Star Trek - Log 6 Page 17

  As if any more was necessary, here was yet further proof that whatever else this Kukulkan was, he was not an entity to be mocked.

  There was much care and purpose behind all this display. Despite the near cataclysmic threats inherent in that many-toned voice, Kirk couldn't help but feel a certain thrill of expectation at imminent revelations of the highest import. Within that city might lie explanations for all the mythologies of mankind.

  That would not please some people.

  "I've never seen anything quite like it, Captain," Scott murmured appreciatively at the eerie beauty of it, "not in all my landfalls on many worlds."

  "What's behind it, though?" wondered McCoy.

  Kirk spoke thoughtfully. "The voice spoke of seeds and unfulfilled deeds, Bones. An enormous puzzle's been set before us. Let's start inspecting the pieces."

  They headed for the city gate . . .

  An assistant engineer was aiding Spock as the first officer worked at Scott's Bridge engineering station. Another technician stood ready nearby, to respond to muted commands with information or manipulation of certain instruments.

  Sulu was at the helm now, the position vacated so startlingly by Ensign Walking Bear. All stations, in fact, were double-manned back throughout the Enterprise, as it remained on red alert. Everyone knew that the captain and three others had been taken. No one would sleep until their fate was known.

  While the force-field enclosing them gave no sign of weakening, Spock wanted to be ready should their still unknown assailant give them the slightest chance to break free.

  He concluded his operations at the engineering station and crossed back toward his own.

  Uhura chose that moment to voice the concern which had been building in her for many minutes. "Mr. Spock, shouldn't we be trying to find out what's become of the captain, Dr. McCoy and the others?"

  "Lieutenant Uhura, you are supposed to be monitoring the alien vessel for any possible incoming communiques. You know that our first priority is to free the Enterprise and ourselves. As soon as that is accomplished, we can attend to the release of all kidnapped personnel. Continue with your regular duties."

  "Yes, sir," she muttered. Spock began recalling information from the library. She continued to stare at him for a long moment and then returned her attention to her own console. She might have been muttering something under her breath. Then again, she might not. Uhura could be unreadable at times.

  Four men stood almost respectfully before the towering spires guarding the city's central boulevard. Close inspection convinced Kirk that they were Egyptian obelisks.

  "With at least one significant difference, sir," Walking Bear exclaimed.

  Kirk remembered that Walking Bear was only an amateur anthropologist. He wished for Spock's more definitive explanations. But Spock wasn't here. In his absence, they would have to depend on the ensign's informal readings. So far, though, he had to admit, the young helmsman's observations had been as accurate as anyone could wish.

  "It's those carvings, sir," Walking Bear was explaining as he pointed to incisions about three meters off the ground on the nearest tower.

  Kirk eyed them.

  They had been exquisitely rendered by a careful, expert hand, he would have said, had he not seen the entire city raised from—not the dust, Kirk, he warned himself. Don't get biblical—you've encountered races with matter-manipulation abilities before.

  He couldn't identify the style of carving. The subjects seemed uncomplicated, though. Animals and people from many different countries and regions of ancient Earth.

  "Notice that one there, sir," Walking Bear suggested. "The third row over, first on the bottom."

  Kirk found the indicated carving and instantly understood why the ensign attached such significance to it. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the ghost image which now cloaked Kukulkan's ship, that of a feathered serpent. In this particular rendition the wings were spread wider, and the body was coiled. It hovered over a lifelike flurry of little cuts which could only be water.

  "No Egyptian ever carved anything like that, sir."

  Kirk nodded, indicated they should continue on. They passed through the gate, which Scott claimed closely approximated some ruins he'd encountered in old China. For his part, Walking Bear maintained that the wall braces backing the towers and arch overhead could only be Scythian in origin.

  "Can't pin it down," he finally confessed. "It's like the rest of this place, only on a smaller scale. There's that weird blend of many unrelated civilizations again."

  "Everything's a clue, Walking Bear," said Kirk. "Remember, this city is intended to be one gigantic riddle. If nothing seems to belong to its neighbor, that must be significant, too."

  The avenue they were walking down was wide and well paved with blocks composed of that same strange stone-metal-glass mix. They continued down it for what felt like a fair distance, examining each structure in turn as they passed it. Every one was finished down to the tiniest detail. Painstaking care had been exercised in this gargantuan recreation, which in turn was part of some still unknown charade.

  It was the less amiable McCoy who finally called a halt to the seemingly endless hike. "Okay, so we're here—so, what are we supposed to do now?"

  "Your opinion, Mr. Walking Bear?"

  The ensign looked at him in surprise. He suspected the captain's growing confidence in him; he was used to offering opinions to the computer in study center, in response to queries posed in technical manuals—not to the ship's captain. For a moment he could only gawk helplessly.

  "Come on, Ensign," Kirk finally urged, sensing the other's lack of assurance. "We're all of us equally on trial here."

  "Sir, I . . . I haven't the faintest idea what we're expected to do."

  "Just tell me what comes to you," Kirk soothed. "Tell us more about Kukulkan . . . maybe something useful will surface." He smiled encouragingly.

  Walking Bear grinned slightly. "Well . . . before he left, the legends say Kukulkan gave the Mayas their remarkably accurate calendar, instructing them to build a great city according to its cycles. On the day the city was finished, he was supposed to return."

  As he told the weathered story, the orange-blue sun shone down on them with unvarying warmth, never stirring from its assigned place in the sky.

  "The Mayas built their city and waited. Something about it must have been wrong, because Kukulkan never returned. Maybe they paid too much attention to the parts of the calendar that told them the best times for planting corn . . . I don't know.

  "They tried again and again . . . at Chichén Itzá, Tulum, Uxmal and others. None induced the god to return." He glanced at the silent structures bordering the avenue. "As Mr. Spock said, many cultures have such legends."

  "The history of Earth," Kirk whispered, "is a history of unfulfilled promises," but no one else heard him. He spoke again, more briskly. "Kukulkan must have visited many of those ancient peoples. It appears each used only parts—different parts—of his knowledge to build their own cities."

  "Does that mean they were all trying to build something that was supposed to look like this?" McCoy asked.

  Walking Bear hedged. "I think so, sir, but they all failed. The Mayas used one part, the Indus River civilizations another, the builders of Zimbabwe yet another . . . over and over, failure after failure, the original knowledge growing more and more distorted with each succeeding culture."

  "I see," commented McCoy. "An architectural Tower of Babel."

  "Sometimes I wonder about us humans, Bones," Kirk murmured. "Someone could come along and hand us the plans for the ultimate civilization—and we'd manage to bollix it up somehow. We're too vain, as a race and as individuals.

  "There's always someone who has to improve perfection, just to get his hundredth of a credit in." His voice grew tauter. "Though from what I've seen of this Kukulkan and his methods this far, I wouldn't bet that some farsighted city builders didn't perform a little sabotage on those building instructions."

 
; "Kukulkan said he would appear only when we learned the city's purpose," Walking Bear reminded them. "Unfortunately, none of the legends mention what that purpose was."

  Kirk ran his hand over the hair above his neck. "Let's use what facts we have. Supposedly these cities were built to bring Kukulkan back to Earth. How? Obviously he hasn't been hanging around Earth, or anywhere else in our neck of the galaxy for the last several thousand years to see if someone eventually hit it right.

  "That means this city has to hold some kind of signaling device." The structures surrounding them took on new meaning. "It can't be too complicated. It has to be something the Egyptians or Mayas could have built, and out of local materials. The basic technology can't be too advanced, either.

  "That means we're not going to find any deep-space transmitters housed in a stone pyramid. This Kukulkan's approach to basic physics seems pretty different from our own. I don't see why some simple yet efficient communicating system couldn't utilize equally unorthodox technology.

  "It has to be in plain sight, I think. After all, the transmitting machinery is the reason behind building the entire city." He gestured down the street they were on.

  "That central pyramid is the city's physical and visual focal point. Seems a good place to start."

  In the humid silence of an unlengthening day, they started toward it . . .

  XI

  Eventually they stood at one corner of the ziggurat, at the intersection of the main boulevard and several smaller avenues. At the center of this modest intersection rose a small tower. It wasn't a very big tower, but that did not detract from its impressiveness. Roughly five meters high, it bore a definite resemblance to the elaborately worked, gilded temple towers of the Southeast Asia sector of Earth.

  Rounded and roughly ovoid, it was made up of eight tiers of progressively diminishing size, cut from brightly colored stone. At the top of the spire was a graven image of Kukulkan's head. It was exquisitely executed, finely detailed. Everything looked lifelike—the serpent head with its gaping fanged mouth, the collar of metal and glass feathers around the neck, and the rainbow feathered frill formed of inlaid semiprecious stones.

  Tilted up and back, the head stared into the sky at a forty-five degree angle, facing away from the pyramid behind. It wore a baleful expression, at once expectant and commanding.

  At the sharp-edged corner of the enormous pyramid, a stairway built to human proportions started upward. As near as they could tell it reached to the top of the massive stone structure. At the moment, though, their attention was held by the impressive sculpture from which the web of roads radiated.

  "Funny," Walking Bear was murmuring, hands resting on hips as he studied the sculpture, "I've never seen a representation like this before."

  Kirk glanced up at the pyramid behind them, then back to his companions. "Since the big pyramid's the center of everything, I'd guess it also has something to do with the answer to everything. Maybe it's at the top. I'm going up. The rest of you spread out and circle it. Try to stay within earshot of each other, within sight if possible. Anyone finds anything that demands immediate evaluation, he gives a holler. Don't try operating any levers or doorhandles without calling someone else to help. I don't want anyone vanishing down trick hallways."

  "Aye, sir . . . yes, sir . . . okay, Jim," came the replies. Kirk started up the seemingly endless series of steps, while the others split up.

  Scott and Walking Bear hadn't gone far to the south before the ensign picked out a distinctive shape far down the walkway. He pointed. "Another tower, I think, sir."

  "Come on, lad."

  They broke into a trot. As they drew nearer and nearer, they saw that Walking Bear was right. Furthermore, this new structure was more than just another tower . . . it was an exact duplicate of the one they had just encountered.

  It lay in the center of another confluence of streets, as had the first. Walking Bear spared it only a glance before strolling out to where he could peer around the pyramid's corner.

  Only the unnatural clarity of the air within the huge chamber enabled him to identify the outlines of the dim object in the distance.

  "There's a third tower down this way, sir. There must be one at each of the four corners . . ."

  Kirk didn't waste energy panting. There was no one around to sympathize. And he had gauged the hike accurately—no difficult task for a man used to estimating astronomical distances. So when he arrived at the top he was more psychologically than physically winded.

  He was almost disappointed. The revelation he had hoped for consisted only of a flat, square platform supported on four poles. It perched in unimpressive solitude atop the pyramid. Its sole distinction was that it seemed made of metal—more metal than they'd seen anywhere in the city in one place. But closer inspection failed to disclose the nature of the alloy.

  The square itself framed a lustrous, transparent round mosaic depicting Kukulkan in the same coiled, in-flight pose carved on the gate obelisks. The mosaic seemed to be encased in clear quartz, but Kirk didn't trust his initial estimates here. It did look like quartz, though.

  He could just see over the top of the platform. There was no question of the mosaic's importance. It was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship, worthy of a fine jeweler, resplendent in its rendering. Other than its opulent beauty, however, it held no attraction for the captain.

  Kirk crouched slightly to see beneath the platform. The bottom of the transparent mosaic was as flawless as the top. Passing through it, the rays of the artificial sun cast the winged serpent image clear and sharp on the stone beneath. Dust motes danced in the painted light.

  Everything had been arranged here with extreme precision, to produce . . . what? Kirk rose and eyed the top of the mosaic once more, looked down at the image it cast on the stone, and considered thoughtfully.

  Walking Bear and Scott were absorbed in their inspection of the second ornamental tower. They had negotiated the easy climb and now stood at the top, even with the sculpted serpent head.

  Nearness brought knowledge concealed by height. Immediately they noticed two things not visible from ground level.

  For one, the eyes of the statue were composed of concentric inlays of some translucent glassy material instead of opaque rock. Of more obvious significance was the faceted prism like some huge gem which was securely positioned at the back of the stone gullet.

  Scott's engineering sense was more intrigued by, say, the controls of a ship than its more impressive bulk. Consequently, while Walking Bear was engrossed in deep study of the eyes and prism, his older companion was busily examining the collar of inlaid feathers which circled the statue's neck. He was hunting for imperfections more significant than the perfection, and he found one at the base of the fringed collar.

  "Looks like there's a seam here. I think the head is meant to be turned. Come on, lad, give me a hand."

  Lining himself up with his hands on the back of the collar, he directed Walking Bear to press in the same clockwise direction with both hands on the lower stone jaw. Together they shoved.

  There was a rasp and squeak as of metal on rock . . . or maybe rock on metal, given the peculiar composition of the building materials here.

  More important, the head seemed to move a little.

  "Try again, lad." Both men strained, using their body weight against the recalcitrant sculpture. Something snapped inside and the head started to turn smoothly on a hidden pivot. As it turned to the sun, the glassy eyes began to glow, to shine with an inner light that appeared far stronger than mere reflection.

  Scott and Walking Bear were too absorbed in the effort of turning the head to notice this new development. Fortunately, someone else was in the perfect position to do so.

  Even from his high perch the intensity of the glow in the statue's eyes was so commanding that Kirk noticed it immediately. He spun and shielded his own eyes as he stared upward, muttering excitedly to himself.

  "Of course . . . the sun! No wonder it hasn't moved .
. the position is crucial to the city riddle." He turned downward and shouted through cupped hands. No wind kidnapped his call.

  "Scotty! Turn the head a hundred and eighty degrees, so that it looks up here!"

  The chief engineer's voice echoed back faintly. "Aye, sir."

  The head had been turned almost completely around when the polished prism in its mouth also began to shine. Simultaneously, the brightness of the inlaid eyes grew so brilliant that Kirk could no longer look directly at them without squinting. As the carved skull ground the last few degrees, a beam of light suddenly sprang from the serpent's jaws toward the top of the pyramid. It was accompanied by a hissing sound that grew rapidly louder.

  Kirk had moved clear. Like a reaching arm, the combined triple beam of eyes and mouth passed directly before him, between the two nearest poles. It struck the underside of the mosaic held carefully suspended by the metal platform. The result was marvelous and unexpected.

  As the nearly solid light from below struck the mosaic and passed through it, steady explosions of glittering energy formed in the air directly above, forming and bursting and bursting and forming like bubbles in champagne.

  The hissing became a nervous crackling sound. It reminded Kirk of an incomplete electrical connection—though nothing so simple was at work here. Below, Walking Bear and Chief Scott stared anxiously upward, awaiting word from Kirk.

  They could see the glow at the top of the pyramid, the distant figure of the captain silhouetted before it. But at this distance they couldn't tell anything else. A moment later and they were reassured as the diminutive form called down to them.

  "Turn the other heads this way," the voice ordered. Scott yelled acknowledgment, and both men started down from the tower.

  As soon as he saw them moving, Kirk edged around to the other side of the platform area, carefully avoiding the beam. He spotted McCoy waiting patiently by the base of the fourth tower.

  "Bones! The serpent's head—turn it to face the pyramid! I'm coming down."