Star Trek - Log 6 Page 19
"But how are we going to break free of the field?" Uhura wanted to know.
"This energy bubble, by its very nature, appears responsive to only one action per contained object, Lieutenant. If the same object—in this case, the Enterprise—both pushes and pulls on it simultaneously, at the same spot, the field should become sufficiently strained for a sudden burst of warp power to break clear of it.
"Mr. Sulu, Mr. Arex, you have our present spatial position?"
"Yes, sir," the double reply came. Spock wanted no chance of them being thrown nearly six light-years off with no way of relocating the alien's ship.
"Field contact with tractor beam in four seconds, sir," Arex announced. His voice was perhaps a twinge higher than usual.
Even as he finished, the Enterprise, in the person of its powerful tractor beam, once again encountered the restrictive surface of the force globe. Both tractor and impulse engine fought the same section of surface . . . pushing and pulling toward the identical end.
Spock didn't intend that they should bear the terrific strain very long. For one thing the tractor mechanism would blow up if it was required to pull against the opposing force of the impulse engine for more than a couple of minutes.
"Full warp power on my order," Spock said, shaping the syllables slowly. "Now."
Within the force globe the tubular nacelles housing the great engines glowed brightly at the ends. The Enterprise hung in that nexus of antagonistic energies for a split second before a blinding white flash obliterated it from view.
Only a translucent blue globe remained.
In an empty, uncontested corner of space the flash was repeated for an audience of indifferent stars. The Enterprise appeared in its center. Kukulkan's ship was off the scanners.
No one raised a shout, there were no hysterical cheers. Those could wait until later, when the missing four crew members had been rescued.
"All decks report no damage, no injuries, sir," Uhura announced.
"Mr. Sulu, come about. Mr. Arex, put us on course to return." Spock betrayed no hint of satisfaction. His tone was no different than it had been when they had seemed hopelessly trapped.
By interstellar standards the distance they had to travel was not great "Reduce speed to maximum close-range attack velocity, Mr. Sulu. Begin spiral attack pattern four. Arm all phasers and the photon torpedo banks."
"Sir," Sulu murmured, "if the Captain, Dr. McCoy and the others are still alive, wouldn't it be wise to . . .?"
"One of the hallmarks of wisdom is the assignment of priorities, Mr. Sulu. The Enterprise comes first. You will arm as directed."
"Yes, sir," came the flat response.
Thus prepared to deal a hurricane of destruction at the first attempt to encase them in another force-field, the Enterprise wound its way back toward the inimical ghost . . .
Kirk was nearly exhausted. Just behind him, McCoy appeared to be in even worse shape. He glanced back and made a gesture. McCoy nodded in return. As they rounded the next suitable corner, both men dove behind one of the lowest of the suspended cages.
A writhing shape flashed by moments later, tongue flicking rapidly in all directions and red eyes glaring vengefully. Kirk marveled at the abilities of a race which could create technological wonders like this ship without the evolutionary benefit of manipulative members.
Surely those wings had always been wings, nor were there signs of rudimentary legs. The tail appeared reasonably prehensile, but that hardly seemed sufficient. Yet Kukulkan's people had managed, even triumphed, in matters of fine construction.
Even as he thought they had thrown off pursuit, bat-wings backed air and the twisting figure paused in mid-flight.
Kirk held his breath. He needn't have. It wasn't sudden detection of their presence that had brought Kukulkan to such an abrupt stop. Confusion of a different kind was apparent in his manner, and in the words he muttered unconsciously.
"Something is wrong."
Both officers hazarded a peek around the cage as the serpent made an elaborate gesture with both wings. A square of shimmering blackness materialized before him.
Looking into that was like peering into a cube of space. Miniature stars gleamed within it. Some were occluded by a miniature Enterprise.
And no force bubble encased it, Kirk noted excitedly.
The three-dimensional image of the ship grew larger and larger, until it seemed it would burst the confines of the cube.
"Escaped," Kukulkan was growling. "How? I will smash it this time . . ."
"Broken free, Jim!" McCoy exclaimed. "Spock . . ."
Kirk cut him off. "We've got to distract this thing and give him some time to get within range before another force bubble is projected—or worse." He started to draw back into the shadows, bumped something round and unyielding with his shoulder.
As the thought cleared he forgave himself the bruise. The exchange could be more than fair. "Bones, what would happen if we were to pull the cables on some of these cages? Disrupt the peaceful environments?"
McCoy shrugged. "Probably most of the animals would just lie still. Those that weren't cowed would be too confused by the sudden change to know what to do. A few might react blindly . . ." A look of comprehension dawned on his face. "A few . . . the Capalent power-cat!"
"Come on, Bones . . ."
Keeping to the shadows, of which there were precious few because of the even illumination, they traced an indirect path back to the cage holding the big carnivore.
That belligerent creature was awake now and calmly preening itself. As they neared the cage, Kirk found himself wondering if this was really such a brilliant idea. Yet what else could they try? It would take a major disturbance to draw Kukulkan's considerable mind away from the approach of the Enterprise.
Kirk carried out a last experiment by charging straight at the cage and slamming his hands hard against the transparent-seeming side. Within, the power-cat's gaze moved directly to him—and past.
They'd have a chance, then. Moving around the cage they started tugging and pulling at the twin cables. Despite their most strenuous efforts, the connections held fast.
Well behind their present location, Kukulkan hovered in humid air and studied the newly created image of the Enterprise. He appeared to hear something, his head suddenly lifting and turning in several directions before settling on one.
"No, stop!" he commanded angrily, with perhaps a touch of something other than anger in that shout. Wings flapping furiously, he streaked off down one winding path. Behind him, now devoid of control, the black cube of shrunken universe broke up into tiny puffs of dark smoke.
Kirk heard that shout. Holding tight to the cable just past where it joined the black box beneath the cage floor, he tensed himself for a last, supreme effort.
He put his left foot up against the cage on one side of the cable, and shoved. Maintaining pressure, he brought his right leg off the ground and planted it on the other side of the link. Suspended off the ground, he strained shoulders and legs at the same time. McCoy struggled to imitate his actions.
Kirk's cable gave with a snap and tiny shower of sparks. He fell to the ground. Seconds later, McCoy joined him. The doctor was no athlete, but he knew exactly how to utilize the combination of bands and ropes that made up the muscular system.
Both men employed that system to roll beneath the only immediate cover—the dark bottom of the cage itself.
Above their heads, reaction was instantaneous. The power-cat jerked back from what must have been a shocking and radical alteration of the landscape.
Spinning, it saw more of the same. It shrank down into the earthen floor of the now fully transparent cage. But when no further metamorphosis followed, it rose rapidly to all fours. It could see other creatures moving about around it. Air still pulsed through its lungs, its heart still beat. It was alive.
There is practically nothing a Capalent power-cat fears. Whether panic or rage or both motivated it then, neither Kirk nor McCoy could tell.
They could hear the snarling now, uncomfortably close above them—a deep-throated, angry rasp that cut the air like a scythe. The power-cat leaped clear and began prowling among the surrounding cages, throwing off immense bursts of energy like a four-legged hairy thunderhead.
Random bolts struck the floor and ceiling of the chamber. Where they made contact, deep smoking scars in the material appeared. Other bursts shattered nearby cages, sending the respective inhabitants into quivering paralysis or leaping for the nearest shelter.
If anything, the rampaging killer's discharges seemed to increase in intensity. It reached the point where each new burst caused the color of the room to change. Kirk could feel the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end in the presence of so much unchanneled power.
Kukulkan was close by, but he was no longer concerned with Kirk and McCoy, nor with Scott and Walking Bear who had hurried to the region of disturbance to offer aid if either captain or physician were in danger.
Wings fluttered in agitation as the serpent hissed, "Irrational savages! See what you have done!"
"Prepare to fire, Mr. Sulu," Spock ordered calmly as the range to the ghost ship closed. "Aim for the propulsion units."
"Aye, sir."
They swept close . . . and no force-field appeared to meet them. No duplicate of the pure white energy beam leaped to strike at their deflector shields.
"Fire, Mr. Sulu. Phasers first."
Twin beams of blue energy crossed the distance between ships. This time there was nothing to stop them. They raked the alien's drive.
"Again, Mr. Sulu." Once more the rear section of Kukulkan's vessel was hit.
Within the life-room a brief turquoise glow touched everything. Then all was plunged into darkness in which the only light came from luminescent specimens and the intermittent blaze of the power-cat.
The carnivore's snarls reached them above an increasing melange of squeaks, chirps, moans and whistles. Kirk decided to take a chance, crawled clear of the protective cage. To the power-cat, his yell should be no more distracting than the calls of any other freed creatures.
"Kukulkan! You can't control one of your own creatures!" The emphasis on the own was intentional, but the irony was wasted on that monumental reptilian ego.
Light returned to the chamber and Kirk ducked back out of sight. But this wasn't the bright, powerful illumination of before. It was dim and flickered dimmer at random moments. It was strong enough for them to see by with reasonable ease, though.
Kukulkan had made no attempt to locate the source of that taunt. Instead, he was shrinking back against one smoking cage as the odor of crisped air drifted back to them. Both cat and prey were edging toward their hiding place.
"I cannot, any longer. Your ship has crippled my central power source."
Kirk was about to say something about the power of a god, but McCoy had grabbed his arm. "If that's true, Jim, then that cat's a real threat to all of us."
A snarl sounded close by, and a moment later Kukulkan appeared. The power-cat had its head down and was stalking the serpent-god with single-minded hatred. It was backing Kukulkan in against a shattered cage that reached nearly to the ceiling. Its tail lashed back and forth and blue sparks danced on its fur. Ozone stank in their nostrils.
"We've got to do something, Jim, it'll be after us next."
"Your medikit, Bones—maximum tranquilizer setting for alien mammaloids."
McCoy was fumbling at his kit instantly, muttering. "We're not certain it's a mammal, Jim. Power-cat study's not a favorite subject among researchers on Capalent. I don't even know if the hypo will penetrate."
"It better," Kirk warned nervously.
McCoy drained nearly all of one vial to fill the hypo, then slapped it into Kirk's ready palm like a relay runner's baton. Kirk was already dashing from their hiding place before the doctor could think to object.
Kukulkan was lashing his tail like a whip and beating with its wings. The power-cat was not impressed. If the serpent tried to dodge, the cat would cut him off to either side . . . and there wasn't enough room to fly over the towering cage. Escape was impossible.
Powerful leg muscles tightened and the carnivore's tail twitched faster. It was readying itself to spring, eyes fixed on the brightly-colored creature which hovered before it. One might think the position of deity and mortal had been reversed.
So intent was it upon Kukulkan that the power-cat never saw Kirk. The captain brandished the hypo like a knife and slammed it into the carnivore's rear right hip.
It whirled immediately, as much startled as angered. The burst of electricity it threw off was reflexive rather than directed. That saved Kirk's life. The discharge was still powerful enough to send him flying into a nearby tangle of uncaged shrubs.
Apparently unhurt, the cat readied itself to hurl a better-aimed charge at this tiny new opponent. Instead, it shook its head and got down off its hind legs, eyes blinking slowly.
Behind it, Kukulkan's agitation diminished. The god cocked his head quizzically as he evaluated the change in the now dazed killer. Its gaze rose to study the place where Kirk lay.
McCoy was at the captain's side in a moment, but Kirk was evidently all right. He was sitting up, shaking his head and rubbing at his right shoulder. The doctor's voice was still concerned.
"Did you inject the beast or yourself? You look a little rocky, Jim."
"I'm okay, Bones. That last bolt just singed me. Funny stuff, lightning. It can turn a hundred-meter-tall tree into lawn stakes without harming someone standing nearby." He gestured with his head to where a long black streak had scorched the deck just to one side of where he'd been, seconds before.
Okay or not, he didn't object when McCoy offered him a hand up. The narrowness of his escape was magnified when a few steps brought them to the hypo. It had been thrown clear. It was recognizable as the hypo only because it couldn't be anything else. Metal and glass were fused into a vaguely cylindrical blob of still hot slag.
Kukulkan, meanwhile, had recovered enough to hover above the power-cat. Kirk considered running for their hiding place, then shrugged. They'd already been seen and anyway, with the power-cat immobilized, the serpent could locate them at its leisure.
McCoy joined him as he walked toward the carnivore. The huge creature was not unconscious. It possessed physical reserves which could almost handle even the massive dose it had been injected with. It sat swaying slightly and licking its forepaws.
"What a system!" McCoy murmured in admiration. "That hypo had enough mynoquintistrycnite in it to knock out a herd of hippos."
"It's just like a big kitten," a voice sounded behind them. Walking Bear, and Scott with him. The first animal they had seen, the lumbering platypus-like thing, was waddling behind Scott. Every once in a while it would sidle up next to him and rub up and down his leg like a big slick dog, uttering a peculiar gulping sound.
Scott would hesitate, then reach down to scratch behind its ears. "What's this, again? Aren't you the friendly little darlin'."
"Hello Walking Bear, Scotty," Kirk hailed.
"I see things have calmed down a bit, Captain," Scott observed with satisfaction, staring past him. "Maybe now all concerned parties can discuss things a bit more sensibly."
"Yes," Kirk agreed, turning to face Kukulkan. "I think we've earned the right to be heard."
"You continue to take advantage of me," the serpent replied grudgingly. "Yet my beamed request for time will not delay your Mr. Spock much longer. He would destroy my ship. Therefore I must consent. Speak what you will."
Kirk nodded back to where Scott was still scratching the alien platypus. The eyes of the creature were closed in apparent pleasure.
&nbs
p; "You think of us as being weak, small creatures like that one, as unintelligent animals. Are we truly that inferior to you?" Kukulkan paused, seeming for the first time to consider his reply before speaking.
"Potentially, mentally . . . no. But compared to the violence of your kind, the power-cat in its natural state is docility personified. How can I let that live to poison an unsuspecting universe?"
McCoy's hands were locked behind his back: He was rocking slowly on his heels and staring expectantly at Kirk. Obviously the good doctor was burning to say something. Kirk saw no reason to stand in his way.
"We'd be fools if we didn't learn from our own history," McCoy began. "Those minds you admit aren't so inferior to yours . . . we've been using them since you last visited us. Don't let your probe's tales of warships and arms convince you we're about to embark on a Galaxywide war of extermination. We've been working to bring about a multiracial civilization in which everyone can live in peace with his neighbors. We've already accomplished this within our own Federation." He grinned. "A few persistent throwbacks like the Klingons and Romulans will come around, in time."
"You see why we can't be what you originally intended for us," Kirk continued. "If we fail or succeed, it has to be—must be—by our own hands. By our own doing.
"You could probably find your worshipful servant races somewhere, Kukulkan, but they'd have to be blind and dumb. Once you have a being with a mind of its own, you can no longer lead it around by the nose. You cannot have intelligent slaves, Kukulkan. The thing is as impossible as a leisurely cruise past a black hole."
Kirk didn't think it was possible for that cobra countenance to look downcast, but Kukulkan managed it.
"I thought of you as my children. I hoped I could teach you, lead you, aid you. There is much I can . . ."
"You already have," Kirk said, with more compassion than he believed he could muster for this overbearing creature. "Long ago, when it was needed most—when our ancestors were still children. But we're all grown up now, Kukulkan."
He hesitated, then added as gently as possible, "We don't need you anymore."