien

technology does not extend to this location. We will

no longer be operating in the dark. Even with no

instruments on the conn working, I can give you a

detailed report on the status of this vessel."

"Do it," said Kirk, a feeling of dread

creeping up his spine.

For a few seconds, the Vulcan's slim fingers

deftly twisted dials and punched in commands. Then

he began his report "Impulse engines intact

but drained; thrusters drained; fuel tanks empty;

storage cells missing;

phasers missing; stabilizers missing-was "That's

enough," said Kirk, holding up his hand. He heaved

a sigh of disappointment and paced around the cramped

enclosure.

"Anything that could generate enough power to get this thing off

the ground is gone. The Graveyard people are right,

aren't they? It's not going to fly."

"Not in its present condition," answered Spock.

"Nothing is damaged, but the Senites are very

thorough. Without fuel or stabilizers, this

shuttlecraft will not move."

"Unless we put it on wheels and strap a

horse to it," muttered Kirk. He pounded

his fist in frustration.

"We were so close!"

"Captain," said Spock, "the tinkerers must be

capable of developing their own rocket fuel, or

they would not be capable of the launch they plan tomorrow."

Kirk took a deep breath and tried to think

positively. Through the open doorway, he could see

long shadows stretching across the network of paths. He

had learned that, on Sanctuary, nightfall strode

swiftly behind those long shadows.

"Yes." He yawned.

"We don't want to miss that launch tomorrow.

Maybe getting some food and a little rest wouldn't be

such a bad idea."

"Precisely," agreed Spock, searching through a

plastic carton of food rations.

The infirmary was one of the few buildings that had

been constructed of thatch, pumice, and other native

materials, not cobbled together from old spaceships.

McCoy arrived in time to see a young boy have his

broken arm set by a skilled doctor with seven

fingers on one hand and eight on his dominant hand.

Dr. Muta claimed to practice holistic

medicine, both as a personal preference and because what

drugs had been scavenged from the ships had

to be closel y rationed. Two nurses assisted the

doctor, and they all prescribed from the stock of

homemade sulfa, quinine, and various herbal

medications. Several homes in the community

apparently had sickbays that could be used for

emergencies, but the infirmary was more roomy and

comfortable. McCoy could understand how patients might like

the rambling building after living in grounded

spaceships most of the time. He was certain that Muta

could set a broken bone, deliver a baby, or

tie a tourniquet as well as anyone, which was a

great relief to McCoy. If the thriving community

had not had a good doctor, he might have been

tempted to stay there to lend a hand. But they had one, and

McCoy could focus his energies on returning to a

community that didn't have a chief surgeon at the

moment-the Enterprise.

He bade good-bye to Dr. Muta and the staff of the

infirmary, and found himself standing outside in the center

of a maze of dark paths. The only landmarks were the

silhouettes of strange spacecraft looming over

the trees and the occasional porch light swinging in the

breeze. Then McCoy noticed another beacon

good-natured laughter-and he followed the pleasant

sound.

He soon found himself at a yard party, in front

of a copper-colored shuttlecraft; its living

space had been doubled by the ingenious use of

reflective tarpaulins and tent poles. A

diverse collection of mostly two legged

creatures stood limb to limb with one another,

holding every manner of beverage receptacle aloft,

as a young bearded humanoid addressed them.

He held his glass higher than anyone's.

"To all my friends," he said, "keepers of the

Graveyard! Juuxa and I will be leaving you tomorrow, but

don't grieve for us. We must see if the

Lujexer can fly, after these many years of work on her.

Thanks to Sherfa"-he nodded to the older woman, who

tearfully hid her face-"the shields are forty

percent of what they once were."

The young pilot swallowed hard.

"No matter what happens, if we break the

Senite shield, or bounty hunters get us, or

we become a star in the dawn sky, we will remember

all of you fondly. The Graveyard is not a

perfect place to live, but we know from the stories

of the newcomers that there are far worse places on

Sanctuary. We have been privileged to live here

among you, and we treasure your friendship and

collaboration."

The young humanoid looked as if he wanted

to continue talking, but he was too choked with tears. A

female of his own species rushed to the tree stump

and hugged him, while the others applauded. Most of

them were laughing, crying, or a little of both. Someone

grabbed McCoy's arm and stuck a hollow geode

in his hand. The rock goblet was brimming with dark and

pungent-smelling ale that glittered within the

blood-red crystal lining.

Belkot smiled at McCoy through deeply

reddened eyes and cheeks that were glistening with tears.

"It is the way of the tinkerer and inventor," he

said, "to build, then to claim the right to test. Do not

judge us too harshly."

"I don't judge you at all," said McCoy.

He took a deep sip of the amber liquid.

"You want off this planet, and you know there is a

way. I hope you find it. We're looking for it,

too." He took an even deeper gulp.

"Gosh, this stuff is good. If your fuel is

half as potent as this, those kids will make it!"

"I hope so," answered Belkot.

"Please, come join us. Renna is here, and there

are others you know."

The night was bright from the second moon by the time they

walked Dr.

McCoy home. That meant it was very late, and

Kirk and Spock were awakened in their hammocks.

McCoy was guided through the door by two residents,

who swiftly said good-night and left. "Bones?"

asked Kirk, leaning out of his hammock.

"I would ask you where you've been, but you're over

twenty-one."

"I've been to a going-away party," drawled

McCoy, sitting in the pilot's chair.

"I'm a little tipsy, though."

"Evidently," observed Spock.

"Who is going away, may I ask."

"Nice young couple. Going up in that spaceship

tomorrow." McCoy looked bleary-eyed at his captain

and rasped, "Jim, they're going to die. And everyone

knows it."

Kirk swung his legs over the edge of his

hammock but remained seated.

"Yeah," he said, "Spock and I were beginning

to reach the same conclusion."

"What about this thing?" asked McCoy, motioning

around the shuttlecraft.

"Can we get it up?"

"There are a lot of things missing," the captain

replied curtly.

"Like stabilizers, fuel, and storage cells."

"However," Spock added, "we have a small

gift from the Senites-a working tricorder."

"A tricorder," murmured the doctor.

"I don't see how that will get us very far."

"We shall see," replied the Vulcan.

"By my calculations, sunrise will occur in one

hundred fifty-seven point two minutes, so I

suggest that we continue sleeping."

"Wake me up for the sacrifice," groaned

McCoy. He stretched out in the pilot's chair,

crossed his arms, and began to snore.

The friendly face of Captain Mora appeared on

the Enterprise's viewscreen. He tried to look

tough, but concern and sadness were etched on his

sun-browned wrinkles.

"Commander Scott," he reported, "we are

leaving 225 immediately. You will soon be receiving orders

from Starfleet by subspace.

I'm afraid I already know what those orders are,

and I deeply regret that more time cannot be extended to the

rescue mission. There is, however, profound

relief at the highest levels that

Captain Kirk and the others are still alive. I have

suggested that a station be docked in deep orbit, perhaps

around the large moon, to observe and maintain contact

with Sanctuary. But that is not a job for the

Enterprise. Good-bye, Commander Scott."

"Good-bye, Captain Mora," Scotty

replied stiffly.

The solemn face blinked off, to be replaced

by a long-range view of various ships in orbit

around the turquoise sphere. Scotty had guessed

that the Neptune would be leaving soon, because she had

shifted to a roomier section of the orbital belt,

three thousand kilometers from the Enterprise.

Slowly, one of the blips pulled out of line and

disappeared, and she was gone.

Scotty let the breath out of his lungs and

dropped the shoulders he had been holding so stiffly.

He strolled behind Chekov and Sulu and slumped

into the captain's chair. Maybe they weren't beaten

yet, but they were surely on the ropes.

Uhura swiveled in her chair, and her voice was

barely audible.

"Commander Scott," she said, "I have just received a

message from Starfleet. It's very short."

Scotty nodded.

"Short and to the point. Let's have it,

Lieutenant."

"We are to report to Starbase 64 in

forty-eight hours."

Everyone on the bridge held their collective

breath, waiting for the acting captain to give the orders

that would take them away from Sanctuary, and Cap

tain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy.

Perhaps forever.

Scotty cocked his head thoughtfully and scratched

his chin.

"That is a short message," he agreed.

"The question is, do they want us to be at Starbase

64 in forty-eight hours? Or do they want us

to leave in forty-eight hours?"

"I would say," offered Chekov, "they want us

to leave in forty-eight hours."

"It's certainly open to interpretation," agreed

Sulu.

Uhura smiled.

"I will acknowledge the message."

"When you're done with that," said Scotty, "hail

Captain Pilenna on the Gezary.

"Aye, sir," answered Uhura.

Scotty let the green-skinned

Orion's fingers probe the tense muscles of his

shoulders. He hadn't come over to the Gezary for a

back rub, but it seemed to relax Pilenna as much

as himself. The exotic scent of her perfume, her

lustrous red hair brushing his cheek, her strong

fingers-they were all welcome distractions. He was in

her private quarters, seated in the chair at her

vanity table, and she leaned seductively over him.

Luckily, she had been wearing clothes upon greeting

him this time, or he wasn't sure what he would have

done.

"Feeling better?" asked the bounty huntress.

"Aye," sighed the Scotsman, letting his head

loll back.

"You wouldna consider a commission in Starfleet, would

you? We've got a therapeutic masseur, but

he's not half as skilled as you."

Pilenna spun his chair around and slipped into his

lap.

"And you don't even know half my skills," she

purred, stroking his dark bangs back from his forehead.

"Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing.

I'm tired of running this ship all by myself, and now

227 that you've gotten it all fixed up, I thought

you might like to join up."

Scotty chuckled.

"And be a bounty hunter? That may be what we're

doing here, but that's not our normal line of work."

The former slave shrugged.

"We could do anything you want, Scotty. Carry

passengers, run dilithium crystals-you name it.

Lately, bounty hunting hasn't been paying all

that well. This damn planet is putting us all out

of business."

"I'd like to put it out of business." The engineer

scowled.

"But I've only got forty-eight hours."

"Then let's make the most of it," breathed

Pilenna. She melted into him, her radiant hair

caressing his cheeks a millisecond before her

luscious mouth found his. Scotty responded with a

zeal that surprised both of them, and they were locked in

a passionate kiss when the comm panel on her

vanity table intruded with an irritating buzz.

"Damn," she said, reaching over to slap the

panel.

"What is it?"

"Incoming ship," said a voice from the Gezary's

bridge.

"From the gamma ray activity, it must be

a big one."

Pilenna frowned.

"I'll be right there." Very reluctantly, she

extricated herself from Scotty's arms.

"Business calls, my sweet. But, please,

stay here and wait for me."

"I can't," said Scotty hoarsely. He stood

and straightened his uniform.

"We've only got forty- eight hours to find

them. Pilenna, if you get a sign of a ship leaving

the planet's surface, will you let me know?"

She patted his shoulder fondly.

"Of course, my dear. You'll be the first to know.

If you're leaving, go now, because we're pulling out of

orbit to see what this is." He took her hand and

kissed it like the old-world 228 gentleman he was.

"I'll consider your offer," he said, smiling,

"when I leave Starfleet."

She winked.

"Get out of here before I throw you in irons."

As the bounty huntress rushed out of the room,

Scotty took out his communicator with a sigh.

"Transporter room, beam me over."

Captain Kirk STOOD waiting at the launch

site with a sparse number of early birds,

it being far from sunrise. Despite Spock's

suggestion, he hadn't been able to go back to sleep

after McCoy's belated arrival. No sooner had

he wandered out of their shuttle home than he had

hooked up with a crowd of early risers who were headed

to the site. They talked reverently, in whispers, of the

upcoming flight, assessing the merits of the liquid

hydrogen fuel, the resurrection of the ship's

shield, and the overall design of the Lujexer.

In the bright moonlight, Kirk followed them to a

level expanse of sheer rock that had been scorched

black by various earlier attempts to escape.

The scaffolding held a slim, needle-nosed

craft that looked hardly big enough for one person,

let alone two. How much fuel could it possibly

hold? How far could they go? wondered Kirk. The

answers that came to mind weren't encouraging.

"Hello, stranger," said a voice.

Kirk turned to see a smiling Renna, looking

freshly scrubbed and dressed in a frayed but

form-hugging flight suit.

"I'm glad you found your way here," she

remarked.

"Where are McCoy and Spock?"

"I hope McCoy is sleeping," said

the captain with a chuckle.

"Someone introduced him to the local intoxicant

last night."

"Well, I gather that was a rather special party,"

answered Renna thoughtfully. She turned her

attention to the scaffolding that held the rocketship.

"We are here because we love spaceships. You,

at least, got yours back. I wish I had my

ship back."

"What ship was that?" Kirk asked innocently.

Renna grinned.

"Just some old piece of tin I smashed up some

time ago.

You know, Kirk, you might as well plan on

staying here and making the best of it. I've been told

this is all going to end rather badly."

"I heard they got the shields working on this

ship," said Kirk cockily.

"And I've always believed that if there's a will,

there's a way."

"The shields, they were saying last night, are forty

percent or so," pointed out Renna.

"Even if that's enough to break through, what are they going

to do about the bounty hunters?"

"Nobody said it would be easy," Kirk

replied stoically.

"It's cold," breathed Renna, snuggling into his

chest. Kirk's arms wrapped around her

instinctively.

"You know," she went on, "we've gotten to know this

part of the planet pretty well, but there's still lots

to discover. What's out there on some of those islands?

What's to the west of here? Don't you want to find

out?"

"Yes, I do," the captain murmured into her

ear. "And I'll be able to find that out when I get

back to the Enterprise. was Renna twisted out of his

grasp.

"What about defeating the Senites," she demanded,

"and taking over this jewel of a planet? It could be

done."

Kirk chuckled.

"Yes, I believe you probably could do it if

you put your mind to it. But not me. I don't want

one world-I want hundreds and thousands of worlds."

"I know." Renna nodded sadly, settling back

into his arms.

"That's why we were all condemned here."

Simultaneously, it seemed to Kirk, the area

filled with the first rays of salmon-colored

sun and a diverse selection of people. Kirk saw

McCoy and Spock standing discreetly on the other

side of the blackened launch pad and he realized he

still had his arms tightly around Renna.

They were unable to talk about any of the issues that

burdened their minds, but they were able to hold each other;

and Kirk wasn't anxious to let go. He saw

Spock fiddling with his tricorder, and he knew he

would receive a detailed analysis of what they were about

to witness. The whole crowd was strangely quiet and

expectant, as if this were a solemn religious

occasion rather than the launch of a homemade rocket.

The pilots finally made their entrance,

accompanied by well-wishers and explosive

applause. The young male and female who were making

the flight seemed an excellent choice to Kirk,

and he realized that the whole community must have

sacrificed and collaborated to make their dream come

true. It had to have been a huge team effort

to assemble the raw materials, scrap, and skill

needed to transform one of these crippled hulks into a

worthwhile spacecraft again. Kirk also felt the

melancholy of the occasion, as if a terrible knowledge was not

being spoken. Although hope was rampant in the

assembled throng, so were fear, fatalism,

and a sort of morbid curiosity.

The best they could see was two people triumphing over

impossible odds, but the least they would see was two people

dying.

Those two people strapped on pressure suits and

helmets and waved to their friends as they climbed a

rope ladder to the cockpit of the needle-nosed

craft. Kirk wondered if it had once been an

unmanned probe, it was so sleek and streamlined. The

male wriggled in first, followed by the female,

until they lay end to end, completely invisible

except for the woman's arms. She snapped the

canopy shut.

"What do you think?" asked Belkot, sidling up

to Kirk and Renna.

"Ask me when it's over," Renna said, and

shivered.

Kirk wondered, "How many flights like these have you

had?"

"Too many." The albino frowned.

"But we're hoping this one will be different. We have

the shield partly working."

"Is Sherfa here?" asked Renna, craning her

neck to look around.

Belkot shook his head.

"No. She never comes to one of these, although she has

done more work than anyone."

A few meters away, an impossibly

gangly creature with several arms was talking on a

crude walkie talkie

"All systems check," he said, his limbs

gesturing around like a spider's.

"Begin countdown." The being waved a long

appendage at someone closer to the ship and shouted,

"Clear launch pad

"Clear launch pad rang out several voices,

and the crowd began to push back from the scaffolding.

"Prepare for launch!"

"One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight,

ninety seven ." someone began counting down. Other

voices took up the chant.

Kirk could feel Renna's compact body tensing

in his arms, and his own fingers dug deeper into her

flesh. They were standing well back and were soon

surrounded by observers, pressed limb to limb.

Thrusters sputtered on the rocket's undercarriage,

and it began to shake perceptibly on the rickety

launcher.

As the air filled with heat, smoke, and noise,

people pressed forward as if to feel the power of the

burning fuel. The countdown was drowned out, but everyone

could tell when zero was reached. The nozzles roared with

an inferno of flame, filling the area with choking

smoke. It hardly mattered, because nobody was

breathing.

They held their breath until the rocket began

to rise, shaking off the feeble ropes and belts that

held it. The cheering mounted with every meter that the ship

lifted into the air and rose into a crescendo that sounded

louder than the engines. People were shrieking and laughing and

pounding each other on the back as the rocket made a

swift ascent, rising until it became little more than

a spark in the rose-hued sky.

Many observers had binoculars, small

telescopes, and handheld instruments such as

Spock's tricorder. As the blip got smaller,

they shouted reports like, "There she is!"

"Still climbing!"

"Looks good!"

But suddenly, it didn't look so good.

Suddenly, the shining light disappeared.

"She's gone," someone said with shock, "Where is

it?" a woman wailed.

"Where is it?"

"That's about where they always go," muttered a

veteran.

"The Senites got her."

"Lujexer, come in!" the gangly creature

shouted into his radio.

"Lujexer!

Come in! Come in!"

But there was nothing on the other end.

Kirk felt Renna turn her head and look

away, but there hadn't been any terrible explosion

or flaming debris-just nothing. That almost made it

worse on the crowd, because the sobs and shocked

expressions came slower, leavened by disbelief and

denial.

"Usual place," someone agreed.

"Their shield didn't hold."

Belkot P tilde Ltted Kirk on the

shoulder.

"Do you see why we tell you to accept it?" he

asked.

"But you don't accept it," Kirk argued.

"You keep trying."

"We're fools," the albino said bitterly.

He bowed his head and walked down the hill.

Renna pried herself away from Kirk's arms and

turned to face him.

"You only get one try," she cautioned.

"I'd give it a lot of thought, if I were you."

The young woman joined the sorrowful exodus from the

launch pad leaving only Kirk, Spock,

McCoy, and a handful of others too curious or

stunned to move.

"Commander Scott!" called Sulu from the operations

console.

"I have just detected an explosion in the

atmosphere over the planet." He turned around

to look intently at the acting captain.

"From my estimates, I would say the craft was

trying to escape the atmosphere."

Scotty leaned forward in the captain's chair.

"Are ye sure it wasn't a ship going in,

maybe an unmanned probe or torpedo?"

"No," answered Sulu, "this was definitely a

missile firedftom the planet.

It vanished approximately thirty

kilometers above the surface, exactly where our

sensors stop functioning and our own probes

disappear." "Sir," Chekov interrupted, "whatev er

it was, it did 235 not go unnoticed by the other

ships in orbit. The Orion ship and the Gezary

both changed course to intercept. Now they

are returning to their orbits."

"Hirim," mused Scotty.

"Maybe the inmates do try to escape from the

asylum every now and then."

"I hope that wasn't the captain," said Sulu.

"That ship is gone vaporized."

"Maybe it was unmanned," suggested Uhura,

"like a test flight." Scotty nodded decisively

and strode to Sulu's station.

"Lieutenant, I want you to ignore the rest

of the planet and track that missile back to its

point of origin. I know you canna tell exactly

without sensors, but maybe you can use telescopes and

photographs to get an idea where the launch pad

is. Change our orbit if you have to."

"Aye, sir," answered Sulu.

"Keep your eyes open," Scotty told

everyone.

"I swear, Spock, you are absolutely

ghoulish," said McCoy on the walk back to their

shuttle home

"You're the only one who enjoyed that tragedy

back there. You're still replaying it on your

tricorder."

"Precisely, Doctor," Spock

agreed, without looking up from his handheld instrument.

"I have simulated the launch several times, and the

result is always a successful flight. However, the

flight we witnessed was not successful."

McCoy turned with exasperation to Kirk.

"How can you argue with logic like that?"

"Maybe there's method to his madness," said

Kirk.

"What are you looking for, Spock?"

The Vulcan answered, "There can be no mistake

the flight was progressing successfully until it

reached an altitude of thirty kilometers. At

that point, it destructed without apparent reason. A

failure for no reason is illogical; therefore,

we can conclude that the 236 Senite shield is found

at thirty kilometers and is programmed to repel

driven flight."

"And what does that mean?" asked McCoy.

Spock turned off his tricorder and put it

back into its case.

"It means, Doctor, that we could not escape from

the planet in the shuttlecraft, even if we had

fuel and stabilizers."

"What you're saying," said the captain, scowling,

"is that there is no escape for us? No

point in trying?"

"Not necessarily," said the Vulcan.

"I said the shield repels driven flight. It

may not repel all types of aircraft. I have

an experiment to perform."

With that, the Vulcan charged down the path, and

Kirk and McCoy had to run to keep up with him.

He dashed into the shuttlecraft and stayed there for

several moments, while Kirk and McCoy stared at

one another.

"Do you know what that devious Vulcan mind is

up to?" asked the doctor.

"Not a clue," admitted Kirk.

"But we could use some devious thinking at this

point."

Spock emerged holding an expandable weather

balloon and a small canister of helium, both of

which were standard issue in the shuttle's survival

kit. He began to fill the balloon.

"Oh, great," muttered McCoy, "we're going

to find out what the weather is."

"Actually," said Spock, "we are going to learn

very little about the weather, because I have removed most of the

sensors. I have, however, left the transmitter and

altimeter intact. Gentlemen, will you

please help to hold the balloon-I am filling it

to its maximum pressure."

Kirk and McCoy struggled with the attached line as

Spock filled the balloon with helium until it

was four meters in diameter and as large as the three

of them put together. Their feet were beginning to lift off

the ground by the time Spock tied off the balloon's

nozzle. He pulled out his tricorder and pressed

some buttons.

"Release it, please," he ordered.

It was with great relief that Kirk and McCoy

did so, and the giant balloon launched into the sky like

a bubble blasting out of the ocean.

Spock followed its course on the tricorder,

but the balloon was visible to the naked eye for a

considerable length of time, and a curious crowd gathered

to see what the second launch of the day was about.

"What do you three think you're up to?" asked the

old woman Sherfa.

"I'm not sure," answered Kirk.

"Spock is trying an experiment."

"I'll ask him later," Sherfa decided.

"He looks too preoccupied to talk at the

moment. You don't mind if I watch, do you?"

"Of course not," said Kirk.

"I'm sorry about what happened at the launch this

morning."

She sighed.

"They were like children to me. I'm getting too old for

that sort of thing. I may not help the next bunch of

idiots who are fool enough to try that."

"Meaning us?" asked McCoy.

"I don't know." The woman shrugged.

"What you are doing here looks quite different."

The weather balloon was now out of sight, although

several people continued to follow it with binoculars and

telescopes, and Spock never took his eyes off

his tricorder. After a while, Sherfa and some of the

others looked more than merely curious.

"How high is it?" asked the old woman.

"Thirty-five kilometers and rising," answered

Spock.

"Wait a minute," said Sherfa excitedly, "that

means it's past the shield!"

"By my calculations, yes," Spock replied.

"At about 238 fifty kilometers, it will

probably start to lose altitude, but it is past

the Senite shield."

"Wait a minute," said Kirk, reaching into his

back pocket and pulling out his beat-up

communicator.

"If we ride a balloon thirty-five

kilometers into the stratosphere, will we be able

to contact the Enterprise? Will they be able to beam us

off?"

"Those are matters of conjecture," said Spock,

"but I see no reason why not. All of this confirms

what I noticed when we first entered the atmosphere

in the shuttlecraft-the instruments stopped working at

about thirty kilometers. Then today, the rocket

vanished at thirty kilometers.

That is where the Senite shield is the strongest.

The shield is obviously programmed to stop

driven flight trying to escape the stratosphere, but

not gases drifting leisurely upward."

McCoy peered into the sky and remarked, "We

finally know how high the walls of this prison are."

"Are you sure there's still somebody up there

to rescue you?" asked a doubting voice. They

turned to see Renna elbowing her way closer through

what was now a considerable crowd.

"Because if there's not, you're either going to suffocate

in the thin air, or fall fifty kilometers to your

deaths. Or the bounty hunters will get you," she added

with a mocking grin.

"In fact, I can think of a few people who would pay

dearly for James T. Kirk delivered in

chains."

The captain smiled.

"You have some valid points, but all of this is

purely conjecture. I presume, Spock, we

haven't got a balloon in the shuttlecraft that's

big enough to carry the three of us aloft?"

"No, Captain," answered the Vulcan.

"Nor do we have enough helium."

McCoy waved his hands and proclaimed, "We

don't need helium-we can use hot air! I've

flown hot-air balloons before. It's easy."

"No, no," said Sherfa, "if Spock is right, the

large burners you would need to heat the air would set

off the Senite shield. And hot-air balloons

are huge. The craft you want would have to be

low-mass, almost entirely gas.

And you would have to wear pressurized suits."

"That was my thinking," Spock agreed.

"The only electronic device we could risk

carrying would be one communicator."

"Okay," said McCoy, "how much helium do you

have?"

"About as much as you do," answered Sherfa.

"Helium does not occur naturally around here, but

we have a great deal of hydrogen. Free hydrogen

is a natural component of the gases we collect

from deep in the volcano, and we can also extract it

from water. That's why we use it for our rocket

fuel. After all, hydrogen is the most abundant

element in the universe."

"And one of the most flammable." Renna appealed

to Kirk and McCoy "Why don't you just set

yourselves on fire right now? If you know anything about

Earth history, you must remember the Hindenburg. was

"The famous zeppelin." McCoy nodded

reverently.

"It struck a tower in the United States and

blew up. That was the end of the great dirigibles of the

1930's."

Spock cocked an eyebrow and said, "I am

impressed, Doctor. I should have known you would be an

expert on early-twentieth-century

transportation."

McCoy squinted at the Vulcan, not sure if

that was a compliment or not. By this time, the discussion had

spread, and everyone within earshot was debating the merits

of helium, hydrogen, and hot air. Many of them were

computing how large the balloon would have to be

to lift the trio thirty-five kilometers, and

whether it should be super-pressurized or zero240

pressurized. Dr. McCoy was actively

contributing his opinions.

"I think you started something," Kirk whispered

to Spock.

"Can we really do this?"

"We can," said the Vulcan, "if we have the

materials to build the basket and the balloon, the

gas to fill it, and three pressure suits.

However, all of the reservations brought forth by Renna are

still valid."

"I know," muttered Kirk. He turned to look

for the pert, dark-haired woman, but she had

disappeared.

"I don't suppose we could take her with us?"

"No, Captain," Spock replied.

"In all probability, she is Auk-rex, but

Starfleet regulation 927.9 prohibits

willfully endangering a prisoner's life."

"But it's okay to willfully endanger our own

lives?"

"In this case," said Spock, "we must endanger

our lives. I see no other possibility for

escape. We must also act as soon as

possible, because every second's delay increases the

probability that the Enterprise will be summoned

elsewhere."

"Yes." The captain frowned.

"We're supposing that Scotty has found a

way to stay up there for two weeks, despite those

ships he mentioned before we lost contact, and

starfleet."

"I believe, Captain," said Spock, "that

unless Commander Scott has relinquished command, the

Enter PrI se is still in orbit."

"A leap of faith, Spock?"

Spock cocked his head.

"A prediction based upon observation of past

behavior. Of course, if my prediction is

wrong, there will be disastrous consequences."

"We either take your balloon ride," summed

up the captain, "or we accept the fact that we have

to spend the rest of our lives here."

"That is the decision," agreed the Vulcan.

"How high up is thirty kilometers?" 241

"High enough to be interesting," replied Spock.

"On Earth, which has a similar atmosphere, the

record for a manned balloon flight is

thirty-four point seven kilometers, and

there have been several flights in the thirty-kilometer

range. Of course, we have an advantage in that

we do not have to design the craft to return to the

ground."

"Yeah, some advantage. How much gas would we

need? What kind of pressure?"

Spock held up his hand.

"I suggest we answer one question first Are we

going to do this?"

"Yes," Kirk answered decisively. He

wondered if he had just joined the Graveyard

suicide club.

After the freewheeling discussions had died down,

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy met privately with

Sherfa, Belkot, Errico, and several other

leaders of the Graveyard of Lost Ships. They met

in the community's courthouse, a large freighter with a

blackened hull, the result of a none-too-careful

entry into Sanctuary's atmosphere. Nevertheless,

its hold offered a spacious private room with a

white board, upon which the participants freely drew

diagrams and flowcharts to illustrate their points.

Belkot had just drawn what looked

uncomfortably like a giant coffin, suspended from a

small, spherical balloon by a cord that

was, in scale, perhaps sixty meters long. The

entire contraption was longer than the freighter in which the

meeting was taking place. He pounded the diagram

with a pale finger.

"The long rigging," explained Belkot, "looks

dangerous but will give the balloon more stability,

especially on takeoff. This won't be a

leisurely ride-that much hydrogen will make you

ballistic when you take off. And I don't know if

you can carry enough ballast to make a difference. But if

we install some vents at the top of the balloon, and

run lines into the cabin, you can control your ascent, and

even return to the ground."

Dr. McCoy squinted at the diagram.

"I don't mind all that hydrogen being as far

away from me as possible," he remarked, "but how

big is that cabin? Is it going to be

pressurized?"

"That all depends on time," answered Sherfa.

"How soon do you want to go?"

Every eye in the empty hold turned to Captain

Kirk.

"Tomorrow," he snapped.

There were murmurs and comments about how it couldn't be

done. Sherfa only smiled in her gap

toothed way.

"We have known you a short time, Captain," she

said, "but we recognize a headstrong man of

action. We've had many in our midst like you-some are

gone, of course. If you can be persuaded to take your

time with this endeavor, I believe your chances of

success will be greater."

Kirk leaned forward across the table and stared every man,

woman, and creature in the optical organ.

"This escape has no chance of success if our

ship is not up there. Let me remind you again-we

only need to go one way. All the talk of vents and

lifelines and escape hatches is beside the point.

The balloon only has to go up, with us strapped

to it."

He straightened up and smiled sheepishly.

"I don't mean to lecture you, but if I were

back on my ship, I'm sure I could rig this

experiment in twenty-four hours. I don't have the

resources here, so I have to depend upon you. And I

don't think we need a fancy cabin lightweight

pressure suits like that couple wore this morning would

be fine. If we have to hang around up there at fifty

kilometers for a few days-well, something's gone

wrong. All we need from you is a big

balloon and enough hydrogen to fill it up."

Sherfa turned to Belkot and said, "If the

Harrakas can do without their new greenhouse, I think

they 243 have enough tri polymer sheeting to make the

balloon. We can also use the insulation from the

Paragran, and we have plenty of molecular bonding

material."

"If I may make a suggestion," said

Spock.

"We should use a balloon that is

zero-pressurized as opposed

to super-pressurized." The Vulcan turned to his

captain to explain.

"A super-pressurized balloon has greater

pressure inside than the outside air-it would

lift quickly but continue to expand as it ascended. If

we use a balloon that has less pressure than

the outside air and only enough hydrogen to gain the

desired altitude, it would expand in the thinning air

until it and the air were at equal, or zero,

pressure. Its ascent would stabilize for at least

a few hours at that altitude. Zero pressure

will not tax the seams of the balloon as much either."

Belkot nodded.

"Ideally, you'd level off at about

thirty-five kilometers, but we'd have to make

sure you had enough hydrogen to get that far."

"I have made some preliminary calculations," said

Spock.

"Perhaps you would care to check my figures."

"This is great," proclaimed Kirk eagerly.

"So you're going to help us?"

"Yes," grumbled Sherfa.

"We suffer fools gladly." She rose to her

feet and looked at everyone around her.

"Spock and I will head up the committee to make

the balloon and rigging. Belkot, you can collect the

hydrogen. Hole number four gives off the most

free hydrogen, and you can also check how much we have

left in the Mathulsa's fuel tanks. Mr.

Spock, what do you think a good preliminary

estimate would be?"

The Vulcan cocked his head and replied, "I

would estimate two thousand cubic meters."

"Sounds about right," Belkot agreed.

The woman turned to Kirk and McCoy.

"Gentlemen, I will leave it up to you to design

your own 244 basket. Or whatever you choose

to hang yourselves from. Remember, low-mass, no

metal."

"I have an idea about that," said McCoy,

grinning.

"Errico," Sherfa said to the tall Andorian, "you

beg, borrow, or steal three pressure suits.

Ask politely, but check everyone's locker."

The regal blue-skinned being nodded solemnly.

"I will not rest until my mission is

accomplished."

"There's just one more thing," said the old woman,

looking squarely at Captain Kirk.

"I want you to send us a sign, shoot a

rocket or something, if you are rescued. If we

ever get anyone off this rock, we want to know about

it."

"Agreed." Kirk smiled warmly.

"Just keep watching the sky."

WHILE SpocKnowledge sET about organizing the

balloon construction team, Kirk and McCoy

returned to their shuttle home The doctor

promptly took down their nylon net hammocks

and measured them. He found three more hammocks in the

survival gear, a sewing kit, and some scissors;

gathering them up, he began to work.

Kirk watched the seamster for several moments before

he finally had to ask, "What are you doing,

Bones? I'm not sure I want to sleep with you in

one giant hammock."

"I doubt if we'll be getting very much sleep,"

answered McCoy.

"We're going to be hanging from the balloon in this

hammock."

"What?" exclaimed Kirk.

"We're gonna hang in a hammock

thirty-five kilometers in the air? Will it hold

us?"

"These hammocks hold us all right now," argued

McCoy. "There is a misconception that you are

buffeted about in a balloon. Even at high speed

in high winds, a balloon ride is very smooth,

because you are traveling the same speed and direction as

the wind. I'll make the hammock stronger and bigger

than it needs to be, in case we have to carry some

ballast."

"I don't know," Kirk muttered doubtfully.

"It's low-mass and nonmetallic, too,"

replied McCoy.

"As Spock says, I know a thing or two about

twentieth-century transportation."

"All right." Kirk shrugged.

"I'm going to test my communicator

to make sure it's still working after all this time. They

set us up with electricity, and you should be able to receive

my signal at the instrument panel. If you hear

me, answer."

"Okay," said McCoy, not skipping a beat in

his sewing.

The captain stepped outside and walked about

twenty meters from the shuttlecraft. Two green

skinned children stopped their play to watch him.

Smiling at them, Kirk flipped open his

communicator and heard the welcoming chirps.

"Kirk to shuttlecraft," he said.

"Come in, shuttlecraft."

"McCoy here," came the reply.

"It's working fine. Let's hope Scotty

hears it as clearly."

"That's a relief after carrying this thing around with me

over all those rivers, mountains, and oceans. When

we get the pressure suits, I'll mount the

communicator inside my helmet and leave it

operational."

"Good idea," replied the doctor.

"I've got to get back to work on this

hammock."

"Make it strong, Bones. I'll see

how they're doing with the balloon and the hydrogen. Ou."

Kirk folded up the communicator, put it in his

pocket, and turned to see someone else watching him

in addition to the children. Renna was wearing an

attractive dress that flowed from her creamy

shoulders, over a revealing neckline, and down her

slim 247 hips and legs. The brightly flowered

pattern made her lustrous black hair look like

night over the neon lights of Dohama. He

swallowed dryly, wishing there were some way he could

take her with him.

"You look lovely," he said with all honesty.

"Thank you," Renna replied with a charming

curtsy.

"Actually, this dress is all there was left after

they took every stitch of clothing available to make your

balloon."

"Speaking of which," Kirk said quickly, "I'd like

to see how they're doing.

Do you know where Spock and Sherfa are?"

"Yes." Renna took his arm.

"I'll walk you there."

She felt warm and natural striding beside him, and

Kirk found himself pulling her closer, despite his

best intentio ns. He could not imagine any

woman in the galaxy more suited to him in daring and

determination than this young woman. At the moment, he

couldn't imagine any woman more desirable either. But

he was about to leave her, perhaps only to die. The

nearness of her youthful body made Kirk wonder

briefly whether escape was worth the risk of death

but of course, that was precisely Renna's intention.

"I'm going to miss you, Kirk," she said

simply.

"But I guess you don't have that same problem with

me. tilde 9 "I'm usually partial to beautiful

women who save my life," he joked. Then he

grew serious.

"But I can't take you with me."

She stepped angrily in front of him and gave

his chest a push.

"I don't want to go with you," she snapped.

"I want you to stay here, you damned idiot!

I'm trying to save your life again. Let Spock

and McCoy go up there, if they want. You have more

to live for-you have me."

"That's very tempting," he admitted.

"You're very tempting. But even if I stayed, you

would never have 248 me. What I am is up there, in

a ship that's been crippled and close

to falling apart more times than I care to think about it.

But that's where I am, even now. 91 Renna bowed

her head, her dark eyes filling with tears, and

Kirk wrapped his arms around her. They held each

other in silent desperation for several seconds,

until finally she looked up, forcing a smile through

her tears.

"You can't leave me," she whispered.

"I'm the reason you came down here.

I'm Auk-rex."

"I know," Kirk said.

"But even if you were the greatest mass murderer in

history, Spock has informed me that we couldn't

risk your life. And I don't think you're going

to plunder many Federation ships with Sanctuary as a

base."

"No," she sighed, "I suppose not. But you

don't mind if I overthrow those pompous Senites

and take over this planet, do you?"

The captain cleared his throat and looked

slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, I forgot," Renna said, smiling, "the

Prime Directive. Well, who knows what

laws I might break, if left here all by myself?

You might have to come back someday and arrest

me."

"With pleasure," answered Kirk.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him with an

intensity and exuberance that took him by surprise.

He had no sooner responded than she pulled

away, wiping her eyes.

"I can't watch any of this preparation, or watch

you take off," she said hoarsely.

"Just keep on this path, and you'll find Sherfa and

her crew.

Please, don't die, Kirk."

"I won't," he promised with more certainty than

he felt.

"Goodbye."

Renna turned and walked swiftly away, a

youthful 249 vision in a summer dress and the

pirate scourge of the galaxy. For a brief moment,

Kirk weakened and nearly ran after her; but then he

reminded himself of the things he had told her. God,

he hoped he was making the right decision.

The balloon construction crew was working at the

blackened launch site, the only clearing in the

overgrown crater that was large enough to accommodate

giant sheets of clear material stretched end

to end.

Kirk stood at the edge of the forest, watching with

admiration as Sherfa directed the careful measuring and

cutting of large ovoid strips. Spock hovered

near her, holding a blueprint and furnishing

advice that she passed on to her workers. Farther

away, the gangly creature with several arms was

measuring lengths of plastic cable for the rigging.

A fragile-looking older man was testing various

molecular bonding compounds on the cast-off

trimmings. He had just glued two pieces of

material together and was trying to see if he could pull

them apart, but he couldn't give it much of a test.

Suddenly, a great hairy being strode toward him.

"Let me see that," growled Billiwog.

"I'll tell you if it'll hold or not."

The giant humanoid grabbed a wad in each hand

and pulled for all he was worth. Even grunting and

straining, he was unable to loosen the bond.

"Well done!" Billiwog grinned, slapping the

worker on the back and nearly knocking him over.

"If you made it any stronger, it might carry

me!"

"Billiwog!" called Kirk.

"How are you?"

"Hello there, Captain," the

humanoid cried, waving back. lie was at

Kirk's side in a couple of strides and leaned

down to whisper in his ear, "Hey, you aren't really

going up in this thing, are you? It's just 250 sort of

an experiment to keep these folks busy, right?

Make "em forget what happened this morning."

"Well, it is sort of an experiment," Kirk

agreed.

"But, yes, we are going up in it. Tomorrow, by the

looks of it."

Billiwog shook his furry head.

"You're crazy, Kirk. Sanctuary isn't that

bad that you've got to kill yourself was "Killing ourselves

is not part of the plan. It's just something we have to do, like

you have to build boats."

"Yeah," grumbled Billiwog, looking

downcast.

"I guess those days are over if I decide

to stay here. Not too many oceans around."

"But wait," said Kirk, grinning, "you've got

a new ocean-the sky! Watch what they're doing here

and learn how to build balloons. You can sail the

air currents anywhere you want on this planet."

"Yeah," said the humanoid, his whole hairy

face brightening.

"I could explore mountains and deserts comg

anywhere."

"Talk to McCoy," Kirk suggested.

"He knows all about hot-air ballooning, and

that's all you'd need. You don't need this

high-altitude stuff we're doing."

"Thanks." Billiwog nodded.

"I hope you make it, Captain." The giant

patted him gently on the back and strode away.

Kirk thought about talking to Spock, but he

decided that he should no more interrupt the first officer

than he would interrupt Scotty in the middle of an

urgent repair. Sherfa glanced at him, then quickly

turned back to her busy crew. Never look at the

condemned man, Kirk thought ruefully. He hoped

she was wrong, but he welcomed the dedication and

professionalism she brought to the task, even if her

heart wasn't in it. He decided to leave rather than

interrupt anyone's work. The captain stopped someone

and asked directions to the ship called the Mathulsa,

where he knew Belkot was storing the hydrogen. It

was a surprisingly small planet-jumper, but

Belkot explained to him that its roomy fuel

tanks had the most easily adaptable ducts for

transferring gases from other vessels and

sources. Plus, it was already half-full of

hydrogen left over from the fuel for the late lamented

Lujexer.

"Don't worry," Belkot assured him,

"we're only about three hundred cubic meters

short of the two thousand we need. The stuff we're

getting out of hole number four is not pure, but it

should get you up there. We've got mobile tanks

we can transfer it to, when the time comes."

"I have every faith in you," said Kirk.

"And I in you," answered the albino, tipping his

straw hat to the captain.

"Before you came, we didn't have a clue how

to get beyond that terrible shield. But now we do. We

may never send anyone else up there again, but it's

nice to know we can."

Captain Kirk bade Belkot and his crew

good-bye and left them to their work. There was really nothing

for him to do, which was beginning to make him nervous. Once

they were launched, there wouldn't be anything at all for

him to do, except hang under a balloon filled with

highly combustible gas and try to contact the

Enterprise. This balloon flight was beginning

to remind him of tales he had read about the first

manned spaceflights on Earth, when the

astronauts and cosmonauts were little more than

laboratory animals strapped inside giant

Roman candles.

Kirk took a long walk through the Graveyard,

and more than once he thought about Renna. He wandered

among the rusting hulks of spaceships that would never

fly again and thought about his life.

It grew dark in the Graveyard before Kirk

resolved his doubts in his mind. He took some

solace from thinking about those early astronauts and

cosmonauts, not to mention pioneering aviators and

sailors who'd journeyed blithely into the unknown with

much less going for them technologically than he had.

Plus, he had his companions, Spock and

McCoy and Scotty, Sulu, Chekov,

Uhura, and the rest of the crew. Kirk stood in the

center of the serene crater, gazing up at the night

sky, with only a few dim lights to disturb his

view of the stars. Somehow he knew they were still up there.

He was betting his life on it.

Later, as he headed in what he hoped was the

direction of the shuttlecraft, Kirk heard

uproarious laughter, followed by off-key singing. His

pace quickened, and he arrived at the Ericksen to find

a party going full blast, with well-wishers

spilling into the surrounding paths.

"Jim!" McCoy called to him jovially.

"We were about to send out a search party for ya!"

"Hey, Captain!" Billiwog waved.

"Come and drink some of this rocket fuel.

You won't get nothin" but cold gas tomorrow!"

Before Kirk could step into their midst, he was accosted

by Errico, who held a lightweight blue

pressure suit in front of him.

"That should fit well," said the Andorian, "and we

can adjust the pressure for a human.

I'm sorry to trouble you, Captain; enjoy your

party."

"Thanks, Errico," Kirk replied.

"Is it always like this before a launch?"

"Always," answered the dour blue-skinned being, as

if the purpose of such festivities eluded him.

McCoy came over to Kirk and handed him a

geode cup, this one filled with sparkling yellow

gems that made the ale look like molten gold.

Kirk stared into the cup for an instant, thinking how

beautiful life was, then looked up to see a

smiling but very emotional Dr. McCoy. "What do

you think, Jim?" he asked, grinning.

"Are they up there?"

The captain nodded.

"I think so. But I want you to understand, Bones,

that this escape attempt is strictly voluntary.

I won't m ind at all if you show some good sense and

choose to stay here."

"And miss the greatest balloon ride of my

life?" scoffed McCoy.

"You know, it's possible that we could survive this

flight tomorrow even if there's no Enterprise. God

knows where we would end up."

"I would say survival is possible," offered a

third voice, "but not probable." Spock joined

Kirk and McCoy and made a slight gesture with a

glass goblet that contained water.

"If we drift far, the chances are excellent that

we will come down in the ocean, where we would likely be

consumed by aquatic creatures."

"That's just like you, Spock," grumbled McCoy,

"always looking on the bright side."

"I am merely stating the fact that we will have

absolutely no control over this craft,"

responded Spock.

"If we are not transported off by the

Enterprise comor someone else-we will drift for

several days without food or water, then

probably come down in the ocean. On this planet,

our probability of landing in the ocean is perhaps

twenty-five to one."

McCoy snapped his fingers.

"I think I've figured out what our ballast

is going to be."

"What's that?" asked Kirk.

"Food and water! If, just if, we come down on

land, we might need the food and water. Let me go

talk to Belkot and line up some packaged food,

roast loins, jugs of water, anything that's heavy."

The doctor scurried away, and Kirk said

to his first officer, "I told Bones, and I'm

telling you-this attempt is voluntary. If you would

rather stay here, we'll do what we can to rescue you at

a later date."

"Thank you, Captain," Spock said, "but I have

little doubt of our ability to reach the proper

altitude. Therefore, the risk lies entirely in

whether the Enterprise is still within transporter

range.

As you said, I suppose it is an act of

faith, but I place faith in my shipmates every

day. Is it illogical for me to do so now?"

"No, not at all." Kirk smiled and

lifted his glass.

"To your health."

Spock did the same.

"Live long and prosper."

THE PARTY BROKE up EARLY, even before the

second moon had appeared over the twisted spires

of Sanctuary. Captain Kirk didn't deliver

a speech, because what could he say to a community he

had known for only a few hours? These were strangers,

but strangers committed to the same goal comrecapturing

the technology that was their heritage. There was no other

explanation for the fervor they threw themselves into the next

morning. Sherfa was everywhere, pulling everything together, from

mounting McCoy's net to the rigging to driving pylons

into the ground to secure the balloon, which would soon be

straining at its leashes.

To check for leaks and to test the pumping and duct

systems, Spock asked Belkot to inflate the

balloon to its maximum pressure. They used

ninety percent forced air and ten percent hydrogen

to give it a bit of buoyancy.

The balloon topped out at a bit over

twenty-four hundred cubic meters and showed no

256 signs of leaks in its molecular bonds.

Barely bobbing off the ground, the

transparent balloon looked like a giant soap

bubble trapped in spiderwebs.

The rigging seemed haphazard to Kirk, but the

ropes had been laid in crisscross patterns

on purpose. There would be two giant nets-one

around the balloon and another one around the

balloonists. Between them would stretch sixty meters

of the toughest tri polymer rope that could be scrounged

in the Graveyard.

Kirk stood at the edge of the launch pad trying

to recall Belkot's diagram, but he couldn't

imagine the contraption stretched to its entire length.

"Did you ever read The Wizard of Oz"...asked

McCoy, standing beside him.

"No," answered Kirk, "but I saw the

visual. Is this going to be more like the wizard taking

off at the end, or the tornado picking up the

house?"

"At first, maybe a little like the tornado," said the

doctor.

"Then there won't be any sensation at all. Just like

you were lying in a hammock."

"Well, don't let me go to sleep," Kirk

joked.

"I've got to contact the Enterprise.

was "I'd better go finish my job," said

McCoy.

"I've got Errico and Billiwog scavenging

for food. Heavy food comno crepes suzette on

this trip. We'll just hope we don't land on some

godforsaken island and need it."

"Billiwog should be able to root out the food," the

captain agreed.

After Dr. McCoy left, Kirk once again

felt superfluous. But, he reminded himself, he was

the captain of this strange vessel as well as of the

Enterprise. He had given the order that had started

all this frenzied activity, and now, as usual, it was

up to him to stand back and let others do their jobs.

There was nothing he had to learn, no skills he had

to master in order to pilot this craft. They would be

slaves of the wind.

Kirk had one task to accomplish. He took his

257 communicator, opened it so that it lay flat,

and affixed it with bonding material to the inside of his

high impact helmet, the one that came with the

pressure suit scrounged by Errico. Then he

tried on the helmet to make sure it fit

properly, and was relieved to find that the device was

completely unnoticeable. Kirk set the

communicator to voice activation, so that all he had

to do before they took off was turn it on. Responses

were likely to be quite loud, but he wouldn't mind hearing

Uhura's voice loud and clear.

Spock approached him to say, "I am adjusting

the air bladders in our suits to better protect

our internal organs. I believe we should have a

fitting in about an hour. We launch in late afternoon,

an hour before sunset, when the air currents are the

most stable."

Kirk nodded.

"Will everything be ready?"

""Ready' is a relative word," answered the

Vulcan.

"It is difficult to say when an experimental

craft that has never flown before is ready."

"I guess the answer is, we're going

anyway."

"Exactly." Spock nodded.

"I will bring the pressure suits here when they are

ready for fitting."

"I'll be here," said Kirk.

The captain remained at the launch site throughout

the day, a conspicuous presence on the periphery,

available for brief discussions and to offer

opinions, but mostly watching. The tensest moment of the

day occurred when the real hydrogen mixture was

pumped into the balloon. First, ropes were thrown around

a large hoop that secured the passenger net to the

rigging, and then the ropes were tied to impressive

steel pylons. These moorings had to last until

lift-off, and Sherfa made sure they were done

correctly. Then the balloon itself was lashed to the

ground by moorings that would be released as soon as it was

partially filled. Sherfa made certain those ropes were

both driven into the ground and gripped by two or more

258 volunteers, because they would be the first to feel the

strain.

To avoid having a spark set off the hydrogen,

the mobile gas pump and fuel tanks were stationed as

far away as the length of hose would allow.

In a short time, the balloon began to blossom

with hydrogen, straining at its bindings. Kirk came

closer, certain that another hand would be needed somewhere.

Suddenly, one of the ropes slipped off its pylon

and dragged two volunteers along the ground, as the

amorphous half-filled balloon tried to ooze like

a jellyfish out the opening it created. Kirk dove

for the rope as it slithered by and wrapped it around his

waist, digging in his heels. This held the

line for the seconds needed for more workers to pile on and

capture it. They unwrapped Kirk and lashed the

rope to a pylon, while the balloon

reluctantly resumed a globular shape.

The next tense moment came when they let the

balloon go, after filling it with eighteen hundred

cubic meters of hydrogen. The only thing they

needed on the ground was the passenger net, so there was

no reason not to let the balloon fly sernifree.

Despite its undulating, blob like appearance, the

balloon shot into the clouds like a ballistic

missile as soon as the ropes were released. Now it

was up to the second set of moorings to do their job.

Some of them started to slip, but each rope had half

a dozen volunteers hanging on it and a crew

to repair the damage.

There were no errant ropes this time.

Slowly, as the magnificent balloon unfurled

sixty meters in the air, a cheer went up from the

collected throng. It was echoed in the forest and on every

front porch in the Graveyard, as all eyes

watched the sphere and its thin rigging sticking straight

up in the air. It looked more like some fantastic tower

than a lighter than-air craft. A lump caught

in Kirk's throat as he looked at the

magnificent sight. In all his years of flying,

he had never thought he would fly in a conveyance that was so

primitive yet so fanciful. The amount of work it

represented was staggering, even if the physics

involved had been well known for eight hundred

years.

The rest of the afternoon passed almost in a daze. They

tried on the pressure suits and swelled them up

to their full pressure, which offered maximum

protection for internal organs as well as ample

breathing air.

Kirk's fit so well that he took off the

helmet and deflated the suit, but kept wearing it.

Under McCoy's watchful eye, they loaded the

netting with two cases of suspect packaged

food, a large frozen chunk of edible herbivore,

three sacks of beans, and several nonmetallic

jugs of water. The netting dragged on the ground, but

the weight didn't seem to affect the balloon at

all. The sinking sun was touching the rim of the crater,

and the familiar long shadows sprawled across the

Graveyard.

It was time, thought Kirk, and everyone else seemed

to sense it at the same moment. People stopped what they

were doing, which was mainly nervous pacing, and

stared at the three newcomers. They hadn't spent very

much time in this community, but they had fit in and been

made welcome .

And they were getting a royal sen doff.

Among the crowd, Kirk saw Sherfa and, standing

beside her, Renna. Both were trying to smile. He

saw Billiwog manning one of the ropes, and

Errico and Belkot on another; they were grinning,

even the Andorian. Kirk looked at his comrades,

Spock and McCoy, and a silent order went out

Inflate your pressure suits-we're going.

Kirk reached into his helmet and powered on the

communicator. Before he put it on, he turned

to 260 Sherfa and shouted, "Watch the sky! I'll

give you a signal."

The old woman waved back, and the young,

darkhaired woman gave him a mock salute. That

was one prisoner he might come back for, thought

Kirk, as he pulled the helmet over his head.

Eager helpers adjusted their pressure suits

until the oxygen was flowing and they were as safe as if

they were in their mothers' arms.

McCoy went first into the large net and settled

himself on the frozen carcass. Spock took a seat

on the packaged goods, and Kirk sat on

the sacks of beans. They were shoulder to shoulder in the

constrictive net, but their pressure suits

maintained a little cocoon around each of them, so it

didn't seem so constrictive. Because the suits had

been scrounged from different crafts and races, there

was no way for them to communicate, except to look

each other in the eyes. Since their heads nearly

abutted, that wasn't difficult.

Belkot and some of the others checked the netting and as

much of the rigging as they could reach. It all appeared

secure-almost too secure, thought Kirk with a

gulp, as there was no way to separate them from the

balloon. They were sure as hell going wherever it

went. He looked into McCoy's eyes and saw

excitement blended uneasily with stark fear; in

contrast, Spock looked like he was about to take a

nap.

Kirk lifted his hand in a definitive wave.

At once, a pre rehearsed ritual began, as the

teams began to untie their respective lines. On

each rope, a handful of volunteers tensed their

bodies to catch the pull of 1,800 cubic meters

of hydrogen. By watching each other and working in

unison, the crews were able to fling their lines into the

wind at the same time.

Then, like puppets being yanked offstage by the

puppeteer, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy were

hoisted into the air.

They felt a collective wrenching in their

stomachs as they became airborne, but the pressure

suits quickly compensated until the only feeling was

a mild lightheadedness. Kirk looked over the edge

of the net to see the ground swirling away beneath him, and

he quickly screwed his eyes shut.

The strangest sensation was no sensation. To know that he

was traveling upward through free air at a speed of

hundreds of kilometers an hour, yet feeling

nothing, gave Kirk a dreamlike sensation, as if

this weren't really happening. The balloon overhead was

almost invisible, and the thick strand of connecting lines

seemed to stretch into infinity, like Jack's beanstalk.

His only contact with reality was looking down, but that

made him (tizzy.

Still, Kirk forced himself to look down to try to get

some sort of bearing.

He also saw McCoy desperately looking

around.

Then they passed through a bank of clouds that

obliterated their vision entirely. For an unknown

distance, they inhabited a world of gray

smoke in which they couldn't see their own hands in front

of their helmets. This was the dreamiest part of the trip,

and Kirk had to remind himself that he was awake and

traveling unabated into the thin air of Sanctuary's

stratosphere.

Finally, they broke from the high cloud bank, and

Kirk could see Spock leaning down and studying the

clouds intently. He soon figured out that the

Vulcan was trying to gauge their speed, knowing that the

slower they were going, the closer they were getting to their

destination, as the hydrogen and the thin air equalized in

density. Kirk looked up at the balloon and

noticed that it had lost much of its flabbiness and had

filled out into a respectable globe. They were still going

up- that much was evident-which meant that they weren't at

thirty-five kilometers yet.

Spock reached into the cartons he was sitting upon

262 and began to toss packaged goods over the top

of the netting. The boxes plummeted like tiny bombs,

piercing the clouds and disappearing. The Vulcan

wasn't concerned about the boxes doing any damage,

since the odds of them landing in wilderness or ocean on

this planet were overwhelming. When McCoy started

to get off his slab of meat, Spock motioned him

to remain seated.

For the time being, sacrificing the boxes would suffice

to give them a little more speed.

A couple hundred kilometers overhead, on the

bridge of the Enterprise, a voice sounded loudly

over the intercom "Photo imaging to Commander

Scott."

"Scott here," answered the acting captain.

"Have you got something?"

"Yes, sir," came the voice.

"You know that crater you asked us to monitor?

Long-range telephoto lenses reveal what

looks like a balloon rising rapidly over that

area."

"A balloon?" asked Scotty.

"You mean, another weather balloon?"

"Oh, bigger than that," came the reply.

"Big enough to be a manned flight, and a

high-altitude one at that."

"It's still out of sensor range," responded

Sulu, "but I can take us directly over the

crater."

"Yes," said Scotty, "get us close." There

was a momentary drone as the impulse engines worked

to adjust their orbit.

"Thank you, Ensign," Scotty told

the imaging technician, "keep us posted."

"Yes, sir."

Chekov bolted upright in his seat and announced,

"Sir, both the Gezary and the Orion ship are

changing course to match ours. They are approaching

at full impulse."

Scotty peered at the viewscreen, where two

tiny blips were swiftly converging upon them. Those

blips would be warships in a matter of moments.

"Yellow alert," said Scotty.

"Do not take your eyes off "em, Ensign."

"Yes, sir," answered Chekov.

The bounty hunters came to a stop a respectable

distance from the Enterprise, although less than fifty

kilometers away. The Gezary was a sleek

vessel with three nacelles in close proximity,

like a trimaran sailing ship. The Orion ship was

bulky, greenish brown and pitted with odd

designs; it reminded Scotty of a World War

II hand grenade he had once seen in a

museum. That they were working in tandem was painfully

obvious.

"Shields up," said Scotty.

"Yes, sir," Chekov answered with obvious

agreement.

"Hail the Gezary, was said the Scotsman,

striding to the captain's seat.

"Make it voice only, because I want to keep

their ships on the screen."

A few seconds later, Uhura responded,

"Captain Pilenna on audio."

Scotty flicked a switch on the arm of his

chair and said sternly, "Captain Pilenna, this is

Commander Scott. I have reason to believe that our people

are trying to make an escape from the planet in a

balloon. I ask you and the Orion ship to withdraw,

so that we may rescue them."

"Darling," responded a husky voice, "that's

not how we operate around here. You have no proof it's

your people on that balloon. You can't just tell us to go

away and forfeit whatever bounty there might be.

Something is floating our way, and nobody knows what

it is."

"I warn you," said Scotty, "our friendship

wilma last if you hamper our rescue operations."

The voice that responded was suddenly cold and

264 unfrly.

"You wouldn't join forces with me. I owe you

nothing." There was an audible pop.

"They've broken off contact," said

Uhura.

Scotty muttered, "They've broken off more than

that." He flicked the switch again and declared,

"Transporter room, stand by."

Captain Kirk strained to lift the frozen loin

over his head, unable to get a good footing in the

spidery net. Spock finally reached up a hand and

helped him hoist it over. The chunk of meat

hurtled into the clouds beneath them, and Kirk could

imagine McCoy making some kind of wisecrack.

He glanced over at the doctor, who was grinning

like a damn fool. He was actually enjoying this

flight.

Kirk had no sensation at all of where they were,

or at what altitude. He knew there would be no

sirens or bells when they passed through the Senite

shield they wanted to be treated like just another ball

of gas-but Spock was concerned enough about their slowing speed

to start tossing out the ballast. From what little He could

see, the balloon looked puffed to capacity, so

Kirk had to assume they were getting close.

"Kirk to Enterprise!" he said into the hollowness

of his helmet, knowing the communicator would activate

automatically.

"Kirk to Enterprise. Kirk

to Enterprise. Kirk to Enterprise. was It became

a chant that he never stopped for an instant as they

rose into the stratosphere.

Uhura nearly jumped out of her seat, and she

shrieked, "It's the captain!" She quickly

recovered enough to say, "Enterprise here! I read you,

sir! We'll, beam you tip."

"Gezary firing phasers!" Chekov proclaimed

as the 265 viewscreen erupted in waves of energy

beams that engulfed the Enterprise and jarred the

bridge, knocking people off their feet.

Uhura shouted to be heard "Transmitting

coordinates to transporter room!

Stand by. Commander Scott, they're on that

balloon, but we have to beam them off."

"Orion ship firing disrupters!" announced

Chekov.

"Gezary firing phasers!"

Scotty gripped the arms of the captain's chair

as the ship was rocked again and again, but he managed

to punch his communicator switch and call out,

"Transporter room! Have ye got those

coordinates?"

"Yes, sir, we're locked on. We're

waiting for you to lower the shields."

The pummeling from the two ships off the bow continued

unabated, and the Enterprise rocked like a

punch-drunk fighter.

"Shields at forty percent," called Sulu,

"but holding. We can't drop them now!"

"We've got to!" growled Scotty.

"They're only doing this to make us keep our

shields up." As the ship rocked again, he

sprawled across his chair and hit the communicator

switch.

"Transporter room, don't wait for my

command. When I drop the shields, energize!"

"Acknowledged!" barked the voice, as the ship

rattled and sparks burst from the science station.

"They're firing toward the planet!" shouted

Sulu.

"That does it," snarled Scotty.

"Chekov, give 'em a brace of torpedoes.

Scatter pattern."

"Yes, sir!" declared the Russian with a grin.

He let the computer launch seven photon

torpedoes, but picked the last setting himself.

The scatter pattern was intended to blind and disorient

the enemy, and the Enterprise crew watched as a chain

of explosions sizzled across the bows of the

attacking ships. Chekov's missile, slipping in

behind the others, struck the Gezary full-on in the

engine compartment. The ship sputtered greenish flames

from its wound and began to slip out of orbit toward the

planet. The Orion vessel continued to fire.

The balloonists were blissfully ignorant of the

battle taking place over their heads, until a

phaser beam from the Orion ship struck their

balloon.

At once, Kirk's excitement turned to utter

terror. The hydrogen explosion was like a

supernova, turning the sky above into a flaming

ball. Fingers of fire raced toward them across the thin

air and would have consumed them, but they were already falling

faster than the flames could travel.

Kirk tumbled as if he were weightless, in total

free-fall. He saw two bodies spinning on

either side of him, one of them wrapped in the shredded

hammock. All that was left of their magnificent

balloon was a glowing ember that floated far overhead

like an iridescent butterfly. It had happened so

quickly that it took him another moment to realize that if

they dropped beneath the Senites" shield, they would just

keep on dropping.

Kirk screamed, "Uhura! We're

falling! Beam us up! his

"They're failing!" gasped Uhura.

Mr. Scott gulped but stuck calmly to the

only chain of events that would work.

"Lock phasers onto that Orion," he

ordered.

"Phasers ready," called Chekov.

"Drop shields," said Scotty.

"Fire phasers!"

Two blinding beams of phaser fire swarmed across

the bow of the Orion vessel, lighting it like an

incandescent bulb. The bow swelled with bluish light

and 267 exploded like a blood vessel. The rest

of the ship glowed white-hot for a moment before it

sputtered and cooled to a dead khaki color.

Lieutenant Kyle watched as three figures

in alien pressure suits materialized in the

transporter chamber. All of them floundered on the

platform for a moment before they realized where they were.

Then Kirk and McCoy leaped to their feet, tore

off their helmets, and screamed with joy at their

deliverance.

Spock strode to Kyle at the transporter

controls and requested calmly, "Would you please

inform the bridge that the landing party has

returned."

"Yes, sir!" said Kyle, grinning broadly.

"Transporter room to bridge-the landing party

has returned!"

There was quiet jubilation on the bridge, but

Scotty was busy trying to ascertain how much fight

was left in his adversaries. After a few seconds,

some lights appeared to sputter on in the Orion

ship.

"The Orion captain wishes to break off

hostilities," Uhura reported.

"He says it was a misunderstanding19 "Not on my

part," muttered Scotty.

"But the captain, Dr. McCoy, and Mr.

Spock are safe, and that's all that matters.

Therefore, I'm in a forgivin' mood. Tell the

Orion he can withdraw. But put our shields back

up."

Seconds later, Uhura reported,

"Captain Pilenna of the Gezary wishes to speak with

you. On screen."

Scotty stiffened to attention and nodded.

"On screen it is."

The voluptuous redhead appeared on the

viewscreen with most of her beauty intact,

but little of her confidence. Behind her, her normally

reserved crew rushed around frantically.

"Commander Scott," she said, "I beseech you!

Our 268 orbit is decaying, and we are headed

toward the planet. We haven't got any engine

power at all. Will you beam us aboard your ship?"

"It's not my ship anymore," Scotty

replied coolly.

"We have our captain back. I believe your

ship will survive entry into the atmosphere, and the

Senites will no doubt transport you off before there

is any danger.

Therefore, all I can say is, good luck on

Sanctuary. was "You can't do that to us!" Pilenna

shrieked.

"What if they find out who we are? Listen, we

only wanted to give you a little competition for whoever was

in that balloon. We didn't know it was your

captain! Won't you please save us from going down

there?"

For a moment, Scotty almost relented. He was

considering whether to beam them aboard when the image of the

green-skinned woman suddenly grew faint.

"Transmission breaking up," said Uhura.

Pilenna's plaintive face and

figure were rasterized into a million pieces, and

her voice became low and unintelligible. Before the

intent eyes of Scotty, Uhura, Chekov, and

Sulu, the bounty huntress and her crew vanished

from the bridge of the decaying vessel, just before it

vanished from the Enterprise's screen.

"The Senites got them," said Sulu with

finality.

Scotty smiled wi/lly.

"Aye, and they got a handfal51 The

turbolift door opened and three familiar-if

bearded-figures strode onto the bridge. They just

stood staring around at the bridge crew for a moment,

their broad grins doing all of the talking.

"Welcome back, Captain!" Scotty finally

sputtered.

Kirk said, "Mr. Scott, I'm glad you're

still here."

"Well," stammered Scotty, "Starfleet did

request our presence elsewhere, but their orders were,

uh, very confusing."

"Wery confusing," confirmed Chekov, grinning.

"We know the sidewalk cafes are nice," put

in Uhura, "but what else do they have down there?

What's it like?"

"Fascinating," answered Spock.

"The marine life is quite diverse, and the giant

mollusks are especially interesting."

McCoy remarked, "The Senites have some quaint

customs, too."

"Quiet," said Kirk, waving everyone to silence

and heading to the captain's chair.

"Over a long dinner, we'll tell you aJI

about it. Right now, Uhura, I want you to contact a

Senite named Zicree on the planet."

"Captain," she replied, "we haven't had much

luck communicating with the Senites."

"Tell him it's me. He-it-should respond."

They waited expectantly for Uhura to relay

the request. Finally, she looked up from her console,

clearly impressed, and reported, "Zicree will

speak with you, Captain."

"He'd better," said Kirk grimly.

The slim Senite appeared on the screen, no

longer looking ageless and aloof, but shaken and tired.

"Captain Kirk," he began, "I wish

to protest this breach of our security system, as

well as the blatant discharge of weapons in our-was

"Shut up," snapped Kirk, "and listen to me.

Our laws forbid me from coming down there and

teaching you a lesson, but the other residents of

Sanctuary may not feel any such restraint, now

that they know what you do with fugitives."

"Captain," Zicree implored, "I plead for

your understanding. We Senites have no other way

to reproduce ourselves except for the Reborning. We

take only the riffraff from Dohama, and they are

better off-was

"Have you asked them that?" interrupted Kirk.

"Maybe some of them would agree to the Reboming if

270 you asked them. As it is now, it's nothing but

forced torture and mutilation. There's not a damn thing

I can do about it directly, but I can crank up the

Universal Translator and make sure that every

space-traveling culture in this sector knows what

you're doing down there."

"Please, Captain," protested the Senite,

"we are proud of our reputation as the last refuge

of the persecuted." Kirk vowed, "You'll have a new

reputation when I'm done. You've got several

thriving communities down there, yet you choose

to treat most of the fugitives like animals or children.

Or worse, as fodder for your torture mill. The

secret is out, Zicree. Nobody will wander

unsuspectingly into Dohama again." The

Senite sighed and slumped perceptibly in its

chair. After a moment, it said slowly, "What you

say is true. There is much resistance in our

ranks, but we will have to change. Your escape and knowledge

of the Reborning means that we will have to change-even if

it could mean the death of our species."

"You are not a species," Kirk argued.

"You are hundreds of species, most of which have

been cosmetically altered. That's what Sanctuary

is-hundreds of species, working together to build a

new life. If you would just look around, you would see

that you have something marvelous there, a fantastic

opportunity."

"Yes." Zicree nodded.

"I

understand. I will try to convince the others. I may

even succeed."

"Try," Kirk urged.

"Good-bye, Captain Kirk," Zicree said

with a faint smile.

"Your visit has been most illuminating." The

Senite's image faded away, leaving the captain

to stare at the sparkling curve of the aquamarine

planet and wonder how much impact they had really

had. Would Starfleet ever be able to come back

here 271 John Vornholt and pay a normal

visit to Khyming, Dohama, or the Graveyard of

Lost Ships? Or would Sanctuary shrink deeper

into isolationism? The captain stood and stretched his

arms.

"Where are you supposed to take us, Scotty?"

he asked, yawning.

"Starbase 64," answered the engineer.

"But if ye don't mind, sir, I'd like to check

on the engine room.

Beaming you aboard was not quite as easy as it may have

seemed."

"I

can take the bridge, Captain," Spock

offered.

"I feel strangely exhilarated. I found the

balloon ride fascinating, and look forward

to repeating the experience at a later date ."

"You do that," said the captain, starting for the

turbolift.

"I'm going to take a nap."

"Just a second," put in McCoy.

"You're going to get a physical first.

You lost a bet to me."

"What?" bellowed Kirk.

"What bet?" The doctor smiled smugly.

"If you didn't capture Auk-rex, you said you

would let me give you a physical. I don't

see her here."

"Wait a minute," Kirk protested.

"You've just seen me rowing, climbing, hiking,

swimming, and fighting for two weeks straight, and you

don't know if I'm in shape or not?"

"You look a little haggard," McCoy said

sympathetically.

"Besides, I need to check all of us for strange

bugs we might've picked up down there. Might as

well start with you."

"All right." Kirk sighed. He paused at the

turbolift and turned back.

"One moment. Ensign Chekov, I would like you

to shoot a photon torpedo in the direction we

came from, but ignite it thirty-five kilometers

over the surface."

"Captain?" queried the helmsman.

"Torpedo ready, but may I ask why?" 272

SANCTUARY "Something some of the people down there will see,"

said Kirk, "and understand. Fire when ready."

"Torpedo away," said the confused helmsman.

To Captain Kirk, the exploding torpedo

looked like the merest blip over the endless horizon of

Sanctuary. But he knew that in the Graveyard of

Lost Ships, it was a shooting star in the night sky,

a perfect omen for making wishes come true.

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