THE MIDAN WILDERNESS was wild, rough-cut and green, though it had little in the way of trees. Like most regions rich in coridium and phalachite, vegetable life was mostly restricted to ground cover.
Which was just as well, Spock told himself, attending to his magnification screen. It would be difficult enough to search this irregular terrain without the additional obstacle of forestation.
At the controls of the shuttlecraft, Ensign Chekov did his best to keep them steady in winds that had proven both savage and fickle. But every now and then, the Columbus pitched this way or that, eliciting groans from the other five humans on board.
Or four of them, anyway—Nurse Chapel and security officers Paikert, Wood, and Silverman. The captain, on the other hand, had so far displayed remarkable fortitude in that regard.
"We are approaching the fifty-mile perimeter," said Chekov. "Shell I head east or west, sir?"
"Try west," said Kirk, frowning as he peered into his own magnifier at the rear of the cabin.
"West it is," said the Russian, making the necessary adjustments. A second later, the Columbus began to describe a tight arc as it swung around some ninety degrees. At the same time, the bottom seemed to drop out of the air currents sustaining them, and they fell a good ten feet before the shuttlecraft stabilized.
More groans.
"Mister Chekov," said the captain, "I know it's difficult, but try to take those turns a little easier."
Nurse Chapel chuckled a little, despite her discomfort.
"Sorry," said the navigator. "The controls seem a little tight, sir—but it'll be smoother next time."
"Thanks," said Kirk.
Spock concentrated on the jumbled landscape that crawled beneath them. They seemed to be approaching an area of higher ground. He could make out at least one waterfall in the distance, warped by the bending of light at the edge of his screen.
"The terrain," he said out loud, "is growing more mountainous here." He looked up only long enough to glance at the captain. "That invites the possibility of caverns."
As if he had felt the Vulcan's gaze on him, Kirk looked up too. "Good," he said. "Then maybe we're on the right track here." And he turned his attention back to the magnifier even before Spock did.
Soon, they had come close enough to the waterfall to see that it was not one cascade, but three. Rising, they negotiated the cliffs from which the waters spilled, saw the white-churned rivers that were the source of the phenomenon.
"Captain," said Paikert, "I can take a turn there if you like. With all due respect, sir, you've been at that thing for hours. And my eyes haven't done any work at all."
Kirk seemed to hesitate before he responded.
"All right," he said finally. Spock heard the sounds of his moving away from the magnification station. "Give it a shot, Mister Paikert."
Spock received no such offer of relief. But then, he hadn't expected one. He had made it plain enough on other occasions that he preferred to see a job through to its end—no matter how long and difficult that job might be. And since he never allowed the strain to show, no one ever believed he was straining at all.
The indicator on the communications board lit up, accompanied by an insistent beeping. Wood, the closest one to it, picked up the speaker unit and handed it to the captain.
"Kirk here. Come in, Sulu."
"Just reporting in as you asked," said the helmsman, his voice only slightly garbled thanks to the boosting of the radio signal. "We haven't been having much luck here in the Galileo II. How about you, sir?"
"Nothing yet," said the captain. "But the day is still young. Keep looking, Lieutenant. Kirk out."
He handed the speaker back to Wood, and the security officer replaced it in its bracket.
Nurse Chapel sighed, leaned back against a bulkhead. Spock watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was smiling slightly, but not in the manner of one who has cause to be glad. Rather, it was what a human might have called a brave smile.
"I just hope," she said abruptly, "that these people are alive when we find them. I really do."
For a while, no one said anything.
Of course not. What was there to say? Despite the assurances that they had given the governor's committee, what were the odds of finding any of the victims alive?
After all, there was no possibility of financial gain here. Whatever confused hatred or longing had led someone to the crime of abduction might easily lead him—if it was a him—to other crimes as well. Murder was no more than a logical conclusion.
The cliffs receded behind them. The rivers twisted away; bare patches of dark stone appeared among the green flanks of the hills. And then, suddenly, the land fell away again.
A broad valley, with its own cascades and a shining flood at the bottom of it. Chekov dropped them down so they could get a better look at it.
What troubled Spock, however, went beyond the abductor's motivation and the likelihood of murder. There was something wrong, he felt, about this entire mission.
Was it the inexplicable delay between the Midans' call for help and their receipt of the message from Starfleet? Perhaps. Yes. But not that alone.
Spock prided himself on logic, not intuition. Every day of his adult life, he'd fostered the one at the expense of the other.
But it was intuition that called to him now. As if a truth were lurking just around the next corner, and all he had to do was peer around that corner to find it.
Of course, he mused. One might as well ask a le matya to fly.
The shuttlecraft tipped to starboard as Chekov fought the unpredictable air currents. Below, the valley lurched.
"I'm doing my best," said the Russian, before any of his passengers could utter a complaint.
A moment later, the Columbus righted itself. By then, however, they were coming up to the far slope, and Chekov had to pull their nose up to clear it.
Spock scanned the escarpment, but there was nothing remarkable about it. No caves, no signs of human existence.
The shuttlecraft climbed past the top of the slope, giving them a magnificent view of the land beyond. It was a confusion of undulating ridges, separated by ravines of various depths. Once, apparently, this area had been host to a network of rivers; only a few still flowed.
"Uh-oh," said Chekov.
"What's the matter?" asked the captain.
"Pressure's dropping outside, sir. I think thet we're in for a storm soon. End you know how quickly the weather ken change in this vilderness."
"Yes," said Kirk. "I remember." He grunted. "All right. If it looks bad, we'll put down. But let's cover as much ground as we can until then."
"Aye, Keptain," said the navigator.
A glint of light—or was it Spock's imagination? He strained to see it again, but to no avail. And their course was now taking them farther from the area where the flash seemed to have originated.
"Captain," he said, "I request a change of course—ninety-five degrees to starboard."
Kirk leaned forward. "Have you got something, Spock?"
The Vulcan met his gaze. "I cannot say for certain," he noted. "But I believe I saw a reflection—in an area seemingly devoid of surface water."
The captain nodded. "That's good enough for me," he said. "Bring her about, Mister Chekov."
With surprising grace and fluidity, the Columbus wheeled on the air currents. It was only at the very end of her maneuver that they seemed to hit a little bump.
"Much better," said Chapel.
"You're welcome," responded Chekov.
It took a while before Spock found the glint again—but this time there was no mistaking it. The angle of the sun confirmed that it was a reflection, and probably not an independent light source.
"There it is," shouted Paikert, a fraction of a second later. "Just off the port bow."
"Indeed," confirmed Spock.
"Shell I slow down?" asked the Russian.
"Please do," said Kirk. "And take us in as low as you can."
Chekov obliged. The mountainscape gradually loomed closer.
And then Spock saw what had made the flash. The deep valley in which it was hidden had kept him from discerning it sooner. It was a mill of some sort, meant to harness the power of the water that cascaded down through the valley.
More curious, however, was the shape that sprawled below the mill. It was big and dark, and it had an oily sheen he had seen somewhere before. Some kind of machinery? That would explain the need for a mill.
But the colony had no mining projects going on this far out into the wilderness. Or at least, they weren't supposed to. The Federation never allowed mining operations to exceed a certain prescribed area, so as not to seriously disturb any local ecologies.
Yet here it was. Some sort of installation—though as the Columbus got closer, it became obvious to Spock that the purpose of the thing was not mining.
By then, the unoccupied crew members had been drawn to the window panels—the captain included. Wood whistled. Silverman muttered a curse beneath his breath.
"Any ideas," asked Kirk, "as to what that monstrosity out there might be?" Then, when no one answered, "Spock?"
"It is difficult to say," returned the Vulcan, "without closer inspection."
The captain hardly hesitated at all. It was as if he had already made his decision, even before he'd gotten his first officer's input.
"If we need to take a closer look," said Kirk, "then that's what we'll do. You see any safe landing sites, Mister Chekov?"
The navigator paused as he scanned the terrain. The shuttlecraft passed over the installation, came about, and approached it from another angle.
"There," said Chekov finally. He pointed at the forward viewscreen. "Thet ledge over there should do the trick."
Kirk peered over the Russian's shoulder at the screen. "All right," he barked. "Let's try it."
Chekov looped the Columbus around, managed to make it hover for a moment, and then landed it without incident. Sitting back from the controls, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Well done," said the captain. He indicated the compartment where the phasers were stored. "If you would be so kind, Mister Silverman."
"Aye, sir," said Silverman, and moved to pass out the pistols.
When Kirk received his, he adjusted the output mechanism. "Set 'em on stun," he told the others. "And be careful. It's entirely possible that this installation and our abductor are somehow related. If he is holed up here, there's a good chance we'll find him armed." He clipped the phaser onto his belt. "Mister Chekov and Nurse Chapel will remain with the ship—at least until we find out what's going on down there." He nodded to Spock. "The rest of you, come with me."
Neither Chekov nor Chapel were too happy about being left behind. Spock could tell by their expressions. But to their credit, neither of them complained out loud.
The hatch door opened, allowing a windblown chill into the shuttlecraft. The captain was the first to leap out, followed by Wood, Silverman, and Paikert. Spock brought up the rear.
The slope that stretched between them and the great, dark machine was long and steep. Once they started down, it was difficult to stop before they had reached the bottom of it—and another ledge of sorts.
The captain leaned close to Spock's ear so he could be heard over the din of the rushing river.
"Looks innocent enough," he said. "Let's keep going."
But Spock shook his head. "Not all at once. We should fan out on either side of the installation. It will give us a better chance of locating our adversary before he locates us."
Kirk glanced at him, smiled. "Of course," he said. "You didn't think I was going to bunch us all up, did you?"
Actually, the Vulcan had thought just that. On reflection, however, he remonstrated with himself.
The captain was a battle-trained veteran. He would never have made such an elementary mistake.
And yet, it had certainly seemed …
Kirk gestured to the security officers. "You three take the river side," he instructed them. They nodded, began to descend in that direction.
Another gesture, meant for Spock, and then the captain made his way down from the ledge. A moment later, the Vulcan followed, his phaser held at the ready.
As they approached the machine shape, it seemed even bigger, more menacing. But the surface they faced, at least, had no niches in it where an attacker might conceal himself.
Wood, Silverman, and Paikert skirted the installation to the left; Kirk and Spock came around to the right of it. Soon, the security officers were cut off from their view, and they were in the lee of the thing. The roar of the river was less deafening here, with no wind to carry the sound.
Spock couldn't help but note the strange, oily surface, the remarkably simple construction. Whatever purpose it served, it had been designed with an eye to economy.
And there was something familiar about it—naggingly so. But there was no time now for lengthy consideration of the matter. There seemed to be an irregular series of projections along the machine's flank up ahead—choice spots for a sniper—and the captain was proceeding toward them at an incautious pace.
He was just about to call to Kirk when he heard it—the sound of phraser beams ripping the air.
Spock whirled, saw the slope above them sizzle with errant phaser fire. And the thin, red beams were originating somewhere on the other side of the installation.
The Vulcan didn't hesitate. He darted around the perimeter of the machine, careful to use it for cover as much as possible. Lurid shafts of phaserlight continued to stab the slope. There was a sudden cry, and Wood fell sprawling where Spock could see him.
Fighting the urge to go to the crewman's aid, Spock peered around the corner of the installation. What he saw was completely unexpected.
Flat on their bellies, the two remaining security officers were firing in the direction of the river—where, hidden among the rocks and half-immersed in the water, a seemingly large number of adversaries had pinned them with crisscrossing blasts.
As Spock watched, Paikert scrambled to his feet and tried to make it to the machine.
Instantly, two of the hidden stood to get a better shot at him. Spock aimed, fired, and dropped one.
But the other caught Paikert a couple of yards short of his goal. The big man grunted with the impact and folded nearly at the Vulcan's feet.
"Spock!" It was the captain, just behind him. "Damn it, what's going on?"
"Ambush," he said, turning to look at Kirk. "They were hiding in the …" He was only halfway through his answer when he saw the beam lance out at him. The force of it knocked his phaser out of his hand, sent him spinning into the machine.
"All right," said Kirk, taking a step closer. "Move away from the machine."
The Vulcan fought to make sense of it. "Jim …" he began.
"I told you to move," said Kirk.
Spock measured the look in the captain's eye and wondered about his sudden concern for the machine.
Then, abruptly, the pieces started falling into place. Spock glanced at the oily metal surface, remembered finally where he had seen it before. Only it had been in a cave then, and the lighting had been much different, and the machine's components had been configured to fit a more confined space.
Of course.
Kirk must have seen the realization in his eyes. "That's right," he said, coming closer still. "Though I must confess I'm disappointed. I thought you would have figured it out before this."
Spock heard another cry—Silverman's, he told himself.
"I regret," he said, "that I failed in that regard. But not for the same reason, perhaps."
Without moving his eyes—and thereby giving the thought away—the Vulcan gauged the distance between himself and the android. Just one more step, he urged inwardly.
Kirk took it, stopped. Smiled. "No. Not for the same reason." The briefest of pauses. "Sweet dreams, Mis—"
Before he could finish, Spock lunged. Too late, the android triggered his phaser. The beam zagged wildly as they went down in a tangle of struggling limbs.
Spock found Kirk's wrist, grabbed it, twisted—and the phaser tumbled free. Pressing his advantage, he brought his fist up—then drove it down across the face that was his friend's.
Once.
And again.
But before he could strike a third time, the android lashed out. Spock felt his throat seized in a grip like coridium; felt the sudden and intense pressure on his windpipe.
The Vulcan's powerful fists beat against Kirk's shoulders in an attempt to break the android's hold. But Kirk had the leverage now. No force Spock could muster would make him let go.
The phaser …
Spock turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of it. It was only a few feet away.
He threw an arm out suddenly, reaching for the weapon. His long fingers stretched to grasp it.
But it was too far. Inches too far.
The android's grip tightened. And from the edges of Spock's vision, the darkness gradually swept inward.
"Wait!" cried Chapel. "There's the captain!"
She gestured with the hand that held the phaser.
Sure enough, it was Kirk hoisting himself up onto the lower ledge. And he seemed in no great hurry.
Chekov relaxed. For the last few minutes, he'd been torn in two different directions. Part of him had wanted to go charging down the slope as soon as he'd seen the phaser fire. But another part of him recognized his duty—to stay with the shuttlecraft until instructed otherwise.
His compromise had been to grab a phaser pistol and to climb out after Christine. And to kneel alongside the Columbus, hoping the others would send back a sign that they were all right.
Then the phaser fire had stopped—as abruptly as it had begun. And in that instant, Chekov had decided to follow his shipmates after all.
"Yes," he agreed. "It's him. End he seems to be in reasonably good health." For a moment, he watched the captain start the difficult trek back up the slope. Then he deactivated his phaser, hitched it onto his belt, and started down to meet Kirk halfway.
Christine was right behind him, her nurse's instincts alert in case the captain signaled that she was needed. But Kirk signaled no such thing. Instead, he held up a hand to let them know all was well.
But the slope was steep, and it was hard to descend slowly. In a matter of seconds, Chekov was almost face-to-face with his commanding officer.
"I tried to contact you," said the captain, "but there was no response. Now I see why."
"We saw phaser fire," said Chekov. "Is everything all right, sir?"
Kirk nodded as Christine joined them. "It's all under control now. I think we've got the man we were looking for."
"No one was hurt?" asked the nurse.
"No one," said the captain. "We took him without any casualties."
"What about the kidnep victims?" asked the Russian.
Kirk frowned again, shook his head. "No sign—so far. But we haven't managed to get inside the installation yet. Hopefully, once we do …"
"I request permission," said Chekov, "to help in the search."
"Me too, sir," said Chapel.
The captain glanced at the unattended shuttlecraft, then regarded them again.
"The Columbus doesn't seem to be in any danger," he said finally. "Permission granted."
And turning, he started back down toward the installation.
Glad for the opportunity to make themselves useful, Chekov and Chapel fell in behind him.