THE RIFT1

FIRST CONTACT

"Most people are on the world, not in it--h no
conscious sympathy or relationship to anything about
them--undiffused; separate, and rigidly alone
like marbles of polished stone, touching but separate."
--JOHN MUIR

Chapter One

The Captain of the Enterprise stared up at the
shimmering viewscreen and said thoughtfully,
"Opinion, Number One."
After a moment of consideration the first officer
replied, "I'm not alt certain, Captain.
Mr. Spock ... what do you think?"
Mr. Spock had not even looked up from his
science station. "Difficult to be precise without
completed computer analysis, Lieutenant ...
wait. It's coming through now."
Smoothly, noiselessly, the thin piece of
paper slid out from the dispenser and into Spock's
hands. He held it up and studied it for a moment.
He started to frown and then caught himself before the
others noticed it. Silently he scolded himself
--his mental discipline had been exceptionally
sloppy of late, and he was going to have to pay much
closer attention if he had any hope of
conducting himself in a manner befitting a Vulcan
... especially a Vulcan in the highest
position of Starfleet command that anyone from that
planet had ever achieved.
"Computer analysis indicates a variety of
readings that are an agglomeration of several different
energy patterns already known to us," he said.
Number One looked at him with her dark,
snapping eyes. "Specify," she said.
"It shares the spatial displacement traits
of a wormhole," Spock said, studying the
readout. "However, it is giving off subspace
flux that is surprisingly similar to that created
by the time warp generators of our own hyperdrive."
"Time warp?" said the captain.
Number One leaned on her console at the
helm, studying the image on the screen.
"Fascinating."
"A most appropriate term," Spock
couldn't help but note. "It is indeed ...
fascinating." He rolled the ^w around in his 3
mouth. A simple, elegant ^w.
Descriptive, indicating the attractiveness
of a puzzle in human terms without going overboard
into emotionality. Fascinating. He'd have
to remember that.
The fascinating object of their attention was
directly ahead of them as the starship hovered in
space several thousand kilometers away.
The crew of the Enterprise had encountered many
different types of space phenomena before, from
quarks to quasars, black holes to wormholes
to any kind of hole that could be imagined. But this was
something ... unique.
In relation to the starship, it was on a vertical
axis. It seemed to resemble nothing so much as a
large crack, but it was not stable; its length varied
from two to five miles, but no matter how much it
seemed to fluctuate, its length was always greater
than its width. Its center was narrow and dark--s
dark that no light seemed to issue from it. Its
outer edges were thinner, stars shining through. Whether it was
artificial or had grown as a result of some
physical anomaly was something that none of the
observers could guess.
"A rip," said Spock after a moment's
further consideration. "A rip in the fabric of
space. The manner in which reality is being distorted
around it is making it impossible for our sensors
to probe more deeply. A rip or--"
"Or what?" The captain spoke with a sharpness
that seemed to scream of impatience. For someone who
was an explorer, Spock mused, the captain was
tremendously irritable if he did not know all
the answers immediately.
"A portal," finished Spock.
This brought silence to the bridge for a long moment,
and the steady if irritating sounding of the red-alert
klaxon filled the air, as it had been doing for
several minutes since the Enterprise had first
encountered this ... this whatever-x-was.
Clearly it was getting on the captain's
nerves, because he snapped, "Navigator, shut
that damned noise off."
Jos@e Tyler reached over without a ^w and
snapped it off. The red-alert triangle in
front of him went out immediately, and the bridge
settled into blissful quiet.
The captain leaned back in his chair, looking
thoughtful. "A portal," he said slowly.
"To where?" He turned his piercing blue 5
eyes on Spock. "Well, Science
Officer?"
"Unknown with present data," said Spock.
"Take a guess." From another captain it
might have sounded like a gentle gibe, but with the
captain of the Enterprise it came across quite
clearly as a direct order.
Spock fought down the human urge to shrug and
said simply, "It leads to the other side."
The captain sighed and turned back to Number
One in a manner that seemed so dismissive of
Spock that the Vulcan might have taken offense were
he capable of doing so. "Number One, you're the
most experienced officer here. What's your
guess?"
Number One flashed a glance at Spock,
drummed her green fingernails a moment, and then
said, "Mr. Spock is correct. It leads
to the other side. Further speculation would be
pointless."
"Unless we go through," said the captain.
"Yes, sir."
"Is it possible?"
Spock, studying his readouts, now spoke up.
"It would be possible, sir. However, it would be
extremely hazardous. The physical makeup
of the space rip is in flux. It ranges from
two miles in width to as little as five meters.
We could be sheared in half just by the act of passing
through it, if it should happen to close at the wrong
time."
The captain rose from his chair and circled it
slowly, thoughtfully. "Open a subspace hailing
frequency."
"Open," said Communications Officer Vincent.
The captain squared his shoulders even more than
usual and spoke in a slightly raised voice.
Spock speculated on what an odd human
trait that was, as if talking more loudly over
subspace made one easier to hear.
"This is Captain Christopher Pike of the
United Space Ship Enterprise," said the
captain. "If there is anyone hearing this
transmission, we are positioned directly
outside what appears to be some sort of
interspatial rift. The fluctuating nature
of the rift makes it impossible for us to pass through.
We wish to know if there is any sentient life
on the other side of this spatial distortion. If
you are hearing this, please reply." He 7
paused and then added, "Send that out on all
frequencies, Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir," said Vincent.
He sat back down in his command chair and rubbed
his chin thoughtfully. "There have been ships in this area
before, haven't there?"
Spock began to call up the computer
records, but Number One spoke before Spock
could access the information. "Two science vessels
and the Potemkin have traveled this sector in the
past three years. There has been no mention of
any similar spatial rifts in their
reports," said Number One.
Pike looked at her with just the vaguest hint of
amusement, which was the most he ever allowed. "You
carry around in your head the findings of all ships in
any given sector for the past three years,
Lieutenant?"
"No, sir," Number One told him
coolly. "The past five years."
"I see," Pike said. If this struck him as
particularly odd, he nevertheless said nothing. "So
it wasn't here before?"
"Either that," said Spock, "or it was in existence
but slightly out of temporal synch with our
universe."
"What?" asked Pike.
"Essentially, it existed a few seconds before
or after the natural time flow of our own
universe. As a result, normal instrumentation
would never have been able to pick it up. But some
occurrence, natural or otherwise, may have
caused it to slow down or speed up and thus be
detectable."
They waited there, hanging in space for long
moments, but no reply was forthcoming, and slowly
Pike shook his head. "All right," he said.
"Let's summarize here We have a temporal
rift that may or may not have been here before. There
may or may not be someone on the other side, and
we may or may not survive trying to pass through.
Is that about accurate?"
Spock and Number One both nodded silent
assent.
Pike rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb
and forefinger. Then he looked up and sighed. "As
intriguing as all this is," he said, "we were on
our way to Vega IX to attend to our injured and
wounded. We've already had one significant
delay in that respect, andfora lot of 9
"mays"' and "may nots"' there is no way in
hell I'm going to delay that mission any
further. Helm, resume course for Vega. Go
to hyperdrive, time warp factor five."
"Course computed and laid in, sir," said
Number One.
He nodded and said briskly, "Engage."
The Enterprise angled away from the rift and
shot off toward Vega IX.
Pike watched the rift recede as he headed
for the turbolift door. As he was about to step into the
lift Yeoman Colt stepped off, apparently
wrapped up in thoughts of her own, and Pike
stopped just short of knocking her over.
"Yeoman," he said in exasperation, "how
many--"
"Fuel consumption report, sir," she said
quickly, holding the clipboard up in front of her
as if it were a shield. "You said that you wanted--"
"Yes, yes," he overlapped her
impatiently. He barely glanced at her as he
flipped through it. He took note of the fact that
he should speak to the engineer about the speed with which they were
depleting dilithium--it seemed the energy curve
was a tad high. Perhaps there was a warped baffle
plate somewhere. If that was the case, there could be a
serious hazard in the making--Pike had once
seen a crewman devastated by leaking delta
rays from a warped baffle plate and had no
intention of such an unpleasant fate befalling
any member of his crew.
He signed the report, checking off the box that
read "Consult with captain," and handed it back
to Colt. She smiled briefly at him and then
looked down as if embarrassed, and Pike sighed
inwardly.
"Strong female drives." The phrase
ech oed in his head, and she stepped aside as he
entered the open turbolift. He made a
conscious effort not to look at her as the doors
hissed shut.
And as the Enterprise shot off into space the
rift began to pulse a bit more steadily. ...

Chapter Two

Pike's fists were a flurry of rights and
lefts as he pounded the punching bag. He
grunted softly every time he made contact, and he
remembered a time when he could have kept up 11
such a volley for half an hour without letup.
Now, after a mere ten minutes, he felt his
breath coming hard in his lungs.
There were several crewmen in the gym concentrating
on fencing or weight lifting or other fitness
pursuits, but they were surreptitiously sneaking
glances at Pike, watching admiringly.
The captain never spoke to anyone when he
came down to work out. Perhaps an acknowledging nod
here or there, but that was all. He was always totally
focused on whatever he was setting out to do, and he
never did the same thing twice in a row. Fencing,
swimming, running, self-defense--whatever it
was, he went about it with an intensity that was
unmatched by anyone in the crew.
Now, as he pounded on the bag, the volley
speeding up with each passing moment, he seemed so
locked in to his target that anyone who happened
to step between Pike and the bag would likely run into the
captain's fist.
After another three minutes of punching Pike
stepped back, his face covered with sweat and his thin
shirt plastered against his chest. He tapped his
boxing gloves together a couple of times and shook out
his muscles, but his heart was still pounding.
He turned and glanced around, the adrenaline
racing through him. There was no one else with boxing
gloves on, though, and he had started to turn
away when Jos@e Tyler entered, gloves on his
hands, glancing in the direction of the punching bag.
Tyler stopped when he saw Pike standing nearby
and then cast an involuntary look over his
shoulder, apparently trying to decide whether he
could get out without being noticed.
"Mr. Tyler," said Pike with a wave of his
gloved hand, "I could use a sparring partner."
"Oh, well, sir," said Tyler, and he
quickly looked to the other crewmen for help. None
seemed forthcoming. "I--uhm--actually wasn't
planning on boxing. ..."
Pike inclined his chin slightly in the direction
of Tyler's hands. "Why the gloves then?"
"My hands are cold, sir."
"Come on, Tyler," said Pike, and he
gestured to the mats in the center of the gym. There was
no boxing ring set up, but that was the area used for
any type of hand-to-hand combat. "It'll be good
for both of us."
Tyler sighed, trying to ignore the smirks from
the crewmates around him. "If you say 13
so, sir."
They moved to the center mats, and now the rest of the
crewmen gave up any pretense of ignoring
what was going on. From the supply cabinet one of the
crewmen stepped forward with mouthpieces that were quickly
inserted into Pike's and Tyler's mouths.
Protective headgear was strapped on moments
later.
Pike's appraising gaze flickered over
Tyler, assessing the young, lithe Latin
navigator--not as a crewman, but as a
potential foe. Tyler was balanced lightly on
the balls of his feet, and Pike saw genuine
concern in his eyes.
"All right, Tyler," he said, working to make
himself understood through the mouthpiece. "Just relax.
Watch your footing. We're just having a workout,
just two guys in the gym. Happens every day. No
need to worry, just so long as you remember ...
I'm your captain."
It was difficult to tell if Pike was joking,
since he did it so rarely. Even when he was
joking he tended to keep his face deadly serious.
Tyler sighed once more and started toward Pike,
trying to move lightly from side to side, keeping
his guard up.
The tactical computer that was Pike's mind
quickly processed information about Tyler. He was more
limber than Pike, and younger, of course. He was
already hopping around a good deal more than the captain
was capable of doing--Pike tended to take a stance
and just start pummeling. He had the edge on Tyler
in experience, and he also had a devastating right
cross. He could take him.
Pike brought his guard up as Tyler suddenly
launched an attack, a couple of quick rights
followed by a left. Pike hardly felt them.
"Come on, Mr. Tyler," he said in annoyance,
and he drove a quick uppercut to Tyler's chin that
rocked him. "You can do better than that."
Tyler stepped back out of Pike's reach and
moved along the perimeter, watching his captain
carefully. He did not resume his attack,
however, and after thirty seconds of pussyfooting
around, Pike began to get annoyed. He came
in quickly, landing several fast, powerful blows on
Tyler's body, each accompanied by a
satisfying thud, and Pike said, "For crying out
loud, Mr. Tyler, this is sparring, not a square
dan--" 15
Pike never even saw the shot that snapped his
head around. He wasn't even aware that he was
falling. All he knew was that the world seemed
to shift at a forty-five-degree angle, and then
he was on his back.
He found to his surprise that he hated the
color of the ceiling, and then Jos@e Tyler was
looking down at him with sheer terror in his eyes.
"Capped in!" Tyler seemed to be saying, and
Pike was wondering what was capped in what.
Then the world hazed out for a moment, and when it
returned Dr. Phil Boyce was standing over
him, shaking his head. The middle-aged man with the thin
blond hair did not seem particularly
sympathetic to the fact that Pike was moving his mouth
and nothing was coming out. An agitated Tyler was
next to him. "What was it again?" Boyce asked.
"A left hook," said Tyler. "Doctor
... what should I do?"
"Offhand, I'd say work on your right hook.
I doubt your left needs any improvement."
Boyce shook his head, and then he raised his fist
and extended his thumb, index finger, and middle
finger. "Chris ... how many fingers do you see?"
"I'm not sure," said Pike thickly.
"Does the thumb count as a finger?"
"You'll be fine," Boyce said. He put an
arm under Pike's forearm and, with the help of Tyler
and another crewman, hauled the woozy captain
to his feet. Pike was surprised at the amount
of strength in the doctor's grip.
"Captain, I'm so sorry--" began
Tyler.
Pike shook his head and then had to remind himself
not to do so again, as the swaying motion made him
dizzy. "That's quite all right, Mr. Tyler. Quite
all right. It's comforting to know you're on our
side." He held his jaw for a moment and moved it
from side to side. "I'd hate to have you as an
enemy."
"Yes, sir," said Tyler, breathing a visible
sigh of relief.
Leaning a bit more heavily on Boyce than
he would have liked to let on, Pike allowed himself
to be helped into the hallway and to his cabin.
Boyce had the tact not to say anything to his
captain until the door of Pike's quarters
had closed behind him.
"You want to tell me what that was all about?"
asked Boyce. 17
Pike was studying himself in the mirror and already
saw the beginnings of a bruise on his jaw.
"Sparring, Doctor. A way of keeping in
shape."
Boyce folded his arms and looked at Pike
skeptically. "Most ways of keeping in shape,"
he noted, "don't entail almost losing
consciousness."
"It was just a lucky punch."
"Lucky punch my butt," snorted
Boyce. "From what I heard, he tagged you good.
The one who's lucky is you--lucky that he
didn't dislocate your jaw."
"Ah"--he waved off Boyce's concerns--?y
worry too much, Phil. Tyler's ten years
younger than I am. He couldn't have hurt me too
badly."
"If you were thinking straight, Chris," said
Boyce, "you'd realize that the ten years'
difference actually makes it damned lucky that he
didn't take your head off." Still shaking his head,
Boyce opened up his bag and started pulling out his
mixes.
Pike turned and eyed the quickly assembled
minibar without comment. Boyce didn't even look
at Pike but simply said, "The usual?"
"Someday," said Pike, "you'll pull a hypo
out of there and give me a heart attack."
"Thank God you'll have a doctor nearby in
that case." He proceeded to mix a martini for
Pike. "That's not like you, Chris. Sparring with your
junior officers. Mixing it up. You've always
been ..."
"Aloof?" Pike finished for him.
"I was going to say "reservedea"'" said
Boyce, and he handed the drink to Pike.
"Rooms are reserved," said Pike.
"Library books are reserved. I'm aloof.
Removed from my people. From their feelings. Maybe from
my own."
"Oh, nonsense," said Boyce. "A few
days ago you sat right on that bed and told me that you
were thinking of quitting. That you were tired, worn out,
sick of making decisions. And now you're saying that
you're unfeeling, when before you were feeling too much.
You're concerned about how you deal with your crew?
Different captains have different approaches,
Chris. What works for you--and your crew--is for you
to possess a great deal of formality and
"aloofnessea"' if that's what you wish 19
to call it. Have you noticed that, particularly on the
bridge, you tend to address your crewmen by their
positions far more frequently than by their names?"
Pike frowned slightly. "No. I hadn't
noticed."
"Everyone else you address by Mister followed
by surname, with the exception of my humble self,"
continued Boyce with a slight, modest inclination of
his head. "And some people not even that. Since Number
One is your first officer, naturally she can be
addressed by the title of Number One. But you
never call her anything else. Why is that?"
"I can't pronounce her name."
"What? Why, it's ..." His voice trailed
off, and he frowned. He'd seen it written in
records but never tried to say it out loud before. The
woman hadn't engaged in small talk on the
occasions of her physicals--simple nod s had
sufficed. He tried to frame the syllables.
"Son of a gun."
"You see? Not everything has deep meaning," said
Pike. Then he stared down at his boots. "You
want to know how in touch with my crew I am?"
"Sure."
"We were just discussing Number One. Well,
she"--he took a sip of his martini, as if
steeling himself for an ordeal--?she has sexual
fantasies about me."
Boyce went slack-jawed, and it took him a
moment to realize that some of his drink was trickling
down his chin. He quickly wiped it away as he
said, "May I ask ... uh ... how you know?"
"The Talosians said so."
"I see. And what was your response to this?"
"To her? Nothing. I was threatening the
Talosians at the time."
"And since you've come back, have you spoken to her
about it?"
Pike pursed his lips. "No."
"How ... uh ... how do you feel about it? Do
you have ... uhm ... reciprocal feelings in this
matter?"
"I don't know," admitted Pike. "It
goes back to what I was saying before. I feel
removed from my crew's feelings, and from my own.
I thought of Number One as cold, methodical,
even utterly passionless. The ideal woman."
"Oh, really?" said Boyce in amusement.
"Of course. The trouble with most women is that
they let their hearts rule them instead of 21
their heads. Decision making is an
intellectual process. Women are--"
"A distraction?" offered Boyce.
Pike pointed in triumph. "Yes!
Exactly. They distract you with their emotional
reactions and--"
"The way they look? And smell?"
"There's that."
Boyce leaned back thoughtfully. "The curve
of a woman's neck if she's wearing her hair
up? Or the way her hair cascades around her
shoulders if her hair is down?" His voice
softened, and he smiled. "The way the very air can
seem to be charged when a woman enters a room?
The way just hearing her take a deep breath can
make you lose your train of thought?"
Pike was staring off into space. "The way her
eyes could sparkle when she looked at me, when
her whole world consisted of wanting ..."
Then he caught himself and saw Boyce looking
at him, not unsympathetically. He looked down
into his drink, staring at the olive floating there.
"Vina was quite a woman, wasn't she?" said
Boyce.
Pike shrugged. "You read my log entries."
"And it's all there? Everything you experienced?
Everything you felt?"
"Everything that was important," said Pike
firmly.
"Ah, now that's the debatable part, isn't it?"
Boyce replied. "What's important, that
is. And what are you going to do about Number One?"
"Nothing. If she wanted me to know her
feelings about me, she would have told me. The
Talosians invaded her privacy. I'm
hardly going to capitalize on that." Abruptly
there came a beep from the small viewscreen on
Pike's desk. He rose and went to it, pushing
a button. A small image of Number One
appeared, and she said, "Captain, we're getting
a transmission."
"From Starfleet?"
"No, sir. From the rift."
This snapped Pike completely to attention.
"The rift?"
"Yes, sir. The temporal rift in
space."
"I'll be right up."
He turned toward the door, and Boyce began
to put away his portable bar. "Duty 23
calls?"
"Very loudly."
"Try not to let yourself be too distracted
by Number One."
"I'll try."
He exited his quarters and started toward the
turbolift. He got there and stepped through, but before
the doors could shut he heard a voice call,
"Hold, please!"
Pike turned and saw his Vulcan science
officer hurrying down the hallway, presumably
also in response to a summons from Number One.
He was still favoring the one leg, a result of their
encounter with the hostiles on Rigel. God, were they
ever going to get to Vega to tend to their wounded?
"Bridge," said Pike. Then, after a moment
of thought, he turned to Spock and said, "Tell
me, Sci--Mr. Spock. Lately you seem
to be spending much more time by yourself."
"Sir?"
"You don't fraternize with the rest of the crew as
much as you used to."
Spock seemed to look straight through him.
"There's no regulation against that, sir."
"No. No, of course not. But as your commanding
officer, I would like to be kept informed if you were
having any problems. I'm interested in the
well-bbing of my crew."
"You are, sir?"
"Of course I am," Pike said a bit
testily. "I'm always concerned. Concern is my
middle name."
"No, sir, your middle name is--"
"It's an expression, Mr. Spock. I was
just ... curious. That's all."
"Curiosity. Ah, yes," said Spock, as
if he had just noticed an interesting specimen in
a zoo. "A human emotion. Perhaps, Captain,
I am simply a bit ... overwhelmed by human
emotions. The air can be a bit thick with them at
times."
At that moment the turbolift hissed open
onto the bridge, and Pike immediately stopped
talking, now all business.
"All right," he said briskly as he stepped
down to his command chair. "What have we got?"
"Transmission directly from the rift,"
Number One said, turning in her chair to face the
captain. She held up a paper display of the
message. "It says, 25
"Seventy-two-hour window of contact. What do
you want?"'"
"That's it?"
Number One nodded.
Pike leaned on one of the arms of his command
chair. "There is someone on the other side."
"So it would appear," agreed Spock.
"But the other side of what? Another part of our
galaxy? Another galaxy entirely? Perhaps
even another universe?"
"We won't know unless we try to find out,"
Number One pointed out.
"And if we go on to Vega, as originally
intended, we'll never get back within the
seventy-two hours that whoever's on the other side
of the rift claims we have." He thought about it a
moment, but his mind was already made up. "Address
intracraft," he said briskly.
"You're on, Captain," Number One
replied.
"This is the captain," he announced. Throughout
the Enterprise crewmen stopped in their tracks
to attend to the announcement. "I regret that we will
have to delay our needed downtime a short while
longer. The sort of rare opportunity that we're
out here for has presented itself unexpectedly. This
is what we signed up to do, and I expect that you
will be able to put your personal needs aside for as
long as is required to complete our latest
mission. And that mission is contact with a new
species accessible only through a previously
undiscovered rift in space. You will be kept
apprised of mission progress. Bridge out."
He turned to Tyler at navigation, who, if
he was thinking about how he had earlier laid out his
captain, was far too professional to let on.
"Mr. Tyler, take us back to the rift.
Hyperdrive, time warp factor seven."
"Laid in, sir."
"Engage."
Pike settled back in his chair and noticed
the way that Number One's hair fell around her
shoulders. With sensitivity that bordered on the
psychic, Number One turned and looked at him
curiously with her luminous eyes. "Sir?"
He frowned and shook his head. "Yes,
Number One?"
She gave a small shrug of her shoulders.
"Nothing, sir." And she went on about her
business. 27
Pike felt the great gulf of his command
separating them but refused to dwell on it. Instead
he stared intently at the screen as the stars
hurtled by them, and he couldn't help but notice that
the stars, as they streaked past, seemed like a
woman's tears. ...

Chapter Three

"It's open, sir."
Spock turned from his science station and
concentrated on keeping surprise from his voice.
"The readings are unmistakable. The rift is now
stable. The dangerous fluctuations that could have
destroyed the ship have ceased, making passage
possible."
Pike stared at the spatial aberration that hung
before them. There was no hint of what, if anything, was
on the other side. Instead there was only inky
blackness. "You're saying we should go in?"
"No, sir," said Spock. "I'm saying that
it is possible."
Pike nodded and stood. "Recommendation,
Number One?"
"Caution, sir."
"You always recommend that."
"It's always a good idea," she said primly.
"Send a communication," he said. "Tell them
we're here, and that we await their advice."
The response came in short order. Spock
read it in surprise. "Captain, it says
"Come on in. The water's fine."'"
The bridge crew exchanged glances.
"Now what are we supposed to get from that?"
demanded Pike.
Number One drummed a moment on her
console. "We can surmise that they are either a
race with some degree of telepathic ability,
or else they are capable of interfacing with our
computer records without tripping any alarm
systems that tell us we're being scanned. Therefore
they are either mentally or technologically
advanced."
"Another race of telepaths," said Pike
sourly. "I've had a bellyful of them
lately."
"They would seem to be somewhat more above-board
than the Talosians," Spock observed. "They
offer no false images, no prevarications.
They simply invite us to enter, stating in 29
old earth vernacular that the conditions are suitable
for our existence."
"Tell them they should come out here," Pike said
after a moment.
The message was duly sent, and this time a much
shorter period of time passed before the response
came back.
"They said, "That is not our way."'"
"Perfect," said Pike. "Science Officer,
arm a probe and prepare to launch on my
order."
Spock nodded and quickly entered the instructions
into the computer. On the nod from Pike he checked
the telemetry one more time and then fired the probe
off into the rift.
The probe appeared as nothing so much as a ball
of light as it spiraled toward the temporal
opening, down, down, and then was completely
swallowed up.
They waited.
"Any readings, Science Officer?"
Spock studied his telemetry board, waiting
for some sort of response from the probe.
"Nothing, sir," he said. "It .. . wait.
Sensors are detecting something."
"Specify."
"Emerging from the rift, at 331 mark 20
..."
Pike swung his chair around and snapped,
"Viewer on full magnification, to Mr.
Spock's coordinates."
The viewscreen wavered a moment, and then it
closed in tight on the lower right-hand corner of the
rift. Something seemed to be floating out of
it--metallic scrap.
"It's the probe," Spock announced.
"It's been broken up into pieces."
"Incoming message," said Number One.
"What's it say?"
It only took the computer a second to spit
out the printout. Spock picked it up and read
two succinct ^ws off it, which represented the
entirety of the message.
"It says, "ationice try."'"

In the conference room Pike and his officers
surrounded the table as Spock placed the fragments
of the probe on the table with a clank. Number One
picked up one of the smaller pieces and held it
between her fingers, staring at it with curiosity. 31
"Is this what I think?"
"Yes, Number One," Spock told her.
"I've run a full spectral analysis, and
it confirms my original supposition and your
current one. That piece of metal you're holding
is approximately 33.4 years old."
Pike looked from Number One to Spock.
"What? I thought it was part of our probe."
"It is. Was," amended Spock. He
gestured to take in the rest of the pieces on the
table. "As were these. They test out similarly, with
minor variations of a year or two on some of the
pieces that emerged first."
"We didn't launch that over thirty years
ago, dammit," said Pike.
"Of course not, sir. I have a working theory,
however."
"Don't keep it to yourself," said Dr.
Boyce. "You're not going to get any brownie
points by keeping us guessing."
Spock barely glanced at him. He and
Boyce had never gotten on particularly well.
Boyce's amateur psychology attempts at
Spock's expense had been a continuing source of
distraction. Spock, however, didn't worry about
it overmch. In a few years Boyce would be
retiring, and whatever future ship's doctors
Spock might encounter, he was quite certain they could
not possibly be as acerbic or annoying as
Boyce.
"The temporal shifts within the makeup of the
rift," said Spock, "caused a field
distortion around the probe as well. The rift is
not simply a hole in space. It is a
collapsed field of time travel, bending
temporal waves around whatever enters it. The
probe was subjected to year upon year of
temporal stress. Perhaps it was sent into the
future and aged backward--perh back into the past
and aged forward. It's impossible to say."
"My head is starting to hurt," murmured
Boyce.
"Essentially, the probe fell apart due to the
stress of passing years," concluded Spock.
"And the same thing would happen to us if we passed
through it," said Pike.
"Not necessarily." Number One spoke
up. She looked at Spock, who was clearly
already aware of what she was going to say and merely
nodded his agreement. She continued, "If 33
we enter using the hyperdrive, the time warp
factor of our engines should protect us from the
ravages of the temporal flux."
"Should protect us," said Pike.
"There is a ninety-eight-percent
probability," Number One told him.
Pike slowly circled the table. "Meaning
there's a two-percent possibility of failure.
Correct?"
"Correct," she said, staring at Spock
to see if he disagreed with her. Again he merely
nodded slightly.
Pike crossed the room again, his hands behind his
back. "If we went in at hyperdrive, we
wouldn't even have the time to react to any danger that
our sensors alerted us to. You're asking me
to take a significant leap of faith here with the
lives of this crew. Roll dice based on the
odds."
"But," Spock pointed out, "it would seem that the
odds are significantly in our favor,
Captain."
Pike turned his cold gaze on Spock.
"Then again, you're not the one who has to carry the
weight of the decision, are you, Science Off--
Mr. Spock?"
If Spock noticed the abrupt change in
form of address, or cared particularly about it, he
gave no indication. "No, sir. I'm not. But
there is something else that should be brought to your
attention, Captain." He held out his hand, and in
his palm was what appeared to be a small
triangular device, with delicately printed
circuits on it. It was no larger than
Spock's fingernail.
"What is it?" said Pike.
"It was mixed in with the debris," said Spock.
""Planted,"' if you will."
"By whoever is on the other side?" asked
Number One.
"It would be the logical surmise." Spock
manipulated the small device. "It would
appear, from my initial studies, to be a sort
of energy conversion chip. But far more efficient than
the one that currently powers our hyperdrive."
The chief engineer, Caitlin Barry, reached out
a hand, and Spock handed the device to her. She
studied it in amazement. "Are you sure about this?"
"It is only one component of an infinitely
more complicated propulsion system," said 35
Spock. "We could not develop the complete
system from this one piece any more than one could
accurately replicate the entire human body
by being given a kidney to study. It is an
indicator, though, of the advanced nature of those
on the other side of the rift."
"So what you're saying," said Pike, taking the
piece from Barry, "is that this is bait."
"Or their way of letting us know that whatever
risk we perceive in this contact is worth it,"
pointed out Number One.
Nothing more needed to be said. The command crew
knew almost instinctively the expression that came
across Pike's face when he had heard everything
he needed to in order to render a decision.
There was total silence in the conference room as
he weighed the options.
Then he became aware somehow, in the back of his
head, of a very soft, steady sound.
It was Number One. Breathing.
He turned to Barry. "Ready the
hyperdrive, Engineer," he said briskly.
"We're going in."
Moments later the command crew had assembled on
the bridge, and Pike was once again addressing the
general crew over the intracraft. He was a
strong believer in constantly apprising everyone of
what was going on. With a crew this large he did not
need rumors floating around.
"We are about to enter an unknown section of
space," he was saying. "I want everyone at his
or her post, in full readiness. This ship is now
on yellow alert. I'm not anticipating a
battle situation, but we must be prepared for
whatever circumstances we face. I have the utmost
faith that all of you will carry through with your duties.
Bridge out." Then he turned to Number One and
said, "All right, Helm. Bring us forward on
rocket power only, to within two thousand
kilometers of our anomaly there." Into his
communicator he said, "Engine Room."
"Standing by, Captain," came Barry's
voice.
"Prepare for hyperdrive, time warp factor
..."
He paused, unsure of what to allow for in this
new situation. Number One looked back at
him and held up two fingers.
"Two," said Pike.
"Aye, sir. She'll be ready." 37
Slowly the Enterprise began to ease forward,
drawing closer to the rift. Pike waited for a
report that some sort of energy flux was pulling
them in against their will, the slightest hint that this was a
trap. But none was forthcoming. Come into my parlor,
said the spider to the fly, he thought bleakly.
"Sensor readings?"
"Unchanged from before," said Spock. "Still
obscured."
"We are at two thousand kilometers," said
Number One.
"Full stop."
"Full stop, Captain," Number One
affirmed.
The rift was before them, seemingly part of normal
space and yet part of something else. The surface
rippled and flowed as if it were a thick porridge
being heated to boiling.
And he was going to hurl himself and his ship and crew
into the midst of it, in hopes of finding--
What?
Well, that was what they did every day, wasn't
it? Blasted further and further into the depths of
space, into the unknown. No one ever knew what
they were going to find, did they? Or what the risks
to life and limb might be.
It was just unusual to have the unknown facing one so
bald-facedly.
"When you look long into an abyss, the abyss
also looks into you," said Pike slowly. Then he
took a deep breath and said, "Full ahead.
Hyperdrive, time warp factor two." He
paused a split second before he said,
"Engage."
Tyler laid in the course, and Number One,
taking a slight breath (which Pike heard),
punched it in.
The Enterprise hurtled forward, powered
by hyperdrive, and a moment later was enveloped by the
rift.

The universe howled in Pike's head.
All around them the stars telescoped away and
vanished, and what was left was nothingness filled with
everything.
Pike screamed soundlessly, and the scream seemed
to take up everything as the past and future
collided around him. He saw images, bizarre
and insane images that made no sense. Images
of a reality gone mad, images from out of 39
time, out of mind.
He looked to his left, and he was growing younger
before his very eyes; and he looked to his right, and there
was a bizarre creature staring at him, crouched in
some sort of metal chair. The sight of it made
his soul freeze.
On the screen was nothing but a vast miasma of
undulating space, as if the cosmos had become
a vast lake and someone had skipped a stone across
it.
"Maintain power!" shouted Pike, and he
wasn't sure if anyone had heard him. He
wasn't sure if he'd even said it, or if he
was going to say it, or if it had already been said and
just infinitely repeated. ...
The ship seemed to vibrate
uncontrollably, and there was a shout from the engine
room. It wasn't Barry but Lieutenant
Scott, who usually communicated with the bridge
on Barry's behalf if she was tied up. In an
alarmed brogue Scott shouted, "Captain! The
engines can na take much more of this!" There was more
than just concern about machinery in his voice--it was as
if he were being forced to stand by and watch his children being
tortured.
And then the stars snapped into existence. And so
did the ship.
Ahead of them was a vast ball of whiteness, and
there was something surrounding it, and then the Enterprise
flashed past at hyperspeed.
Pike's mouth was moving before he managed to get
the ^ws out. "Reduce speed!" he shouted.
"Take us out of hyperdrive! Shut down the time
warp field!"
Number One was paralyzed at helm, her
eyes wide, and to her right was Tyler, his face
contorted. He was muttering something over and over,
something like "Ma, Ma." Great. Pike needed the
ship stopped, and Tyler was calling for his mother.
Pike leapt forward, shoving his way to the helm
control, pushing Tyler aside as he reached in
front of Number One. Tyler lashed out with a quick
left, but this time Pike saw it coming and managed
to knock it aside even as he shut down the
ship's forward thrust at helm.
The captain's arm in front of her shook
Number One from her momentary paralysis, and she
seemed to register for the first time that the captain had
made a request of her. She started to reach for the
controls to slow the ship but then hesitated 41
when she saw that the command had already been carried out.
She turned and looked with surprise into Pike's
eyes.
She licked her lips and said, "Sorry,
sir."
Relieved to have some degree of normalcy on
the bridge once more, he said, "It's all right.
Navigator?"
Tyler was still staring off into space as if fixated
on something very, very specific. His lower lip was
trembling. "Mr. Tyler," said Pike
firmly, and still there was no response. For a moment
he considered summoning Boyce to the bridge, but
then without even really thinking about the overt
familiarity it suggested, he rested a hand on
Tyler's shoulder and said, "Jos@e. You with us?"
Tyler blinked several times and then looked up
at Pike. "Captain?" His eyes took a
moment to focus, and then, more firmly, he said,
"Captain."
"At ease, Mr. Tyler. Tell us where we
are, if you please."
Tyler quickly called up his navigational charts
and ran an analysis on the stars that hovered in
front of their viewscreen. Pike didn't even
need the report to know that he had never seen this
particular array of stars before. Nevertheless, he
waited patiently.
"As near as I can determine, sir," Tyler
said finally, "we are somewhere in the outer reaches of the
Gamma quadrant."
There was a momentary hush. "That's light-years
beyond explored space," said Pike. "Are you
sure?"
"Confirming Mr. Tyler's assessment,"
Spock said from the science station. "We are a
significant distance from known space."
"How significant?"
Spock turned and looked at his captain.
"At time warp factor seven--which we could not
possibly maintain--it would take 21.3 years
to reach the furthest Federation outpost. Furthermore,
even at time warp factor one, we would drain our
dilithium crystals dry years before we could
return to known space."
"Meaning," said Pike slowly, "that the rift
had better be our ticket back ... or else
we'll be able to tell our children and grandchildren stories
of how they came to be the first children born on a
starship." 43
"That is correct," said Spock.
"All right," Pike said with a no-nonsense
tone. He went back to his chair and turned it
to face the screen. "Bring us around. I saw
something when we came through, and I want to get a
closer look at it."
The Enterprise swung around and, at
impulse power, retraced her steps. As she
did so Pike ran a quick check with Engineering
to make sure that all was well with the engines.
Once satisfied, he turned to Spock and said,
"Have we got a reading on the rift?" He was
almost afraid to ask, because if the spatial
aperture had vanished, there was a good chance they would
never see home again.
So it was with great relief--not that he let on,
of course--t he heard Spock say, "Yes,
sir. At 213 mark 8. Same temporal
readings as before. And ... something else."
"I see it. Helm, magnification three."
The screen rippled, and when it snapped
into focus Pike became aware that his mouth was
hanging half open. He closed it quickly, hoping
that no one had noticed.
In front of them a planet was on fire.

Chapter Four

Spock and Number One spoke at the same
time "Fascinating."
It was an understatement.
It was a large planet, roughly the size of
Jupiter, and it looked aflame. The entire
surface was covered with a dark blue blaze,
burning steadily and unceasingly. But that wasn't the
only bizarre thing that faced them.
For around the planet was a series of
satellites, linked with each other by an
intricate system of connectors that gave the
entire thing the look of a giant spider web. The
satellites varied in circumference but shared a
generally uniform look in that each of them had a
vast, clear dome over it that encompassed what
appeared to be a gleaming city.
Two satellites were exceptions, situated
at the opposite poles of the planet. The one
at the southern pole was the second-largest
satellite of the group, with a single tower that seemed
to reflect the steady fire of the planet.
The northern pole satellite was the 45
largest by far, and it did not appear to have gleaming
towers on it in the manner of the others. Instead it
sported buildings that were low and squat.
Furthermore, in addition to the connectors that
bonded that particular satellite to others nearby,
there was a connector that plunged straight down into the
planet below.
"Analysis?" said Pike when what they were
seeing had had a chance to sink in.
"The "fire"' on the planet surface,"
said Spock after a moment, "would appear to be a
type of self-regenerating energy plasma,
supplying the satellite web around it with all its
power needs on a perpetual basis."
"Self-regenerating?"
"Yes, sir."
It was a remarkable concept, right up there with the
perpetual-motion machine. The energy needs of the
Enterprise were met through the use of dilithium
crystals, but each of them were precious and had a
finite life. The idea of being able to regenerate
an energy source was something of a dream.
"The satellites?"
"Interior atmospheres would appear to have a
breathable oxygenstnitrogen balance, but the mix would
be somewhat thinner than what we're accustomed
to," said Spock. "Suggest any landing party
members be administered a tri-ox compound
to compensate."
"Noted. Forward the recommendation
to Medical."
And then the screen shifted again, and to their shock,
a face appeared.
It was clearly a male, but it was difficult
to determine his age. His face was crimson, and his
eyes seemed to shimmer with a vague iridescence.
He had no hair on his head, but instead a
delicate lined pattern stretched from his forehead
across the top of his head to the back of his skull--a
pattern that was identical in shape to the network of
connectors that linked the satellites. His nose
consisted of two slits in the middle of his face
over which thin layers of skin fluttered
delicately as he breathed.
"Incoming message," said Tyler, somewhat
unnecessarily.
Pike didn't comment on the obvious statement.
Instead he took a step forward and said, "I am
Captain Christopher Pike of the space
vehicle Enterprise." 47
The alien inclined his head slightly. "So you
are," he said. "I am Zyo, Master Builder
of the Calligar."
""Master Builder?"'"
Zyo shrugged, a surprisingly human
gesture. "An hereditary title, for my
lifetime. A small honor among a people who
give few such."
There was an uneasy silence for a moment, and then
Pike said, "We are unfamiliar with your people."
"As we are unfamiliar with yours," replied
Zyo. "Therefore, I suggest that we become
better acquainted."
"If you tell us where to beam--"
But Zyo merely smiled. "Oh, I think not,
Captain Christopher Pike. To be honest, you
have absolutely no idea what a stir your
presence has caused among the Calligar."
"Why? We mean you no harm."
"Oh, that is irrelevant." Zyo actually
grimaced slightly at that. "It is the mere
fact of your being here--of our letting you know that we
existed--t has caused something of a sensation. I will
be happy to apprise you of the situation, Captain,
but I am afraid it will have to be on our terms."
Pike looked at Number One, who gave the
slightest shrug of her shoulders. It was her way
of letting him know that she really didn't have much of
anything in the way of advice to offer. And if there
was one thing that Number One did not tend to do, it was
to speak for the purpose of hearing herself talk.
"All right," said Pike. "Your terms, then
... as long as they do not involve anything that I
think would be dangerous to this ship or crew."
"You are the leader of your people. I can certainly
respect that. Shall we say ... one of your
hours?"
"You're familiar with earth measurements?"
"Of course." Zyo smiled slightly.
"We've thoroughly studied all your computer
records."
"I can't say I appreciate that. If
we're to establish any sort of relationship, it
must be predicated on trust. If you wish information
from us, I suggest you ask next time."
Zyo tilted his head slightly in
acknowledgment. "As you wish, Captain
Christopher Pike. One hour, then." And the
screen returned to its image of the satellite
cities that the Enterprise crew now 49
knew belonged to the peoples known as the
Calligar.
Pike immediately faced Spock. "Science
Officer, would you care to tell me how in hell they
scanned our computer system without tripping any
alarms?"
Spock frowned and said, "It would seem
to indicate a computer sophistication that is
considerably beyond anything within the realm of our
science."
"In other ^ws, you don't know."
"That is correct, sir," said Spock.
"Well," said Pike, "in an hour we'll
have them aboard, and then we can ask them."

Pike studied himself in the mirror, smoothing the
front of his dress jacket. He nodded
briskly, satisfied with his appearance. He did
not often call for dress uniforms among his crew,
but this was a first contact on an extremely foreign
turf. Top elements of decorum had to be
adhered to.
There was a chime at his door, and he said,
"Come."
The door hissed open, and Jos@e Tyler was
standing there, looking uncomfortable. "Captain ..."
"Yes, Mr. Tyler?"
Tyler took a deep breath and said, "I wish
to apologize for my conduct on the bridge,
sir. It was ... inappropriate."
"Yes, it was." Pike was silent for a moment
and then gestured for Tyler to enter. Tyler did so,
the door hissing shut behind him. "Would you care
to tell me what provoked such a strong
reaction?"
Tyler looked down, hesitating, and Pike
continued, "If there was anything you experienced that could
be of help, I would like to know about it."
Tyler sighed and then said, "I saw ... things.
I saw ... this female. She was ... I
don't know, there was just a flash of her, and she was
calling to me, I thought. That's what it seemed like,
at any rate. And it was as if I knew her and
yet ... didn't know her. You know? Captain,
do you know what happened when we went through there?"
Pike turned and looked into the mirror. It
seemed for just a moment that that bizarre apparition--t
strange creature in that outlandish chair--was
staring back at him.
"I'm not sure," he said. "I thought 51
I saw something myself, but I wasn't sure ...
it happened so quickly. Now that I know you also saw
... images, I'll want to confer more thoroughly
with Mr. Spock. I would theorize, however, that
what we experienced was some sort of time ripple
as a result of passing through the rift. Time bent
around us, and we each saw, briefly, people whose time
lines are somehow going to cross with ours. That must be
what you experienced when you saw that woman. You had
a glimpse of your own future, Mr. Tyler.
A rather disconcerting experience."
Tyler stared at Pike, the light starting
to dawn. "It happened to you, too, didn't it,
sir?"
Pike hesitated, but then he shrugged. "I
saw something. I didn't understand at the time. I was
concerned for a moment that I was seeing something out of my
own future ... and if that was the case, I
don't think I would want to live to see that
future. But I think we can safely assume,
Mr. Tyler, that you will not be changing into a female
anytime soon. That being the case, I don't think
I need to worry too much about transforming into the rather
unpleasant vision I saw."
"No, sir."
With a quick nod Pike checked himself once more in
the mirror and said, "Come on. Let's greet
our guests."

When Pike and Tyler arrived at the
transporter room they found Number One,
Spock, Boyce, Barry, and Chief Petty
Officer Garison already waiting. Transporter
Chief Pitcairn was glancing at Assistant
Yamata as if to affirm that there was something they were
missing. "Captain," said Pitcairn, "I
understand we're to be bringing someone aboard?"
"That's correct, Chief," Pike told
him. He was looking approvingly at his officers.
Boyce was shifting in place, and Pike
remembered that Boyce had complained from time to time
about poorly fitting dress boots.
Number One's dress uniform, on the other
hand, was extremely flattering. It was a long
yellow dress with a scooped neck, belted, with a
slit on the left side that went to just under the
knee. It made her look surprisingly
feminine. She looked at Pike, one eyebrow
raised, as if challenging him to say anything about
it. Trust Number One to make the 53
concept of issuing a compliment seem tantamount
to throwing down a gauntlet.
The transporter chief's questions brought him
around, though, as Pike turned and said, "I'm
sorry, Chief. What was that?"
"I was asking, sir," repeated Pitcairn
evenly, "how we're supposed to beam anyone
aboard considering that no one's given us any
coordinates to lock on to."
"I wouldn't be overly concerned, Chief," said
Pike. "I suspect that our guests have that well
in hand."
Yamata suddenly blinked in surprise.
"Transporter circuits have just been
activated," he informed Pitcairn.
"Never doubt your captain," Pike told them
serenely.
At that moment the transporter beams snapped
on, the pads glowing to life. Pike took his
place at the front of his officers and waited.
As the pads glowed four forms were slowly coming
into existence. Pitcairn was looking at his board
uncomprehendingly and saying, "I think you should
know, Captain, I'm not doing this. I can't take
responsibility in the event--"
"So noted, Chief," Pike said with quiet
confidence.
The hum reached a crescendo and then faded.
Standing on the transporter pad was the individual
who had identified himself as Zyo. There were two
other males beside him, one who seemed roughly the
same age as Zyo and one who, by the general lines
of his face, seemed younger. The younger male was about
a head taller than the tallest individual in the
room (namely Pike) and looked rather powerfully
built. There was also, to his right, what appeared
to be a female of the species. Her features were
surprisingly soft, even pleasing by human standards
(although, by Calligar standards, she might have been
ugly as sin; it wasn't possible to tell).
The older Calligarian next to Zyo was
scowling fiercely, looking around the transporter
room and shaking his head in disgust. "This serves no
purpose," he snarled.
Zyo did not even afford him a glance.
"Quiet, Alt. This discussion is ended."
"No, Zyo," said the one called Alt. "This
is not ended." But he ceased speaking, apparently
contenting himself with glowering at the Enterprise
crew. 55
Pike stepped forward and, with a slight bow, said,
"Master Builder Zyo, I am Captain
Christopher Pike."
To Pike's surprise, Zyo thrust out his right
hand. He noticed that the fingers of the
Calligarian's hand were slightly longer and more
slender than those of a human.
"You appear puzzled," said Zyo. "This is the
correct earth greeting, is it not?"
"It is one of the better-known ones," said
Pike, and he shook the extended hand firmly.
"They taught us at the academy, however, not to be
presumptuous. There are at least five known
planets where a handshake is considered an
obscene gesture, and one where it's a declaration of
war."
"Oh, dear," said Zyo. "That sounds most
unpleasant." He released Pike's hand,
turned, and noticed Spock. Automatically
he brought his right hand up and split his fingers into a
V shape. "Peace and long life."
Spock raised a surprised eyebrow but
nevertheless lifted his own hand in the Vulcan
salute and replied, "Live long and prosper."
Number One automatically followed suit,
as did Barry. Boyce tried to make the
gesture as well and found that he couldn't. He
shrugged.
"You are well versed," said Pike.
"Your computer records were quite up-to-date.
Oh, Captain," said Zyo, "I must
apologize for the way in which I handled--or should I
say, mishandled--t. Scanning your computer was the
most efficient way we had of learning your
idioms and dealing in a comfortable manner with you. And
I was concerned that if we did so in a manner that
alerted your alarms, you would be needlessly concerned."
"You could have asked permission," Pike pointed
out.
"You might have said no," Zyo said
reasonably.
Pike gave a very small smile. "Well
... what's done is done. We won't let it
get in the way of our future associations.
May I present the rest of my command crew?"
He gestured to each one as he spoke, and they
bobbed their heads in turn. "My first officer,
Number One. Science Officer Spock.
Chief Engineer Barry. C.P.O. Garison.
Chief Navigator Tyler ..." 57
His voice trailed off a moment as he saw that
Tyler was inexplicably staring at the
Calligarians as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Tyler?"
"Oh ... sorry, sir," said Tyler,
blinking, making a visible effort to bring his mind
back on track. Now what in hell was wrong with
him?
"This is Alt," said Zyo, gesturing to the
frowning Calligarian next to him. "Whereas I
am the Master Builder, Alt is Master of the
Status."
"I must admit, the meanings of your titles are
a bit obscure to me," said Pike.
"Ah. I shall explain it to you in short order.
But let me introduce the two other young people
accompanying us. Th"--and he gestured to the youthful
male--?is my son, Macro. And this is my
daughter, Ecma."
Macro's face was an unreadable mask, but
Ecma smiled openly at them. "This is a great
honor," she said, and her voice had an almost
musical ring to it.
Pike, despite his distant cordiality,
immediately found her to be a complete charmer.
Inwardly he warned himself against having this sort of
reaction to anyone; he did not want to lose his
professional distance. After all, he'd almost done
that with Vina, he thought, and look at the problems that
had led to.
He heard Tyler gasp next to him and was
faintly annoyed. He turned and saw that the
navigator was indeed gaping at her openly,
apparently unable to contain some sort of fixation
he'd developed for her the moment she'd appeared
in the transporter. Why in the world had he become
so abruptly obsessed with Ecma ...
Ec ... ma ...
Ma.
Oh, Lord. It hadn't been something as inane as
Tyler calling for his mother. He'd been muttering the
name of a female he had not yet met.
Tyler caught his glance and in a low voice
affirmed what Pike had already figured out.
"It's her!"
Oh, perfect, thought Pike. This just got
trickier.


Chapter Five 59

A fine array of foods from all over the
Federation had been set out for the reception, and Zyo
seemed to delight in sampling all that was being
offered. The one known as Alt at first seemed
intent on standing over in a corner and glowering, but the
extremely personable Boyce appeared
to assign himself the duty of drawing Alt out of his
self-created shell. During the buffet Pike
cast an occasional glance in Boyce's direction
and couldn't help but smile as Boyce serenely
plied Alt with some sort of booze, the nature
and origin of which Pike felt a bit safer not
knowing.
Pike also could not help but notice that Tyler
was spending an inordinate amount of time in close
conversation with the woman called Ecma. For her part,
she seemed eminently entertained by him, and Pike
couldn't help but feel a certain degree of
discomfiture. So much so, in fact, that while
Zyo was in what appeared to be a deep conference with
Spock and Number One, Pike drifted over
to Tyler and, with a loud clearing of his throat, asked
Ecma if she might not excuse Tyler for a few
moments so his captain could have a brief ^w with him.
"Is there a problem, Captain?" asked
Tyler, perplexed.
Pike slightly swirled the liquid in his
glass. "Why don't you tell me?"
"If you mean that I've been talking with
Ecma--"
"Do not forget, Lieutenant," Pike said,
"where your priorities are."
"They're right where they always are," Tyler
dead-panned. Then, when he saw that his captain was
not remotely amused, Tyler was all seriousness.
"Sir, I find her a fascinating individual.
She's bright, witty, and extremely interested in
m--in us. But I have no intention of being remiss
in my duties as a Starfleet officer."
"Good," said Pike. He took another sip,
but his gaze never left Tyler. "See that you
don't."
Tyler nodded and turned back to Ecma.
Pike, for his part, still felt a degree of
uncertainty. Tyler was an excellent
navigator and a reliable officer, but he also
tended to be hot-blooded and even excessively
romantic--a combination that could be extremely
dicey. 61
Zyo put his drink down and said in a voice that
portended announcement, "Captain Pike ...
officers ... you have been most patient, and
extremely civilized. I believe that this would be
the appropriate time to explain to you just who we are
and what's going on."
Pike put down his drink and folded his arms.
"I could not agree more."
Zyo nodded slightly and put down his own
glass. "The Calligar," he said, "as you might
have surmised, are an extremely advanced people."
"Far more advanced than you," added Alt, his
speech slightly slurred. "No offense."
"None taken," said Pike. Inwardly he was
amused. Advanced they may be, he thought, but if
he could judge by Alt, they couldn't hold their
liquor worth a damn.
Zyo was also aware of Alt's slightly
inebriated state, but he seemed to be enjoying it
as much as Pike. "Yes, we are advanced ...
but we are also something of an insular people. We have no
planetary neighbors, which fact undoubtedly
helped shape our development. We keep very much
to ourselves. Our philosophy is one of total
isolation."
"We have our own philosophy," said Pike.
"One that stipulates that we do nothing to interfere in
the affairs of other planets."
"A solid philosophy."
"But it has not made us isolationist," continued
Pike. "Simply ... cautious."
"Ah, now you see, in that respect you might be
more advanced than ourselves." Zyo smiled. This
prompted a snort from Alt, but then he started
to teeter backwards, and it was only Macro's
quick intervention that prevented him from tilting over
completely. Ecma cut off a quick giggle and
buried her face in Tyler's shoulder to smother
it--a gesture that made Tyler immediately
self-conscious--and he gently pushed her off
himself.
"However," continued Zyo, "although we have never
sought out contact, there have been arguments, long
carried on purely in a hypothetical context,
that if we were contacted by others, we could not simply
turn away."
Now Ecma spoke up. "My father is one of the
chief proponents of that philosophy. And
Alt, for that matter, is one of his chief
opponents." 63
"That is correct," said Alt firmly. Then
he belched.
"Since I am the Master Builder," said
Zyo, "I am the overseer of the advancements of the
Calligar. Alt, for his part, is responsible
for watching over our philosophical and
societal growth. Of course, since our
society is dedicated to not growing--"
This actually seemed to stir Alt from his haze,
and he stabbed a finger at Zyo. "That," he
growled, "is a gross oversimplification. You
know that, Zyo. But then again, maybe you're
simplifying matters because you feel that these ...
persons ... could not hope to grasp the
subtleties of Calligarian philosophy.
Of the Harmony, and the Worldmi--"
"Alt."
Zyo had snapped at his peer with a fierceness that
was, curiously, without heat, but filled with
unmistakable warning. Alt's eyes seemed
to cloud over for a moment, as if he was mentally
reviewing what had just been said, and then his eyes
widened slightly. Apparently he was surprised
at his own ^ws. He looked down, chastened.
Zyo, utterly composed, turned back
to Pike and said, "Curious that I would be more
attendant to our philosophies than Alt.
Then again, I would seem to be a bit more
clearheaded," he added pointedly before continuing.
"Because of our dislike of expansionism, we have no
active program of space exploration--indeed,
no vehicles beyond what is needed to service our
Worldnet."
"That's what you call the cities that encircle
that world?" asked Number One.
"Quite correct. That world was once our homeworld
--st is, to some degree. Oddly enough," said
Zyo, pacing in a small circle, his hands behind
his back, "we almost destroyed it through pollution and
misuse. Several of your centuries ago it
became virtually unlivable, and what we had
intended to do was move on to other planets, other
worlds. But then we realized, as a people, that that was
totally inappropriate. We were viewing space
expansion as a means of solving a pollution
problem. As a means of a late repair to our own
environmental and societal slovenliness. What
we would have done, in all likelihood, was continue
our irresponsible ways on other worlds.
"Instead, it was agreed--" 65
"Who agreed?" asked Pike. "You have some
sort of governing board?"
"It was agreed," repeated Zyo with a tone of
voice that indicated that Pike was stepping beyond the
bounds of what Zyo wished to discuss, "that we had
to solve our own problems without taking the chance of
visiting them upon other worlds. That if we could not
solve the difficulties within our own sphere, we
did not deserve to continue as a race."
"Interesting decision," said Pike.
"It was the only one that seemed"--Ecma
appeared to be searching for the right ^w--?humane,"
she said finally.
"What developed is the scientific breakthrough
that I'm sure your sensors have already detected.
The self-regenerating plasma that fuels our
Worldnet."
"It would appear to be, on the surface," said
Spock, "in violation of the laws of
thermodynamics."
"We appealed the laws to a higher court,"
Zyo told him evenly. "From that discovery
extended the creation of the Worldnet, and our many other
advancements. And the philosophy of keeping to ourselves
took hold as well, pervading much of our thinking.
Here, in our relatively remote section of the
galaxy, such an ideology seemed eminently
workable. At the same time, isolationism can seem
a very narrow-minded way in which to go about living one's
life.
"It would appear, however, that the fabric of the
galaxy had its own answer to that."
"The rift?" asked Pike.
Zyo nodded. "The rift."
"So it's not a phenomenon that you created?"
asked Spock. He actually sounded quite
surprised.
"Not at all," Zyo said. "Utterly
natural. Much of the time it is virtually and
literally undetectable. However, every"--he seemed
to be doing a quick calculation--?e 33.4 of your
years, it opens."
"Brigadoon," said Tyler.
Everyone looked at him, and Tyler,
momentarily embarrassed, said with a shrug, "It's
an old story. A place where everyone sleeps
the entire time except for one day every hundred
years."
"Interesting," said Zyo. "Brigadoon, then,
if you wish. The rift opens and 67
stabilizes for approximately seventy-two of
your hours."
"Approximately?" said Pike uneasily.
"Yes. So I would suggest you monitor the
rift's activities quite closely. Unless you
wish to be permanent guests," said Zyo. He
continued to circle the briefing room as he said,
"We became aware that, in other parts of the
galaxy, life was developing and advancing. I
admit to some curiosity on our part as to the
nature and direction that it was taking. There were some,
like myself, who wished to interact with those developing
civilizations. Others"--he glanced very quickly at
Alt--?did not. No matter. When you made your
communication to us through the rift as it was just beginning
to open, it caused quite a flurry of discussion, I
can assure you. It's quite fortunate that your
subspace radio transmissions move faster
than the speed of light, or the temporal
nature of the rift might have caused your
transmission to reach us after you were long dead."
"Indeed," said Pike. "So ... where do we go
from here?"
Zyo spread his hands. "We wish to discuss
philosophies with you. Subtleties that are
difficult to discern from our scan of your computers.
We wish to know you as potential ... neighbors,
if you will."
"Oh, nonsense," snapped Alt. "We
want to study you to make sure that you're not
warlike barbarians. Someday, this century or
next, you will make incursions into our own space
under your own power. We need to know what we'll be
dealing with."
"Even should that time come," said Pike, "and I can
assure you that it will be long after all of us are gone
--but even if that time comes, the Federation will
respect your desire for privacy. If you
make it clear that you do not wish to be contacted, then
we will honor that privacy."
"Now you say that," said Alt. Much to his
credit, he seemed to have shrugged off some of the
intoxicating effects of the liquor. But he still
wavered as he walked slowly toward Pike and
continued. "However, as you yourself just pointed out,
contact with us can continue long after you are less than
a memory. Who knows what the future of your
Federation may hold. Therefore, it is in our best
interests and out of concern for our personal privacy
and safety that we be kept apprised of 69
you."
"We have no secrets," said Pike, spreading
his hands. "I am certain that we will be able to work
together and allay your concerns."
"That is all we wished to know," said Zyo.
"Tomorrow I will show you around one of our major
cities, so you can get a feel for what the
Calligar are like. In the meantime, to give you some
indication as to our own sincerity"--he turned toward
Spock and Number One--?while perusing your
computers I noted very recent research that has
been developed by a man called Richard
Daystrom. Is that correct?"
"Dr. Daystrom designed the Enterprise
computers," said Spock. "Since their original
installation there has been further research
developed."
"Improvement in data access capability,"
Number One told him. "In fact, next
month we were scheduled ..." Suddenly she
stopped, uncertain if she should be discussing the
upcoming schedule of the Enterprise, and she
looked to Pike. Pike gave a small shrug
and gestured, and Number One continued. "We were
scheduled to lay in at a Starbase and have the new
components and work installed in the ship's computer.
Voice access and replies instead of only
paper printouts and screen arrays. Daystrom
has designed the new components, and they're in the
process of being built."
"They're in your cabin," said Zyo.
They stared at him uncomprehendingly. "I
beg your pardon?" said Number One.
"I arranged for the completed components to be in
your cabin," Zyo said calmly.
"But ... they won't .be completed for another
two weeks," Number One told him.
"Yes, but you see, your scientists had already
done all the work." Zyo smiled. "We didn't
use our advanced technology to do any of that work
for you. We merely followed those plans to create
the actual hardware for you. It does not detract
from the accomplishments of your Dr. Daystrom at
all; indeed, if you wish, once you get to your
Starbase you can remove the components we have given
you and install the Daystrom-issued ones. They will be
indistinguishable, I can assure you."
"You're telling us," said Pike in
astonishment, "that you studied the advancements in
design made by Dr. Daystrom that were in 71
our computer library base and were able to turn those
designs into actual working models ... in a
day?"
"Certainly not, Captain Pike," said
Zyo. "Not in a day."
"How long, then?"
Zyo couldn't help but smile, and he tried not
to sound too smug.
"Five minutes," he said.

No one could recall a time that they had seen
Number One actually dashing down the hallway.
But this time she most definitely was, her legs
pumping furiously. Crewmen were jumping to get the
hell out of her way.
Right behind her came Spock, and the Vulcan was
inwardly amazed at the woman's speed.
Despite his superior Vulcan
physiognomy, he was hard-pressed to keep up
with her.
Moments later they were in her cabin, and there on
a dresser was a large case. Number One
flipped it open and gazed in astonishment at the
contents.
There were all the components that she had only read
about, nestled in some sort of cushioning that held
them immobile. She pointed at one. "That's the
A3 Interface Module."
Spock nodded and tapped a flat piece with a
circle in the middle. "This is the Model 83
Logic Integrator."
She looked up at Spock. "This is
incredible. It's all here. All of it. Everything
I've read about."
It was the closest that Spock had ever--for that
matter, that anyone had ever--heard Number One
get to genuine excitement or enthusiasm. Within a
moment she had managed to mask completely whatever
exhilaration she might be feeling.
Number One's main interest, beyond her duties
at helm, was computers. In that she overlapped,
naturally, with Spock, and they had spent many
hours discussing the limitations of their current
systems and speculating about the possibilities
for the future. Spock continually got the
impression that Number One's abilities were beyond
what she habitually let on, and he wondered at
odd moments just how much she was capable of.
It seemed now he might have the chance to find out.
She looked him in the eyes with an intense 73
gaze and said, "Can we do this? Can we install this?"
Spock pursed his lips a moment in thought.
"We shall have to run full diagnostics to make
certain that these components are what they appear
to be. Caution would dictate--"
She waved that off dismissively. "That will take
an hour or so. After that ... can we do it,
Spock?"
Slowly he nodded. "I believe we can."
"Fantastic," she said. "Let's get to it."
"Now?" Spock was a bit surprised.
She looked at him evenly. "Do you have any
better plans, Mr. Spock?"
He considered. "None at all."
"Then let's go."

Chapter Six

"This is incredible."
Jos@e Tyler was standing in the middle of a
desert. He turned around slowly, feeling the
intense heat of the sun beating down on him. "This
... this is incredible," he said again.
From nearby Ecma was smiling, and she said,
"Would you care to see something else?"
"Like what?"
"Like ... anything." She shrugged, and the world
blurred for an instant, replaced by a
snow-covered mountainside. Tyler looked down
to discover that he was up to his ankles in snow. His
breath was coming out in little clouds. "Incredible," he
said again, starting to feel a little repetitive.
The air was chilled and snapping around him, and he
was glad that he was wearing the standard-issue gray
jackets that landing parties usually sported when
leaving the confines of the Enterprise. "There've
been discussions, theories about holograph
technology," said Tyler. "But this ... this is
beyond anything we can even begin to discuss.
Holograph, but--"
"Substantial," affirmed Ecma.
"Instantaneous creation of matter, and discreation as
well."
"Discreation?"
"We can make it and unmake it," she said.
She held out a hand. "Come."
He began to walk with her, utterly amazed at
it all. It was difficult for him to comprehend that
he was inside one of the satellite cities of the
Calligarian Worldnet. The illusions-- 75
no, not illusions, the real holographs--t were
created by the Calligarian technology were nothing
short of astounding.
"I can't imagine the Federation ever having
anything like this," said Tyler. He squatted,
picked up a handful of snow, and began to shape it.
"Oh, you will," said Ecma. "We've studied
the exponential growth rate of your scientific
progress. We estimate that you will have developed
similar technology within the next six of your
decades."
"You mean in my lifetime?" Tyler shook his
head. "Remarkable." Then he nodded in
approval, feeling the heft of the snowball in his
hand. "Good packing snow."
"Packing snow?" she asked.
He looked at her in surprise. "What, you
never packed snow? Never made a snowball?"
She shook her head. "I've familiarized
myself with it. I'm familiar with all of the
environments that once existed on our planet.
B"--she frowned--?why would you make a
snowball? What purpose does it serve?"
He looked at her uncomprehending face, and
then down at the snowball. Then he drew his arm
back and hurled it.
His aim was just a bit off. It smacked
satisfyingly against her upper right shoulder, and the
impact caught her so totally off-guard that it
knocked her right off her feet. She sat down
hard in the snow with a surprised "Whufffrom!"
Tyler stood over her, laughing.
"Now what was the purpose in that?" she demanded.
"It was ... well, it was supposed to be
fun."
She pierced him with a steady stare. "Fun?" she
said incredulously.
"Yeah. Fun." Jos@e was starting to feel a
bit defensive.
"I don't understand. I'm standing here," she said,
beginning to pull herself to her feet, "making no
overt action against you. Being friendly. Obeying my
father's instructions to give you a glimpse of our
holotechnology. And what's the first thing you do?
You use our technology to create a weapon--"
"Oh, for--"
"A primitive weapon, to be sure. But a
weapon. And then you employ it against someone who is
acting as your guide. Now I ask you,
Lieutenant, are those the actions of an 77
enlightened race? Of an intelligent and thoughtful
civilization?"
He turned away from her, feeling embarrassed
and ashamed. "Oh ... look. I didn't mean
anything by it. It's not like there was any hostility
intended. It was just ... just misplaced humor.
That's all." He started to turn back to her.
"You know, sometimes our sense of humor can be--"
The snowball hurtled through the air with pinpoint
accuracy and hit him flush in the face. The snow
went up his nose and made his eyes water for a
moment, and he shoved the snow off his face with
astonishment.
Ecma was laughing and pointing. "You were right,
Lieutenant. That was very funny!"
"Ohhhh! Oh, you--" And he lunged
playfully after her. She dodged away and rolled
down a snowbank. Tyler leapt after her, sliding
down on his belly in pursuit.

The Calligarian architecture was some of the
most impressive that Pike and Boyce had ever
seen. A stroll down one of the main streets
allowed them to admire the graceful, arched spires
that were above, below, and around them. Pike couldn't
detect any sudden increase in the angle of the
street that they were on, but still they seemed to be
ascending. Above them the stars were twinkling through the
clear dome that covered the entire city, and Pike
could make out the large connectors that led into another
city nearby.
"What's the function of those huge cables?"
Pike asked at length.
"Twofold," replied Zyo. "They link the
various functioning systems of the Worldnet into one
unifying whole. They are also the main means of
transport between the different cities. If you
wish to travel between the cities, your body is
reduced to a particle stream and shot through the
connector cables to your destination."
"You said they also linked the functioning systems,"
said Pike. "May I ask how?"
Zyo half smiled and said, "You may ask."
Boyce noticed that their presence was garnering a
good number of looks from the passing Calligar people,
but no one seemed to have anything to say to them one way
or the other. They were objects of curiosity and
cautious interest, much like a two-headed
parakeet. But nothing more than that.
"Here is my home," said Zyo, and 79
he passed through a solid door. The metal of the
door seemed to ripple around him and then reseal
itself.
Pike and Boyce looked at each other and then
Pike gestured grandly. "After you, Doctor."
"You're too kind," said Boyce dryly.
He looked at the door, took a deep breath,
and strode forward. He hit the door and kept on
going, and then, a moment later, there was no hint that
he had ever gone through.
Pike took a breath and realized that Boyce
might, at this moment, be dead, and he could be
following the doctor into oblivion. "In for a
penny, in for a pound," he muttered, and he walked
through.
He felt a bizarre tingling sensation, quite
unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He
stopped breathing because, just for a moment, he felt no
need to breathe. It was as if the metal was supplying
his body with whatever it needed to survive, and
Pike realized that if he never took another
step forward or backward he could probably
survive indefinitely within the confines of the door.
Not that that would be the most fulfilling of lives
to live.
But he did indeed take another step and a
moment later reemerged.
There was no room on the other side.
At least, nothing that Pike could readily
discern. All around him was absolutely nothing,
breathtaking in its nothingness. Just pure white, for
as far as he could see. Nothing above him, and nothing
...
Nothing below.
Pike grasped, fighting an immediate feeling of
vertigo. His mind told him that at any moment
he was going to start plummeting to some great unknown
depth.
But no such plunge was forthcoming. Instead he
simply stood there, the whiteness seeming to laugh
at him.
Of Boyce and Zyo there was no sign at
all.

The snow-covered hills had given way to a
tranquil forest setting. Ecma wandered along the
well-trod path with easy certainty, and Tyler
followed behind her.
She moved with a grace Tyler found
absolutely intriguing, and every so often she 81
would cast a glance over her shoulder at him. He
found her captivating.
All of his internal warning buzzers were going
off. He had a nasty habit of developing immediate
crushes on women and imagining all sorts of
possibilities with them. And then the fantasies
would invariably not pan out. Garison had once
given him the tag "The Latin Lover," and although
it had been done tongue-in-cheek, Tyler had
felt constrained to turn the tables on Garison
by living up to the title. The fact that, within a
month of being so dubbed by Garison, Tyler had
romanced away Garison's girlfriend had done
nothing to endear Tyler to Garison.
So Tyler's problem was that he was never certain
when he was attracted to a female--which was often--
whether it was out of compulsion to maintain his image,
or because he genuinely felt something.
"Tell me about yourself," he said as he stepped
over a log. "All I know about you is that you're
Zyo's daughter. Do you have a mother? Can I meet
her?"
"No," said Ecma slowly. "She is gone."
"Oh. I'm sorry," said Tyler. "She
died, huh?"
"It was her time," said Ecma with what sounded like
a sort of forced detachment.
It was clear to Tyler that she had said all about that
that she wished to say, so he changed subjects.
"Do you have a job or something?"
She nodded as she pushed aside a branch.
"Yes. My job is that I am Zyo's
daughter."
"And what does that entail?"
She glanced back at him and smiled. "Are you
trying to get information out of me, Lieutenant?"
"Well, now, I--"
She laughed that delightful laugh of hers. It
had a bell-like quality that accentuated the alienness
of her (as if red skin and two slits instead of a
nose weren't sufficient.) "It's quite all right.
It's understandable that you're curious about us. We,
after all, are openly curious about you." She
paused. "My father is the Master Builder, as you
know. I am his apprentice." She smiled
thinly. "That does not sit well with my brother."
"Why not?"
"Because he is the elder. But my father believes
that I am the more techno inclined."
"Are these kinds of things usually done 83
on the basis of age?"
"That depends whom you talk to," said Ecma.
"If you believe my brother, then yes. If you
attend to my father, then no."
Tyler tripped slightly over a root but then
righted himself. From up ahead he heard the sound of
water running ... a waterfall, he realized.
It had been so long since he had heard one that it
filled him with a dull ache. He hadn't seen a
waterfall since he was eleven years old.
Ecma had said that this extraordinary
holotechnology would exist within his lifetime.
Imagine being able to, for example, be in a
starship, but use holotechnology to create
scenes from home, or wherever. Somehow his lifetime
seemed ... well ... a lifetime away.
The path angled down, and Tyler saw the
source of the waterfall. There was a gorgeous
lake that spread out in front of them, and the
waterfall was emptying into it. The surface was like
glass, and the air was thick with the scent of pine.
He turned toward Ecma and started to speak, and
to his shock, he saw Ecma was pulling her
clothes off. "Uhm ... excuse me ... what
do you think ..."
She had already removed her shirt, and Tyler was
taking note of the fact that it appeared,
biologically, she was extremely similar to earth
females. "Look, Ecma ..."
"Is something wrong?" she asked. "Come
swimming with me."
"I don't think that would be appropriate."
She removed the remainder of her garments, and the
rest of her development was apparently parallel
to humans as well.
God! He was doing biological comparisons!
He really had been out in space too long.
"The water is wonderful," Ecma was saying.
"This is one of my favorite places." She
turned and leapt into the water, cleaving it cleanly.
Watching her swim through the water, he felt there
was blood pounding through every cell in his body--not
excluding his hair and fingernails. Ecma spun
about in the water and, facing him, waved for him
to jump in.
"Ooooohhh boy," he said.

"Doctor!" shouted Pike into the blankness.
"Phil!"
"You don't have to shout, Captain," 85
came Boyce's calm response.
A door seemed to open straight out of the
nothingness, and Boyce stepped out, looking at
Pike in concern. Zyo was next to him. "I'm
right here," continued Boyce.
"Zyo, what"--Pike gestured helplessly--
"what is all this?"
"Well, I was just explaining to the doctor,"
said Zyo patiently. "Our homes are very
subjective."
"Subjective?" Pike clearly didn't
understand.
"It's the ultimate in being made to feel at
home, Captain," said Boyce expansively.
"You're not seeing it yet because your mind isn't
calm enough."
"Seeing what?" said Pike, trying to hide his
exasperation.
"Our personal environments are subjected
to individual whim and taste," said Zyo. "It's
very subliminal."
"Subliminal?" said Pike, sinking down into a
chair. "How can it be subliminal?"
"Decorations, fixtures, and so on all stem
from your subconscious mind," said Zyo easily.
"As a result, you are never subjected to the
design whims of the homeowner. You always create
your own personal environment."
"You mean each individual does?" asked
Pike, drumming his fingers on the teak coffee
table to his right.
"That's correct," said Boyce. "I, for
example, am at this very moment seeing a room
done up entirely in Louis XIV
furniture. I have no idea what you're
seeing."
"But I'm not seeing ..." Then Pike's
voice trailed off as he came to the slow
realization that he was, in fact, sitting in a
chair and rapping on a table. He glanced around.
The entire room had taken on a very nautical
flavor, with a barometer hanging on the wall
opposite and a variety of heavy, polished
furniture that looked as if it would have been at
home in the cabin of a captain of a Spanish
galleon. It seemed to have sneaked up on him
one moment the blankness, and now this.
"Very impressive," he said finally.
"Not to us," said Zyo graciously. "I'm
pleased you find it so interesting. Do you 87
paint, Captain?"
"You mean portraits and such?" He shrugged.
"I dabbled with it in my youth. Never was very good."
"Over here, then." Zyo gestured for him
to follow, and Pike got up from his extremely
comfortable seat. He slowed when passing Boyce
to ask, in a low voice, "Louis XIV?"
"Call me sentimental. What do you see,
Chris?"
"Just the interior of my quarters, as usual,"
said Pike blandly. "Yo u know me, Doctor.
No imagination."

Tyler's imagination was running wild as he
started to pull open his jacket.
He could see himself peeling down and leaping into the
water with her, swimming toward her with sure, strong
strokes. He saw himself pulling her to him, the
two of them causing the water to bubble and come to a
boil, her legs wrapped around him, the ...
The captain. Showing up unexpectedly, standing
on the shore, hands on his hips, scowling
fiercely. The anger, the lecture, the snickering
back on the ship when ...
He cleared his throat, the vocal cords of which
seemed to have become paralyzed, and he called
to her. "Uhm ... I think I'd better stay
here."
"Oh, but the water is so splendid," she said.
"Not half as ... uhm." He cut himself off
again. He sat down on a rock and waved weakly
to her. "I think ... yeah, definitely, I'd
better stay here. Tell me ... tell me more
about your people. What do you believe in?"
"Believe in?" She was doing the backstroke.
She had to be doing the backstroke, now,
didn't she? Damn. Damn.
"Uh ... yeah. Like ... do you believe in
God? Or in some sort of maker of all things?"
She brought her legs down (mercifully,
mercifully) and trod water, one of the least
inflammatory things she could have done. "Of
course," she said.
"Okay. Uh ... what do you believe?"
"My father. He is the maker of all things.
He is the Master Builder, as was his father before
him, and his mother before him, and so on back." She
grinned. "And someday I shall be the maker of all
things ... and won't that infuriate my brother?"
She suddenly spun in the water and dived 89
under, her buttocks momentarily projecting
cheerily in the air before disappearing under the
surface.
"Yes, so you said," said Tyler, even though she
couldn't hear him. For that matter she couldn't see
him now, either, but nevertheless he crossed his legs and
coughed once loudly.
She broke the surface a few feet away
from him and continued to tread water. Trying to stick
to business, Tyler said, "And, uh, what do you
think happens to you after you die?"
At that a shadow crossed her face
momentarily, and then she brightened, although it didn't
seem to be without effort. "What does that
matter?" she said.
"Well ... I'm interested."
"I'm not," she said. "I'm interested in all
manner of things. Bioengineering, holography
... all sorts of things. But not in what happens
to you after you die. I'm not going to die for a long,
long time. I enjoy living much too much."
She paddled forward and emerged from the water,
Venus on the shell, the water rolling off her.
Her skin was curious, the water beading on it as
if she had a water repellent on her body.
She brushed the drops away and, still smiling,
came toward him.
He took a step back and said, "You know, as
a Starfleet officer--"
"You wanted to know more about our philosophies?"
she asked. "We don't believe in
prevaricating. We don't believe in tiptoeing
around our feelings." She ran her fingers up his
shirt, and the nearness of her was intoxicating.
"There are"--he cleared his throat loudly--
"there are certain rules. ...
She nibbled at the base of his neck and then
ran her tongue up, tracing the line of his jaw.
Then she buried her face in the nape of his
neck.
"Well, it's ... it's actually more
guidelines than rules," he said. She was
reaching up and massaging his temples in a manner
he had never experienced. That, combined with the way her
mouth was playing across his throat, made him
dizzy.
Well ... the captain had said to find out all
there was to find out about these people ... he was just following
orders, after all.
91
Pike's communicator sounded, and he flipped
it open. "Captain here."
"This is Barry, sir," came the engineer's
voice. "This energy system they have here ... it's
amazing."
"They're giving you free access?" asked
Pike, casting a glance at Zyo. To his
surprise, Zyo shook his head.
Barry immediately confirmed Zyo's negative
warning. "No, sir. There are certain sections
where they're telling me I can't go. They say
it's too advanced for me." The annoyance, even
offense, in the engineer's tone was unmistakable.
Barry had never been particularly good at concealing
irritation.
"As you know, Captain," Zyo said, "we are
cautious when discussing details of our
technology. We do not want to do anything that will
accelerate you beyond the level that you are ready
to reach."
How condescending of you, Pike thought briefly,
but he immediately quelled the judgment. Zyo was right,
of course. It was merely a reflection of
exactly how the Federation felt about their own
technology. On a planet where the furthest
someone had progressed was the invention of the
revolver, the Enterprise would never show up and
explain the detailed workings of a hand phaser.
"Be satisfied with what we are shown, Mr.
Barry," said Pike. "Whatever you learn will be
enough."
"Aye, sir," sighed the engineer.
Pike turned back to the canvas in front of
which he was standing. An image was half completed on
it, and Zyo was studying it in appreciation, as was
Boyce. "Very impressive for a first-time artist,"
said Zyo approvingly.
"I didn't know you had it in you, Captain,"
said Boyce.
A "canvas" was only Pike's name for it,
since it hardly had a scrap of canvas on it.
It was a piece of solid, clear material, about
two by three feet, or at least that's how it had
started out. Pike had been placing his hands against it
at Zyo's instruction and bringing an image to his
mind with as much strength as he could. Slowly a
picture had been forming out of whatever materials
composed the "canvas," appearing as if by magic.
It seemed, to Boyce's practiced eye, to be
an Orion female in mid-dance step, 93
but he couldn't be quite sure. The outlines had formed
first, and now Pike was busy assembling the
details.
Yes, it was an Orion female, all right.
The green skin was unmistakable. She was nude,
a bit more erotic than Boyce would have expected
from Pike. The captain had been making
murmurings about going off and being a trader of such
women not too long ago, a notion that Boyce had
made light of. Now he started to wonder if
maybe he hadn't been just a bit hasty.
Her chin was tilted back, her eyes filled with
fire and lust, her upper teeth just slightly
chewing on her lower lip. Her arms were arched over
her head, her hips thrust outward.
Remarkably, Boyce could even tell that she was
covered with a sheen of sweat from her dance.
He leaned forward and muttered to Pike,
"Somebody you know?"
"No," said Pike.
"That wouldn't happen to be that girl you mentioned?
Vi--"
"No," said Pike, even more firmly. The
sort of voice that he used only when he was
covering something, and Boyce wisely chose not
to pursue it.
"So," said Zyo as Pike turned up the
shade of green in the dancing girl just a notch,
"tell me ... about your enemies."

Tyler was drowning in her, and that was when a rough
hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.
He heard Ecma gasp, and then he was swung
around to find himself staring into the face of Macro,
twisted in rage.
"Hi," said Tyler.
Macro hurled Tyler heels over head,
sending him tumbling into the mud and dirt nearby.
Tyler was immediately on his feet, just in time to see
Macro charging at him. From behind him the naked
Ecma was shouting something angrily, and Macro
wasn't paying any attention to her.
Tyler knew from the very first contact that Macro was
exceedingly strong. Macro had made no effort
at all when he had used Tyler for a shotput.
Nor did he seem to have an evenness of temper
to augment it.
"Macro, stop it!" shouted Ecma, and she
grabbed at his arm. Perhaps the lack of clothes on
her part was damaging to her authority. She 95
certainly didn't seem to have much impact on
Macro, because he shoved her aside as if she
weighed nothing and came once more at Tyler.
Tyler put his guard up, and Macro
attacked with no particular artistry or even,
apparently, a plan. Macro swung several
quick rights, none of which managed to get through Tyler's
guard. Tyler struck back with a quick flurry of
rights and lefts, several of which landed, snapping
Macro's head back. It was extremely
satisfying, and Tyler danced around him, keeping his
fists and feet in motion, stinging fiercely with his
jabs and ducking or blocking each of Macro's
vicious rights.
Satisfying until Macro suddenly landed a
left with enough force to rattle Tyler's teeth.
Tyler sat down hard, the world spinning around him.
Sloppy. Damned sloppy. Macro had set
him up and then switched hands. How could he have been
so stupid?
"You keep away from my sister," snarled
Macro.
"He didn't do anything," Ecma was saying
angrily. "He was trying not to, at any
rate. I wasn't giving him a lot of
options."
"Cover yourself," said Macro angrily.
"No. I have nothing to be ashamed of.
Lieutenant, do you think I have anything to be
ashamed of?" She stood there defiantly, her
hands on her hips.
"Not from where I'm sitting," said Tyler. He
was trying with all his might to stop the world from spinning
around.
And suddenly Macro reached down and lifted him
completely off the ground. Tyler's feet were
dangling high, and in a desperate maneuver he
slammed a foot into Macro's stomach. Macro
grunted but otherwise didn't seem to notice.
"You are so ... so suffocating, Macro,"
Ecma was saying angrily. "You've always been like
this, ever since I can remember."
"And ever since I can remember, you have done
whatever you wanted in order to anger me!"
"The Worldnet does not revolve around you,
Macro," snapped Ecma, "and you would do well
to remember that!"
Tyler felt Macro's grip tightening in
anger, cuttin g off his air. "For an advanced
race," he gagged, "you have some ... 97
pretty petty squabbles."
Macro seemed to notice him for the first time.
He glared into Tyler's eyes and snarled, "Oh,
you think so?"
"It had ... crossed my mind."
Macro turned quickly, stomped over to the
lake, and--bbf Ecma or Tyler could react--
shoved the navigator under the water. Tyler,
caught off-guard, began to choke. Macro eased
up on his grip ever so slightly; Tyler's
lungs reflexively tried to draw in air ...
and only got water.
He heard Ecma yelling, but it was from a
distance, and it seemed to be growing more distant with each
passing moment.

Chapter Seven

Number One wiped the sweat from her brow and
drew herself up the computer core's Jeffries
tube once more. She was in close quarters with
Spock, who was checking over the data rerouting
systems, and he tossed a glance at the first
officer. Her concentration on her task was total;
she had not said anything to him in the past five hours
beyond crisp instructions or demands for information.
She was not one for small talk.
She studied the calibrations once more and then
wiped her hands. "All right," she said slowly.
She actually sounded nervous for a moment. "All
right, I think that's it."
Spock nodded, his back pressed up against
hers. "I believe you are correct."
"So let's see what we've got. You
installed that voice-integrating circuit up on
the bridge?"
"As you instructed." He carefully modulated
his response so as to disguise his irritation over the
fact that this was the fifth time she had asked him about
it.
"Good." She gave the systems one more check.
"I've done the primary setups at this end,
plus imprinted a preliminary interface
program. It should be ready."
With an inclination of her head she indicated that
Spock should slide down out of the tube first. He
did so and then helped her down. They looked at
each other for a moment and couldn't help but notice
how disheveled and even a bit tired both of them
appeared. 99
"Let's go get cleaned up," said Number
One, "and then get back up to the bridge to run
a test. Sixteen hundred hours?"
"That seems a logical plan."
She nodded, and they started toward their
respective cabins. Spock paused a moment
at the door to his and said, "Number One, should the
captain not be present for the preliminary test?"
She considered a moment and then said, "I'd rather
not."
He raised an eyebrow. "If I may ask
..."
"Because if it doesn't work, I don't want
him to be there to see me fail." Andwith that she
turned and walked away.
Spock watched her go and, arms folded, shook
his head slowly. "Fascinating," he said.

"So the major enemy of the Federation is the
Klingon Empire," said Zyo thoughtfully. He
was studying the completed portrait of the green
Orion dancing girl and no.ing
appreciatively. "Yes, that is what we
garnered from your computer banks as well."
"I haven't had that much personal contact with
them," Pike said. He was staring at the barometer
and was surprised to see that, according to the dial, a
storm was brewing. He wondered what that meant.
"But they can be extremely deadly. And they are
formidable enemies."
"But why? Your philosophies are so
similar."
Pike looked at Zyo in astonishment. "Are
you certain you read the correct files?"
"Oh, quite certain."
"But they believe that they have a right to conquer
whatever they wish!" said Pike. "They believe that
they are stronger than the Federation and can do what they
want, where they want. They think they are destined
to be the dominant race in the galaxy."
"They believe this because they feel they are the
stronger."
"Yes."
"But your own theories of evolution and natural
selection," said Zyo, "would seem to indicate that
the--what's the phrase?--the survival of the
fittest is, in fact, the natural and correct
order of things. Do you believe that?"
"I believe that evolution is the true manner
in which mankind rose to dominance on earth, 101
yes," said Pike slowly. "But--"
"And the Klingons believe that through natural
selection they are the dominant species, just as
humans grew to be the dominant species on
earth." Zyo seemed amused. "So how are you
different from the Klingons in that respect?"
Pike looked at Boyce for help. The
doctor shrugged. Pike looked back at Zyo
and said, "The difference is that Klingons see only
physical strength as the determinant of
superiority. Their definition of strength is based
entirely on the concept of being able to subjugate
others. But man's dominion over the earth had
nothing to do with physical strength or desire
to subjugate. It had to do with survival, not
conquest."
"Yet in striving for survival mankind wound
up conquering much of their environment. Even nearly
destroying it, much as we did ours." Zyo shook
his head. "It's not the concept of conquest that is so
disturbing to you, Captain. It's the concept that
humankind would be on the receiveg end of that conquest--
just as your planet, and the life forms on that
planet, were on the receiveg end of your own continued
existence, be it called conquest or survival or
whatever you wish."
"The Klingons are different from us," said Pike
firmly.
"Oh, I quite agree."
"Good," Pike said, looking to Boyce in
satisfaction.
"I agree that they are different in that they are the
stronger, and their claims," continued Zyo, "have a
great deal of basis in your own philosophies.
And it is the veracity of those claims that you find so
annoying about the Klingons. It's not because you're so
certain that they're wrong. It's because you're
afraid they might be right."
Pike stared at him and then said, "what are you
saying? That you're on their side?"
"Not at all."
"Because if they encountered you, they would try to conquer
you," said Pike. "As would any number of
warlike races that the Federation knows of. And if that
happened, then you would have the chance to experience firsthand
just how different the Klingons and the Federation are from
each other."
Zyo nodded slightly. "You are no doubt
correct."
"They would try to conquer you," Boyce 103
put in to bolster what his captain was saying.
With an agreeable smile Zyo said, "They would
try. But they would undoubtedly run into ...
trouble."

"We've got trouble."
Number One had just emerged onto the bridge,
and Spock was right behind her. Viola, who had
stepped in to monitor the science station while
Spock was gone, moved aside as Spock came
forward. "Specify," Spock said. Number
One went to the command chair to take her place, but
her full attention was on Viola.
"The rift is closing," said Viola.
"But it hasn't been seventy-two hours,"
said Number One. "It's been ..."
"Forty-eight point nine," Spock told
her. "It would appear that our passage through the
temporal ripple, and the interaction with our own time
warp field, accelerated the rift's
instability."
"Time to full closure?"
Spock began to do mental calculations, and then
to make sure he said, "Computer ..."
"Working," said the computer.
Number One and Spock looked at each
other, and Number One actually smiled before
covering it quickly.
The computer's voice caught everyone on the
bridge--withthe exception of those who had installed
it--completely off-guard. They looked in
astonishment at one another and then at the air from which
the voice had seemed to emerge. The crew knew
that Spock and Number One had been hard at work
at updating the computer, but the actuality was something
else again.
"Time until closure of rift," said
Spock.
"Thirty-two minutes," announced the
computer, which jibed perfectly with what Spock had
determined.
"Raise the landing party," said Number One
quickly. "We've got to get out of here. Now."

"So tell me about your system of government,"
said Pike.
"There isn't all that much to tell," replied
Zyo. "It's fairly simple. We have a
advisory board, and we attend to what they tell
us to do." 105
"But you must have some influence for the contact with us to have
been made."
"Some influence, yes," said Zyo modestly.
"Can we meet this advisory board?"
"I'm afraid that's--"
Pike's communicator suddenly beeped, and
he pulled it out. "Captain here."
"Captain," came Number One's voice,
laced with urgency. "The rift is closing."
Pike looked in surprised betrayal at
Zyo, but he could immediately see from the
Calligarian's expression that it was just as much a
surprise to him. "You must leave immediately," said
Zyo. "Otherwise--"
"How long have we got?" Pike demanded.
"Thirty-one minutes, eleven seconds,"
came Spock's voice.
"Contact the rest of the landing party," said Pike
immediately. "Beam everyone back aboard now."
"We've already brought back Chief Barry,"
said Number One. "But we have been unable
to raise Mr. Tyler."
Pike looked at Zyo in alarm. "Where's
my navigator?" he demanded.
Zyo frowned a moment, and then his face
cleared. "Yes ... of course. He's with my
daughter, as I recall. But I see no
cause for concern. He's in perfectly good
hands."

Macro's hands were firmly on Tyler, shoving
his entire body under the water. Tyler was pounding in
futility on Macro's strong arms and was
wondering obliquely just what he had to do to get the
infuriated Calligarian to let go of him.
He thought he heard his communicator beeping
at him, and then it was knocked free of his belt,
sinking to the silty bottom of the lake.
Frantically, his lungs screaming for air and
getting only water in response, Tyler felt
the side of Macro's hand brush against his mouth.
He bared his teeth and clamped down with everything he
had. To his satisfaction, he heard Macro
yowl in pain, and he managed to kick free of the
Calligarian 's grip. He surfaced,
sputtering and coughing up water. He was still standing
knee-deep in water, though, and Macro was
lurching toward him again.
Suddenly the world shifted once more, and they were
standing on a desert plain. Ecma was in 107
the process of pulling her clothes on, and she was
saying angrily to Macro, "Try to drown him
now, you idiot."
Tyler was on his hands and knees, still violently
coughing up water. Nearby was his communicator,
beeping insistently. Tyler started to roll over
to get to it, and that was when Macro came toward him
and stepped on the communicator. His large foot
crushed the device into small pieces.

"Still no response from Tyler," Number One
said as Pike walked onto the Enterprise
bridge. "Everyone else is aboard." She
rose from the command chair. "Nineteen minutes
to rift closure."
Pike immediately took his place in the chair and
said "Bridge to Engineering. Prepare
hyperdrive, time warp factor two." He
turned to Number One. "Lay in a course for the
rift."
Viola, who had now stepped in at navigation,
said what was on the mind of everyone on the bridge.
"But sir ... Mr. Tyler ..."
"Give me an open channel to the
Calligar," said Pike. The moment he was on
he said, "Zyo. This is Captain Pike. We
have still not ascertained the location of Lieutenant
Jos@e Tyler. It is imperative that he be
found within"--he paused--?fifteen minutes.
Otherwise there may be serious consequences that would
be regrettable for all concerned."

Tyler got to his feet quickly and ducked under
Macro's swing, which brought the Calligarian off
balance. Tyler used the moment to his advantage
and drove a furious mix of rights and lefts
to Macro's gut. Fueled by anger and, to a
certain degree, mortification, Tyler let
himself be pumped up by it, let it drive him. He
felt Macro stagger under the assault, and before the
surprised Calligarian could retaliate,
Tyler drove a left hook to Macro's chin that
knocked him flat.
Macro seemed stunned by the sudden turnaround,
and Ecma stood over him with satisfaction in her
voice, saying, "I hope you feel like a
complete fool, Macro. You certainly deserve
to."
"I would tend to agree," Tyler said
urgently, picking at the smashed bits 109
of his communicator. "But right now I think I'd
better find out what they wanted on the
Enterprise. It could be important."

"Nine minutes, sir," said Spock.
Pike was a block of wood, staring at the
Caligarian homeworld.
"Energize phasers," he said quietly.
Number One turned to him in surprise.
"Sir?"
"Do it," he said.
She turned back and, a moment later,
announced, "Energizing phasers."
"Give me an open channel," he said once
more, and once he had it he said, "Attention,
Calligar. You have one of my people. You will return
him immediately, or I shall be forced to interpret this as a
hostile action and open fire on one of your
satellites."
Within seconds the image of a hurt-looking
Zyo was on the screen. "Captain," he said,
sounding disappointed, "do you truly think threats are
necessary?"
"They may be," said Pike. "One of my men
is missing and you are endangering our ability
to return to our sector of the galaxy."
Zyo shook his head. "It is very clear to me,
Captain, that you and yours still have a way to go before we
can be entirely comfortable with expanded contact. You
automatically assume there is some sort of
hostile intention. Such an attitude would
indicate that, despite your protestations of
peaceful and elevated intent, you are still
fundamentally warlike enough to see attacks where none
are planned."
"What I see," said Pike, "is time
slipping away. And if you cause me to lose a
crew member and make me leave someone behind, you
are going to have a physical manifestation of my
displeasure."
"I understand fully, Captain," said Zyo.
"Perhaps ... I understand more than you wish. Do not be
concerned. I shall attend to this personally."

Ecma and Tyler emerged from the holography
center in time to see an extremely annoyed
Zyo standing just outside. His arms were folded across
his chest, and he said, "Might I ask what you've
been about?"
"I was just showing the lieutenant the 111
center," she said ingenuously. Tyler smiled
gamely.
"I can imagine. Ecma, we'll talk of this
later. Lieutenant, you must depart immediately."
"What?" Ecma looked horrified.
"What? But ... but why?"
"There's no time to discuss this," said Zyo. "The
transport center is nearby. We must go
immediately. Your captain was quite emphatic."
"But--"
"Later, Ecma," said Zyo. "Lieutenant
... now."
Macro, looking sullen and angry, emerged from
the holocenter as well. His petulant gaze
fell on Tyler, but he said nothing.
Ecma took his arm urgently.
"Lieutenant, stay with me. There's so much we
could--"
But he was pulled away from her as Zyo brought
him forcefully to the building designated as the
transport center. Ecma followed, Macro
trailing behind.
They entered the smallish building, and Tyler
saw almost nothing extraordinary about it. There
seemed to be no controls, no pads, no nothing.
Just the empty room that occupied the entirety of the
building. Zyo quickly guided him to the middle of the
room and then stepped back, saying, "My
regards to your captain."
Tyler was looking at Ecma's saddened eyes.
This was all so insane. He had just met her. He
couldn't have such strong feelings for her ... hell,
who was he kidding? Of course he could. He was The
Latin Lover, after all. But this felt ...
different. If ...
"Come with me," he called to her.
Her eyes widened, but before she could say anything
Zyo answered, "That is impossible."
"But--"
"Good-bye, Lieutenant," said Zyo.
Macro had entered and was standing just behind Ecma.
The world of the Calligar began to fade out before
Tyler's eyes, and he saw Ecma's stricken
expression.
And he saw Macro reaching around from behind Ecma
and beginning to fondle her. Her jaw moved
tightly, but she did nothing to stop him. Zyo
saw none of it.
Jos@e Tyler let out a shriek of fury and
lunged toward them, and the next thing he 113
knew he was hurtling across the Enterprise
transporter room and smashing into the console of
Chief Piticairn, who let out a yelp of
astonishment.
"Send me back!" he snarled.
"Like hell!" retorted Pitcairn as he
punched his communications grid. "Bridge, this is
the transporter room. Same thing as before--beams
were activated by outside agencies. Lieutenant
Tyler just materialized."
Tyler immediately bolted from the transporter
room and made it up to the bridge just as the
Enterprise was swinging around and aiming itself straight
toward the rift.
"Captain, you've got to send me back!" said
Tyler.
Pike stared at him as if he'd grown a
third eye. "Get to your post."
"One minute, fifteen seconds," said
Spock.
"Captain, it's an emergency. Ecma
is--"
"ationow." The air fairly crackled with
Pike's cold fury at not getting instant
obedience.
Tyler was seething as well, but there was no way
he was going to stand up to his captain. His every move
carefully controlled, he went to his navigation
station, Viola getting out of the way as quickly as he
could.
"One minute," Spock announced.
"Fifty-nine, fifty-eight--"
"Hyperdrive on line," said Number One.
"Captain, the rift is closing at an
accelerated rate," said Spock. "Revising
countdown--twenty-nine, twenty-eight--"
The rift, its edges coruscating, became more
narrow with each passing second.
"Engage!" shouted Pike.
The Enterprise surged forward and a split
instant later had vaulted into the rift.
Time rippled and shifted about them once more, even
more intense than before, and Pike felt as if his
mind were being torn apart. His gaze was riveted to the
viewscreen, the universe a shimmering haze of
twisting and spiraling colors.
They seemed to snap together, take on a shape
that was remarkably familiar. And he saw something
... saw something impossible.
It was a starship rushing toward them in a 115
dazzling burst of color that enveloped it, coming from
within and without. Another starship, and they were on a
direct collision course.
Pike tried to shout an order, but he couldn't
hear anything over the roaring around him, the roaring of
time, the roaring of the blood in his head. He
didn't know if anyone else could see what was
coming toward them, knew that it was too late even if
they could because it was here, it was here. ...
And then it was gone.
And he realized, in a moment of insane
clarity, that it had been them ... them ... some
sort of bizarre afterimage. Them on their way
to where they had come from. An old song flitted through
his mind--?Hello, I Must Be Going."
And then they were gone. Or rather, they were back. The
world snapped into glorious normalcy, the stars
acquiring their usual alignment.
"Hard about!" shouted Pike, and Number One,
with a steady hand, brought the ship around. They were just in
time to see the rift vanish.
Tyler's hands tightened on the controls at
navigation. There was no sign of the temporal
distortion ever having been there.
From behind him he heard Pike say, "Mr.
Tyler."
Slowly, steeling himself, Tyler turned in his
chair and said evenly, "Yes, sir."
Pike seemed to contemplate him for an
eternity, although it was in fact only a few
seconds. And then he said, quite simply, "Set
course for Vega."
Tyler's jaw fell for just a moment, and then he
quickly composed himself and said, "Yes, sir."
"And Mr. Tyler."
"Yes, sir."
"I expect a full report on my desk
within three hours. A full report, Mr.
Tyler."
Tyler nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."
"That goes for all of you," he said, turning to the
rest of the bridge crew. "Starfleet is going
to want points of view from al l concerned here. This
was a first contact, and we're going to play this by the
book. Mr. Spock, Number One ... how
are those computer components going?"
Number One inclined her head slightly in
Spock's direction, indicating that the junior
officer was welcome to respond. For answer,
Spock said, "Computer ..." 117
"Working."
"Report status of computer and bridge."
"All systems are functioning normally.
Course has presently been set for Vega
IX. Awaiting order from captain."
Spock turned in his chair and looked
patiently at Pike. Pike, too experienced
to let his astonishment show, merely nodded. He
seemed to be frowning, though, as he said
"Hyperdrive, time warp factor one.
Engage."
As the Enterprise catapulted
into hyperdrive Spock could not help but ask,
"Captain, is everything in order? You seem--"
"It's the computer voice," said Pike.
"Somehow it seems famil--" Then his eyes
widened, and he turned in his chair towards his first
officer. "Number One ... the computer. That was
your voice."
"Yes, sir," said Number One.
"You programmed the computer with your voice?"
he said incredulously.
"You may change it when we reach Starbase if
you desire," she said flatly.
"No. No, not at all," he said. "I had
no intention of doing so. I was just curious as to why
you used your voice as the pattern for the
Enterprise computer. It would hardly have been an
arbitrary selection, and I can't see you being vain
enough to--"
"It had nothing to do with vanity, sir," said
Number One crisply. "I wished to use a
voice that commanded respect."
"I see," said Pike.
"In addition," continued Number One,
"Studies have proven that female voices cut
through noise with greater efficiency than male
voices."
"So you're saying female voices get more
attention."
"Correct, sir."
"That being the case," said Pike, "you'd think
there'd be more female commanders."
Slowly Number One turned in her chair and
said, "Yes, sir. I would."
"Should I be concerned about my command future,
Number One, vis @a vis your ambitions?"
"No, sir."
"Good."
"I'll be wanting a bigger ship, 119
sir."
He watched her for a good long time after that to see
if he could catch a hint of a smile.
But he never did.




















SECOND CONTACT

Chapter Eight

"All systems functioning normally," said the
voice of Number One.
Mr. Spock turned away from his science station
and said, "Captain, computer diagnostic checks
are completed. All systems functioning
normally."
The captain turned in his command chair and
smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Now
that's a relief," he said with a sigh. "With all the
problems we've been having recently, it's good
to know that something is up to snuff around here."
Spock merely inclined his head slightly in
deference and then added, "Certainly the arrival of
Dr. Daystrom would have been diminished if the
computer had been malfunctioning."
Captain James t. Kirk stood and
stretched, once again regretting the loss of his
old chair. It had had a far more cushiony
feeling to it, and the squared-off armrests had been more
comfortable than the narrow ones on this new chair.
Why was it that people felt an overwhelming need
to improve things that needed no improving? 121
As much as was occasionally gained from such things, far more
was lost.
"Considering Dr. Daystrom's last visit with
us," observed Kirk, "I would hardly think that
he'd care to experience computer malfunctions
again." He took a step forward, flexing his arms
back. "Mr. Sulu, time until we
rendezvous with the transport?"
"Nineteen hours, sir," said Sulu
briskly.
"Good. In that case, I'll attend to our other
guests for a--"
The turbolift door hissed open. This drew
immediate attention, since all authorized bridge
personnel were already on duty.
The commodore stood there in the open doorway,
youthful excitement in his face. He was grinning
openly. His was the type of face that looked
better when it was grinning; forced severity of manner
did not suit him at all. Every time the commodore
endeavored to be all business, it seemed to Kirk
that he was, in fact, doing his best to pretend--
that, indeed, he might even be trying to imitate
someone.
Next to him was McCoy, who called out, "The
commodore passed his physical with flying
colors, Captain. Then he asked if he could
see the bridge, and I thought--"
"By all means," said Kirk, and he waited
for the elder officer to walk out of the turbolift.
But the commodore simply stood there, staring at
the bridge as if in a trance.
"Commodore Tyler," said Kirk, catching the
older man's glance.
Tyler turned to look at Kirk. He was a
bit heavyset but still had the look of a man who
worked out. His graying hair was quite thin on top. But
he had a general air of youthfulness, accentuated
by the fact that he seemed to enjoy flirting with the
female officers whenever he had the chance. "Yes,
Captain."
Kirk gestured in a "come on in" manner.
"Don't just stand there, sir. Feel free."
Tyler took a tentative step in and then
walked fully onto the bridge. The
turbolift hissed shut behind him as McCoy also
stepped out. He glanced to his left, looking at
something that didn't appear to be there, and then said,
"We always had a security man posted right there.
Valdini, I think his name was. It was 123
the damnedest thing--he always had this self-conscious
smile on his face. I think he felt
foolish, standing there for no damned good reason other
than protocol." He turned toward Spock and
said, "You remember him, Mr. Spock?"
"Yes, sir," said Spock.
"You know what ever happened to him?"
"He was killed in action on Argus X, on
stardate 3619.2"
"Oh." That seemed to take the wind out of
Tyler's sails for a moment, and then he gave a
small sigh. "You try and make sense out of
things, and all you encounter is more senselessness."
He walked down slowly across the bridge,
looking around in wonderment. "You know ... it's
amazing how different it all looks ... and yet
how much the same. The two-tier setup, the
positioning of the stations--t's all just as it was in my
day. It seems so primitive now, the things that
we considered to be so advanced. And who knows what
there'll be in the future, when this ship is considered
an antique."
"There are some"--Kirk cast a wry eye at
Spock--?who consider her an antique right now.
Along with her crew."
"Ohh," scoffed Tyler, "I hadn't heard
anything like that. Have you, Spock?"
"Yes, sir," said Spock flatly.
Tyler studied Spock a moment, taking in the
unequivocal manner in which he spoke and even the
slightly imperious way in which he surveyed the
others on the bridge. "You know, Spock ... you
used to smile a lot more."
McCoy looked astounded. "You're joking.
Spock? What in the world would he have to smile
about?"
"Undoubtedly, Doctor," said Spock
dryly, "the fact that you had not yet been
assigned to the Enterprise was something of a
consideration."
Tyler looked surprised and said to Kirk with
superb feigned indignation, "Captain, I'm
surprised. Your officers squabbling with each other
in front of other crew people--it's most
undignified. Don't you think?"
Kirk smiled at that. "In my opinion,
Commodore," he said in a stage whisper, "I
think that the doctor and Mr. Spock have maintained
their "squabbling"' more out of habit than anything
else. Oh, long ago there may have been 125
actual heat between the two of them, like two
determined boxers going around and around, each
refusing to fall. Nowadays, though, I think they
keep at it because ... well ... it's expected.
Rather than trying to convince each other of the
respective superiority of their
philosophical positions, they use each other
as mental emery boards to keep their wits sharp."
McCoy and Spock stared at Kirk, who
smiled innocently. Uhura, Chekhov, and
Sulu stared determinedly at their stations, trying not
to laugh out loud.
"Are you quite through?" asked McCoy.
"I think so."
"Then I will thank you," he said stiffly,
"to play amateur psychologist on your own
time."
"This is my bridge," replied Kirk, "on
my ship. This is my own time. And that
"amateur psychologist"' comment--y wound me,
Bones. After all ... dammit, Bones, I'm
a captain, not a doctor."
"Then take care to remember that," said
McCoy stiffly, and he pivoted on his heel and
walked off the bridge. But just as the turbolift
door shut Kirk heard an unmistakable
guffaw.

Kirk walked past the crew lounge and heard,
to his surprise, the unique strumming of the
Vulcan lyre. It had been ages since he'd
heard that, it seemed, and he stepped in to discover
Spock seated there, his long fingers moving
smoothly over the strings and rendering delicate,
haunting melodies. All around him were crew
members, ensigns and junior-grade
lieutenants. Kirk grinned at that. Most of
these officers were learning how to walk and feed themselves,
or hadn't even been born--hell, their parents
might not have even met, Kirk realized, let's
be honest--the first time that Spock picked up a
Vulcan lyre and filled the rec room of a ship
named Enterprise with the eerie strains of its
music.
The young officers seemed entranced by it, and
Kirk couldn't blame them. It was somewhat
spellbinding. Oddly, Kirk was old-fashioned
enough to prefer a tune that he could hum, and he had
yet to be able to distinguish a particular song. It
all seemed a rather electric agglomeration 127
of notes--and yet, somehow, it always managed to work
as a single melody.
Kirk had learned that the best way
to appreciate the music of the Vulcan harp was
on a subliminal level. Instead of concentrating
on the music he allowed his mind to wander, letting
it be carried where ver the notes might take it. It
was (dare he say it?) fascinating that Vulcan
music could stir so many emotions, especially
since Vulcan philosophy was so tightly
geared in the other direction.
He drifted along on the chords, let thoughts
and images waft free-form through his mind. He
never saw the same thing twice when he listened
to Spock's music. Sometimes the faces of former
lovers would float before him, and sometimes he found
himself in a simpler time, home, in the fields of
Iowa, gazing longingly at the skies and waiting for
that far-off time when he could apply to the academy.
How ironic ... once again, just as it had been
when he was a child, the notion of the academy was far off
... but far off in the opposite direction--in the
past.
This time, though, he pictured nothing from his past,
or at least no single event. Instead he saw
what his past had been for so long, and what his
present was, and the future. Every one of the notes
that drifted from Spock's harp was there in his mind as
the twinkling of a single star.
Stars hadn't twinkled for him in quite some time. That
was the first thing that he had noticed when he made it
into space--the twinkling was the distortion through the
earth's atmosphere, but out of the confines of that
atmosphere the stars were individual, steady and
unblinking beacons. And each beacon was calling
to him individually, summoning him. That had been
much of what had driven him through his existence. Every
single star was an invitation, a personal invitation
to him, James t. Kirk. And it would be the
height of rudeness to refuse such an unselfish,
unqualified invitation.
And so he had spent his life accepting those
invitations, one after the other. And he would continue
to accept them until his final day, when he would
simply go to join them forever.
That was when the music ended.
For a moment Kirk felt a bit disoriented, which
was par for the course when he was getting really
involved with Vulcan music. He cleared his
throat and joined in the applause that was 129
already sounding throughout the rec room.
Then Kirk glanced over to one side and
noticed Commodore Jos@e Tyler, seated against
a wall. His face was wet with tears, and at first
he wasn't applauding, apparently caught up
in whatever was on his mind. Then he seemed to pull
himself together and, wiping the tears away, joined in the
enthusiasm.
Spock acknowledged the applause with a slight
nod of his head and then looked up. Uhura was
hanging toward the back of the room, smiling and
no.ing in appreciation.
His fingers began to move across the strings again, and
this time the opening notes of the tune seemed a bit
more sprightly than the soulful tune that he'd played
earlier. And then, to Kirk's surprise, he
heard Uhura begin to sing along with it, her voice
arcing in her lovely mezzosoprano. Kirk
realized, from the confidence with which she sang, that she
knew this tune, perhaps had sung it along with
Spock sometime in the past.
The ^ws, though, were clearly not part of any
traditional Vulcan song. It might very well
have been that Uhura was making it up on the spot.
But if she was, she was doing a marvelous job.
She circled Spock in a playful, tigerish
fashion, moving with lithe confidence, and she sang,


There was a man and ship of fame,
We lost them both, but back they came,
And women don't dare breathe their name,
They'll turn their charm on you. ...
The man's still got those sexy ears,
In alien love, he has no peers,
He's not slowed down by extra years,
The ship brings him to you. ...

Oh girls in space be wary, be wary, be
wary
Girls in space be wary, You know not what
he'll do.

Uhura laughed lightly, and another round of
applause sounded in the rec room. Kirk
watched, however, as Tyler got up and, smiling
gamely, made his way out. After hesitating a
moment Kirk got up and went after him.
He found Tyler walking down the hallway,
lost in thought, and quickly matched his 131
stride. "Very moving music, wouldn't you say,
Commodore?" he asked.
"Oh," said Tyler, unquestionably. In my
case, it moved me right out of the rec room. He
glanced sideways at Kirk. "It's
fascinating to see how different captains of the
Enterprise handle their crew. Pike was much more
of a hardnose than you are, Kirk. You don't
mind my comparing the two of you, do you?"
"I have nothing but admiration for Christopher
Pike," said Kirk easily.
"You seem far more accessible than he. The
crew clearly respects you, but you don't seem
to feel the need to drill in the concept of spit and
polish. It makes for a somewhat relaxed
atmosphere, but there's no interference with
professionalism and efficiency. Indeed, it
probably helps. It's healthier. Now
Pike, well"--he whistled--?he ran a tight
ship, Pike did," said Tyler. "One of the
tightest I've ever seen. He had a very
military bearing, more so than anyone else in the
fleet. On occasion he would try to be "one of the
crew."' Never worked. And he would always retreat
to his more formal attitude. He was comfortable that
way. His first officer was just like him--even worse,
although I don't mean that in a negative sense.
She and he, two of a kind. There were rumors about
them, you know."
"Rumors?" asked Kirk with an amused
grin.
"About how they were actually ... well, never
mind." Tyler gave a dismissive wave.
"It's disrespectful, I suppose, even
to talk about it."
"Indeed," Kirk said gravely. Then he
thought about it and said, "Actually, as much as I
admire Chris Pike, I have a hard time
picturing him trying to let down his hair. What
type of things did he do?"
"Well ... once he boxed with me."
"Really? How'd you do?"
"Oh ... it was just a sparring match. I think
it ended in a tie, actually. Yes, I
remember," said Tyler. "Never really got a
clean shot in. He was just too good."
"I can imagine."
They got to Tyler's quarters, and Kirk
paused outside. "Commodore ... is everything
all right?" 133
Tyler fixed him with a level gaze, his hands
draped behind his back. "How do you mean,
Captain?"
"You seemed ... upset before.
"Oh. t. The ..." He cleared his throat
loudly and said, "Just remembering a young woman that
I left behind. You ever get misty-eyed for the women
that you couldn't make a part of your life?"
"Oh, yes, sir," said Kirk.
"There you are, then."
"If I may ask ... when was the last time you
saw her? Do you remember?"
"I most certainly do. It was 33.4 years
ago."
"Thirty-three point ..." Kirk frowned.
"Commodore, that's the last time the rift opened.
The rift that's our destination ..."
"I'm quite aware of that, Captain."
"And you," Kirk said slowly, beginning to understand,
"requested that you be assigned to attend the
re-opening of the rift, based on your previous
experience the last time the rift opened."
"Keep going, Captain," said Tyler.
"You've almost got it."
"The woman you left behind ... Commodore, is
she--"
"One of the Calligar, yes." He stepped
into his cabin. He smiled and said as the door
closed, "Stimulating, isn't it?"

Chapter Nine

The transport ship Secord pulled within
range of the Enterprise right on schedule,
prompting Kirk and his senior officers to head
down to the transporter room to greet them.
To Kirk it was something of an o.ity--in a couple
of respects, almost old home week.
Stepping into the turbolift with Spock and
McCoy, Kirk said briskly,
"Transporter room." Then he continued, to neither
of them in particular, "You know, I find much of this
situation to be extremely ironic."
"First psychiatrist, now philosopher," said
McCoy dourly. "The skills you're picking
up in your old age are absolutely amazing."
"Don't you want to hear why it's ironic?"
asked Kirk. He almost sounded hurt.
"Not especially," McCoy informed him.
He turned to Spock. Spock 135
merely looked at him impassively.
"All right, I'll tell you," said Kirk.
McCoy sighed.
"It's ironic," Kirk said, "that here we
are, going to explore a rift in space. A
division, a separation. And we are doing so with the
aid of several people with whom we've had our own
personal rifts Ambassador Robert
Fox, with whom we had sharp disagreements that almost
resulted in all of us getting killed; Dr.
Richard Daystrom, whose drive for success
caused him to suffer a separation, not only from himself,
but from reality, for a time; and Commodore Jos@e
Tyler, officer from an Enterprise almost from
another time, who has been separated from a
particularly interesting female he left behind on
the other side of the rift. Mr. Spock, wouldn't
you consider that ironic?"
"No, sir."
"Well, then, how would you characterize it?"
The turbolift doors opened, and Spock
faced his captain. "Contrived," replied the
Vulcan. Then he and McCoy walked on
ahead.
Kirk followed, shaking his head slowly in
disappointed disgust. "Absolutely no sense of
drama," he murmured.

Scotty was waiting for them in the transporter
room, handling the transporter himself; as was his
habit when VIP'S were being brought aboard. He
glanced at the young woman who normally operated the
transporter and said briskly, "Now ye be
sure to watch an expert at work, Tooch."
"Yes, sir," said Tooch. Her long brown
hair swung around her shoulders, and the young engineer
whose heart still beat in Scotty's chest felt a
moment's stirring. Then, inwardly, he sighed.
"Problem, Mr. Scott?" asked Kirk.
Tooch was busying herself checking the programmed
transporter patterns of the individuals coming
aboard, and Scotty took a moment to say
softly to the captain, "All the distances we
travel, and there's no greater distance than age.
Isn't that ironic?"
Kirk looked triumphantly at Spock and
McCoy, but they hadn't heard. He reminded
hims elf to mention it to them later.
"The Secord is signaling readiness," said
Tooch. 137
"Bring them aboard, Mr. Scott."
"Aye, sir," said Scotty, and he
manipulated the controls with practiced ease.
The transporter platform began to shimmer, and
moments later several familiar--anda couple of
unfamiliar--forms appeared on the transporter
platform.
The men who were familiar looked somewhat older,
somewhat more tired, reflected Kirk; but then again,
that description could certainly be applied to anyone
else in the room, with the exception of Tooch.
Distance indeed.
Kirk stepped forward and extended a hand.
"Ambassador Fox," he said.
Fox stepped down from the platform and shook
Kirk's hand firmly. When Fox had been a
younger man the gray in his hair looked distinguished.
Now it just looked old. But he still carried himself
well, and the additional years in the diplomatic
corps had only added to his general air of
self-confidence.
"Captain Kirk," he replied formally. "It
has been a long time."
"It certainly has."
Fox quickly surveyed McCoy, Spock, and
Scotty. "And the same command crew, I see."
"Why fiddle with perfection?" asked Kirk.
"Indeed. A few more gray hairs all around,
but none of us is spared that. It is good to see you
again, Captain. I look forward to working with you and
your extremely capable people."
"Thank you." Considering the disdain and arrogance with
which Fox had treated them last time out in the business
with Eminiar VII, this was something of a turnaround.
Fox gestured toward a tall, slightly
frail-looking Andorian. "This is Thak,
Andorian charg@e do'affaires, and also one of their
top scientists."
Thak bowed slightly at the waist and spoke in
the softly modulated, faintly lisping voice that
effectively covered the fact that Andorians were
among the most deadly warriors in the Federation.
"It is most satisfying to meet you, Captain
Kirk. And your officers."
"And this," continued Fox, "is Shondar
Dorkin, a top Tellarite expert on
societal development."
Shondar Dorkin did not even bother to say
anything but merely grunted as introductions were
made. Dorkin and Thak had their 139
respective assistants with them, and both of them
seemed to ignore their assistants entirely.
One individual remained on the transporter
platform. He stood tall and impassive, staring
fixedly ahead. He was dressed much the same as
Kirk remembered him from those many years ago, but
somehow he seemed ... shorter. Yes, that was it.
His shoulders were stooped with age, and perhaps something more.
When Kirk had last seen him he had carried
himself with overwhelming dignity. That seemed to have been
leached out of him.
"And," said Ambassador Fox, "I'm
sure you remember Dr. Richard Daystrom."
"Of course. Doctor Daystrom." Kirk
proffered his hand once more.
Daystrom stared at it as if Kirk had tossed
him an obscene gesture. Then, very slowly, he
reached up and shook Kirk's hand. There was no
firmness to the grip, and Daystrom's palm felt
clammy.
"Captain," began Daystrom, his voice still a
strong, basso tone. But then he faltered, as if
he'd wanted to say something but couldn't recall
what it was.
Kirk immediately said, "You remember Mr.
Spock and Dr. McCoy," and he put just enough
emphasis on the latter name to subtly cue the
Enterprise chief medical officer that he
wanted his immediate attention to this. McCoy was
extremely prompt on the uptake and said,
"Dr. Daystrom, it's good to see you again."
Daystrom smiled gamely, and there was so much
pain in that smile that it made Kirk ache. But
he responded immediately to McCoy's practiced
bedside manner and visibly relaxed.
"You look tired, Doctor Daystrom,"
McCoy continued.
"Yes ... yes," rumbled Daystrom, rubbing
his forehead. "It has been a very long trip, and
I am ... fatigued."
"We have personnel just outside to show all of you
to your quarters," said Kirk. He raised his
voice slightly, addressing everyone in the
transporter room. "As soon as the Secord
is out of range we will get underway to our
destination. We estimate arrival in--"
"Twenty-six point three hours," said
Spock briskly.
"So we will have a briefing at fourteen hundred
hours," Kirk continued, "to make sure 141
that everyone is up-to-date and we all know our
respective jobs."
"Are you implying that I cannot do my assigned
duties?" demanded Shondar Dorkin gruffly.
Kirk kept his face impassive, long
practice in dealing with Tellarites serving him
well. "No, Shondar," he said, addressing the
Tellarite by his title. "I am concerned that
we all know one another's parameters, so that none
of us interferes with you in your most important
activities."
His voice was carefully neutral, and the
Tellarite did not notice the faint sarcasm
at all, because one man's sarcasm was a
Tellarite's mark of respect. "Good," said
Shondar. "That is an excellent way
to proceed."
"I'm glad you approve," replied Kirk.
Moments later the exploratory team
assigned by the Federation to make contact with the
Calligarians was being escorted to quarters while
Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Scotty hung
back and watched them go.
"Bones," said Kirk softly, "I want you
to keep a close eye on Dr. Daystrom. His
nervous breakdown was years ago, and Starfleet
swore to me that he was fully recovered, but--"
"I studied his medical file before he came
aboard," said McCoy. "He's still as
brilliant a computer genius as ever. And he's
recovered from his breakdown, thanks to years of
therapy. But Jim, the human mind is a
delicate instrument. Once broken, it can be
repaired, but the cracks don't completely
heal. Especially, in my opinion, in someone with
such an unrelenting intellect as Dr.
Daystrom."
"You'll talk with him," said Kirk.
"I'll talk with him," affirmed McCoy.
Kirk nodded approvingly, and then after a moment
he said, "Considering all the difficulties we
had with Ambassador Fox the last time we worked
with him, he seemed extraordinarily sincere in his
praise for us."
"There is an old saying in the field of
diplomacy," said Spock.
"And that is?"
"The entire key to diplomacy is sincerity.
Once that can be faked, the rest is simple."
Kirk stared at Spock for a minute 143
and then looked at McCoy. He gestured with a
nod of his head in the direction of the Vulcan and
said to the doctor, "He's been hanging around you
too long. Mr. Spock"--he turned back
to his first officer--?I do believe you're
developing into a cynic."
"First a master of logic, and now a master of
cynicism," said McCoy.
Spock nodded his head slightly in
acknowledgment. "I have had excellent models
to study, Doctor. In that I have been most
fortunate."

Chapter Ten

Richard Daystrom sat in his quarters, staring
at the computer screen. He ran his fingers across it
gently, like a father caressing a child.
"Computer," he said softly.
"Working."
"Identify me."
"Dr. Richard Daystrom," said the computer.
"Inventor of the duotonic systems serving as the
basis for computer systems in use by Starfleet.
Winner of the Nobel and Z-Magnees
prizes."
He nodded. A perfectly decent short
ID. "And what have I done lately?" he
asked.
"Suffered mental collapse."
He grimaced. "And since then?"
"Recovered from mental collapse."
"And since then?"
"Specify."
"Have I done anything ..." He searched for the
^w. "Have I done anything noteworthy?"
The computer did not hesitate.
"Negative."
He sat there for a moment and then lowered his head,
tapping his temple against the edge of the computer
screen. He only registered in the back of his
mind that the door to his quarters had just opened.
"Hello, Doctor."
"Hello, Doctor," Daystrom replied
to McCoy. The edges of his mouth were tight.
"Checking up on me already?"
"I'm not checking up on you," said McCoy,
sitting opposite Daystrom.
Daystrom swung his chair around to face him.
"Not only are you checking up on me," 145
he said patiently, "but you're doing an
extraordinarily bad job of lying about it."
Rather than pursue it, McCoy took note
of the fact that the computer was on and asked, "What
are you doing?"
"I am running a diagnostic."
"On the computer?"
He smiled a smile of gentle
self-mockery. "No, Dr. McCoy. On
myself."
McCoy nodded at that. "And what is your
diagnosis?"
"Not a very flattering one."
It was curious, McCoy noted. When
Daystrom spoke it was in a low, flat
monotone. Moreover, he had developed the
nasty habit of not blinking for extraordinary
lengths of time. It was extremely disconcerting.
"Doctor," said McCoy softly, "I'm not
going to mince ^ws with you. I've studied your
medical file. You must have known I was going to do
that."
"You are the chief medical officer," rumbled
Daystrom. "I would have been shocked if you had
not."
Daystrom didn't sound to McCoy like someone
who was capable of being shocked right now. In fact,
he didn't sound like someone who was capable of
feeling anything at all. "Doctor--"
"Please," said Daystrom, raising a slender
hand. "We are both men of titles. Please
call me Richard. And I shall call you--"
"Dr. McCoy."
Daystrom blinked impassively, and McCoy
put a hand on Daystrom's forearm. "It was just a
joke," he said. But he felt the tension beneath
Daystrom's skin. The man was like a wound-up
spring. "Please ... call me Leonard. Or
Bones."
"Bones?"
He shrugged. "Nickname I picked up.
Depending who you talk to, it's short for either
"Sawbones"' or "Skin and Bones."'"
"I had a nickname in my younger days," said
Daystrom. Again he was speaking in that flat
monotone rather than sounding wistful over a memory
from his youth.
"Really? What?"
Daystrom looked at him with those dead eyes.
"The Freak." 147
"I see." McCoy look ed down and then up.
"Richard, what in hell are you doing here?"
"Starfleet is interested in the Calligar
computer technology, which is presently utterly
unexplored. In the first contact between the
Enterprise and the Calligar, they were not willing
to discuss their computer developments at all. It
is hoped in certain circles that their attitude
will have changed in the intervening decades. I am still
an expert, despite all my widely discussed
mental difficulties--I was written up, you
know, in a very esteemed medical journal."
"I know. I read it," said McCoy.
Daystrom raised a sardonic eyebrow.
"What did you think?"
"I thought the author was more interested in showing how
clever he was than in exploring the difficulties
that you suffered."
"I am a genius," said Daystrom. "That is
not a boast, that is a quantitatively
determined fact. The concept is that an advanced
thinker should be advanced enough so as not to have to worry about
such petty things as mental instability."
"Historically that concept has not been
consistently true," said McCoy.
"No, Leonard," said Daystrom gravely.
"It has not."
Daystrom rose and walked slowly across the
cabin as if pacing it out, and then back across to his
chair. He leaned against the back of it, the
knuckles of his hand working beneath the skin. His eyes,
if focused anywhere, were focused inward.
"You have no idea," he said softly, "how many
people were thrilled that I collapsed. How many people
rjcd in seeing it. When you are a genius you give
little care or thought to the people whom you surpass in your
drive to succeed. You see them as stumbling
blocks or obstacles to your goal. Nothing more
than that. And every time a genius surpasses one of the
lesser people he takes pride in the divine rightness
of that act. The strong survive by stepping on the
weak. You understand that, don't you, Leonard?
Genius is a great, crunching, giant maw,
chewing up sparks of humanity and spitting out the
fat, the dross, the gristle, and keeping for its
own meal the protein. The quality. The meat of
humanity."
"Richard--"
He turned that unblinking gaze on McCoy.
"I assure you, Leonard, there is 149
nothing wrong with me. I am merely waxing
philosophical. I am not a danger to this ship,
this crew, or this mission. My intellect is still
intact ... a most fortunate state of affairs,
considering that my family, personal fortune, and
personal pride are not." He seemed to give the
matter some more thought, and then he said, "Leonard,
are you concerned about me?"
McCoy pondered that and then said, "I'm
concerned for you. I'm trusting that you'll be able to do
your job. Your confidence may have deserted you--y
may be able to look at a half-full glass and
only see it as half empty--but I believe,
that you can handle whatever we come up against."
"That's good to know," said Daystrom. "That's very
good to know. Now ... if you wouldn't mind, I'd like
some time alone."
"All right." McCoy stood. "I want you
to know, though, that my door is always open."
"That sounds rather drafty," said Daystrom
evenly.
"Just so you know," said McCoy, and he walked
out of Daystrom's quarters. Daystrom waited
until McCoy's footfall faded.
Then he leaned forward and said, "Computer."
"Working," said the computer.
He interlaced his fingers and said, "Identify
me."
"Dr. Richard Daystrom," began the computer.
And Daystrom listened, his interwoven fingers
drawing tighter and tighter until he thought that his
knuckles were going to snap. And his chest began
to shake. ...

"He's going to be fine," McCoy said
to Kirk.
Kirk looked up from his desk. "Good," he
said. "That's good to know. The last thing we need on
something as delicate as this is for something to go wrong
with the mental balance of one of our key personnel.
I'd like you there for the briefing."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," said McCoy.

Chapter Eleven

"This is anomaly T-128--the rift," said
Kirk, "as it was nearly four decades ago--and
as it will soon be again."
On the viewscreen of the conference room the rift
was undulating in all its 151
trans-spatial glory. Kirk looked around the
room at all his senior officers, as well as the
team of diplomats and scientists that had been
assembled by the Federation.
All of them were studying the file footage with
extreme interest and fascination. Shondar Dorkin
leaned over and muttered something in gruff
Tellarian to his aide, who in turn laughed in
a grunting, piggish manner. It was probably
some off-color remark about the rift, and Kirk was
extremely pleased that he hadn't understood what
had just been said.
Kirk could not help but notice, however, that
Commodore Jos@e Tyler was watching it more
closely than anyone. Indeed, he seemed almost
spellbound by it. Kirk knew what was going through his
mind and prayed to whatever gods might be listening that
the commodore wasn't setting himself up for some
major disappointment.
"You have already been briefed as to the specifics
of the rift's makeup," said Kirk. "In less
than nine hours we will be at the site when the
rift opens sufficiently to allow access to the
Calligar."
"How do we know they'll be expecting us, or will
even want to see us?" said Sulu. He had read
up on the Calligar and knew how isolationist they
were capable of being.
"That has been prearranged," Spock said.
"When the rift is preparing to open it does not do
so immediately. There are certain "birthing pains,"'
if you will. A series of small, almost
undetectable fissures that are created as the
rift prepares to open fully. Virtually
pinpoints by our standards--however, more than
sufficient for communication via subspace radio
to be achieved."
"Starfleet has been communicating with the
Calligarffwas said Shondar Dorkin, suddenly
becoming excessively bombastic. "My
government was not informed of this! With beings of the
Calligarians' power there can be no exclusive
communication without threatening the very treaty and power
structure that--"
"The Tellarite government was informed,
Shondar," said Spock with infinite patience.
"Nonsense! You're lying!"
"Vulcans do not lie." Thak now spoke up
in his slightly creepy whisper. "For whatever
reason, it would seem they neglected 153
to tell you."
"ationeglected!" blustered Dorkin. "That's the
most--"
"Shondar," said Kirk, making sure to put the
accent on the second syllable, since to do
otherwise would have been seen as a lack of
respect. "Either your government was not informed due
to some oversight on the Federation's part, or else
you were not informed through some oversight on your
government's part. Either way, it would seem
to indicate that someone slipped up somewhere. Can we
all acknowledge that what we have here is a snafu
and move on?"
"A snahphu!" roared Shondar Dorkin.
To Kirk's astonishment Dorkin leapt to his
feet, knocking back his chair. "You dare! You
dare call me a snahphu! You realize,
Kirk, that with those ^ws you have brought about war?"
"What?!" Kirk was dumbfounded. He looked
around. "Will someone please--"
Ambassador Fox put up a hand and said,
"Captain, it's the ^w."
"What ^w? What--" And then Kirk's eyes
widened, and he realized. It was an effort not
to laugh, but it became a bit easier when he
reminded himself of just how serious the situation could
become. "Of course. Shondar--"
Dorkin was already heading toward the door when he
spun on his large heel and said, "What do you
want, earther?"
"The ^w spelled S-n-A-F-U--
pronounced in a manner similar to the Tellarite
insult and obscenity that you think I said--is an
acronym for "situation normal, all ...
fouled up."'"
"What?" said the confused Tellarite.
"What?"
Spock stepped in and said, "An old earth
term referring to the idea that constant chaos and
misunderstanding was a routine state of affairs."
"Having nothing to do with the ^w you think I said, which
was not even on my mind," said Kirk.
"Captain Kirk humbly, grovelingly
apologizes and requests forgiveness," Fox
said.
Kirk glanced at him in annoyance. "Well,
now, I didn't exactly--"
"Groveling apology accepted," grunted
Dorkin. He gestured for his aide to return
to his seat as well and sat down once 155
more.
"I'm glad that's settled," said Kirk,
forcing a smile. "Even in this day and age we can have
an occasional muck-up when--"
"A mukkup!" howled the Tellarite, leaping
to his feet. "How dare you--"
Mercifully, it was the Andorian who put a hand
on Dorkin's shoulder and, with surprisingly
steely strength, shoved him back down. "Listen,
if you please," he said firmly to the Shondar.
Kirk rolled his eyes. "I think the briefing
might go a bit more efficiently if everyone just
listened. Can we all do that?"
There were nods of assent around the table. Kirk
rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the pain he was
feeling, and he said, "I've totally lost
track. Where were we?"
"Subspace radio," said Chekov
helpfully.
"Ah, yes. Thank you. Via subspace
radio we were able to communicate with the Calligar and
affirm that they were indeed interested in maintaining
contact with us. Their stated reason and interest was the
same to keep apprised of our progress and, in
turn, give us some idea of what their
technology and society are like."
"Do you have any idea who it was that you
communicated with?" asked Tyler. "Was it
Zyo? The Master Builder?"
"My understanding is that no names were given," said
Kirk. "I have no idea who spoke on behalf
of the Calligar."
Tyler settled back in his chair, looking
thoughtful.
"When we arrive at the rift," Kirk
continued, "we will wait for it to open to sufficient
width and reach stability. We will not send anyone
through if I am not convinced that it will be safe for all
concerned." Again there was no.ing of heads, and Kirk
turned to Spock to indicate that the Science
officer should continue.
Spock picked up smoothly. "The
Enterprise will not pass through. It would appear that
the size of the vessel the last time was a major
factor in disrupting the rift and causing it
to close prematurely. Instead we will be sending
in a shuttlecraft mounted on a warp sled."
"Warp sled?" asked Fox. "Pardon my
ignorance, but ... being a diplomat, I'm not
up on all the latest developments." 157
"A warp sled," said Spock, "is a
small, self-contained warp propulsion unit that
can be attached to a non-warp vehicle. It is
capable of attaining warp three. However, the fuel
consumption is very rapid, and a warp sled-mounted
vehicle can only use that propulsion system for a
maximum of one half hour. After that the shuttle
would be entirely dependent on impulse."
"Which means it would be torn to shreds under the
temporal stress, of the rift," Scotty added.
"The last time we went through," Tyler said, "we
experienced all sorts of time fluctuations. It
was almost a living hell."
"Ah," Scotty said, "but that was the old
hyperdrive, sir. When the time warp and
hyperdrive systems were consolidated and refined
into the more modern warp drive, we also strengthened the
warp field that protects the Enterprise from
even the standard stress of faster-than-light
travel."
"And the warp drive units on the warp sled?"
"Same thing, sir," said Scotty. "So it
should be more than enough to protect the passengers from
temporal strain."
"Good," said Tyler, looking extremely
relieved. "I can't say I'd be particularly
eager to go through that again. Four decades later, and
it was still one of the most grueling things I've ever
experienced."
"How do we know this isn't some sort of
trick?" demanded Shondar Dorkin. "We're
sending our own people through and getting nothing in return.
You could sit here like dunces for seventy-two
hours, and then the rift could close while you
foolishly allowed it."
"Other members of the Federation Council said much
the same thing," admitted Kirk. "It would seem
we live in suspicious times."
"Not like the old days, eh, Captain?" said
Tyler, smiling.
Kirk nodded and then continued. "However,
communications with the Calligar already attended to that.
As part of their continued interest in us, and in keeping
with the spirit of interstellar harmony, the Calligar have
agreed to send through a representative as part of
an exchange program for the duration of the rift's
accessibility."
"A representative? As in one?" growled
Dorkin.
"Yes, sir," said Spock. 159
"One."
"We send in a group of top individuals,
and they send one?" Dorkin snorted. "What are
they saying? That one of them is worth the lot of
us?"
"In some instances," murmured Thak, "I would
be hard pressed to debate that notion."
Shondar Dorkin cast a suspicious glance
at him with his piglike eyes.
"We are, to all intents and purposes, the
guests of the Calligar," said Kirk. "They have
done nothing to give us the impression that they are
remotely duplicitous or planning any sort
of double cross."
"I do not like it," grumbled Dorkin.
"Tellarites like nothing in this galaxy, which
certainly fits in with how the galaxy views
Tellarites," said Thak.
Dorkin turned toward him, growling. "Did you
attempt to insult me, Andorian?"
Clearly exasperated, Thak said, "I did
not attempt to. I succeeded. Your incessant
belligerence is enough to drive a more sane being
to distraction."
"Thak," said Kirk warningly.
"And what would Andorians know of sanity?"
snapped Dorkin. "With your effete, lisping
mannerisms. You call yourselves a warrior race!
You wouldn't last five minutes in a young
Tellarite's manning ritual!"
"Shondar Dorkin." Kirk turned toward the
Tellarite. As captain it was his job to be as
diplomatic as possible, but this was reaching the
breaking point.
"Would you mind speaking in the other direction?"
said Thak pleasantly. "Your breath is wilting
my antennae."
Shondar Dorkin was immediately on his feet, as was
Thak, who moved with deceptive speed.
Ambassador Fox was sputtering in surprise.
Tyler was grinning widely, as if enjoying the first
good brouhaha he'd seen in some time. And Kirk
was about to dress both of them down when the
Enterprise captain was saved the trouble.
A stentorian voice boomed through the briefing
room. Commanding. Angry. Full of authority and
so deep that it almost made the furniture
vibrate.
"Sit down and shut up."
Heads snapped around to look upon 161
Richard Daystrom. He had not moved an inch from
his seat. His fingers were steepled, his eyes were
coldly burning, and he added, "ationow."
There was quiet for a moment, and then the Andorian
tilted his head slightly in that amazingly polite
manner that he had. He sat. Shondar Dorkin
remained standing for a moment, but the silence had come
over them like a shroud, and a moment later he had
settled into his seat as well.
As if there had been no disturbance at all,
Kirk continued. "Since the Calligar have always
dealt with us in a straightforward manner, we have no
reason to believe they are not doing so now. In
fact, the sending of a representative could
easily be viewed as a gesture of confidence to us,
to let us know that they are intending to continue that
tradition of honest dealings."
"Fine," grunted Dorkin. "Whatever you
say."
"The Calligar have even agreed to send their
representative through first," said Kirk. "As
soon as they have, we will send through our team, which will
consist of Mr. Spock, Commander Scott, Dr.
Daystrom, Commodore Tyler, Ambassador
Thak ..."
"Simply "Thak"' will do," said Thak. "I
dislike titles."
"Thak," continued Kirk, "and Shondar
Dorkin. We will remain in constant subspace
communication, checking in at hourly intervals.
Mr. Spock will be in charge. I assume you
all understand that. I don't care how highly
placed in your respective governments you are.
His ^w is final."
Tyler cleared his throat loudly, and Kirk
slowly turned to him. "Commodore, I am aware
that you are the ranking officer, but--"
Shaking his head, Tyler put up a hand and
smiled. "I was just kidding, Captain. This is an
Enterprise-coordinated mission. Since Mr.
Spock will be the ranking Enterprise officer on
the scene, I'm more than happy to acknowledge his
authority in this matter."
"Thank you, Commodore," said Kirk, not
ungratefully.
The exchange had had the appearance of
spontaneity, but actually it had been worked out
ahead of time between Kirk and Tyler. Kirk had
wanted the science officer to be the officer in charge
on site, especially considering the 163
makeup of the rest of the contact team. Tellarites
and Andorians tended to regard humans with a
mixture of amusement and contempt, but they had
nothing but respect--however grudging at times--forthe
remote and coldly logical Vulcans. It was
Kirk's gut instinct that things would go more smoothly
with Spock running the show, and to his relief,
Tyler had agreed.
"Ambassador Fox will be remaining here to act
as official Federation intermediary with the
Calligarian exchange representative.
Now, are there any other questions?" asked Kirk.
There was a quick glance around the table. No one
seemed to have anything to say.
"Yes. I have a question," Dorkin said. "I
wish to know how long you think you can continue to treat
Tellarites with such a lack of respect."
"You will generally find, Shondar," said Kirk
icily, "that when it comes to matters of respect,
one gets only as good as he gives."
Dorkin glowered at him for that, and suddenly his
head snapped around. "What was that?" he demanded.
His gaze was focused on Tyler, who had
murmured something to Scotty that had gotten a
wide grin from the engineer. But the Tellarites,
despite their apparently lack of auditory
apparatus, had rather sharp hearing. "What did you
say about me?" demanded Dorkin.
Scotty fired a warning glance at Tyler, but
Tyler didn't particularly seem to care.
Instead the commodore smiled a toothy grin and
said, "I said you were a jerk."
There was dead silence, and then, to the shock of all
concerned, the Tellarite actually seemed to
smile. He rose from his seat, pointed a furry
paw at Tyler, and said gravely, "Thank you."
Tyler looked at Scotty, and then back at
the Tellarite. "Don't mention it."
Shondar Dorkin turned and headed out of the
room, his aide at his side. He paused at the
door, gestured toward Tyler, and said to the room
at large, "Now there is a human who knows how
to address a Tellarite with respect."
He strode out into the corridor and away from the
briefing room, proud of his parting shot. And even
his sharp Tellarite hearing did not pick up the
gales of laughter that issued from behind the closed
conference room doors as he sauntered back
to his quarters.
Chapter Twelve 165

Montgomery Scott strode through the engine
room like a king surveying his kingdom. As he
walked past, each of the young engineering officers would
snap to slightly or suddenly cast a nervous
glance at the station monitors they were supposed
to be watching. It was widely acknowledged throughout
Engineering that Mr. Scott saw everything--
absolutely everything--t went on.
This was eminently true, and the ability was not
limited to machines. Scott walked past the warp
engine inductor monitor and suddenly took a
step back. Ensign Hicks was on duty, and
he looked a bit off. His eyes seemed
bleary, his concentration not what it should be--and even
when he was trying to concentrate for the benefit of
Mr. Scott, his focus seemed weak.
"Mr. Hicks," said Scotty sternly,
"turn around." Hicks did so, his back
ramrod-straight. "Yes , sir," he said.
Scotty eyed him carefully for a moment and then
leaned forward so that he was almost nose to nose with
him. Hicks was wavering ever so slightly, as if
he were a bush and a gentle breeze was causing him
to sway in the wind. Then Scotty remembered--
Hicks was to be the best man at the upcoming
marriage of Crewman Flaherty to Ensign
McGee, and last night had been the bachelor
party.
"Breathe at me, Mr. Hicks," he
ordered.
Hicks flinched and stammered, "Uh ... uh
... Mr. Scott, I don't see that--"
"Breathe. That's an order, lad," said
Scott in no uncertain terms.
With a grimace Hicks opened his mouth and puffed
tentatively in Scott's direction.
He wasn't drunk. Not by any means. Not
remotely. Not even close. But the trained
nostrils of Montgomery Scott could scent
alcohol on a man's breath anytime up to a
week or more after the beverage was consumed--at least,
that's what he told people.
But not just that alcohol had been consumed; oh,
no. Scotty's olfactory senses were even more
refined than that.
"Again," said Scotty. Hicks, clearly
unhappy, obeyed. Scotty looked him dead in
the eye. "So Mr. Chekov was there, eh?"
Hicks's eyes opened wide in 167
complete shock. Totally forgetting protocol,
he stammered, "How ... how did ..."
"Ach. Lad, I can catch a whiff of vodka
from twenty paces with the wind blowing against it. Mr.
Chekov was invited." He shook his head in mock
horror. The unspoken follow-up was clear And
I wasn't.
"Mr.--Mr. Chekov is Flaherty's
direct superior," Hicks said.
"And what am I to you?" demanded Scott. "A
pot roast?"
"Well, I--"
"I think that you're not entirely attending to your
duties with maximum efficiency," said
Scotty. "Would you say that working an extra
shift would be sufficient to bring you up to maximum
potential, Mr. Hicks?"
Hicks gulped. "Yes, sir."
"There's a lad."
Scotty turned and, to his surprise, saw
Commodore Tyler standing right behind him. "Ah.
Commodore. You've been through once on an
inspection. Can't get enough of where the real work in the
ship is done, eh?"
Hicks, grateful for the interruption, returned
to his duties as Scotty and Tyler began
to walk. "Far more impressive than in the old
days, isn't it?" said Scotty proudly. "The
more sophisticated the engines, the more room we need
to make 'em work properly. They've certainly
grown up, my bairns have."
"Remarkably complex apparatus."
"Complex, yes, but marvelously
self-sufficient. The equipment has so many
redundant check systems and self-maintenance
programs, why ... a blind man could be chief
engineer and not lose a whit of efficiency."
"I tend to think you're undercutting your own
influence and importance, Mr. Scott. According to the
captain, you do everything but tuck the engines in at
night."
"Well ... I have been known to read them a
story every now and then. If they've behaved themselves,
of course, and eaten all their vegetables."
But Tyler was looking at Scotty thoughtfully,
and now he was saying, "You know ... you seemed
familiar at the briefing yesterday, and now ...
I remember you now."
"Remember me, sir?" said Scotty.
"We didn't really interact all that 169
much," said Tyler. "I was on the bridge, you were
down in Engineering. But you ... ohhhh, yes.
How could I forget? Lieutenant J.G.
Montgomery Scott. From back on the
original Enterprise. My God, have you ever
left the engine room?"
"Not of my own volition, sir," said Scott
with a smile.
Tyler nodded at that. "Was I to understand that that
crewman was at his post and intoxicated?"
"No, sir," said Scotty firmly. "My
boys know better than that. He was a bit ...
off his feed, however. I rode him about that. It
won't happen again. There's no need for any
formal--"
"Oh, of course not." Tyler waved off the very
notion. "Actually, if anything, I was going
to observe that you were riding him pretty hard."
"There's no such thing as too much discipline when
it comes to the engine room, sir."
"What was the cause of the ... offness? Some
sort of event?"
"Bachelor party, sir."
"You present when the imbibing took place?"
"No, sir," said Scotty stiffly. "As a
ranking officer, I dinna think it appropriate
to be fraternizing with subordinates in that
manner."
"I see. Meaning you weren't invited."
"No, sir," said Scotty with a small sigh.
"Between two old war-horses, Commodore, I
can't help but wonder ... when did we become
them?"
""Them,"' Mr. Scott?"
"Them. The enemy, sir. The other people. The
older generation. The opposition. Them. When did
it occur? I was watching for it so I could avoid it
happening, but it seems to have sneaked up on me--
perhaps when I was taking one of those naps I seem
to need more frequently these days. And I was
wondering when I crossed that line."
"When?" Tyler was smiling. "You want an
exact time?"
"I'm not certain when it was," Scotty said
thoughtfully. "I didn't plan it that way. Just
somewhere, it happened. One day I was one of us, and
now I'm one of them. Do ye understand, sir?"
"Oh, all too well," said Tyler. "We
all want to capture little pieces of our past,
Mr. Scott. For some of us, it's some- 171
thing as simple as being thought of as "one of the
boys."' For others, it's ... a bit more
complex."
"Complexity is my area of expertise,"
Scotty said.
"Oh, I remember that all too well."
"Sir?" Clearly the engineer didn't understand.
"You think I forgot about it, don't you?"
Scotty's eyes narrowed. "Forgot about what,
Commodore?"
"The still. The hooch that was made right in the engine
room--"
"Sir!" said Scotty with great indignation.
"Such an endeavor would be completely contrary
to Starfleet regulations. I would never undertake
such an--"
"Enterprise?"
Scotty blinked. "Yes, sir."
"Then perhaps I'm not remembering quite
correctly," deadpanned the commodore. "When you
get older the memory can play nasty tricks
on you."
"I would think so, sir," said Scotty.
"Might be a result of drinking all that
illegal hooch in your youth. Rots your brain
cells."
"No. Alcohol rots your brain cells.
The booze that I remember simply ate the
brain away. However, I bow to your expertise in
the matter, Mr. Scott."
There was a beep on the wall comm unit, and
Scotty stepped over and punched it. "Engine
Room. Scott here."
"This is the captain," came Kirk's
voice. "Commodore Tyler is down there with you?"
"Right here, Captain," Tyler replied.
"Commodore, we estimate ten minutes
until we reach the site of the rift."
"I'll be right up. Tyler out."
He turned to Scotty and stuck out a hand.
Scotty shook it firmly.
"It was a pleasure recalling old times,
Mr. Scott."
"The same here, Commodore."
Tyler turned and left the engine room, and
slowly Mr. Scott began his rounds again. Within
minutes he was back at the station where the hapless
Mr. Hicks was diligently going on about his
business.
"Mr. Hicks," said Scotty, all
sternness. 173
Hicks's back was to him, but Scotty could
see him sag slightly, looking exasperated that
he was still on the chief engineer's hit list. He
turned slowly and, to his credit, drew himself
to attention, shoulders squared. "Yes, sir."
Scotty inclined his head ever so slightly and
said, "Go sleep it off."
"Sir?"
"You have the mother of all headaches, don't you,
lad?"
"Not exactly, sir," admitted Hicks.
"More of a close aunt."
"Fine. So go sleep it off. That's an
order, lad."
Unable to believe the sudden turnaround, Hicks
nevertheless nodded and walked quickly out of the engine
room before (he figured) Mr. Scott could
change his mind. Scotty watched him go and
smiled inwardly before turning to another crewman
some feet away and said, "And what do you think
you're staring at? Do I look like a dilithium
variance monitor to you?"

"Now that's a remarkable sight," said Kirk.
He had studied the file record of the
original encounter between the Enterprise and that
freakish temporal phenomenon that had become
informally known as "Pike's Rift," a name that
Chris Pike had reportedly hated and
discouraged whenever possible. As a result, most
people in the field continued to refer to it by its
scientific designation of Anomaly
T-128. However, studying the records was
nothing compared to standing on the bridge of the ship that
was, in name if not fact, the first one to encounter the
structural rip in the universe those many years
ago, and staring at its image on the viewscreen.
Space was swirling around it in what seemed
to be almost a bubbling miasma, evocative of
what it might have been like at the very dawn of
creation. In a way, Kirk felt that he was staring
at a small leftover bit of cosmic
history.
"The seams in the universe," he said to no one
in particular on the bridge, "appear to be
showing."
McCoy, standing to his left, responded,
"Looks to me like the universe is coming apart at
those seams."
Kirk glanced up at him. "Age 175
is telling on all of us, Doctor. Maybe the
universe needs to cut down on its fats and
exercise more."
"That would certainly be my prescription,"
confirmed McCoy.
"Holding steady at five thousand
kilometers," said Chekov.
"What's the rift doing?"
"Nothing, sir," Sulu said, glancing at his
instruments. "At the moment it seems to be
stab--" Then he stopped and looked again. "Energy
flux, sir. Wave reading alpha niner and
rising."
"Confirmed," said Spock from his science station.
"The rift appears to be opening more fully. Its
cycle has begun."
The turbolift hissed open, and Tyler
stepped out onto the bridge. This time there was no
tentativeness in his step, nor anything in his gaze
aside from excitement.
Kirk glanced at him and then looked back at
the screen. "Commodore," he said, "I thought you
were going to be down in the reception bay with the other
representatives."
"I was," said Tyler. "But now it would
appear that I'm not. Strange how the universe
works, isn't it, Captain?" He took a step
down and stood just to McCoy's left. "I would not
miss this for all the world."
The rift took swirling shape and slowly,
slowly, began to separate. The crew watched with
fascination bordering on astonishment. In a steady,
calm monotone Spock gave out readings as the
rift became more and more accessible. Within minutes it
became wide enough to accommodate a shuttle, and
then a starship, and then several. From within were hints
of the whirling temporal vortex that constituted its
interior.
Every scrap of information, every possible reading by the
sensors that had been upgraded by years of
improved technology was taken down and fed into the
Enterprise computers. That information, in turn, was
disseminated with lightning speed to the mainframe
data base of the Federation, and from there to all the
races that were participating in this grand and exciting
adventure.
And yet, with all the remarkable alacrity at the
command of the machines, it was a human eye that
spotted something at the precise moment the
instruments read it. 177
"Captain," began Spock, "sensors are
indicating--"
"I see it," said Kirk. And next to him
Tyler was pointing and saying, "There. At four
o'clock."
Sulu glanced at Tyler and said briskly,
"Two-twenty mark eighteen."
Tyler smiled. "Same thing."
"Magnification two, Mr. Sulu," said
Kirk.
Immediately the screen shifted to focus on what
had caught the attention of, by this point, everyone on
the bridge.
A small vessel had emerged from the rift.
Roughly the size of a shuttlecraft, but the
design was amazingly simple--it wasn't much more
than a cylinder. But it was moving with incredible
speed.
"Sensors indicate that the vessel was
proceeding through the rift at warp four," said
Spock, "but reduced to half impulse the moment
it emerged from the rift."
"Faster than our shuttlecraft," said Kirk
in quiet amazement, "and it stops on a dime.
Commodore, didn't they state in your first contact
with them that they were not actively pursuing space
travel?"
"So we were told," replied Tyler. "On the
other hand, the Calligar have demonstrated that they
are fully capable of rising to whatever occasion
presents itself. After all, they were able to produce
computer components at virtually a moment's
notice. Having any kind of lead time at all
to create a conveyance doesn't even seem a
challenge."
The craft drifted closer and then came to a
rest. It simply hovered there, as if staring at the
Enterprise contemplatively.
"It's come to a dead stop, Captain," said
Sulu. "They are just inside transporter
range."
"Not a coincidence, I would presume," said
Kirk. He glanced at Tyler, who merely
nodded confirmation. "Life readings?"
"Sensors detect one life form," said
Spock. "Calligarian, based on records
from the original transporter matrix when they first
beamed aboard the Enterprise."
"Saving bodily compositions for four
decades," commented Tyler. "Talk about 179
being thorough."
"You never know," said Kirk sagely. "Open
a hailing frequency, Uhura."
"You're on, Captain."
"This is Captain James Kirk of the starship
Enterprise," he said. "If you are the
Calligarian representative, then I
welcome you on behalf of the United Federation of
Planets. Please identify yourself."
The vehicle did not respond. Instead it
simply sat there.
Suddenly lights began to flash on the computer
consoles. Kirk looked around, his concentration
momentarily thrown, and Spock said, "Captain,
we are being scanned."
"Ah-haaah," said Tyler slowly. "Doing it
differently this time." When Kirk looked at him
questioningly Tyler continued. "Captain Pike made
his displeasure known when they originally scanned our
computer banks in a clandestine manner.
Obviously they recall that and decided to be more
open about it."
"Shall I engage scanning safeguards?" asked
Spock.
"No," said Kirk. He leaned forward, resting
on one elbow. "We have nothing to hide. Let them
scan to their heart's content."
The boards flickered for some moments more and then
ceased. Then Kirk said, "Uhura, patch me
in." When she nodded in confirmation he said,
"Calligarian vessel ... we have cooperated
with you thus far. It's your move."
The move wasn't long in coming. Less than
thirty seconds later there suddenly came a
call from the transporter room. "Captain!"
came the surprised voice of Tooch.
"Transporter beams have been activated!"
"By whom?" demanded Kirk.
"Not by me, sir. Should I try to abort?"
"No. We'll be right down. Bridge
to Security," he continued without missing a beat.
"Security team to transporter room." He
stood quickly and said, "Commodore Tyler, Mr.
Spock, Dr. McCoy, would you join me,
please? Uhura, summon the rest of the contact
team to the transporter room. Mr. Sulu, you
have the conn."
"Aye, sir," said Sulu, crossing to the
captain's chair as Kirk vacated it.
No one spoke during the turbolift 181
trip to the transporter room, but Kirk could
almost feel the waves of excitement radiating from
Commodore Tyler. This was a nostalgia trip for
Tyler, Kirk realized--a return to one of the
grand adventures of his youth, whereas for Kirk it
was just another contact with an alien race.
Just another contact. My God, he realized,
did I actually think that just now? When he had
been a youngster on earth, dreams of alien races,
of visiting places that were light-years away,
occupied his every waking and sleeping moment. Had he
now grown so blas@e that the notion of meeting a
new race--new for him, at least--had been
reduced to "just another contact"his
Perhaps it was incumbent upon him, he realized,
to do everything he could to maintain his youthful
enthusiasm. Because the moment that meeting and interacting
with new races became simply a part of the job--
nothing to get excited about--then something very
important and very primal in the makeup of
James t. Kirk would have died, and the stars he
loved so much would no longer belong to him.
The turbolift deposited them less than
two hundred feet from the main transporter
room, and Kirk could hear the babble of voices
and the discussion that was going on just outside. There
seemed to be some sort of disagreement. Now why was
Kirk not surprised about that?
He was even less surprised to find that the
source of the disturbance was Ambassador Fox.
Fox was blocking the doorway of the
transporter room, informing the two security
guards, Meyer and Boyajian, that had been
summoned to the scene that they were not to take another
step. Meyer looked irritated enough at this point
to pick Ambassador Fox up and stuff him up
a Jeffries tube, but he was clearly trying
to employ restraint. Kirk's arrival
prompted a sigh of relief from the security
guard as he said, "Captain, Ambassador
Fox is obstructing security procedures."
Fox turned to face Kirk. "Captain,"
he said with patience that sounded so extreme as to be
condescending, "I think it would be extremely
poor form for the representative of the Calligar
to see, as his first exposure to us, a crewman
pointing a phaser at him. It isn't exactly
in keeping with the image that we're seeking
to project."
"What I am trying to project, 183
Ambassador," said Kirk, "is a ship with
maximum consideration of crew safety. We're
in the process of an unauthorized
transportation, and although I tend to think it will be
harmless, there are nevertheless certain procedures
to be followed." He glanced at the guards, who
did indeed have their weapons out. "Holster them,"
he said. "But be prepared to draw if threatened."
As Meyer and Boyajian put their weapons
away Kirk continued, letting a bit of the
annoyance he felt slip through. "Be aware,
Ambassador, that procedures also dictate that
anyone interfering with a security officer attempting
to carry out orders can, at the captain's discretion,
be thrown into a holding facility. How closely
do you want me to stick to regulations,
Ambassador?"
Fox grunted his acknowledgment and stepped
aside. Kirk was already concerned--whoever was beaming
over had already arrived and was in there with Ensign
Tooch. If there was any danger, Tooch was
suffering it while Kirk was outside waltzing around
with a bureaucrat.
Thak and Daystrom had watched the proceedings
without comment. Dorkin, for his part, was chuckling
softly to himself in a voice that sounded like sandpaper
on metal.
Kirk turned away from Fox as if he were
incidental--which, to Kirk, was the case--and walked
into the transporter room.
There he saw his first Calligarian.
She had her back to the door, engrossed as she
was in discussion with Tooch. Clearly the
transporter operator was in no danger
whatsoever; as a matter of fact, she was laughing
lightly at something that the Calligarian had just
said. Upon the doors opening, however, the
Calligarian pivoted on her heel and faced
Kirk and the others.
There was a gasp from just behind Kirk, and he
glanced over his shoulder. It was Commodore
Tyler. His eyes were wide with--what?
Amazement? Joy? Shock? His mouth looked as
though it didn't even dare to smile, for fear of
breaking whatever spell had caught him up.
"My God," he whispered, "she hasn't
aged a day."
The Calligarian smiled a lovely smile.
"Hello. It's a pleasure to meet you all, and
I come to you on behalf of the Calligar, 185
who, once again, tentatively extend a hand of
greeting. I am Ecma, the Master Builder."
"James Kirk. Captain of the
Enterprise."
One by one Kirk introduced the others to her.
He noticed that Tyler was hanging back. Whether
Tyler simply wanted his presence to be a
s urprise to her, or whether he was suddenly
self-conscious, Kirk couldn't be sure. But
finally there was no one else left, and Kirk said,
"And this is--"
"I think I can handle this myself, Captain,"
said Tyler. He strode forward, stopped in
front of Ecma, and smiled broadly. He
took a deep breath and then said, "Hello,
Ecma."
"Hello." She returned the smile, and he
felt something. It was his heart, jump-starting. "And
you are--"
The ^ws didn't register at first. "Uh ...
Commodore Tyler," he said in confusion.
"Jos@e Tyler."
"Hello, Commodore." She took his hand and
shook it briskly.
His expression of shock was clear for all
to see. And Ecma stared at him long and hard and
said, "Is something wrong, Commodore?"
"Wrong? Ecma ... don't you remember
me?"
She stared at him in confusion, this woman from his
past, this woman who was a direct link to his
youth. The woman whom he had thought of more often
than he cared to admit.
"Have we met?" she asked.

Chapter Thirteen

And then she reached up and kissed him.
The taste of her, the smell of her was just as it
had been those long years ago. And when she smiled
up at him there was still that same impishness ... although
now there was something more in those eyes of hers. Years.
That was it. Years, experience, and sadness.
"How, my dear lieutenant," she said, in a
voice that was low and throaty, "how could you think that
I had forgotten you? Hmmm? Even for a moment."
She stroked his face briefly and smiled. "Your
lack of confidence--"
"Lack of confidence?" said Tyler, and he
harrumphed loudly. "Nonsense. Nor 187
for a moment--not one moment--did I consider it a
possibility that you'd forgotten."
And then he became aware of the others who were standing
nearby, several of them smiling like damned fools.
He turned to them and said, as if it needed any
sort of elaboration, "The Master Builder and
I have ... met."
"Obviously," said Ambassador Fox.
"Gentlemen," Kirk now said, turning to them,
"since we're not dealing with an indefinite period
of time here, I suggest you get down to the shuttle
bay."
"Captain," Tyler said abruptly, "would you
be terribly averse to the idea of my switching
places with Ambassador Fox?"
The Tellarite looked to Thak in confusion.
"What is the purpose of his standing in a different
place?"
"Better view," Thak informed him
straight-facedly.
"Oh." Dorkin frowned. Actually, he was
always frowning, but in this instance his frown deepened.
"Why was I not invited to stand there, then?"
Kirk, wisely ignoring the exchange,
looked from Tyler to Fox. Fox gave a small
shrug. "I have no objection, Captain. I must
admit that, while I took on my assignment
without complaint, I was a bit disappointed over
missing the opportunity to visit the Calligar
homeworld. And it would seem clear that Commodore
Tyler has certain ... interests in staying
aboard."
"It's of no relevance to me," said Dorkin.
Thak pointed out succinctly, "Actually, no
one asked you." To that Shondar Dorkin merely
grunted.
"Very well, Commodore. If you wish to serve
as Ecma's official liaison during her stay
with us, there seem to be no objections." Kirk
tried to avoid smiling like an idiot, even though
he found the entire thing to be utterly charming.
"Everyone else, please retrieve whatever gear
you wish to take and report to the shuttle bay.
Launch in five minutes, Mr. Scott?"
"Aye, sir," said the engineer readily. He
held up his hands. "It's been a while since
I've done any shuttle piloting, but I know
I haven't lost more'touch."
"I have every confidence in you, Mr. Scott," said
Kirk. "Master Builder Ecma, 189
I'm sure that the Commodore would not mind showing you
to the quarters assigned to you for the duration of your stay
... and then, if you don't mind, others of my
crew would appreciate the opportunity to talk
with you."
"I'm here to be of service to you, Captain,"
said Ecma with a slight bow.
Everyone emptied out of the transporter room,
and Fox hung back a moment to speak to Kirk.
"Could we make departure in ten minutes,
Captain?" he asked. "Now that I know I'm
going, I have a number of things I'd like to get
together to bring with me. Research material that I was
going to discuss with whoever came over here, and I
would--"
"Ten minutes, Ambassador, but no more,"
said Kirk, sounding stern. "You'd better
hurry."
"I will, Captain." And Fox, true to his
^w, set off down the hallway at something quite
close to a run. Kirk nodded in approval as
he watched him go. "It's nice to see a man of
his advanced years still able to get so excited about
something."
"Is he that much older than you, Captain?"
asked Ecma.
Kirk thought about that a moment. "You know ... when
I was younger, he seemed much older than me.
Now, somehow, he seems less older. Does that
make any sense to you?"
"As much as anything about humans does," said
Ecma. She smiled at Tyler, who actually
grinned sheepishly. "You were going to show me to my
quarters, Lieutenant?"
"Commodore, actually," he said. "But you should
really call me Jos@e. Or Joe."
"All right, Joe," she said graciously.
He extended an elbow to her, and she took it
smoothly. Together they walked off down the
hallway, Kirk and McCoy watching them go.
"They make a handsome couple, don't you think,
Captain?" asked McCoy.
"They do indeed, Doctor."
"For people of "advanced years,"' of course,"
amended the doctor.
At that, Kirk grinned. "You're never too
old to be young, Doctor."

Crewman Hicks woke up and forgot where he
was. 191
Obeying the orders of the chief engineer, the
slightly foggy Hicks had returned to his
quarters to sleep it off. But not too long after he
had drifted off ... just as he was starting to slip
into REM sleep ... something startled him awake.
A random, distant engine noise, perhaps, or an
unexpectedly loud laugh as someone walked past
his cabin. Whatever it was, it jolted him
to wakefulness, and he sat up in the dark, confused
and thrown off through a combination of his fatigue from the
late-night partying the night before and the mild
hangover he was still suffering.
He glanced at his chronometer and gasped.
"Oh, my God! I'm supposed to be on
duty!"
Still in a haze, he lunged to his feet and
ran out the door. Even as he emerged at high
speed, however, he suddenly remembered that he was
supposed to be in his cabin resting, at the orders
of Mr. Scott. He tried to put on the
brakes. Under ordinary circumstances it would have
been a momentary and unimportant lapse.
However, the particular moment that Hicks had
chosen to bolt from his cabin happened to coincide with the
moment that Ambassador Fox, already feeling
winded but no less determined, was loping around the
corner from the other direction.
The result was that the two men smashed into each
other. Hicks was not injured in the least, but even as
he crashed into Fox he heard what sounded like
bones snapping, and it wasn't from him. Fox went
down hard on his right hip, and there was another
nauseating cracking noise.
Hicks had merely staggered and was now leaning
against the wall, rubbing his chest. But Fox was lying
on the floor, moaning, and grimacing in pain.
"Ohhhh, my God," said Hicks.

"Broken femur," McCoy was saying.
"Broken hip. Two cracked ribs; one of them
came close to puncturing his lung."
They were down in sick bay, McCoy,
Kirk, and the stricken Hicks. Hicks was making
vague gestures with his hands, saying, "It was an
accident! I barely bumped into him. All that
happened was that I knocked him down. I didn't
mean to--"
"We know you didn't mean to, Ensign," said
Kirk. He was trying to act consoling, but at the
same time he couldn't mask his 193
annoyance. "However, that doesn't excuse the
fact that if you'd watched where you were going--"
"I know, sir," said Hicks, looking
downcast. "I'm really sorry. I just bumped
him--"
"Old bones can be extremely brittle,"
said Kirk.
Hicks looked at McCoy in momentary
confusion, and McCoy said in irritation, "Not
me. Bones in the body."
"Oh," said Hicks.
From over on the medibed Fox called, "I'm
feeling fine! Really! Just let me get up--"
McCoy turned and said sharply, "You stay right
where you are, or I'll break your other hip
by sneezing on it." Whether that threat worked
to intimidate him or not, the result was that Fox
settled his head back down on the pillow, his
face a portrait in misery. McCoy looked
back at Kirk and pointed at Fox. "Next
time you're thinking about climbing up one of those
damned mountains of yours," he snapped, "think
about fragility, why don't you?"
Kirk was about to reply when there came a
summons from the wall comm. Kirk went to it and
tapped it. "Kirk here."
"Captain, this is Spock in the shuttle
bay," came the Vulcan's voice. "I understand
there has been a mishap with the Ambassador."
"High-speed collision with Ensign Hicks,"
said Kirk. He glanced in the direction of
Fox's bed, where Hicks was now standing and
apologizing profusely. "Ambassador Fox
definitely took the worst of it."
"Shall we hold the shuttle for him?"
Kirk looked to McCoy, who had overheard.
The doctor shook his head emphatically.
"He's going to be here a while, Mr.
Spock," replied the captain. "Best get
going."
"Yes, sir."
"Remember, hourly communication. Good
luck."
"You'll need it," muttered McCoy.
"Thank you, Captain. And please thank the
doctor for me for his kind sentiments as well."
Kirk tossed an amused glance at
McCoy, who merely scowled. "Better watch
those facial expressions, Doctor. You're
starting to look like a Tellarite." 195

"Why is that one piloting the shuttle?" groused
Shondar Dorkin.
Scotty turned in the helm chair and speared
the Tellarite with a look. "Because I'm capable of
taking this craft apart with more'bare hands and
reassembling it if need be. That's why." The
engineer then turned back to his last-minute
preflight checks and thought, Wouldn't mind taking
apart something else in this shuttle. ...
Spock entered the shuttle and looked at
Thak, Daystrom, and the scowling Shondar.
"Ambassador Fox will not be joining us, it
seems. There was a mishap, and he is in sick
bay."
"Hah!" said Dorkin. "I knew he
appeared too frail for the rigors of space
travel. It's a shame you're not all built like
Tellarites. You know what you would all be then?"
"Suicidal?" inquired Thak.
"Stronger!"
"Oh, dear. That would make it harder to die,
wouldn't it?"
Dorkin aimed his gaze at Thak.
"Tellarites are among the sturdiest races in
the galaxy. Do you know what it would take to kill
us?"
"A long, hard, look in the mirror?"
"No. It would take," said Dorkin
dangerously, "more than you've got."
"Don't worry," said Thak guilelessly.
"I can get more."
And now Daystrom, who was in a seat directly
in front of them, slowly turned with gradual,
dignified movement. "Are you aware," he said
slowly, ponderously, "that with the amount of energy the
two of you are expending in this nonsensical fighting
you could power a ship halfway to Rimbor?"
Dorkin stared at him. "Halfway, you say?"
Daystrom's gaze flicked to Thak.
"Sarcasm seems to elude him, doesn't it?"
"Most things do," agreed Thak.
Spock, in the meantime, took his seat next
to Scotty.
Scotty grinned and called, "Hold on,
lads. We're going to see what this baby can do."
"What?" roared Dorkin. "There's an infant
on board? Why wasn't my government notified
of this?"
The rest of the Shondar's protests were 197
drowned out by the shuttlecraft engine as the small
vessel leapt into space and toward the huge gap
in reality.
The rift grew larger as the shuttle
approached, propelled by impulse power.
Spock kept a wary eye on the readings that were
being produced by the onboard instrumentation, to make
sure that the rift was staying steady. At the first
sign of instability Spock would immediately abort
the flight, because the last thing he had any intention of
doing was jeopardizing the contact team. He glanced
sideways at Scotty, and as if by some silent
telepathy, Scotty returned the look. After
all these years there were certain things that simply
didn't need to be said.
One of those was the result of the significant
look that Scotty gave to one particular
activation square, because pressing that would bring the
warp engines on line. Up until the firing of the
warp engines on the sled, the shuttle could still veer
off.
By the same token, they didn't dare enter the
rift with only the impulse engines. If they
did, they wouldn't last more than a few minutes
... in subjective time, that is. So at some
point, upon reaching the crest of the rift, a decision
would have to be made. And it would have to be predicated
on the idea that the rift was not going to change
suddenly and strand them or, even more cheerfully,
crush them.
"Approaching point of no return, from my
mark," said Scott tonelessly. If there was any
concern over the d-or-die aspect of the moment, he
gave no indication of it. "Fifteen ...
fourteen ... thirteen ... twelve ..."
Closer and closer still came the rift, shimmering
and undulating in the depths of space. It seemed
to be filled with colors, dancing mockingly and
hauntingly in the blackness.
"Eleven ... ten ..."
"What in blazes is he waiting for?" demanded
Shondar Dorkin.
"For the precise moment to push the ejector-seat
button that will hurl you into space," Thak informed
him.
Spock immediately became aware that Dorkin was
now watching him with suspicion. There may be a more
gullible race than Tellarites, he thought, but
none came immediately to mind.
"Six ... five ... four," said 199
Scott. For all that one could discern from his voice,
he might have been counting down to the beginning of a
sporting event. "Three ..."
The rift called to them.
Andwith one final glance at their instruments
Spock said, "Activating warp drive."
The shuttlecraft seemed to distend, its front
leaping into the rift, less than an instant later
followed by its back end.
On the bridge of the Enterprise Kirk
watched the shuttle disappear into the darkness. He
sat in his command chair, his face immobile, his
thoughts private, and his prayers extremely
personal.

Ecma stood in the center of her quarters, stark
still, looking around. Tyler, near the door, watched
her with interest and even puzzlement. Something about her
seemed to have changed all of a sudden. In the
transporter room, even on the way to her
quarters, she had been pleasant, polite, even
flirtatious. Much as she had been those many years
ago, in fact, except tempered with maturity and
even a mild, self-mocking wit.
Now, however, she seemed to radiate tension and
apprehension. He couldn't help but notice the
difference, but he was reluctant to say anything about
it. So instead, aiming for something neutral, he
asked, "Are these quarters okay?"
She didn't answer but instead faced him and
said, "Do you think I could speak to your Captain
Kirk? He is in charge of this ship, is he
not?"
She sounded so formal, even distant.
"Certainly," he said evenly, and he reached over
and tapped the wall comm. "Tyler to bridge.
Captain?"
"Kirk here."
"Would you be able to come down to Ecma's quarters
for a moment?"
"Is there something wrong?"
"I don't think so. She just asked to speak with
you. Of course, if you want to wait until the
shuttle's underway ..."
"They just entered the rift, Commodore, so now
there's nothing to do but wait. I'll be down in a
few moments."
"Thank you." He turned to Ecma and spread
his hands slightly. "There. Okay?"
"Thank you." 201
She sat down on the edge of the bed very
carefully, placing her hands just so on her knees.
He looked at her with open curiosity.
"Ecma," he said, "is your father--"
"Zyo has passed on to be with his
predecessors," she said quietly.
"Oh. I'm sorry. He was a real
forward-thinking individual. It's a damn
shame."
"He had no choice."
He shrugged and walked slowly along the
perimeter of the room. "I suppose none of us
does."
She didn't respond but continued to stare off
into space. That left Tyler with the next question, the
one that had been weighing on him for years. The question
of that last, awful image that he had beheld just before
being beamed back to the Enterprise.
"And Macro?" he asked. "Your brother?"
That seemed to cause a flicker of response.
"Yes. He is well."
"Ecma"--he dropped all pretense of
trying to sound dispassionate--?when I beamed out,
years ago, the last thing I saw was him ... and his
hand on ..."
She slowly looked up at Tyler, her eyes
resembling glass. "What you saw ... was not
unusual among my people."
He stared at her. "What?"
"Your taboos are not ours," she said simply.
"The jealousy my brother felt for you--his
attempts to injure you--were not simply the
actions of fraternal concern."
He was staggered by the concept. "So you mean you and
he ... you ..."
She sighed, her hands fidgeting. "I am not
what I was when we first met, Joe. In those days
I was very ... free. I reveled in that. I
rjcd in life because it seemed as if it would go on
forever. And it helped me forget aspects of life
that I would rather ... have forgotten." She looked up
at him, and her next ^ws were like a hammer blow
to him. "I have a son."
Tyler felt all the blood drain from his
face. "A ... a son," he whispered.
"His son?"
She nodded. "You must understand, our genetic
makeup is not like yours. We needn't worry about
recessive genes being brought to dominance. Among
our people brother-and-sister unions result 203
in some of the best and brightest of our race."
"Well, I don't believe it's healthy,"
said Tyler, revulsion shaking him. "I think it's
wrong, I ..." He stabbed a finger at her.
"It happened after your father died, didn't it?"
"As a matter of fact, it did. As the new
Master Builder, it was incumbent upon me to--"
"I don't care what it was!" said Tyler with
more fierceness than he thought he was capable of
feeling. He took her by the wrists, squeezing
them so hard that a human woman would have cried out in
pain. "It's wrong, and if your father had been
around, he would have seen that. He would have said so."
She smiled mirthlessly. "Where do you think my
father came from, Joe? Such a forward-thinking
individual--y said so yourself. Who do you think his
parents were?"
He shook his head, feeling a pounding in his
temples. "I don't believe it."
She reached out to touch his face, and he
reflexively pulled back. Seeing the
gesture, she said sadly, "What a pity. You
think of yourself as a citizen of the galaxy, Joe,
and yet you are so provincial. So unwilling
to accept viewpoints that are at variance with those that
you grew up with."
He was silent, and then there was a chime at the
door.
"Come in," called Ecma.
The door slid open, and Kirk walked in.
Immediately he sensed the anxiety in the air, but
instead of commenting he managed a small smile and
said, "You wished to see me?"
"Yes, Captain. Thank you for making the
time."
He made a "think nothing of it" gesture.
"I always have time for guests--particularly such
important ones such as yourself. So ... what can
I do for the Master Builder of the Calligar?"
"Nothing."
The flat response caught him off guard for a
moment. He looked at Tyler, but Tyler was of
no help, so he forced a game grin and said,
"Well, if I may ask ... since I can do
nothing for you, then why--"
"You can do nothing for the Master Builder of the
Calligar," she said, "because I am resigning that
exalted title."
"Resigning?" The ^w came from both Kirk and
Tyler, and it was Kirk who continued, 205
"I don't understand."
"Then I will explain. No one in our history
has ever resigned as Master Builder. It is
not allowed. It is unthinkable. But that is what
I'm doing. I am officially seeking asylum
aboard the Enterprise. I do not wish to go back
to the Calligar"--she looked up defiantly at
Kirk--?and nothing in this galaxy can make me."

Chapter Fourteen

"Fascinating."
The shuttlecraft circled one of the larger
cities that comprised the Calligarian Worldnet.
The city issued an unmistakable homing beacon,
guiding the shuttle to that particular city platform.
Scotty steered with sure hands, trying not to let
himself be distracted by the awesome sight of the
perpetually burning Calligarian homeworld.
An aperture opened in the top of the domed
city, and Scotty looked to Spock the moment that
it appeared. Spock gave a small nod, which was
all the instruction that Scott needed to angle the
shuttlecraft down toward the opening that had been
provided.
Once through, the dome shut behind them, and
Scotty followed the continuing summons of the homing
beacon until it brought them to a landing area that had
apparently been set up specifically for them.
"Bring us in, Mr. Scott," said Spock.
"Aye, sir," replied Scotty.
On the landing area below they saw a number ofindividuals waiting for them. Even from a distance
Spock recognized one of them immediately as the
Calligarian who had been introduced as Alt,
the Master of the Status. And standing next to him
appeared to be the one called Macro. He did
not recognize any of the others.
Scotty landed the shuttle smoothly, except
of course the landing was not smooth enough for Shondar
Dorkin, who complained loudly and made sure
to let Mr. Scott know that a cross-eyed
Tellarite child could have done a better job bringing
the vehicle down. Scotty did not reply but
instead contented himself with imagining the shuttle being
brought down on top of the Tellarite's head.
Once Scotty had shut down the engines he
opened up the door, and the contact crew emerged from
the shuttle. What struck Scotty immediately was the
almost overwhelming silence that seemed to pervade the
entire city. It was as if everyone and everything in the
area was listening, hushed with anticipation.
Alt stepped forward and inclined his head
slightly. "Mr. Spock, I believe it
was?"
"I am honored that you remember me," said
Spock. "And your Captain Pike?" 209
"He has retired," Spock said
diplomatically. Now was hardly the time to cite
chapter and verse of the final fate of Christopher
Pike.
"And you are in command now?"
"I am in command of this contact team," Spock
said. "May I introduce--"
And now it was Macro who spoke. He seemed
surlier than when Spock had first met him. More
irritated. The good doctor would have said that
Macro looked like he had a burr up his butt.
"Are you in command of the Enterprise? Or is perhaps
that one--what was his name?" He seemed to be making
a great effort to remember something, but Spock
immediately percvd that Macro knew perfectly
well whom he was thinking of. "Oh, yes.
Tyler."
"Commodore Tyler has remained aboard the
Enterprise," said Spock quietly, sensing the
waves of hostility that seemed to be undulating from
Macro. "The arrival of your Master Builder
prompted him to remain behind to serve as her
liaison."
"Yes," said Macro softly. "Yes, Iwd think that he did. And he is the commander of your
ship?"
"No. The commander is Captain James t.
Kirk."
Macro tilted his chin defiantly. "And why
is he not here? Are we not worth his time?"
"The current directive from Starfleet,"
Spock said patiently, "is for ship commanders
to remain aboard their ship whenever possible."
"We prefer to deal with leaders of men,"
Macro told him.
And Mr. Scott, with quiet confidence, said,
"If Mr. Spock led us into the gates of
hell, I'd follow him whistling. Is that
sufficient leadership for ye?"
Alt watched all of this in silence, but he was
unable to keep the look of distaste off his face.
"Macro is correct in our belief that leaders
should be the preeminent contact points. However, for the
time being we will not stand on ceremony. Macro,"
he said, and it was clear that this was part of some ongoing
and rather acrimonious discussion, "we shall talk of
this--yet again--later. In the meantime, I will thank
you to display at least a modicum of tact."
Macro bowed slightly and said, "As you wisheasir."
"Good." He turned back to Spock. "You do
not inquire as to the absence of Zyo."
"The fact that Ecma introduced herself as the
Master Builder--a term that Zyo described as
a lifetime appointment--wd indicate that he is
deceased."
"Yes," said Alt slowly. "Yes, that is quite
correct. He was the greatest supporter of this
sort of contact. I must admit that, at the time the
first contact was made, I thought it the worst
possible decision. I have, however, had a great many
years to ponder the matter. Furthermore,
despite my initial fears, it is clear that
contact with you did not bring the end of our
civilization as we know it. Perhaps the time has come
for cautious experimentation and contact. That is not,
of course, something I would have admitted to Zyo
while he was alive--the notion that he was right about
something."
"That, sir," said Spock, "is a sentiment that
I can easily comprehend."
Scott stifled a smile. He knew
exactly what was crossing Spock's mind.
McCoy would certainly have had something pithy to addhad he been present.
"These," said Alt, "are members of our ruling
council," and he gestured to the half-dozen
Calligarians who were standing nearby.
"A ruling council?" It was Shondar Dorkin
who had spoken now in that gruff voice of his.
"There was no indication in any previous reports
of any ruling council. What's the reason for the
change?"
"None of your business," snapped Macro.
Slowly Shondar turned his piglike gaze
on the Calligarian. "I'm making it my
business," he said.
"Gentlemen," said Spock with quiet
authority, "the purpose of this encounter is the
peaceful exchange of ideas. I hardly think that
hostility will go very far in supporting that intention."
"Quite correct, Mr. Spock," said Alt
quietly. "Quite correct." He made a
sweeping gesture. "If you'll follow me,
you'll find that we have developed quite a thorough
itinerary for you. Do you have any objections to being
split up in order to provide maximum
efficiency?"
"Not at all," said Spock. He tapped thewrist comm units that had been distributed
to all members of the group before leaving the
Enterprise. "We will be able to stay in
communication with one another, of course."
"Oh, of course," said Alt. "Now ...
introductions?"
Briskly Spock introduced each of the
members of the contact team to Alt, Macro, and the
council, who were introduced to them in turn.
Alt then gestured for them to follow, which they did
as they walked slowly across the city.
The Calligarians they passed seemed to give
him barely passing interest, as if they had
adjusted to the presence of the outsiders that had
decided to live with it. As they walked through the city
Alt said, "Did you have any difficulties
passing through the rift?"
"The improved warp field was more than
sufficient to shield us from the mental strains of the
temporal passage. However, the fuel
consumption was greater than we anticipated," said
Spock.
"You won't run into difficulties returning,
will you?" It was Macro who had spoken, and his
voice was perfectly emotionless, making ximpossible to determine whether or not he would be
sorry to see such an event occur.
And Scotty spoke up. "Ach, no.
We'll only have a wee margin for error, but
we've come out of tighter difficulties than that.
Alth--I'm curious. Do you have the technology
that would enable us to repower our warp sled attachment?"
"Oh, certainly," said Alt. He didn't
even bother to look at Scott. "We couldn't
give it to you, though. We're fairly firm about
that. For that matter"--and now he glanced at
Scott--?we have the capability of re-forming the
dilithium crystals that power your main vessel.
We could create self-regenerating crystals, in
fact."
Clearly, Scotty was unsure whether Alt
was kidding him or not. "Honestly?"
Macro snorted loudly. "Of course."
"That's amazing."
"What's amazing is that you haven't done it
yet," Macro told him.
Scotty frowned at that, but Macro now
lapsed into merciful silence. For that Scotty was
extremely grateful. Then he said, "If ye
don't mind my asking, I'd be interested to knowab the composition of that dome. The opening 215
seemed to appear out of nowhere. Is it some sort of
force field, or a material similar
to transparent aluminum?"
Alt glanced at Macro, and this time Macro
seemed to be making an effort to answer without
hostility. "Actually, it's bonded artificial
atmosphere molecules."
"Bonded ... you mean," said Scott, trying
to grasp it, "you've essentially created a shield
out of thin air?"
"That's certainly one way to put it," agreed
Macro. "When the aperture was opened for you, it was
actually a force bubble that was being created from the
molecules themselves. It stayed with you upon your
entrance while maintaining the seal of the dome.
Once you were safely inside, it released you to go
on about your business while snapping back to its
original form and protective shape."
"You make it sound almost alive."
Macro stopped to face Scott, halting him
in his place. And when he spoke, it was with
passionate intensity as he said, "Of course it's
alive. All of it is alive."
Scotty frowned at him. "What's that yesay?"
"Ah," said Alt. "Mr. Scott, here we
are."
They had stopped in front of a gleaming silver
disk that was about six feet across. Alt gestured
to it. "You, Mr. Scott, are the chief engineer,
according to the ship's records that we scanned. I
see no reason not to fill you in on our latest
advances, although we don't promise to give you the
specifics on how things work."
"That's quite all right," said Scotty.
Inwardly, he was confident that all he had to do was
glance at something, and he would be able to replicate
it from memory.
"Good. Step on this platform, and you'll be
shunted to the engineering center. One of our top people will
be there to greet you."
"Yes," said Macro. "His name is
Regger, and he is my son."
"Your son?" Scotty said.
"Yes, but don't worry. He's nothing like
me."
Everyone looked at Macro in surprise,
and the look of utter innocence on his face drew
involuntary laughter from several of the councilmembers. This, in turn, engendered 217
chuckles from Thak, Scotty, and even Shondar
Dorkin, whose large belly jiggled in a manner
somewhat akin to Santa Claus.
Spock, for his part, looked at the perpetually
unsmiling Richard Daystrom, who merely
shrugged.
Alt, shaking his head, said, "I admit,
Macro, there are times you surprise me
tremendously."
"It is a foolish individual who does not
know his own shortcomings," said Macro, "and I
am far from that. Might I suggest that the scientist
Thak accompany Mr. Scott? Shondar
Dorkin and Mr. Spock can accompany Master
of the Status Alt and the rest of the council to discuss
philosophies and political situations while
I bring Dr. Daystrom to the computer communion
center. That should satisfy the individual areas of
expertise."
The contact team members looked at one
another, exchanging silent opinions, and Spock
finally said, "That would seem a satisfactory
agenda, Macro."
Thak walked over next to Scotty, and the twoof them stepped onto the gleaming platform. In a
low voice Thak said, "Anything that means I
don't have to stay close to the Tellarite is
devoutly to be wished."
"I hear ye," replied Scotty, also
quietly. Then, in a raised voice, he said,
"What do we have to do to activate--"
"Just think of where you wish to go," Macro told
him.
"Ye mean all I have to do is think about
visiting the engineering section, and--"
Mr. Scott and Thak vanished as if they had
never been there.
"Where the devil--" exclaimed Shondar
Dorkin. Not that he was particularly concerned with the
welfare of the two of them. If he never saw them
again, he would not have cared. But it was the abruptness of
their disappearance that had startled him.
"Do not be concerned," Alt told them. "They
are merely on line."

Chapter Fifteen

"Out of the question."
The gathering in the conference room was smalleaccsisting of Kirk, McCoy, Fox-- 219
held immobile in a floatational chair--
Ecma, Tyler, and Uhura, who was acting as
recorder. In point of fact she was
redundant, since the computer was keeping
automatic records of everything that was
transpiring. But in situations such as this one,
certain protocol was required.
It was Fox who had spoken, and he was shaking his
head vehemently. "It is absolutely out of the
question."
"Ambassador," said Kirk quietly, "it
is not up to you."
"Captain"--Fox turned the chair to face
him--?I'm afraid it is."
There was an uneasy silence for a moment, and then
Tyler spoke up with quiet authority. "I can
personally assure you, Captain, that you will have the
full support of Starfleet in this matter."
"I wouldn't extend such assurances,
Commodore," said Fox offhandedly. "With all
due respect, it is quite evident that you are not
thinking clearly. Your judgment has been
impaired by your involvement with this"--he gestured
towards Ecma--?individual, who is clearlyexerting some sort of undue influence. Now, I
would not be presumptuous enough to imagine--"
Tyler started to rise. Keeping his temper in
line had never been one of his strong suits. "You
bureaucratic, hidebound son of a--"
"Commodore!" said Kirk with a sharpness that would have
been more appropriate for addressing a
subordinate. Tyler, however, said nothing but
simply settled back in his chair.
McCoy, for his part, was watching Ecma
carefully. There was something about, something about her
body language that didn't seem quite right. He
had spent years developing the knack of telling
at a glance if someone was in good health, and his
sixth sense was warning him now. "Master
Builder," he said softly, "are you all right?"
She looked at him with eyes that seemed
momentarily glazed, and then she smiled gamely.
"I'm fine, Doctor. Just a bit ...
overstressed from recent events."
"I'm not surprised," said McCoy
cautiously.
"Well, I am surprised," said Fox.
"I am surprised at you, Master Builder, that
you would jeopardize developing relations with your p"suddenly announcing that you don't wish
to return to them."
"She has her reasons," said Tyler, "and I
repeat, Starfleet will support her."
"And Starfleet is answerable to the United
Federation of Planets," shot back Fox, "and
I am the official representative of that
august body. Captain"--he turned to Kirk
--?d you have any idea of the immense delicacy
of the situation?"
"I think so, Ambassador," said Kirk
quietly. "It is your concern that the Calligar will
be distressed over the defection of their Master
Builder, not to mention the fact that her leaving their
confines would probably be in violation of their
philosophy of isolationism. Am I right?"
The question was addressed to Ecma, and slowly she
nodded. "The contacts made with your UFP are
ground-breaking for my people," she told him. "That
contact would not be possible without my father's
influence."
Uhura looked up from monitoring the computer
record. "I beg your pardon ... I thought you
said your father was dead."
"That sounded very much like present tense," Kirkaffirmed. "I am a bit confused myself on that."
Ecma coughed slightly and said, "My father and his
philosophies live on in spirit among my people, just
as philosophers and wise men long dead among
your people influence you. I tend to speak of him as if
he were still alive."
"Very understandable," said Tyler.
Kirk wasn't sure he completely understood
it, but he let it pass. "Let's deal with the
issue at hand."
"The issue is how we're going to convince the
Master Builder here that the course she intends
to take could be suicidal for continued relations with
her people," Fox said. "Whatever reasons she has
for doing this, I can't believe that she would want
to jeopardize the work that her father began and that we are
endeavoring to continue."
Kirk turned and fixed him with a gaze.
"Ambassador," he said, lowering the
temperature in the room several degree with his
voice alone, "I understand you feel strongly about
this, but if you interrupt me one more time, I'll
return you to sick bay, and you will participate in
this conversation over the conference-room viewscreen.
Am I making myself clear?" Fox glowered at him but said nothing. 223
Kirk looked back at Ecma for a minute.
"Now then, Master Builder--"
"Ecma, please," she said.
"Ecma, then ... you've told Commodore
Tyler, and now myself, that you wish to stay with the
Federation. I assume that you have given the commodore
some sort of reason for this desire." From the
corner of his eye he noticed Tyler no.ing.
"But you have not shared them with me. I am asking you to do
so now."
"It's personal, Captain," said Tyler before
Ecma could say anything.
"I'm afraid that's not good enough,
Commodore."
"I'm afraid it will have to be, Captain."
"No, sir," said Kirk. "Perhaps
Ambassador Fox has a point when he says
matters of diplomacy, such as defections, are
up to the diplomatic office--and since he's on
site, he has that authority. And perhaps you can
argue, as the highest-ranking Starfleet officer
present, that you have authority. But gentlemen"--
Kirk smiled unpleasantly--?the bottom line
is, this is my ship. My crew. When I sayjump, they say how high, and if I order my
security team to clap the lot of you in the brig,
they'll do so without hesitation. Are we clear on
this point as well?"
"You're threatening to strong-arm us," said Fox.
"That's correct. I have a history of
strong-arming to get my way, and one consequence of that
history is that you survived Eminiar VII.
I'm too old to start being delicate,
Ambassador, and if you don't like it, you are
cordially invited to walk home. Andwith all due
respect, Commodore, you can join him."
Kirk rose from his chair and started to circle the
briefing room, hands behind his back. "Commodore,
you're asking me to put my head on the block
while Ambassador Fox there would be more than
happy to drop the axe on it. Now, I'm
willing to stick my neck out--God knows I've
done it often enough before--but I have to have some idea of
what's at stake here. I will not go into this blindly."
He stared at Ecma. "It's up to you, ma'am.
Tell me why you wish to defect. Is it because of
Commodore Tyler? Is there something else?"
Ecma was silent, seemingly turned to stone.
The only sign that she had even heard Kirk--tthere was anything going through her mind--was that
she was chewing on her lower lip.
"She wants to stay with me," said Tyler.
"That's not the reason," said Ecma. She
seemed very distant. McCoy noticed that her
breathing seemed irregular. "Oh, I feel very
strongly toward you, Joe--I think perhaps I even
love you--but that alone would not be enough."
Tyler seemed nonplussed by this but then
recovered. "All right, then," he said. "You'll
have to tell the captain about your brother."
"It's not my brother either," she said.
"Her brother?" asked Kirk.
Ecma forced a ragged smile. McCoy, for his
part, had brought along a medical tricorder in his
bag to keep an eye on Fox's vitals.
However, he now subtly recalibrated it
to monitor Ecma instead.
"Joe Tyler is morally outraged," she said,
"because of my intimate relationship with my brother
Macro."
"A relationship that produced a son," said
Tyler darkly.
Kirk blinked in surprise, and Uhura
barely managed to cover her reaction. McCoy" too busy eyeing her vital signs. Her
pulse was racing, as was her heartbeat.
"It is not the happiest of relations for me,"
she continued, "but as I said to Joe, it is not
unheard of among my people, nor is it taboo, as
it is in your society. We have our own ..."
She coughed for a moment, seeming weak, but then she
pushed on. "We have our own taboos. For that
matter, as difficult as it is to believe, I
love my son. But I love life more, and
I--"
"Captain," McCoy said. "I think you
should--"
But Kirk hadn't heard him. "Love life?
Is someone threatening your life?"
Her breath was coming in gasps now, and McCoy
was immediately on his feet, the tricorder clearly in
evidence.
"I don't want to be Thinned," she gasped,
and her body seemed to be turning to rubber. "I
... I don't ..."
"Thinned? What the hell is "Thinned"'?"
demanded Kirk. "Commodore--"
"News to me," said Tyler in confusion. "I
never--" "Captain, the woman is erratic!" 227
Fox snapped.
"Jim!" McCoy said. "Her heartbeat is
arrhythmic, respiration up."
"It's not time yet! It's not right!" She was on
her feet, her body quivering, and then she started
to keel over. Tyler caught her, lowering her
back to the chair, and McCoy was immediately on the
intercom summoning a team from sick bay.
And she screamed, mustering the air to cry out,
"I don't want to die!"
"Die?" said Fox. "What in hell is
she--"
"Shut up!" snapped Tyler. "Just shut
up!"
Her bones might as well have dissolved for all
the strength her body seemed to display. She started
to slide off the chair, and Tyler lifted her up
into his arms. She seemed weightless.
"Do something for her!" Tyler shouted at
McCoy. "That's an order!"
"I don't know her full biological
makeup," said McCoy. "Drugs that help us
might kill her. I have to get her down to sick
bay." As if on cue the medical team from sick bay
burst in with an antigrav table and crash cart.
Tyler immediately put Ecma's quivering body on
the table, and Kirk was right next to her. "You're in
the best of hands," he said.
Her eyes were half closed, but suddenly they
snapped open, and strength seemed to surge into her
right arm. She reached up and grabbed Kirk by the
forearm in a viselike grip. "Don't send me
back!" she hissed. "Please ... I'll die
... please ..."
"I won't," said Kirk. "I promise.
I'll grant you asylum. You have my ^w."
Her mouth moved, but she was unable to get a ^w
out, and then her head slumped back. Her hand
released its hold on Kirk, and McCoy
snapped, "Get her to sick bay. Nowffwas
The medicart rolled out, and Tyler started
to follow, but McCoy froze him with a look.
"I don't need a goddamned audience," he
said sharply. He turned and then glanced back
over his shoulder and added, "Sir."
There was silence in the briefing room for a time after
Ecma had departed in such haste. And then, very
softly, Ambassador Fox said, "Captain... you were not serious, of course." 229
Kirk seemed to answer from a great distance.
"Serious?"
"About not sending her back. Our interaction with the
Calligar is very delicate. Something like this--one
of their highest officials--"
"Ambassador," said Kirk slowly.
"Now hear me out!" Fox said. "My God,
Kirk, I'm not inhuman. I saw how upset
she was--the woman is clearly terrified.
Nor am I foolish enough or insensitive enough
to ignore Commodore Tyler's obvious affection
for her."
"What the hell do you know about it, Fox?" said
Tyler with obvious disdain.
Fox shook his head ruefully. "I know that
look you gave her, Commodore, and the way she
looked at you. There's a connection between the two of
you. It's unpredictable, and you never know when and
where in this vast galaxy you're going to find it. But
you two have found it, and under ordinary circumstances
I'd be happy to shake your hand. But these are far
from ordinary circumstances. Our relations with the
Calligar are still extremely tentative. We
have no idea how they're going to react when theyfind out about this, but I think the chances are
pretty
damned good that they're not going to be thrilled about
it. You're going to put this entire affiliation
into jeopardy over the desires of one person."
"Two persons," said Tyler quietly.
"It is not fair," Fox went on as if
Tyler hadn't spoken, "to jeopardize all the
good and hard work that has been done to bring matters
to this moment in time. Your obligation, Captain, is
to your mission. And that mission is to firm up
relations with the Calligar. Not to risk
antagonizing them."
"I will thank you, Ambassador," said
Kirk, "not to remind me of what my mission
is." He paused. "You do, I admit, have a
couple of valid points about priorities and where
they should be placed. The fact of the matter is that you
are quite possibly right."
Tyler looked at Kirk with open hurt in his
face. "Captain, I cannot believe--"
Kirk put up a hand to indicate he wasn't
finished yet. "Now, the fact is that we don't
know for sure how the Calligar are going to react
until we tell them. So I think we'd better
tell them and see what happens from there." "The bottom line, Kirk," said 231
Fox. "You're forgetting that. I know this is your
ship. I know all that. But I believe that due
to my rank and position, I'm entitled to know.
If the Calligar want their Master Builder
back, are we going to give her to them?"
"I've given my ^w," said Kirk firmly.
"I'm not going to take someone who says her life
is at stake and ship her back to die. I
simply will not."
"Even if it means losing an alliance that could
be of tremendous benefit to the future of the
Federation?"
Kirk stood, towering over the immobile
Fox. "What good is our future,
Ambassador, if our morals and sensitivity
to human need becomes a thing of the past?"
"Very high-sounding, Captain," replied Fox.
"Just one problem Ecma isn't human. The
Calligar aren't human. You're superimposing
human attitudes on other beings, trying
to cross that gulf between humanity and the rest of the
galaxy by fashioning a net of morality with
Terran philosophies as the anchor points.
I'm surprised at you, Captain. Xdoesn't work that way. You know it, and I know it,
and moreover, the Prime Directive knows it."
"This is not a Prime Directive issue."
"It damn well is. We're not to interfere in
their society. We're not to do anything such as--"
"Such as blowing up computers that maintained a
centuries-long war?" Kirk asked evenly.
Fox's face became hard. "Will you stop
tossing that up at me?"
"For some reason," said Kirk with false
heartiness, "it seems to keep cropping up."
"The actions you took were entirely out of
self-defense."
"And that made them all right?" said Kirk
challengingly.
"That made them at least understandable."
"And what made it understandable was that we were acting
in defense of ourselves and you. So understand this We are
now acting in defense of Ecma. And her life
is worth defending as much as anyone else's."
"And more so than a few that come to mind," growled
Tyler.
"Therefore," said Kirk, "the bottom line that
you're so fond of is that we have a situation here
that's going to have to be worked out. Shipping her back ina box is not one of the options. This
will,
however, require the skills of an
Ambassador. So you're going to have to ..."
He paused, trying to come up with a ^w, and none
seemed appropriate. "Ambass," he said with a
shrug.
"Let me get this straight," said Fox.
"Tyler wants her to stay because he loves her.
You're going to support that view because of some
misbegotten--I don't know--Lancelot complex
you have. And you're expecting me to try and smooth
all this over?"
"That's exactly right."
"Why?"
"Because it's your damned job," Kirk said.
"Because I'm telling you to. And because,
Ambassador, whether you like it or not, you owe
me."
Fox scowled, shook his head, and swung the
chair around. As he exited the briefing room he
was muttering to himself in a rapid string of
unintelligible sentences.
Tyler turned to Kirk and said, "Thank you,
Captain. If you don't mind, I'll go down
to sick bay to await ^w." "If Doctor McCoy will allow you in, then
by all means."
As soon as Tyler left Kirk turned
to Uhura with a questioning glance. "Well? Don't you
have anything to say on the matter?"
Uhura shrugged. "Only that if I were in
trouble, I can't think of anyone I'd rather have on
my side."
He smiled wanly. "Thank you, Commander."
"That, and also that you're in deep trouble."
"You're telling me."

Chapter Sixteen

Montogomery Scott was screaming inside his
own head.
He could not hear anything otherwise. There was
nothing surrounding him, nothing interacting with him ...
there was no him.
He was suspended in time for eternity, and even
though he had ceased to exist, he couldn't help but
have a sensation of forward movement. All of existence
was roaring past him, a headlong rush that streaked
by him, surrounded by a hum and torrent of air that
seemed to be crackling around him. And suddenly, just like that, it was over. 235
Scotty staggered slightly, and the voice that had
escaped him now seemed to catch up with him.
"Aaaaahhhh," he managed to get out, taking
a quivering step forward.
Next to him was Thak, similarly disoriented.
The Andorian was slightly faster to recover,
thoug h, and he put a hand on Scotty's shoulder
to steady him.
Scotty nodded once in appreciation and then,
taking a deep breath, looked around.
Lining the walls were a series of narrow tubes
with what appeared to be pulsing blue plasma,
similar to what covered the surface of the planet
below. Long tubes stretched up and out the ceiling
of the cavernous room, going off to who knew where.
In the center of the room was some sort of unit that
was unlike anything Scotty had seen before. It
stood in its own independent canister, and visible
through the clear top of the canister was a device big
as Scotty's fist. Small spokes
protruded from it, and it flashed alternately in
black and red.
Scotty and Thak stepped tentatively off the
flat silver disk that was identical to what theyhad been standing on moments earlier. The room was
filled with a slow, steady hum.
"What in the world," asked Thak. He and
Scotty walked toward the canister in the middle
and then circled it slowly, not getting closer than
a couple of feet.
"Looks a bit like a dilithium chamber,"
Scotty said, "but that's certainly not a crystal
in there. Hmmm." He rubbed his chin. "Some sort
of energy redistribution device, do ye think?"
"A trafficking device? But wouldn't something like
that have to be considerably larger?"
"Aye. We have similar nodules on the
Enterprise, and they're much larger--and that's just for
powering a starship. Can ye imagine how large such
a unit would have to be to deal with the power
redistribution needs of an entire world?"
"About as large as that device right there," came
the softly amused voice.
They turned and saw the speaker. It was another
Calligarian who seemed to bear a general
resemblance to Macro, although his face seemed a
bit softer and his neck somewhat longer. He also
had slightly stooped shoulders, giving him the
appearance of perpetually straining to hear what was beingsd to him. "You must be Regger,"
Scotty said.
"Yes, sir," said Regger. He nodded
to Scott and Thak. "And you are the gentlemen from the
Federation."
"Aye, that we are."
"I hope our shunt transport wasn't
too disconcerting for you."
"Is that what that was?"
"Yes. Basically your particle stream was
inserted into a free-flow accessor and shot through
to here via a preprogrammed route derived from
your neurons."
"How long did it take?" Thak asked. "It
seemed positively endless."
"Actually, it was instantaneous. Far faster
than your transporters."
Scotty whistled and took a long, inspecting
look around, his hands on his hips. "This is quite a
setup you have here. And that device there--y say it
is for channeling energy?"
Regger nodded and walked to the canister in the
middle, placing his hands on it. "The Illidium
Pew-36 Explosive Space
Modulator," he said with satisfaction. "Idesigned it myself. Improved energy efficiency
throughout the Worldnet by seventeen percent."
""Explosive"'?" said Thak nervously.
"Oh, don't worry. That refers to the data
processing aspects. Not to actual
explosions."
"Well, that's a relief," Thak said
gamely.
Scotty was studying the device, his eyes
narrowing. "Amazing," he said. "Simply
amazing. If there was a way to apply this to our
engines--"
"You had a start on it," Regger said casually.
"Your data base described something referred to as
a "transwarp"' drive. Correct?"
"Ach," Scotty snorted disdainfully. "That
boondoggle. It never worked right."
"No," Regger corrected. "It was never
designed right. But the basics were quite sound, and if
Starfleet researchers pursued it, they would find
the design flaw and fix it."
"What are you saying?" asked Thak. "Are you
claiming that you could fix--"
"No," said Regger. "I'm afraid that I
can't hold your hand and lead you through, much as I'd lto. You seem decent fellows. But it
has to do with politics, disputes between
philosophies and such. I've never involved
myself with any of that. I just enjoy the pure
research. What I'm saying is this If the
transwarp system were made to work, you would not
believe the possibilities. It would totally
restructure your concept of what's possible in
terms of speed. You'd have to recalibrate your
entire definition of warp."
Already possibilities were dancing through
Scott's head. "I never thought that--"
"No," said Regger. "I didn't imagine that
you would have."
For just a moment he had sounded extremely
arrogant, and Scotty looked at him
suspiciously. But then Regger smiled a
relaxed smile and said, "Come. Let me show you
some of the energy readings generated by our plasma
burn. I think you'll find them most
impressive."

"I find your concept of IDIC most
fascinating," Alt said. "Infinite Diversity
in Infinite Combination." They were in a central Calligarian meeting
hall, simply but comfortably filled with
furniture that twisted in shapes that didn't
seem as if they could be remotely comfortable. They
were, however--s much so that the perpetually
dissatisfied Shondar Dorkin was moved to comment on
it positively.
"That is the Earth definition for it," said
Spock. "IDIC is derived from a Vulcan
term. The acronym is a convenient method for
Terrans to sum up in English what is, in
fact, a concept that Vulcan philosophers have
been debating for centuries."
"Typical. Earthers prefer nice, quick,
easy solutions," snorted Dorkin disdainfully.
Spock looked at him with open curiosity.
"If that were true, Shondar, the Prime
Directive of the Federation would never have been
developed. What easier solution is there to any
problem than simply to employ superior
technology or firepower--something forbidden by the
noninterference directive?"
"What simpler solution?" laughed Dorkin.
"I'll tell you what simpler solution there is
Ignore the problem. Turn away. Say"It's not my predicament, so I will 241
simply not interfere."' That, my Vulcan
associate, is the easiest way to handle something.
Just walk away."
And Alt leaned forward and said, "No. No,
Shondar Dorkin. Actually, that's the most
difficult thing to do."
"There is another Terran philosophy
called Quakerism," Spock said, "or the
Society of Frs. One of the foundations of their
beliefs is that to bear witness to an act means that
action must be taken to resolve it. All
philosophies--intervention and nonintervention--h
their individual demands."
Shondar Dorkin nodded slightly. "You have a
point."
Spock found Dorkin's attitude
fascinating. Although perpetually blustering to the point
of insufferability, Dorkin actually seemed a
most intriguing individual when discussing matters
that were part of his expertise, such as different
societies and their developments. It was something
of a relief to Spock--up until that point it
had seemed as if Dorkin would be nothing but a
hindrance to the mission. Indeed, it was Dorkin who was continuing the
conversation as he said to Alt, "We have discussed
various Federation philosophies, but we still know
nothing of the day-to-day beliefs of the Calligar,
beyond your desire for isolation. What drives you,
I wonder?"
Alt pursed his lips for a moment and then
glanced at the members of the council. They glanced
at one another and then nodded.
"Our concept of day-to-day beliefs, as you
put it, is predicated on the concept of the
Harmony," said Alt, "which is why we find the
concept of IDIC so interesting. We believe in
being in Harmony with one another--and, most
especially, with our surroundings."
"But when we first encountered you," said Spock,
"you were in discord over how to deal with us."
"That is true," said Alt. "My view of
your Federation and Zyo's were opposed. As Master
of the Status, it is my job to keep the Harmony
for all concerned. You see how responsive our
surroundings are to our very thought. That stems from the
Harmony. Zyo, however, as Master Builder,
was responsible for the actual working mechanics of
our world and our progress. In other ^ws, I amresponsible for the mind, while he was in
charge of the body."
"And the mind and the body were divided."
"Yes. It was Zyo's contention that your incursion
into our environment--even in so relatively minor
a manner as subspace transmission--was going
to impact on the Harmony. That the only way
to maintain the Harmony was to incorporate your
existence into ours."
"To absorb us?" said Spock cautiously.
But Alt shook his head. "To acknowledge you.
This was opposed to my feeling, which was to ignore you
utterly. But it was Zyo's feelings that
prevailed, and Zyo's plan that we followed."
"How did this plan prevail?" asked
Dorkin, narrowly beating Spock to the question. "How
was it decided?"
"It was decided."
"How?" repeated Dorkin more insistently.
But Alt's face hardened. "It simply
was. It was decided through the Harmony. The idea
was made a part of us, and eventually we opted
to accept it. You see, gentlemen, we must live
in the Harmony. For there is nowhere to go."
"What do you mean, "ationowhere to go"'?" Dorkinasked. "There's all of space to go to.
Certainly now that you've seen that contact with other
life forms is hardly the end of life as you know
it, you're not going to hide in these sky cities."
"That," said Alt firmly, "is precisely
what we intend to do. We have lived in this manner for
hundreds of your years. We have no intention of
changing it now."
"But certainly you must," said Spock.
"Necessity would seem to demand it. For
example, I do not comprehend how you deal with
population expansion. If you are confined to these
satellite cities, and they are immutable in
terms of size or expansion, certainly, at some
point, your people will outgrow it. How do you intend
to make allowances for that?"
"We have," said Alt simply. "That is all
you need to know."
Now Dorkin was starting to get his hackles up.
"We did not come all this way for you to be
obstructionist with us."
"Obstructionist?" Alt actually seemed
amused by the notion. "We have permitted you into our
lives. We did not have to do that. We do not have to do
that in the future. We are trying to be attentiveffour place in the galactic scheme of
things. But we are, at our heart, a reclusive
people. We prefer our privacy when it comes
to matters of a more personal nature. Just as we have
our tightly drawn limits, so must you learn and
understand the limits of what we will and will not share.
We have spoken of the Harmony with you. Do not ask us
to volunteer more than we feel comfortable doing."
"Then, sir, if we may, I would like to discuss
further something you already brought up," said Spock.
"The notion that your "Harmony"' interacts with your
environment. How does it do that, sir? Purely
from a mechanical point of view."
"Your Dr. Daystrom will be able to answer that for
you," said Alt. "We have a computer system.
It's main terminus is in the Southern Pole
satellite."
"May we inspect it?"
"No, Mr. Spock, you may not," said Alt
firmly. "However, Dr. Daystrom is being
guided by Macro to one of our computer access
facilities where the Harmony is maintained."
Spock began to have uneasy feelings and
recollections of such ominous entities as Landru
and the Oracle. "Is this computer facility ...something you worship?"
Alt's eyes opened wide, and he started
to laugh. The other council members joined in,
although it was difficult for Spock to tell if it was
because they thought it was funny or because they felt it was
appropriate to laugh when Alt laughed. "My
dear Mr. Spock," he said, "do you worship the
computers aboard your ship?"
"No, sir."
"Nor do we make ours the object of any
devotion. Our computers are tools, nothing more.
We interact with them to facilitate our ability
to control our environment. They are machines.
Useful machines. That is all. Do not ascribe
to us the primitive delusions of more simpleminded
races."
"No offense was intended, sir."
"Nor is any taken. Now, then ... there is
something else that we discerned from your computer banks
as being remarkably influential on your
culture. Something that your ancestors apparently
worshipped, but it was not a religion, not a
school of thought, not even a deity. We are a
bit confused as to its nature and are most curious
about its origin and impact." "If I can be of help, I will," said 247
Spock.
"Good. So please tell us, then"--and he
leaned forward, his fingers steepled--?what exactly
was this mighty entity known as "television"'?"

As with all the buildings that Daystrom had
observed, this one seemed unassuming. The
Calligar were clearly far more interested in function
than form. He stood outside a moment next
to Macro, his arms folded, surveying it. "So
what is this place? Your computer center?"
"A means of accessing the computer," said
Macro, "not the center itself."
"And what do you access it for?"
"All manner of things. It's ...
meditative," Macro said uneasily.
Suddenly he turned to Daystrom and said, "Be
aware that I am still not pleased about this situation. I
am cooperating because it is the desire to maintain the
Harmony. But that is the only reason. So it would
be in your best interest not to ask a large number of
questions, because I'm not going to answer them, and you'll just
annoy me further. If there's something that I think
you should know, I will tell you. Other than teakindly be quiet."
Daystrom opened his mouth to speak but then closed
it again. Squaring his shoulders, he followed
Macro into the computer communication center.
He hadn't been sure exactly what
to expect. A series of computer stations, perhaps.
Or maybe rows of chairs with helmets for
participants to fasten on that would tap them in
neurally.
Instead they walked into an atmosphere of such
suffocating silence that Daystrom felt as if he
could barely breathe.
The only noise at all was the sound of
Daystrom's boots on the polished floor. He
immediately became conscious of his tread, and a moment
later, of his breathing. Even his own heartbeat
sounded like thunder.
Macro, who was larger than Daystrom,
didn't appear to make any sound at all.
Evidently he was wearing some sort of cushioned
soles. Or maybe he just absorbed sound the
way a black hole sucked in light.
The lights in the large chamber were dim,
punctuated by cones of pure white light piercing
down from overhead. It was impossible for Daystromffmake out just how many people were in there, or
how 249
many individual beams of light were being generated.
Three, four, five dozen. Maybe more.
Under each of the lights stood a Calligarian.
Young and old, male and female, all were there.
They stood absolutely immobile in the stark
light. They looked neither right nor left; they
seemed not to be breathing until Daystrom looked
very closely to see a very slow, very shallow rising and
falling of their chests.
He stepped very close to a random male, staring
straight into the male's eyes. That was when
Daystrom found they weren't even really looking
straight out. Instead their gazes seemed to be
internally directed, as if they were staring into their own
souls.
Daystrom looked them over with a mixture of
amazement and something akin to horror. "What are
they doing?"
"Communing."
"Communing with--"
"Themselves. They exchange and study
philosophical thoughts with one another, with the
computer ... it's a kind of free-form association
with everyone and everything that makes up theirenvironment. Abuse of their surroundings by the
Calligar is what led to our initial
difficulties so long ago. Only by constant
awareness of ourselves and the Worldnet can we avoid such
an onerous fate."
"That's a very interesting ideology," said
Daystrom. "How does this work specifically?"
Macro actually smiled at him, a toothy and
unpleasant smile. "Magic," he said.
Daystrom looked at him uncomprehendingly.
"Magic?"
"The system of neural interaction would be beyond
your ability to replicate or even fully
grasp," Macro informed him airily. "I can just
as well tell you that small elves are
responsible for it, or a race of giant
cyclops with beams emerging from their great
eyeballs. Those, at least, you could understand."
"Your confidence in my comprehension is most
flattering," said Daystrom dryly. "I am the
preeminent mind in computer development in the
Federation. I would like to think that means something."
"To those in the Federation, I'm sure it does.
But does the preeminent rat in the maze have the
power to understand the tools used to construct the maze?" And then he laughed, loudly and
nastily.
Daystrom glanced around and said, "I'd like to try
the communing, if you don't mind."
The laughter immediately stopped. "I do mind,"
said Macro with quiet menace. But that menace was
tinged with uneasiness.
"Why, may I ask?"
"The brain of a human being would not be
sufficiently strong to cope with it."
Daystrom took a step back and studied
Macro thoughtfully. "Are you saying that," he
asked, "because you have a great deal of disdain for human
beings? Or because it's neurologically true?"
Macro smiled thinly. "You will never know."
And suddenly a shaft of light lanced down from
overhead, encompassing Macro. The momentary
surprise on his face was immediately noted
by Daystrom, who took it to mean that Macro was not
expecting this sudden appearance of light. Which meant
that the computer was communing with him of its own accord--
something that Daystrom found to be personally
extremely intriguing. Just how far did this
computer's "own accord" go?
Macro stood frozen that way for only a fewmoments, and then the light vanished. For some moments
afterward, however, he said nothing. Daystrom looked
at him curiously and then said, "Macro? Is
everything all right?"
"No," Macro said, lowering his gaze
to Daystrom, and there was undiluted menace in it.
"No, everything is not all right. My sister is
trying to leave us. And if she does ... then it will
go very badly for you. Very badly."
The last time Daystrom had felt a chill like that
pounding through his veins he had been leaning over the
M-5, trying to convince the computer of its sanity
while feeling his own slip away. It was not a
feeling that one ever forgot. It was a feeling of
menace to body and soul.
He felt that now, and he shivered under the
scrutiny of Macro.

Chapter Seventeen

"Aside from the fact that she's unconscious and
her vital signs are all over the place,
there's nothing wrong with her."
Lying nearby in the medibed, Ecma didn't
move, was barely breathing. The life-signmonitors were fluctuating and seemed 253
to be descending, but then every so often they would jump
upward slightly and hold steady.
Standing some feet away was McCoy, his arms
folded and his face concerned. Kirk and Tyler were
there as well, and McCoy--ffKirk's relief
--had made no blustering, annoyed comments about
spectators in the sick bay. Usually this meant
either that he was confident the patient was going
to recover with no problem, or else that there was little
chance of anyone else's presence making any
difference. Kirk had the uneasy feeling that in this
case the latter was true.
"She can't have collapsed for no reason," said
Tyler, his voice hitting slightly on the high
end of the scale.
"Steady, Commodore," said Kirk firmly.
He looked to McCoy. "There's no
physiological reason? None?"
"Would you care to double-check her, Doctor?"
asked McCoy dryly. "I'm telling you I
can't find anything wrong with her. I've studied
her physiognomy as much as I could, short of
dissecting her--which would probably decrease her
chances o f survival substantially. I believeI have a handle on what makes her tick. The
question is, how do I get her wound up again?"
Kirk thought a moment and then crossed to the
computer station. He leaned forward, his knuckles
on the counter, and said, "Computer, call up the
visual record of the conference-room briefing of
an hour ago."
The scene sprang to life on the computer
screen. There were Ecma, Fox, and the others, all
frozen in place. Kirk became aware that
McCoy had joined him, and the doctor said,
"What are you hoping to find?"
"Something. Anything. Some clue. Computer--
run it forward."
"Speed?" asked the computer.
"Normal time, one-to-one," Kirk said.
"However, focus on the individual identified
as Ecma."
And the sequence began, except the screen was
entirely occupied by Ecma's image.
They watched the whole thing through, up until
Ecma's collapse with her shrieks of being
afraid to die. "Freeze it," said Kirk.
Then slowly he looked at McCoy. "Does
that remind you of anything?" "Should it?" asked McCoy. 255
"She seemed to be trying to tell us something,"
said Kirk. "Remember, she stressed that our
taboos were not hers. But the implication is that she
and the Calligar have their own taboos."
"We know they tend to play close to the vest,"
said McCoy. "Beyond that--"
"Beyond that we don't know a hell of a lot,"
Kirk replied. "I think that she was trying
to break one of those taboos just then. She was trying
to tell us something, something that's part of their
society, that they don't wish to share with
outsiders. And something--some sort of imperative
--prevented her from doing so."
McCoy frowned and started snapping his fingers as
if that could jog his memory. "You know, that does
sound familiar, that ..." Then his eyes widened,
and he stared at Kirk. "Yonada."
"That's what I was thinking," Kirk replied.
"When the old man collapsed--"
"The instrument of obedience."
"Yes," said Kirk.
"The device that was surgically inserted that tied
people in to the Oracle."
"Right." "You think she may be tied in with some sort of
supercomputer or something, and it's shutting her
down via an implant!" McCoy sounded
excited.
"That's it exactly," said Kirk.
"Perfect! My God, Jim, that's
brilliant!"
"Thank you, Doctor."
"Really! That's a terrific answer."
"Good. So you--"
"Just one problem."
"What's that?"
"I already thought of it."
Kirk's face fell. "What? You already--"
"Yeah. I didn't just fall off the turnip
truck, you know. I checked her over thoroughly for
any sort of mechanical implant. There's
nothing there."
Kirk was considerably crestfallen. "So just
now you were--"
"Stringing you along, yes. Just to remind you which one
of us is the doctor."
With an annoyed glare Kirk said, "You're
becoming nasty in your old age, Bones."
And then they heard something strange. Humming. 257
Quietly, singsong, almost as if a child were being
eased to sleep.
They turned to discover Commodore Jos@e
Tyler standing next to the medibed. He was holding
Ecma's hand, slowly drawing his fingers across the
top in a slow, soothing fashion. And he was
humming to her. Nothing readily identifiable, or
even especially coherent. Just slow, steady
comforting.
Kirk and McCoy went over to them to watch in
silent puzzlement, and then McCoy glanced up
at the bioreadings. "Son of a gun. She's
stabilizing. Lower than I'd want, but at least
she's not deteriorating. I'm not sure why, but
what you're doing is definitely helping,
Commodore. Keep it up."
"Ecma is someone who likes to be in tune with
her surroundings," Tyler said in between soft, gentle
hums. "From what I saw, and from what Captain
Pike reported about Zyo's home, her world is
very thought-responsive. I just wanted to bring her in
tune with me ... and us. And I thought filling the
environment with something soothing, like music, would get
to her inside and out and might make things easier forher."
"I can order music piped in to sick bay,"
said Kirk.
And now Tyler was tenderly singing, ""Juuust
me and my shaaadow ..."'"
"I know that song," said Kirk.
"Good. Sing it with me."
"But Commodore--"
"I'm pulling rank, Captain."
Kirk shrugged and joined in with ""Strolling
down the aaavenue,"'" and together he and Tyler
continued, ""Me and my shaaaadow ..."'"
They went through the entire song twice, and
Ecma's breathing--which had been erratic--was
slow and regular. And then at Tyler's urging they
continued, launching into "Rockabye Baby,"
"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," "Fly Me
to the Moon," and the slightly off-color drinking
song popular at the academy, "Down from
Saturn and up Uranus." This was followed
by McCoy leading Tyler in a rendition of
"Dixie" while Kirk went to the intercom.
"Kirk to bridge. Uhura."
"Yes, Captain," she replied, and then she
said, "Captain, I seem to have something else onthe channel. It sounds like singing." 259
"That's correct. Uhura, I want you
to program a selection of songs and have them fed
into sick bay."
"Songs?"
"Yes, Uhura, songs."
"Any particular preferences?"
"No, none. Just something soothing."
He heard Sulu, who was in command, come in on
the band. "Captain, this is Sulu. Is there a
difficulty?"
"No, Mr. Sulu, just trying to arrange for
some music to be piped into sick bay."
Sulu seemed to give it some thought. "May I
recommend show tunes, sir? I've always been
partial to show tunes."
"Opera." Chekov's voice could be heard.
"If you vant true passion, it has to be
opera."
"Three hours of corpulent divas braying in
Italian. No, thank you," said Uhura
disdainfully. "Actually, for pure beauty, nothing
can top a madrigal."
"This isn't for recreation!" said Kirk in
exasperation. "We have a patient down here whoresponds well to a musical environment. I
don't care if you send us pop, waltz, or a
Rigelian candigal, but get some music down
here, dammit!"
"Yes, sir," said Uhura, who clearly
hadn't realized that there was medical need.
"Give me ten seconds."
Precisely ten seconds later a gentle,
sweet, and haunting tone filled the air, and
Kirk recognized it immediately. It was a
recording of Spock playing his Vulcan lyre.
"I'm going to bring the lights down
to fifty-percent illumination," said McCoy.
"If what she needs is a peaceful environment,
then that will certainly help."
"Good idea, Doctor," said Kirk.
Moments later the lights did indeed come down,
and Kirk even found himself becoming almost
hypnotically relaxed by the peaceful environment that
had been created in the sick bay. Tyler was
humming along with the Vulcan music and continuing
to stroke her hand.
"It would seem, Captain," said McCoy in
a low voice, "that a fair guess is that she's
going through some sort of withdrawal." "The question is, what is she withdrawing 261
from?"
"I don't know," said McCoy. "The problem
is that withdrawal generally gets worse before it
gets better. In other ^ws--"
"She may continue to deteriorate, and we've
just bought her some time, is all," Kirk said
slowly. "All right. But at least we've got
her that." He grimaced. "Thinned, she said.
What in hell was she talking about?"
"I don't know, but whatever it was," observed
McCoy, "it certainly seems that it has
fatal consequences."
"Bridge to the captain."
Kirk went to the wall comm and tapped it.
"Kirk here. The music is fine, Commander."
"That's not it, Captain," said Uhura.
"We're receiveg a communication from the Calligar.
They insist on talking to the leader of the starship, and
they sound extremely unhappy."
Kirk exchanged glances with McCoy, and the
doctor mouthed the ^ws They know. Kirk nodded
grimly. "I'll be right up, Uhura." Then
he turned to Tyler. "Commodore, I think you
might want to hear this as well." "I should really stay here with Ecma," began
Tyler.
But Kirk would have none of it. "Commodore, as
ranking officer I think you should be present when this
communiqu@e comes through. Andfor God's sake, stop
acting like a lovesick schoolboy."
Tyler's face hardened. "You're out of line,
Captain."
"No, I'm out of patience, Commodore."
The commodore's mouth twitched a moment, and then
he nodded. "Very well. You're correct, of
course. Doctor, please call me if there's
any change in her condition."
"Of course," said McCoy.
Tyler placed Ecma's hand gently on her
belly, took one more glance at the life signs
that had stabilized, and then nodded to Kirk. "All
right. Let's go."
Kirk tapped the wall comm once more. "Kirk
to Ambassador Fox."
"Fox here," came the immediate reply.
"Where are you, Ambassador?"
"In my quarters, resting."
"Stay there, but tie in with shipboard
communications through your computer. We're getting amessage from the Calligar, and you might 263
want to contribute."
Fox's voice was laced with sarcasm. "Is this
where I'm supposed to defend a position that I
don't agree with?"
"That's right, Ambassador. This is it."
"Splendid."
Kirk spun and headed quickly out of sick bay,
followed by Tyler, leaving the eerie strains of the
Vulcan harp behind him.
McCoy sighed and said to himself, "God, I
hate that creepy Vulcan music. They should have
stuck with show tunes."

Kirk walked out onto the bridge, followed
by Tyler, and said briskly, "Put them on
visual, Uhura."
"Yes, sir."
The rift that had seemed to become a permanent
fixture on the screen now vanished, to be
replaced by images of several Calligarians and
Mr. Spock, looking calm as always.
"Captain," said Spock as casually as if
he were announcing the weather, "there appears to be a
difficulty that has the Calligarians q.tressed."
"I think I'm aware of what that might be,
Mr. Spock," said Kirk, emulating the
Vulcan's stoicism.
"These gentlemen," said Spock, inclining his
head slightly in their direction, "are Alt, the
Master of the Status, and Macro and Regger, the
brother and son, respectively, of the
individual in question."
"The individual in question," Alt said, clearly
trying not to lose his patience, "is our Master
Builder. Ecma has apparently taken it upon
herself to turn her back on her people. That cannot be
allowed. She must be returned to us."
"May I ask how you became aware of the
situation?" asked Kirk.
"I was informed by Macro," said Alt. "And
Macro--"
"Has nothing to say to you beyond that I think you are
deceiving, conniving cretins," Macro said
fiercely. Then he pointed in the direction of
Tyler. "I blame you for this, Tyler! You
talked her into this. She was happy and content until
she met you."
"I only knew her for a short time, and manyyears ago, Macro," Tyler 265
replied. "I doubt I could have had that much
influence on her beyond whatever discontent with your
society she may already have had within her."
"The Master Builder's discontent is not at
issue here," Alt now said. "What is at
issue is the concept of continued trust and
cooperation between my people and yours. That is impossible
if we cannot trust you to return one of our most
valued commodities."
"She's not just some commodity," Regger said. His
annoyance seemed more focused on Alt than it
did on the Enterprise crew. "She's my
mother. She's our Master Builder. We depend
on her. We need her. She's been training me
all my life to take over after her, but I would
never have the temerity to claim that I'm ready to do
so." Now he turned toward Kirk. "Captain,
I implore you ... make her see reason."
"Right now I can't make her see anything,"
said Kirk. "She has passed out and is
currently in our sick bay."
"Of course she is," said Macro. "She
can't survive away from us. It's against the way in
which she was brought up. It's against everything that weare. Her life cycle begins and ends
with the
Calligar, and if you think to interfere with that, then you
have no one to blame but yourself for the consequences."
"For someone who has nothing to say," observed
Tyler, "you certainly have trouble shutting up."
"Don't start with me, Federation man,"
Macro said fiercely, stabbing a finger at
Tyler.
"Captain," came Fox's voice, "if I
may ..."
Kirk took a breath. This had been a
calculated risk on Kirk's part. He had
dealt before with Fox, and others like him. But he had
anticipated that the Calligar were not going to be
ecstatic about the situation, and he believed that one
of the things that could get him through this extremely
delicate situation was presenting a united
front. The last thing he needed was internal
bickering. Which meant that he had moved hard and fast
to get Fox on his side, appealing to everything from his
diplomacy to his humanity.
"Go ahead, Ambassador," he said.
"This is Ambassador Fox," he said, and the
viewscreen, at the silent command of Sulu, cut
away in the lower right-hand corner to display animage of Fox from down in his quarters. 267
"Obviously you feel strongly about this situation.
Just as obviously, so does Captain Kirk."
"Ecma is subject to Calligarian law,"
Alt said.
"I would tend to agree," said Fox, "and were
we, in fact, on Calligar, there would be no
question. However, gentlemen, we are in Federation
space. That makes Ecma's request for
sanctuary subject to our laws, and granting of
such request is left to the captain's discretion
on a case-by-case basis."
"And in this case," Kirk said quickly, while
heaving an internal sigh of relief, "I am
using that discretion to give the Master Builder,
however temporarily, sanctuary. You should be
aware, by the way, that she has stated she
abrogates all rights to her title."
Alt looked dumbfounded, as if this had never
occurred to him. He looked at Regger questioningly,
and even Regger seemed amazed. "That would mean,
Captain," said Regger slowly, "that I would now
be the Master Builder. A most exalted
title. But one that I would gladly relinquish
to she who has done far more than I to deserve it." And now Macro, to the surprise of all,
turned on Regger and said, "You insufferable little
snot. The way you talk, you act as if you never
wanted it. I know what you're all about, Regger,
and don't think I'm unaware. It's what you've
always wanted, isn't it? It's a foolish father
who doesn't know his son."
Kirk was extremely pleased at that moment that
he had managed to present a united front, because
watching the internal bickering among the Calligar
emphasized what an unseemly sight that could
be.
Regger looked hurt and betrayed, and he
ignored his father as he said straight into the
monitor, "Please ... excuse my father. He
is extremely upset, as are we all, and he
is saying things that are inappropriate and
untrue."
"And Ecma has been saying things as well,"
Tyler added. "Things like--"
"Things like ..." Kirk said, motioning for Tyler
to be silent for a moment. Slowly he sat in his
command chair, looking extremely casual, as if
he had all the time in the world. He even smiled
slightly. "Like what?" said Macro 269
impatiently.
"She told us about thinning. And about how thinning,
would mean her certain death if she returned to you."
Tyler looked at Kirk questioningly, but Kirk
didn't return the stare. Of course, Kirk
had no idea what specifically Ecma had been
talking about, but there was no reason to tip the
Calligar off to that.
Indeed, the expressions of the Calligar were a
sight to behold--utter astonishment, to put it
mildly. Then Alt seemed to pull himself together,
and he said firmly, "She would not have. You are
lying, Captain. But that doesn't matter."
"People of Calligar," Fox now said, "the last
thing the Federation wishes to do is cause a
difficulty. However, our commitment to the right of
free will makes it--"
"If I may," Spock now managed to get
into the conversation, "I am certain that some sort of
equitable compromise could be reached if we merely
keep the lines of communication open."
"We will be more than happy to keep those lines
open," Alt said tersely, "but our communication
consists of this Gentlebeings. You will return theMaster Builder to us, and you will do so
quickly. As
much respect as we have for your good intentions, andfor
you, Kirk, as the leader, we cannot see any other
way."
"It's his fault!" Macro said again, pointing
at Tyler. "Things would have gone perfectly
well--"
Tyler felt his temper flaring. "And have you
considered that maybe you're at fault, you
repulsive pig?"
"Commodore," said Kirk dangerously.
But Tyler wasn't paying attention. Instead his
gaze was locked with Macro's, and he said, "And
that maybe it's not so much that she's running to me as
that she's running from you? Maybe she's tired of
your insular, nonexpanding world. Or maybe she's
just tired of you."
"Uhura, cut the audio," ordered Kirk.
She did so, and he immediately spun his chair
to face Tyler. "Commodore, you're not helping."
"My apologies, Captain." There was no
edge to his voice. He spoke flatly and
evenly.
"Uhura." He nodded to have the audio brought
back on line. "Alt, Mr. Spock iscorrect. We are both intelligent, 271
reasonable peoples. I'm certain that we can work
matters out to the satisfaction of all concerned."
"Are you willing to bet your crew on that,
Captain?" asked Alt.
"What do you mean?"
"He means," Macro now said, "that until
such time that you return Ecma to us, we will hold
on to your contact team."
"You can't do that!" shouted Tyler.
Ambassador Fox was hmphing as well.
"I would like to think," he said tautly, "that the
Calligar can deal with us in a more equitable manner
than extortion!"
"If it's good enough for you, it's good enough for us," said
Macro.
Regger looked uncomfortable. "Father, this--th
isn't right. ..."
"Shut up. If it's good enough for them, it's good
enough for us."
"Sir," Spock said patiently, "you cannot
reasonably equate the two. In the case of
Ecma, she is asking to remain with the Federation. In
our situation, you are holding us against our will."
"Semantics," said Macro dismissively. "No, sir. Facts."
"That really doesn't matter now, does it?"
said Alt. "Here is the reality of the situation.
We are not barbarians, Captain, nor are we
kidnappers. However, we know what we want, and
we know what we're entitled to. Send the
Master Builder back to us. Until that time, the
Federation contingent will stay with us. And I remind you,
Captain, that the rift will close roughly sixty
hours from now. That does not leave you a great deal
of time. I suggest you use it wisely."
Andwith that, the transmission from the Calligar
blinked off.
Kirk sagged back in his chair and rubbed his
forehead. "Perfect," he said. "Just perfect."

Chapter Eighteen

All the materials from the shuttlecraft were
brought into the large common room that had been
arranged for the convening of the contact team. Extending from
the common room were a series of bedchambers for
Spock, Scott, Daystrom, Thak, and
Dorkin. It took the team only a few
minutes to discover the subjective nature oftheroom's interior furnishings, andforthe first 273
time that anyone could remember, Shondar Dorkin
had absolutely no complaints with
anything--particularly the decor.
What spoiled the charm of the setup for the group was
the knowledge, passed on to them by Mr. Spock, that
matters had gone seriously awry back on the
Enterprise. This drew, expectedly, the
loudest bellow from Dorkin.
"That idiot captain of yours is going to get us
all marooned here!" he yowled.
"I am quite certain," said Spock confidently,
"that is not the captain's intent."
"Aye. If there's a way out of this, Captain
Kirk is the man to find it," Scotty
affirmed. He smiled at Spock, who,
unsurprisingly, did not smile back.
"Well, I'm certain that's an unbiased
couple of commentaries from people who have served with Kirk
since before the dawn of time," said Dorkin
sarcastically. "You're staking your personal
freedom on his ability to work us out of this."
"Captain Kirk seems quite capable,"
Daystrom said. "And he is also quite resourceful.
If anyone can get us out of this, he can." "Well, that's fine for all of you. If you're
content to sit around waiting for Kirk to save us,
then that is perfectly fine for you," said Dorkin.
"But as for me, I prefer to be in command of my own
destiny, thank you." And now he was on his feet and
heading for the door.
It came as a surprise to no one except the
Shondar when the door refused to open.
"Hey!" he snarled, and he hit it once.
When it ignored him he snarled again and hit it
again. He had no more luck the second time. He
whirled. "We're being made prisoners!"
"That was the logical next step," said
Spock.
"This is infuriating!" said Dorkin. "We do
not have to stand for this! They won't leave us in here
forever. As soon as we see one of them, I say
we attack. Vulcans are formidable fighters,
as are Andorians--alth neither of you, of course, can
come close to the pure brawling power of a
Tellarite."
"Why in the name of Ghu should we want to?"
asked Thak in amazement.
"Physical force would accomplish nothing,"
Spock said. "It would not garner us knowledge that we need.Injuring or killing Calligarians can
only exacerbate the situation. And even if we
were able to get to the shuttlecraft, we would not be able
to get outside the dome unless the aperture were
opened for us. We do not need a show of strength.
We need information."
"So what do we do?" asked Thak.
"We wait," said Spock.

In the sick bay of the Enterprise Kirk and
Tyler were once again observing the unmoving form of
Ecma. Kirk was leaning over her and, in a soft
but insistent voice, saying, "Ecma. Speak
to us. We need to talk with you, Ecma."
She did not reply, and furthermore her breath
seemed a bit labored. McCoy glanced
warily up at the medical readings, endeavoring
to ignore the Vulcan harp music that had been
playing in his sick bay for what seemed like an
eternity. If Spock hadn't been completely
off the ship and uninvolved in the decision,
McCoy would have sworn it was part of some Vulcan
master plan to drive him insane.
"The withdrawal is becoming more pronounced," he
said at length. "But withdrawal from what?" said Kirk in
frustration. "What's the exact nature?"
"I'm not sure," said McCoy, his
professional detachment a marked contrast
to Kirk's own attitude. "If I were sure,
we could come up with some sort of substitute. The
music definitely seems to have helped, but--"
And suddenly the vital signs started to drop
precipitously. The scanning board began
blinking faster, and an alarm signal sounded.
"Damn," said McCoy, grabbing up his
instruments. "Medics!"
As if they had materialized from thin air, two
medics showed up with stabilizer units. McCoy
hurriedly set the calibration.
Ecma's body was covered with sweat and
trembling horribly. She was moaning softly, and
from her mouth emerged faint whistling noises, as if
she had a sucking chest wound.
"Do something!" said Tyler.
"Shut up!" snapped McCoy. He was
rapidly preparing a hypo.
"Pulse and respiration dropping, Doctor,"
said one of the medtechs. "Bottoming out."
"We're losing her," said the other medtech.?Vital signs at less than 277
minimal."
"Brain-wave activity is discordant."
It had happened so fast, and Tyler was shouting
to her, "Come on! Come on! Whatever's
happening to you, make it stop! Make it stop! You
can beat it! Make it stop!"
"Hold her down," said McCoy. He
placed the hypo against her forearm. "I'm giving
her five cc's of cordrazine."
"Five?" said Kirk in shock, remembering
what the drug could do in even the smallest of
doses.
"My studies show her body should be able to handle
it," said McCoy, and then in a softer voice he
added, "I hope."
He injected the stimulant, and the result
was, as always, instantaneous.
Ecma's eyes snapped open, her mouth forming
a perfect O shape, and she shrieked. Her
hands swung up, snapping the restraints and
knocking aside the two medtechs. The medisensor
lock around her middle, however, was
significantly tougher. She tried to sit up,
but it held her in place. If she'd triedffslide out, she would have succeeded, but her mind was
too chaotic at the moment for any such lucid
plan. All she was trying to do was sit up, and that
she could not accomplish.
There was enough time for Kirk and Tyler to get on
either side of her, grab her by the shoulders and force
her back down. Kirk glanced up at the
monitor board and saw all the gauges at the
top of the scale. Though McCoy had certainly
kicked her back up into high gear, the problem was
that, as high as she was, she wasn't going to stay
there, and they had to make sure she didn't come
crashing back down in flames.
"Ecma!" Tyler was shouting. He leaned against
her, grabbed her face with both hands, and forced her
to look straight at him. Her eyes weren't
focusing on him, weren't focusing on anything.
"Ecma! Listen to me! Remember--"Just me and
my shaaaadow--"'"
With superior strength her arm coiled up, and
she shoved him fiercely away. He stumbled
back and knocked over a medical cart.
Ecma was trying to shove Kirk away as
well, and he twisted about and got her left arm
immobilized. The right one was pushing at him witheverything she had. "Ecma! Stop! 279
Whatever is happening to you, it's in your mind! Your
mind is trying to shut down your body, for some
reason none of us knows! You can stop it! You can!
There's nothing biologically wrong with you. You have
to have the force of will to overcome it. We can't do it for
you! No one can. This is your fight! Yrs! Now
start fighting it! Come on! Fight your fight!
Fight your fight!"

It was some hours before Spock, Scotty, and the
others received their first visitor Alt showed up,
inquiring after their health.
This drew a coarse and sarcastic laugh from
Dorkin. "Why should you care? You're the ones who
are keeping us prisoners."
"We are all prisoners, in a way," said
Alt. "Prisoners of circumstance." He sat
down on a chair that appeared seven different
ways to the seven individuals in the room. "We
do not wish to keep you here until the next cycle
of the rift. The chances are that most of you will be
deceased by the time that happens."
"I would, in all likelihood, still be
alive," said Spock. "Vulcans arenotoriously long-lived."
"It's because they never shut up long enough to stop
living," sniffed Dorkin.
"That is one theory," said Spock
graciously. And then, totally unexpectedly,
Spock turned to Scotty and said, "Mr.
Scott, perhaps now would be the time to ... I
believe the phrase is "crack out"' ... the
provisions you brought with you."
Scott looked at him in total befuddlement.
"Provisions, Mr. Spock?"
"Yes." He indicated the supplies
Scotty had brought that had been unloaded from the
vanished shuttlecraft. "Particularly the
bottle."
The chief engineer's jaw dropped. "Now how
did ye--"
"Mr. Scott," Spock said, sounding as
close to surprised as he ever came. "I have
known you for far too long to be unaware of your
usual definition of supplies."
Scotty shook his head in amazement as he
went to the supplies chest. Daystrom, Thak, and
Dorkin were looking at one another in confusion.
"Will someone kindly tell me what the blazesy're talking about?" demanded Dorkin. 281
For reply, Scotty pulled out a bottle of
Scotch and held it up for all to see. "Muh
hat's off to ye, Mr. Spock. After all these
years, I guess there's just not very many surprises
left."
"The price we all must pay, Mr.
Scott." And then Spock turned to Alt and,
much to Scotty's surprise, said, "Would you care
to sample Mr. Scott's provisions, Master
of the Status?"
Alt raised an eyebrow. "If it is
Mr. Scott's wish. I do not wish
to impose."
"Certainly not, don't think of imposing," said
Thak with soft sarcasm. "Keep us against our will,
that you have no trouble doing."
"I have already said that is not our desire," said
Alt, taking the proffered open bottle from
Spock. "It is due simply to the demands and the
unfortunate necessities of the situation. Ecma
is a very valuable individual."
"And if she were less valuable?" asked
Spock.
"It would make no difference. We believe ina closed society."
"For a people who say they are an advanced race,"
Dorkin said, "you seem unwilling to grant
freedom to your own people. How much advancement is there
in that?"
Alt took a long swig of the Scotch, and that
was when Scotty cast a glance at Spock.
Spock merely nodded ever so slightly, and a slow
smile spread across Scott's face.
Alt then lowered the bottle, wiping a
sleeve across his mouth. "We cannot allow," he
said, "indiscriminate distribution of our people hither
and yon. We believe it contrary to the best
long-term interests of the galactic society as a
whole. There must be control. Don't you understand that?
Our society, our environment, our thoughts must
all be"--he interlaced his fingers--?l this. Try
to pry this apart. You cannot. But if a finger is
removed, then it becomes that much easier. Our
society needs each and every individual to remain
whole and strong. Everyone knows his position and
place in that society, and his
responsibilities. To shirk that
responsibility is to damage the society."
"Laddy," said Scotty slowly, "do ye knowt you're rambling on and on, and by and 283
large not making a lot of sense?"
Alt giggled.
Scotty looked at Spock. "Th is," he
said, "is promising."

Matters had gotten somewhat unpleasant--
even nauseating--fora time in the Enterprise sick
bay in the course of Ecma's weaning from whatever
had a grip on her. But Kirk and McCoy had
changed their uniforms and gotten cleaned up, and now
they returned to the tortured Calligarian
refugee.
"Heartbeat and respiration normal ...
well, normal for her, at any rate."
McCoy was studying the vital signs over
Ecma's bed and no.ing slowly. "All right, I
admit it ... I'm impressed," he continued.
He turned to Kirk, who was standing nearby. "You
have something of a knack, Captain--alth I would have
to say that lecturing patients is not something that
generally produces results."
"Whatever works, Doctor." He stood over
Ecma, whose eyes were still serenely closed. Her
breathing was shallow but regular. "I don't thinkI'd care to make a habit out of that, though.
I'm perfectly content to let you take care of the
medical situations on this ship."
"What a relief. I was getting worried there
for a second," said McCoy.
"So ... so what happens now?" asked
Tyler.
"Now we wait," said McCoy. "She's
gone through the equivalent of what used to be called
"cold turkey."' That term was usually in
reference to drugs in the system. Here it's not a
drug, but instead something in her mind. It's having
the same sort of effects on her just the same.
I believe she's come through the worst of it, but still,
I'm dealing with an alien physiognomy relating
to some sort of societal compulsion so overwhelming
that it's invaded her biology. There's no way
I'm going to say she's completely clear until
she sits up, looks at me lucidly, and
asks what's for breakfast."
"And until we can talk with her and get a
thorough grasp of what's going on, we can't do
anything to alter the situation," said Kirk
grimly. "Meanwhile, we lose precious
time." "Bridge to Captain," came 285
Uhura's voice through the intercom.
"Never a dull moment around here, eh?" asked
Tyler. Kirk didn't even bother to answer as
he tapped the intercom.
"Kirk here."
"Captain, we've picked up private
transmissions from within the ship."
"What? Localize."
"We already have. They originated from the cabins
of the Tellarite and Andorian ambassadors."
Kirk and McCoy exchanged glances. "The
aides. They've alerted their governments," said
Kirk in sudden realization.
"Alerted them that their respective
representatives are being held on the other
side of the rift because we've given Ecma
sanctuary. But how did they find out?"
And this time they spoke together "Fox."
"I'll kill him," said Kirk.
Tyler nodded. "I'll help."

Chapter Nineteen

Macro was standing on the edge of the water, lookingou over the cool lake.
"This is where it began," he said slowly, unable
and not needing to hide the resentment in his voice.
"Where what began, Father?"
Macro did not even bother to turn to see his
son behind him. "Must you follow me everywhere?" he
grumbled. "It's endless with you."
"Can I help it if I want to be near you?
You are my father, after all." He paused.
"What's going to happen to Mother?"
"I don't know, and I don't care."
"Are they going to make her come back?"
Macro turned on him. "Oh, you'd like it if
they didn't, wouldn't you?"
Regger looked astounded. "Father, why do you keep
saying that?"
"Because you know it's true! Because you welcome the
opportunity to become the Master Builderffwas
He advanced on his son, waving a meaty finger.
"Your scheming and your plotting. Acting to everyone as
if you're pleasant and thoughtful and couldn't care
less about advancement. Oh, but I know you,
Regger! I do! I know what motivates you! I
know how happy you'd be to have your mother gone, and
don't think I don't know! Your plots and yrschemes--" 287
Regger drew himself up and, eyes filled with
hurt and defiance, said, "Who are you describing,
Father? Me? Or yourself?"
Macro threw a quick right that caught Regger just
under the chin and lifted him clear off his feet. He
fell to the ground, nursing his injured jaw, and
Macro stood over him, body quivering in
indignation.
"You," he snarled at his son, "have got one
hell of a nerve."
"I," shot back Regger, "am--at least for the
moment--the Master Builder. I outrank you,
Father, and that's what's really gnawing at you,
isn't it? That you were passed over. That you just
don't have the talent or the will. You can't accept that
things aren't going your way, so you come up with these
fabrications of plots and plans. So you can
believe the whole Worldnet is against you, and poor,
poor Macro the maligned is being schemed against.
No one is plotting against you, Father, or plotting
against my mother. And the greatest enemy that you have in this world
is yourself, and that's the truth."
Macro's jaw shifted from side to side, and his
muscles seemed to be tensing under his skin.?Sooner or later," he said, "everyone is going
to see. Everyone is going to see who's right and
who's wrong, and who's deserving ... and who's
not."
"Yes, Father," shot back Regger. "I have
no doubt that they will."

Alt didn't so much sit down in the chair as
pour his body into it. The bottle hung in his hand,
and Scotty pulled it from his unresisting fingers.
The engineer studied it in surprise. "He only
drank about"--he appraised the remaining contents
with a practiced eye--?ab one and a half
glasses. Now there's someone who can't hold his
liquor."
"Yes, I am aware of that, Mr. Scott,"
said Spock. "Nor was he able to do so when we first
encountered him. I surmised that his tolerance for such
had not increased during the intervening years."
"So now what, oh great strategist?" asked
Dorkin.
"Now," said Spock, crouching down next
to Alt, "we get the information that we--and, in all
likelihood, the captain--require. The
nature of this situation that has Ecma refusingffreturn to her people." 289
"But why do you say the captain requires it?"
asked Scott. "He said he knew it already."
"That was a bluff."
"How do ye know?"
Spock glanced back at Scotty. "The
captain has never been known for his reticence.
If he were fully cognizant of what was bothering
the Master Builder, he would undoubtedly have
delivered a lengthy argument on her behalf,
based on the knowledge of what was concerning her. His
failure to do so can only be interpreted as a
lack of information on his part."
"So what are you going to do?" asked Thak.
It was Daystrom who answered. "The mind
meld. Isn't that correct." It wasn't a
question.
"Yes, sir," replied Spock. He
stretched out a hand, and his fingers touched Alt's
face.
"Why didn't you just overpower him and do that when
he first got here?" demanded Dorkin. "It would have
saved lots of time."
"Force is not the answer to everything," replied
Spock. "For that matter, it is rarely theanswer to anything. I sense that the Calligar have very
strong minds--penetrating a mind under assault
or on its guard would have been difficult, if not
impossible. This, however, is more feasible. Now,
may I have silence please--z difficult as that
may be for some?"
"Was that crack directed at me?" said
Dorkin. "What, are you saying I don't know
how to be silent? I can be silent. I can keep
my mouth shut. I have as much self-control as
anyone. And I resent the implication that--"
Thak moved so quickly that Dorkin never saw it
coming. Considering the perpetual air of deference that
Andorians projected, it was completely
unexpected. That air also, however, served to cover
the utter fierceness of Andorians when they were
provoked.
All Dorkin knew was that suddenly there was an
impact on the side of his head, and stars
exploded behind his eyes. Then his face was on the
floor, and he wasn't quite sure precisely how
it had gotten there. That was the last thing he thought of
before he slipped into unconsciousness.
No one else so much as budged from his position.
Scotty, surveying the scene, said, "That was awee bit drastic ... but no less 291
appreciated."
Spock didn't even seem to have noticed. His
fingers strayed across Alt's face, working the upper
part of his head as if physically drawing what he
needed to know out through his fingers. His face was
absolutely immobile; he wasn't even
blinking. His mind probed deeper, deeper into
Alt's consciousness.
And then he gasped, his head snapping one way
and then the other as if someone were battering him. He
grunted in the manner of someone shoving a boulder
up a hill, and Scotty took a step toward
him, uncertain of what to do. He didn't want
to break the contact. He wasn't sure what would
happen to Spock if he did.
"Worldnet," whispered Spock. "Worldmind.
Thinning. Dying. So many people. So many minds. Dead
and alive. Gone and here. Thinning. Culling.
Separate the best. Best and brightest. Take
them. Save them. Preserve them. Dead and
alive. Gone and here."
Each ^w was more labored than the one before, the
effort seeming greater and greater.
"Dead and alive," said Spock. "Dead andalive, gone and here, thinning, thinning," and his
voice grew louder and louder, and then suddenly he
shouted, "Stop him! He's invading me! Stop
him!"
"Spock!" shouted Scotty, for the voice
speaking was no longer the Vulcan's. He could
hold back no more, and he grabbed Spock under the
arms and yanked him away from Alt. The
Calligarian slumped back, his eyes open but
looking at nothing, his mouth moving but saying no
^ws.
Spock seemed dazed, leaning his full weight
on the sturdy shoulders of the engineer, and now
Daystrom was on the other side, helping
to support him. "Spock!" said Scotty,
"what happened? What did you--"
That was when three Calligarians burst in.
In their hands were small disks, no larger than
their p alms.
Scotty turned and demanded, "What's
happening here? What are you people doing in--"
The closest one to Scotty flipped his disk
almost casually, and it landed on the engineer's upper
shoulder. And to Scotty's astonishment, he
collapsed like a marionette with severed strings.He hit the floor hard, cracking his 293
head, and his senses swam around him. He heard a
grunt and a thud, and that was clearly Daystrom going
down as well. Scotty tried to reach up
to remove the disk, but his arm wouldn't budge.
He had as much control over his limbs as if
they'd been removed and affixed to someone else's
body.
The Calligarians turned on Thak and, their
arms at the ready with more disks, said, "Don't
move."
"I've grown roots," replied Thak
calmly. At his feet was the unmoving
Tellarite.
Alt was beginning to haul himself to his feet,
making every effort to shake off the effects of the
alcohol. He regarded Spock lying on the
ground. The Vulcan was trying to pull himself up but
was not having tremendous success.
It was at that point that Macro ran in,
looking around in momentary confusion before fully
assessing the situation. He stared at Alt.
"You've looked better," he said, in regard to
Alt's complexion, which had taken on a
distinctly greenish hue. Alt, for his part, was focused entirely on
Spock. "I thought," Alt said thickly, "that you
had a better understanding of our point of view in this
situation. We tried to associate with you and yours.
We truly did."
And now Macro interrupted, saying
disdainfully, "Zyo had a vision, and one man with a
vision can bring an entire race into focus. But
obviously that vision was flawed. We will have to do
something about that ... but first we will have to do something about
you."
"Get away from him!" said Scotty.
Alt glared at him. "Now you express
moral outrage? Try the indignity of having
someone invade your mind, wresting from you the most
personal aspects of your race's belief.
Something that is important to us, virtually
sacred, simply ... ripped from within me by this
butchering Vulcan mind technique. Well, he
will not hold on to this information. Of that I can assure
you. Take him," he said to two of the
Calligarians who were nearby.
They reached down and hauled Spock up,
draping his arms around their shoulders to be able to drag
him to wherever they were bringing him. Alt looked at the rest of them 295
pityingly. "We had the best of intentions for you. You
brought this on yourselves."
And that was when Spock's hands clamped down on
the shoulders of his two supporters.
Their heads snapped around, and they went down
immediately. Spock, on his feet, reached out for the
third Calligarian.
Alt stepped back and shouted, "Stop him!
Stop him!"
The third Calligarian moved like lightning,
catching Spock's hands before they could reach his
shoulders. In doing so, he dropped the neural
disruption disk to the floor. They struggled,
angling for position and leverage, and Macro tried
to get in close while Alt shouted in consternation.
That was when Thak moved once more, like lightning,
clearing the distance between himself and the others in one bound.
He came in low, his shoulder slamming
into Macro's midsection, and the larger
Calligarian grunted with the contact. Thak
straightened up and completely lifted the astonished
Macro off the floor. And then Thak, with a quick
twist of his deceptively slender upper torso,
tossed Macro across the room to land with a crash onthe far side.
Macro roared and leapt to his feet, and Thak
turned to face him. Unfortunately, he turned
his back on Alt, who grabbed the disk dropped
by the Calligarian struggling with Spock and threw
it.
His aim was lousy, but the result was formidable--
the disk landed on the Andorian's antenna.
Thak shrieked, the neuro-paralyzing power of the
disk ripping through his body due to its coming in
contact with his sensitive antenna. It was as if his
brain had exploded, and he went down, clawing
at his head, his face; his limbs becoming useless
to him. He trembled on the ground as if in an
epileptic seizure.
Macro saw him, grinned, and started to step
over the unmoving Tellarite to get to Thak.
That was precisely the moment that Shondar
Dorkin chose to wake up, and he did not wake
in a particularly good mood.
Dorkin drove a furry fist straight up,
directly into Macro's crotch. Macro
gasped, and the Tellarite rolled, smashing a blow
to the back of Macro's right knee. The Shondar
did not get the satisfying crack he would hliked to hear, but the result was still 297
gratifying as Macro collapsed.
Unfortunately, he collapsed right on top
of Dorkin, but the Tellarite was not slowed by this.
He rolled out from underneath, grabbed the moaning
Macro, and threw him back across the room.
Macro crashed right into Alt, and they went down in
a tangle of arms and legs. Neither of them got
up.
The impact momentarily distracted the last
Calligarian enough for Spock to suddenly twist his
arm free and fasten his hand onto his opponent's
shoulder. The Calligarian's head turned so
fast it seemed as if he'd gotten whiplash.
Spock quickly removed the disks that were holding
the others immobile. The relief was gratefully
felt and pretty much instantaneous. Scotty
began flexing his muscles, Daystrom wiggled his
fingers as if he were seeing them for the first time, and even
Thak--the most devastated of the group--recovered
quickly.
Shondar Dorkin was still snarling, pumped up by the
fierceness of the battle that he'd woken up into.
"Who hit me?" he demanded. "Who knocked me
out? Who dared--" Thak pointed at one of the unconscious
Calligarians. "He did."
"Come, gentlemen," said Spock, and he headed
for the door. The others followed, the Tellarite
pausing only momentarily to give the
Calligarian that Thak had fingered a good, swift
kick.
They made their way out of the building and went
quickly to the field where the shuttlecraft was
waiting. That was when they heard a roar behind them, and
they didn't even have to turn to see that there were a
number of Calligarians in pursuit. Spock
immediately recognized one of the voices as belonging
to Macro. It would have been the height of bad
taste to apply the Vulcan nerve pinch to an
opponent already apparently unconscious--sch as
Macro. In this instance, though, that breach of
etiquette might have been acceptable.
They picked up the pace until they were loping
across the open field, the shuttlecraft in view
and getting closer. Daystrom staggered, his breath
ragged in his chest, and at one point he almost
stumbled. Spock caught him, however, and helped
him limp to the shuttle.
The door opened, and they clambered in.Scott bellowed to Spock, "I thought 299
ye said that we couldn't go anywhere! That we're
sealed in!"
"That is correct," said Spock. "However,
there is no reason we cannot become airborne
while we send a message to the captain to inform
him of what we've discovered. Enterprise is
well beyond the range of our hand communicators, but
not the subspace transmitter on the shuttle."
"You know what's going on?"
As the door shut behind them Spock looked at
Scott with something akin to surprise. "Of
course, Mr. Scott. That was the purpose of the
mind meld."
"But you didn't say--"
"Why affirm something that should be self-evident?"
he asked as he sat in front of the control
panel.
Scott sighed. "Whatever you say, Mr.
Spock." He dropped down to the pilot station
next to Spock and quickly fired up the engines.
Then he looked out the front window.
There they were, several dozen of the
Calligarians, and in the lead was Macro.
Furious, pumping his fists, and holding some sortof an instrument that looked like a long steel
rod.
Spock regarded the approaching onslaught
calmly as he said, "Take us up, Mr.
Scott."
The shuttlecraft rose into the air just as the
Calligarians arrived on the scene. They
hurled themselves against the small vessel, which lurched
one way and then another, and Scotty increased the
thrust by twenty percent. An instant later the
shuttle lifted into the air, leaving the crowd of
angry Calligarians far below.
"Proceed with caution, Mr. Scott," said
Spock as he manipulated the controls for the
subspace radio. "Excessive velocity would
not be advisable--"
"Seeing as how we have nowhere to go."
"Quite correct." He patched in a channel.
"Spock to Enterprise. Come in,
Enterprise."

Chapter Twenty

"You have got one hell of a nerve," said
Kirk.
He was standing over Fox, fists clenched inbarely controlled fury. Tyler was 301
next to him, looking ready to watch Fox eat the
chair that was holding him immobile.
Fox, in contrast, seemed utterly calm.
"I don't see what your problem is,
Captain."
"You don't see?" Kirk shook his head, which
was not precisely the head he would have liked to be
shaking at that moment. "You told the aides of the
Tellarite and Andorian representatives that
they were being held hostage!"
"They are," said Fox.
"But you didn't have to tell them that!" Tyler
said. "That's just going to cause trouble."
"You're saying I should have participated in
covering matters up? Is that it?" Fox made a
disdainful face. "What's the matter, Captain?
Done anything that you're ashamed of?"
"Of course not," said Kirk firmly. "But the
last thing I need is to have other governments breathing
down my neck, watching every move I make."
"That is the price of leadership, Captain,"
Fox replied serenely. "To be under scrutiny."
Tyler leaned forward and said, "Let's get
down to the real reason you did it. You did xfftry and make Captain Kirk look bad, and
to get back at him because he made you toe the
line."
"Wrong," said Fox. "I did it because it was the
right thing to do. I did it because their governments had a
right to know about danger their representatives were
thrust into, just as much as you have a right to know what's
happening with your people. You speak to me, Captain,
of the rightness of your actions. That being the case, you should
have no problem about going public with them."
"There is a time and place," said Kirk
patiently. "We are in a very delicate
situation that you've made that much more difficult."
Fox stared at Kirk for a long moment. "When
I was a boy," he said after a time, "I was very much
interested in bugs. Insects. And one of the things
I would do is go to my mother's garden and turn up
rocks in order to watch the insects beneath them. And
what I always thought was fascinating was the way, when
you'd lift the rock up, the insects would react,
exposed to the purity of the sunlight. They would try
to scurry or crawl or in some other way hide
from that exposure." He paused. "Are you perceiving
the metaphor I'm drawing here, Captain?"
"I am," said Tyler. "You're saying you'vegot rocks in your head." 303
Fox smiled at that. "Very witty,
Commodore. Now, if you'll excuse me, I
wish to return to studying what information we have on the
Calligar. Maybe I'll be able to discern something
that will help us." He turned the chair away from
them and faced the computer screen.
Tyler and Kirk exchanged a look, and then
Kirk, shaking his head, started for the door. Tyler
followed him but stopped long enough to say to Fox,
"You know, I once busted myself up pretty
badly. Was stuck in one of those chairs for two
weeks. Got all sorts of sores on my
butt. Itched like hell."
Fox looked back at him andwith thinned lips
said, "I am not itching."
"You will be," smiled Tyler. And as they headed
out Tyler was rewarded by the sight of Fox shifting
uneasily in his chair.
Out in the corridor Tyler matched Kirk's
stride and said, "It'll be like telling him not to think
about pink elephants. Now he won't be able
to get it out of his mind."
"And what I can't get out of my mind," said
Kirk regretfully, "is that he might have apoint. I should have enough confidence in my decisions
to be able to stand up to scrutiny." He shook his
head. "You'd think that age would bring more conviction,
not less."
Tyler shrugged. "You have more of a chance to look
back on all the decisions you've made in your
life and see all the zigs when you should have zagged.
When you're young, confidence in your own invincibility
and belief in your own immortality carries you through
situations that older, wiser men would look back
on and say, "Madness."' Do you look back
on your life and see madness, Captain?"
Kirk's mouth twitched. "I look back on
my life, Commodore, and see an asylum."
"You wouldn't like an asylum, James. Too
quiet for you."
"I thought there was lots of screaming in an
asylum."
"Only at the asylum known as Starfleet
Headquarters."
"Ah. That would explain a great deal."
They stopped at the sick bay, where Ecma still
lay unconscious. Her status had not changed,
and Kirk looked down at her regretfully.
"Damn," he said softly. "If only she'd-e to. There's so much that she could tell 305
us."
"Look, Jim, at least her life signs
are steady," McCoy pointed out. "That's way
ahead of where we were yesterday."
"Has it been that long?" sighed Kirk. He
rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't think
I've slept since this business began."
"I always know when I'm getting really tired,"
said Tyler. "Everything sounds very loud to me."
"Really?" asked Kirk.
"Yes, and stop shouting."
Kirk started to say that he wasn't shouting, but
then he got the joke and forced a smile.
"No, actually," said Tyler, "I got some
sleep a while back. You should get some, though.
You look exhausted."
"I have too much to do. I've got people trapped
over there--"
Now McCoy stepped up. "And you won't do
them a damn bit of good if you're too fatigued
to think straight."
Kirk sighed. "It used to be I could go
forty-eight, seventy-two hours without a wink of
sleep." "Yeah, but now you're old," said McCoy
tactlessly.
"Dr. McCoy, you seem to take
extraordinary joy in pointing that out to me time and
again."
"Someone has to. There's a gap between young and
old that you don't seem to have grasped yet. Now
get some rest."
"All right. I'll go back to my quarters
for--"
"No," said McCoy firmly. "I know you,
Jim. You'll lie there for five minutes, then
head up to the bridge to try and come up with some new
plan to get our people out. But if you're not at a
hundred percent, you're just going to wind up getting
us all in trouble, or worse. Give Spock a
chance to work some of his Vulcan magic on the other
side. I hate to remind you of this, but the fact
is that he's got more experience under his belt than
you do. And so does Scotty. Between the two of them
they've got something like a million years of
seasoning. Let them see what they can work out. I
bet we hear from them within the next few hours.
Until then"--he walked over and rapped one of the
meditables--?y can lie down here, where I can keepan eye on you."
Kirk looked at Tyler, who shrugged, and then
back to McCoy. "How would it look to a crew
member if they walked in and I was sound asleep
in sick bay?"
"Better than if it happened while you were in
your command chair. Besides, how would it look if there
was a call from the bridge and you were asleep in your
cabin, snoring right through the comm summons? Lose
valuable time that way."
Kirk sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll
close my eyes for just a few minutes."
He eased himself up onto the medibed and
remembered that once upon a time he would have just
vaulted onto it. Every muscle in his body ached.
"Do you mind if I stay here?" Tyler asked
McCoy. "Just for a bit. To keep an eye on
Ecma."
"Sure," said McCoy. "It won't make
any difference to her. Sit over there." He
pointed to a chair in the corner. "And make sure
to stay out of my way."
"Aye, sir," said Tyler gamely, sitting
in the chair.
Kirk closed his eyes, frustrated by his ownfragility. Remembering how it used to be in the
old days.
Not too long ago he'd tried to climb a
mountain. Once upon a time he'd felt as if he
could leap over one.
And women. He smiled inwardly. Across the
galaxy, and there had been wonders such as other men
didn't dream of. He could taste them on his
lips, smell their intoxicating aroma. Each
name, each image set off an entire string of
associations.
So much he had seen and done. And yet it all
seemed now as if it had been a waking dream.
Or as if it had happened to another man named
James t. Kirk.
What had distanced him? What had pulled him
away?
Was it the death of his son? Of all the hardships
and losses he had endured, that had probably
been the worst. He remembered years ago,
years and years ago, making an offhand joke about
the being called Nomad. A young voice, an
amused voice. You saw what it did for
Scotty. What a doctor it would have made.
My son, the doctor. His son. Dr. Marcus. And he was 309
gone. Dead and gone.
It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. That there
had been that separation between them for so long, and just when
it seemed as if that open, festering wound had finally
been cleansed and mending, David had been torn
from him. His son was gone.
And Carol ... God, her reaction had been
...
He pushed it away from him, trying to find somewhere
to escape. And he found it in the oblivion of
sleep.
All of the thoughts and recollections had floated
through his head in less than a few seconds. In
point of fact, he was somnolent the moment his
head was on the small headrest.
And then an instant later McCoy was shaking his
shoulder, whispering urgently, "Jim!"
Kirk sat up immediately. "What?"
"Call from the bridge. Spock."
That was all Kirk needed to hear. He
clambered immediately off the medibed. Across the room
Tyler was asleep in the chair, hands folded and
on his lap. "We both fell asleep for a
minute?" asked Kirk, straightening his jacket. "You've been out for five hours," replied
McCoy.
Kirk blinked in surprise and headed for the
door. "Tell them I'm on my way up."
"I told them," said McCoy, falling
into step next to his captain, "and I'm coming with
you."
They were out in the corridor, leaving the commodore
sleeping and a medtech keeping an eye on both the
senior officer and Ecma. Kirk started a quick
jog toward the turbolift, and McCoy, huff+
slightly, kept pace. "Why are you coming with
me?" said Kirk. "Worried about Spock?"
"Of course not," grunted McCoy. "But if
I don't, then you won't tell me what's going
on. You never do."
"I always do," said Kirk. "But you're getting
so old you forget things."
"Touch@e," admitted McCoy.

"Putting him on now, Captain," said
Uhura.
"Spock," Kirk said, taking his chair.
"What's happening?"
Spock's image was on the screen, and Kirkcd see the others in the background.
To his surprise, they were in the shuttlecraft.
"I have discerned the nature of the problem with the Master
Builder," said Spock. "It has to do with the
Calligarian philosophy of
nonexpansionism, coupled with a firm if somewhat
extreme belief in the quality of life and being
part of the society as a whole."
"Specify," said Kirk.
"The Calligarian belief," Spock said,
sounding a bit pedantic, "is that one is only
an acceptable member of the society as long as one
continues to contribute to that society. Once the
contribution ceases--or, more precisely, reaches
its peak--the individual abrogates his right
to continue being part of that society."
"In other ^ws, if you're not part of the
solution, you're part of the problem," said McCoy.
"Quite right, Doctor. The Calligar society
is set up as follows All members of the
society are constantly monitored, and their
activities appraised. The growth of their
minds, their perceptions, ambitions, and potential
accomplishments are in a perpetual state of
assessment. In each individual's life, thereis a point where it is decided that they have attained
the peak of their existence. Any continuation beyond that
point is percvd as stagnation, creatively and
intellectually."
"What are you saying, Spock? That someone
decides, for each and every Calligarian, that he's
done enough for one lifetime, and then that lifetime just ...
just ends?" said Kirk.
"Yes, sir. It is seen as a needless drain
on available resources--a particular consideration
since the Calligar mind-set is geared toward
nonexpansion."
"My Godffwas said McCoy. "That ... that's
inhuman!"
Spock actually looked surprised. "They
are not human, Doctor," he said
matter-of-factly.
"If they're so damned concerned about population
growth, why the hell don't they practice birth
control?" said McCoy. "The--"
"Not now, Bones," snapped Kirk.
"Spock, this ... "forced retirement,"' as it were
... how does it happen? And who decides who
goes when? And don't they object to being
terminated that way? It's Eminiar all over ag.Fox is going to have d@ej@a vu."
"It's quite different, Captain," said Spock.
"The Calligar are very spiritual--"
"Spiritual!" bellowed McCoy. "They march
into death--"
"Bones, shut up!" Kirk said in
exasperation. "Spock--"
Spock, from long practice, seemed to pay
no attention to McCoy at all. "They believe
in continuing to exist as one with their surroundings long
after their bodies have ceased, and they have put that
belief into actual practice. A
Calligarian does not die in the traditional
sense. Once he or she is selected for
"thinning"'--the term for being removed from the
population pool and placed instead into the mind pool
--his or her essence is removed and placed within
a vast network, which they term the Worldmind. It is
their equivalent of heaven, except while
theologians argue over the nature of heaven, the
Calligarians have fashioned it. Everything that the
thinned individual knows, remembers, and has
experienced becomes a part of the Worldmind, a vast
computer network that is based in a satellite
city at the Southern Pole of the planet. Theliving may access the Worldmind at any time, and
indeed, according to what Dr. Daystrom has said, they
can spend many hours simply communing with the minds and
thoughts of their departed brethren."
"It's insane," said McCoy.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "No,
Doctor. It is crossing the gap between living and
dying. There is no end to the life of a
Calligarian. He simply continues to serve
society in a different manner. The Worldmind is
linked with most facets of the Worldnet. After many
centuries of its use, the Calligar even have a
low-level telepathic sense of it when they're not
in direct communion with it. From that sense of unity
comes their philosophy of being part of a great whole.
And it is the Worldmind that, as part of that perpetual
communion, decides who has reached his or her
peak and will be thinned."
"And Ecma was scheduled for thinning," said
Kirk.
"So it would appear," Spock said. "And she,
apparently, balked at the notion."
"I can't say I blame her," said
McCoy.
"Spock," Kirk said, "here's what Iwant you to do--" 315
And suddenly Scotty shouted something in alarm,
and Spock turned to him and then back to Kirk.
"Captain," he said with his usual sangfroid,
"I believe we are about to encounter some
difficulty."
And then there was the sound of something being smashed, and
Kirk could see the crew of the shuttlecraft
reacting to something.
And then the image of the shuttlecraft interior
vanished, leaving the mocking image of the rift,
hanging as always in the depths of space.

Chapter Twenty-one

"So it would appear," Spock said, "and she,
apparently, balked at the notion."
Scott was only partially paying attention as he
heard Dr. McCoy make some sort of
sardonic reply. For his attention had been
caught by an instrument reading that he should have noticed
earlier, except that his attention was being distracted
by the bickering of Thak and Dorkin toward the rear
of the shuttlecraft.
According to the lift indicator, they were over twohundred pounds heavier now than when they had
first
taken off from the Enterprise. That made no
sense, particularly since they had unloaded all
their gear, which should have made them lighter, not ...
And then Scott realized what was wrong.
"Mr. Spockffwas he shouted.
Kirk was just saying, "Here's what I want you
to do," but Spock could not fully concentrate because
Scotty was bellowing, "Someone must be hanging on
to the hull! We're not clear!"
Spock digested this piece of information, turned
back to Kirk, and said, "Captain, I believe
we are about to encounter some difficulty."
And at that moment a pointed metal rod
slammed into the front window from overhead.
Amazingly, the sturdy front view window
ribboned with weblike cracks. Spock had a
quick flash of Macro's face from overhead, on the
roof of the shuttle, and then the rod smashed down
once more. The window exploded inward, sending
needle-sharp pieces hurtling through the interior of the
shuttlecraft.
Scotty desperately angled the
shuttlecraft steeply downward, and from overhead
Macro started to slide off. But his hand snagged theunderside of the frame, and he swung his
legs through the now-empty screen. With one large
foot he smashed the engineer in the face. The world
spun around Scott, and he slumped forward onto
the controls.
Spock rerouted the shuttle control to his own
console, but now Macro had insinuated himself through the
window completely, and he stood facing Spock,
roaring. He swung the rod at Spock.
And without looking, Spock caught his arm at the
wrist. "Shondar Dorkin," he called, his
forearm trembling slightly at the strain but
otherwise betraying no difficulty whatsoever,
"if you wouldn't mind."
Dorkin unbelted himself from his seat in a
heartbeat and lunged forward with a roar. Daystrom
clung helplessly to his, and Thak's eyes
widened in amusement as the Tellarite jumped
into his element.
Dorkin, with an unrestrained howl, drove a
furious roundhouse punch to Macro's chin,
snapping his head back, and Spock released his
grip on Macro's wrist so that he could
concentrate on keeping them airborne. As he
kept the shuttle on course with his left hand hestarted reconnecting the subspace communication
with
his right, tossing off a quick glance at Scott
to ascertain the extent of the engineer's injury.
And then there was a truncated roar, and Spock
turned just in time to see Macro grabbing the
Tellarite's throat, about to bring the rod
slamming down on his head. But Thak was on his
feet now, and he lunged toward the struggling pair
as the shuttle took another sudden lurch. He
stumbled forward, smashing into them from behind, and the three of
them collided with Spock. Under the weight of the
three bodies the Vulcan was almost shoved out of his
chair. As it was, he lost his grip on the
controls, and the shuttlecraft angled straight
toward the ground.
Spock tried to bring his arms up to take
Macro out with the Vulcan nerve pinch, but they were
pinned beneath the crush of bodies. The Tellarite
was bellowing Tellarian obscenities, the
Andorian was hissing furiously, and Macro was
shouting at the top of his lungs, almost drowning out
Shondar Dorkin.
Arms and legs twisted and writhed, and Thak
found himself staring down the business end of the rod.
Its fierce, pointed end was directed right at "face, and he could see that the end was 319
gleaming with hardened sharpness. It would go right through his
head, and Macro, in the throes of the struggle,
drove the rod toward his face.
And then a furry paw shot upward,
deflecting the thrust just to the left of Thak's
head. The rod went directly into the controls,
circuitry blowing out and sparks flying.
The directional control shut down, and the
shuttlecraft fell like a crippled sparrow. The
air whistled around them, and the interior of the shuttle
was filled with yelling and howling.
Spock, determined to make one final effort
to avert disaster, gathered his strength and shoved at
whatever body parts were available. The weight was
suddenly off him, and he sat up, yanked the rod
out of the controls, and tossed it aside. One look
told him that it was hopeless. A second look
told him that a crash was imminent, because the ground was
screaming up at them.
There was no time for subtlety. "Crash
positions!" he shouted, making himself heard over the
hullabaloo, and again "Crash positions!"
Down, down plunged the shuttlecraft, and still
Macro was locked in battle with the Tellarite.?Shondarffwas Spock called. "Macro! This is
futile! We are about to strike the ground! You will
both die unless you cease hostilities immediately!"
Even as he spoke he buckled himself in.
Thak heard and tried to rip the combatants apart
but received a fierce shove from Dorkin, who
yelled, "This is between this arrogant fool and me!"
and sent the Andorian stumbling back to his seat.
Spock was about to get to his feet again and then
saw that there was no more time. He also saw that Mr.
Scott, unconscious, was still not strapped in.
He lunged over, pulling at his own restraint,
and snapped Scott's in place. The belts were
not standard issue but had been added to this shuttle when
the warp sled was attached, in anticipation of
possible hazardous conditions. Spock made a
mental note to suggest that they be installed in all
shuttlecraft, and then the ship hit the ground.
And to the horror of all in the shuttle,
Dorkin and Macro were thrown right through the space in
the front of the shuttle. Then they were gone, and
suddenly the remaining crewmen found themselves taking a
ride straight to hell.
The shuttle flipped over and over again,
hurtling across the ground accompanied by a crash ofmetal and an earsplitting shriek of a 321
human--specifically, Richard Daystrom.
Sparks flew all around them, and Spock heard
a rip and a snap that told him one of the warp sled
nacelles had been shorn off.
The shuttlecraft barrel-rolled once more and
then slowly, painfully creaked to a stop. It was
sideways.
There was a moment of uneasy silence, and then
Spock called, "Is everyone intact?"
"Dorkin!" the Andorian was shouting. "He was
thrown out! At the speed we were going--"
"I am aware of that," said Spock as he
quickly unbelted himself. After giving Scott a
cursory glance he hurried to the Andorian, who
was trying to pry loose his restraint. Spock
pulled at it, found that it was jammed, andwitha quick
motion snapped the belt in half, freeing Thak.
Thak quickly made his way toward the front of the
shuttle, for the exit door was on the side of the
shuttle flattened against the ground. The front
window was the only means of egress.
Thak shoved through the window and vanished around the
other side of the shuttlecraft. Moments later
Spock had freed Daystrom and had broughtScott to consciousness. Scotty looked around the
shuttlecraft and, instead of inquiring as to the
welfare of the other passengers, moaned softly,
"Ach ... muh poor ship."
Making sure that no one had broken bones or
serious injuries, Spock, Scott, and
Daystrom made their way out of the shuttlecraft.
Fortunately, the shuttlecraft had happened
upon large, unoccupied area. Either that, or the
thought-responsive city had managed to clear the
way for them with no problem.
Macro was crouched on the field, shaking his
head, apparently none the worse for wear. The
physical endurance of the Calligarians was
clearly far beyond anything that the Federation had
previously suspected. They could be slowed, they
could be hurt, they could even be stopped, but
apparently their ability to bounce back from injury
was unparalleled among any race that Spock had
encountered before. Still, the wind was clearly knocked out
of him, and Macro could do little but glare at
Spock and the others as they ran past.
A significant number of Calligarians
was approaching from the other direction. Apparently
they were the same ones who had been pursuing themearlier, and Spock came to the 323
unpleasant conclusion that they had, in fact, wound
up flying in a tremendous circle.
All of that, however, was secondary to the unmoving
form of Shondar Dorkin lying on the ground, Thak
the Andorian crouched next to him. Spock,
Scotty, and Daystrom slowed as they saw the
hideous angle at which Dorkin's body was lying.
His back was clearly broken.
Dorkin was gasping, his thick fur matted with
black blood, and he was looking up at Thak.
"Idiot," he murmured. "I had to hold up
... your end and mine ... in the fight."
"You stopped him from killing me," said Thak in
wonderment. "You saved my life."
Dorkin coughed and spat out a thick glob of
black, viscous fluid. "You were ... in my
way ... that's all." Then he shivered. "It's
... cold."
"Shhh ... lie still. You're going to be all
right," said Thak, but he looked hopelessly up
at the others.
The Tellarite's body was trembling, and he
murmured, "Look, Andorian ... do one thing for
me ... and don't botch it." "What, Shondar?"
"Tell my wives ... and offspring ... that
I took about ... a dozen or so of these bastards
... with me."
His piggish eyes seemed to recede for a moment,
and then they rolled up into the top of his head. A
soft breath escaped him that had an odd, singular
rattle to it.
And then he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-two

The atmosphere in the briefing room of the
Enterprise was extremely tense.
"Jim, you can't possibly be serious," said
McCoy. "It's crazy. It's suicide!"
"If I were dead for every time that I ostensibly
committed suicide, Doctor, I'd've died
several hundred times by now," Kirk said
patiently.
"The doctor is correct, sir," Sulu
said. "It's far too great a risk for you to take.
If anyone should go, then it should be me."
"As what?" Kirk said. "The most expedient
of my junior officers?" "Junior officers!" snorted 325
McCoy. "For God's sake, Jim, get a
grip on reality. Junior? Sulu there is in
line for his own command, and he'll probably get
one before you know it. So is Uhura. So is
Chekov, a couple years down the line. We're
not kids anymore, Jim. None of us is. And
you going off to the rescue on some headstrong damned
fool crusade is sheer lunacy."
"Suicidal. Lunatic." Kirk actually
smiled slightly. "Why don't you just declare me
unfit for command, Doctor?"
"How about if I just declare you unfit to have a
sensible conversation with?"
"Captain, may I speak frankly?" asked
Sulu. And when Kirk nodded slightly, Sulu
continued with a slight edge to his voice. "You
asked us here to solicit our opinions. Our
opinions are unanimous in this respect. And
yet I have the feeling that you're going to do what
you've decided to do anyway. May I ask,
sir, why you requested this conference in the first
place, if you intended to ignore our advice
all along?"
Kirk's eyes narrowed. "The doctor, it wouldseem, is correct. In the old days, Mr.
Sulu, you would not have addressed me in that manner."
"It's only because I would like there to be new days
to come," replied Sulu. "Captain, revised
Starfleet procedures clearly state that the
ship's captain is not to put him or herself into any
unnec danger."
"And it is up to me to decide, Mr. Sulu,
what is necessary." Kirk slowly surveyed the
room. "The contact team, including two of our
own, is being held on the other side. We are
running out of time. The rift will seal itself off at a
maximum of eighteen hours from now--and that's if
nothing unexpected happens to disrupt the
temporal waves. Also, we have been told
repeatedly that the Calligar have tremendous
respect for authority figures. Commanding
officers. We have been trying to raise the
Calligar for ..." He looked questioningly at
Uhura.
"The last hour, sir," she admitted.
"The last hour. And after the initial reply--
"There will be no discussion until the Master
Builder is returned to us"'--we haven't
heard from them. That does not sound promising.Therefore, it is my belief that the only 327
way I'm going to be able to get our people out is to go
in person."
"No," said McCoy fiercely. "You think
you're some sort of knight, riding your white
horse to save the day. There's a damsel in
distress down in sick bay. There are fellow
knights trapped by an evil wizard. And you're
going to mount your proud white charger and gallop
forward, your lance at the ready, prepared to smite
down anyone who'll stand in the way of your completing
your great and noble mission. Who cares about the
danger or the wisdom of it? Sir Galahad,
cloaked in righteousness, will triumph over them
all!"
Kirk stared at McCoy and then nodded
slowly. "That seems a fair assessment," he
said. Then he reached over and tapped a comm
button. "Shuttle Bay, prepare the remaining
shuttle with warp sled."
"We'll have it prepped in ten minutes,
Captain," came the reply.
"Good." Kirk started to rise.
McCoy, gesturing in frustration, said,
"Didn't any of what I just said get through to you?" "All of it, Doctor," replied Kirk.
"And I can't deny any of it. And I can't deny
my men, either. I can't separate myself from what and
who I am ... that's one rift that will never be
created. See?" he added with a wink. "More
irony."
McCoy grumbled as Chekov now said,
"Keptin ... you'll require someone to assist you
in the piloting of the wessel ..."
"You mean a squire," came a voice from the
doorway.
They turned to find Jos@e Tyler standing there,
smiling lopsidedly. He was studying his hands.
"Navigator Jos@e Tyler reporting for
duty, sir."
"Commodore," began Kirk.
"Consider it an order, Captain," said
Tyler firmly. "I've never been one to be
obsessive about rank--indeed, that's probably
an attitude that's held me back to some
degree. But this time I give you no choice.
I'm coming along with you, or I close up this little
junket of yours and bust you so far down that you'll have
to tunnel your way upward for three days just to see
daylight. Do you read me, Captain?" "Yes, sir," said Kirk without 329
blinking an eye. He crossed to Tyler, turned
to his subordinates, and said, "Mr. Sulu, you
have the conn. Furthermore, in case you decide
to emulate your crackbrained captain and his
crazed heroics, I am giving you a direct
order No matter what happens, you are not to come
after me. I will not have you putting this ship at
risk."
"I'll keep her safe for you, sir."
Kirk nodded and then added, "Tallyho."
No one smiled.

Settling in at the controls of the
shuttlecraft, Kirk and Tyler quickly and
efficiently did the last-minute flight checks.
Tyler whistled the 1812 Overture softly, and
then he paused while continuing with the check
procedures and said, "Your crew obviously
thinks very highly of you and is extremely fond of
you."
"Why do you say that?" asked Kirk.
"Because only a crew that feels that way about their
commanding officer could get quite so pissed off with him."
Kirk nodded in embarrassed agreement. "Ic be a very irritating individual. I'm amazed
any of them has stuck with me for so long."
"You command loyalty among your people. You're very
fortunate."
"It drives them crazy when I take it in
my head to go running off to rescue one of them."
"Perhaps that's why they're loyal to you. Because they
know that you are the type of person who will risk
everything for them. You are dedicated enough to them, and to your
own ideals, that you will lay yourself on the line. As you
have, time and time again."
"A cowboy," said Kirk.
"A knight."
Kirk nodded and informed the shuttle bay that they
were ready to depart, and the shuttlecraft lifted off
the hangar bay floor. A moment later the
shuttle was sailing out of the hangar bay and angling
toward the rift.
"Bring us around," said Kirk.
"Coming around, heading 103 mark 2," said
Tyler, laying in the course. He smiled. "The
old reflexes. It all comes right back to you."
Kirk surveyed Tyler's handling of the
instruments and nodded approvingly. "Solid work.
You'll go far." "All the way to the other side of the 331
rift," said Tyler. "Preparing for warp
drive."
"Joe," said Kirk after a moment, "has it
occurred to you that in order to pull this off I'm going
to have to accomplish one of two things? Either I have
to convince the Calligar to release the contact team
out of the goodness of their hearts, or else I have
to talk them out of thinning Ecma so that the threat to her
is gone. And if that happens, she might not want
to stay with you."
"That has occurred to me, yes," said Tyler
evenly.
"Does that concern you?"
Tyler looked at him evenly. "Getting our
people out of there without compromising our promises is
what concerns me. That's all. The rest I'll
gladly leave to the fates to decide."
"The fates," said Kirk, "can be singularly
nasty. Life is often unfair."
"Of course it is," replied Tyler. "After
all, no one gets out alive."

On the bridge of the Enterprise Sulu
watched from the command chair, his face unreadable, zthe shuttlecraft dwindled, kicked into warp
drive, and vanished into the rift.
More than anything, despite whatever disciplinary
actions might be taken later, Sulu would dearly
have loved to send the Enterprise leaping through the
rift as well. After all, the Calligar might
very well change their tune with the full power of a
starship staring down their throats.
But that, he knew, would be a singularly bad
idea. The projected stability of a temporal
rift was delicate enough. To disrupt the timestream
flux with the power of the main warp engines--
considerably larger and far more spatially distorting
than the far smaller warp sled propulsion on the
shuttlecraft--wd risk having the entire ship
and crew trapped light-years away from home.
They would not make it back to earth in the crew's
lifetime, if at all.
He could not take that chance.
And then he was immediately snapped out of his thoughts
when Chekov suddenly said, "Commander Sulu,
sensors are detecting a wessel entering the
area."
He waited for the computer to feed through
identification of the ship's design. "AnAndorian class D-3 ship," he 333
said after a moment.
"Open a frequency," said Sulu quickly.
"We have to lay down the ground rules immediately.
Andorian ship, come in please. This is Sulu,
in command of the Enterprise."
Subspace crackled for a moment as the
Andorian vessel grew closer on the screen.
Long and sleek, it was a nasty-looking piece of
work. A moment later the Andorian commander came
on the screen. His chin was a bit more squared than
Thak's, his eyes a bit more canny. "This is
Vandar, commanding the Stealth. We have been alerted
to difficulty in regard to our representative,
Thak."
"There is a difficulty," said Sulu, "that
is true. However, we have a negotiating team
on the scene, and we anticipate all will be
equitably worked out."
Vandar seemed to consider that a moment. "Very
well, Enterprise," he said in that soft,
sibilant hiss. "For the moment we will take no
action. But we must be kept apprised of--"
"Another wessel, Commanderffwas said Sulu.
"Coming in at--" Before he could even get the full warning out a
gruff and angry voice cut into the audio. "This
is Khund of the Tellarite vessel
Belligerent."
"They certainly believe in truth in
advertising," observed Uhura drolly.
The viewscreen split in two, and the face of
an irritated Tellarite--and it was becoming more and
more evident that that was the only way that Tellarites
ever appeared--came up on the screen. "We have
learned," he said, "of the unprovoked, heinous
attack upon one of our representatives. We
demand to know what action is being taken."
Deciding to play matters safely, Sulu
repeated virtually ^w for ^w what he had said
to Vandar.
Khund's response was predictable.
"Some weak-kneed Federation peace-lover is
negotiating for the release of our
representative?" bellowed the Tellarite.
"Who do these Calligar think they are? By what right
do they make demands on us and hold one of our
Shondars as prisoner? We're going to go in and
put a stop to it!"
"We cannot allow that," said Sulu firmly. "You cannot allow!" snarled Khund. 335
"You puny Starfleet officer--"
That was when the turbolift opened and
Ambassador Fox, wearing anti-gravity
boots that came up to mid-thigh and relieved the
pressure on his legs, appeared on the
bridge. Sulu, maintaining his rapidly waning
patience, said, "Ambassador, this is not the
time--"
But Fox turned to him and said in no uncertain
terms, "No, Commander, this is precisely the
time. With your permission." And then, before Sulu could
object, he faced the screen and said, "Khund
--and Vandar, for that matter--y're not facing
simply the capricious whims of a Starfleet
officer. The Enterprise is the jurisdictional
vessel here, assigned that status not only
by Starfleet, but by the Federation. If you cross
Enterprise, or provoke her, or in any
way do anything to upset the delicate situation that
has developed here, you'll have the full weight and
discipline of the Federation Council brought down on
you. I, as their official representative, can
assure you of that. That includes the ire of your
respective governments and their delegates, withwhom I met just last week, andwith whom I am on
excellent terms. And if you give Commander
Sulu any difficulty, I will personally
prevail on those noble delegates to see to it that
your next assignment will be commanding the
lithium-cracking station on Delta Vega. Is
that understood?"
Vandar, who knew the remarks were not really
addressed to him, simply smiled and said,
"Understood."
Khund, to whom the remarks .were addressed,
didn't realize it and assumed that they were being
made in order to scare the craven Andorian. He
simply said, "Understood."
"Enterprise out," said Sulu gratefully.
The moment they vanished he turned to Fox and said,
"Ambassador, that was much appreciated.
Especially considering that your making public the
situation is what brought them here in the first
place."
"Captain Kirk mentioned that to you, did he?"
said Fox. He shrugged. "I was doing my job
then, Commander. And I was doing it now. That's a
simple truth that your captain apparently finds
difficult to comprehend. Perhaps you can explain xffhim some time--assuming he returns in 337
one piece from doing .his job."

Chapter Twenty-three

Kirk walked into the council chamber, Tyler
directly behind him, and the captain felt as if he
were under scrutiny from everyone on the planet. Even
though there were only several dozen Calligar
surrounding the perimeter, watching from high-backed
chairs, he sensed that there were far more present, and
far more at stake.
In a corner of the room were Spock, Scott,
Daystrom, and Thak. Thak looked the most
shaken; Spock had informed Kirk of the death of
Shondar Dorkin and the profound effect it seemed
to have had on the Andorian. A member of a race
driven by an awareness of indebtedness, Thak was
obviously at odds with his assessment of
Dorkin's uselessness, which had been undercut
by Dorkin's saving of Thak's life. For an
Andorian, being indebted to someone whom you could never
repay was a little piece of hell.
Alt was seated there, as was Macro, plus
various other Calligarians that they didn't know.It didn't seem to matter particularly about the
others--^the two were clearly running the show.
"You are the commander?" asked Alt. "The
leader?"
"Yes," said Kirk. He stepped forward.
"And I'm here to--"
"He is not the leader," snarled Macro.
Kirk fixed a gaze on him and said slowly,
"I cannot say I appreciate being interrupted."
But Macro was paying no attention. Instead he
had risen from his place and come around to face
Commodore Jos@e Tyler, who was standing thirty
feet away. Macro stood, relaxed and ready,
his arms at his side. "It has been a long time,
Tyler."
Tyler looked to Kirk, for they had agreed that
Kirk was to be spokesman. But Kirk merely
nodded in Tyler's direction. Tyler shrugged.
"Yes. It has." Tyler's manner showed
polite interest, but nothing more.
"It is because of you," said Macro, "that this has
happened. Because of you that Ecma left me."
"Me?" said Tyler in amusement. "I'm not the
one who developed this philosophy of thinning."
A number of the Calligar visibly winced, andMacro said angrily, "It's obscene
to hear the ^w spoken by other than a Calligar."
"That's fine," Thak interjected. His voice
was laced with contempt. "We consider it an
obscenity when spoken by anyone."
"The Master Builder is terrified of the fate
that awaits her," Kirk said. "If you are a
civilized people, you'll--"
"Don't hold us to your standards of
civilized," snapped Macro. "How typical
of your self-satisfaction that you presume
to judge us. And you"--he was speaking again to Tyler
--?y are the one who influenced Ecma to fear the
honor of thinning."
"The honor?"
"The last and greatest reward that a
Calligarian can aspire to," Alt now said.
"I had nothing to do with it," said Tyler.
"Ecma wanted out entirely on her own."
"You lie!" said Macro fiercely. "Y ou
did something to her. What I would give to ram those
lying ^ws down your throat ..."
Kirk saw it coming. "Commodore, careful,"
he warned.
But Tyler didn't care. "You want apiece of me, don't you, Macro? Ever since
I beat you years ago. You've thought about it,
dreamed about it." He struck a defensive
posture, poised on the balls of his feet, the
edges of his fists ready to strike. "Dreamed about
getting your hands on me, settling this between the two
of us. So that's what we'll do. You and me, right
now. We settle it, one way or the other.
What do you say?"
"Macro," cautioned Alt. "You can--"
But Macro wasn't paying attention. Years
of jealousy, of hatred, of fury that had built
up now came pouring out. The great hall was awash
with outrage, as deep and as foul as an ocean of
bile.
"The two of us, then!" shouted Macro.
"To the finish!"
He charged straight toward Tyler, hands
flexing, ready to dig his large fingers into Tyler's
body and rip him apart.
And Jos@e Tyler calmly pulled out his
phaser and shot Macro down while he was still
twenty paces away.
The force of Macro's charge carried him a
couple of extra feet, but he was unconsciousduring the skid. He wound up at 341
Tyler's feet, and the commodore smiled down at
him. "Works every time, Pendejo," he said. And
then he looked up at Alt. "So can we leave
now?"
"I began to say," Alt informed him, "before
Macro interrupted me, and I quote
Macro, you cannot speak for us on this. The decision
of thinning is made by the Worldmind. It is
irrevocable. If Ecma returns, she must
submit to it. If she does not, we will not permit
any of your people to leave."
"This is unacceptable," Kirk said.
"No, Captain. We are simply certain that
you will not leave your friends and associates behind in
favor of one woman. It is an inequitable
situation and solution, and one for which we doubt you will
settle."
Slowly Kirk turned and studied the
assemblage.
"Is this what the proud Calligar come to,
then?" he asked. "Bartering hostages for the life
and freedom of a young woman? Is this what you
represent?"
"No, Captain," said Alt quietly. "This the type of behavior historically typical
of your people. It would seem that you have had an
unpleasant influence on us. We have had
to descend to your level to deal with you."
"Deal with us?" said Kirk. "Why? Because we
don't share your view about thinning? Because we find
your attitude ... distressing? Cavalier in its
disregard for life?"
"Cavalier? We are a merciful people,
Captain. We spare lives the pain of never
matching their accomplishments. Our people accept that."
"How could they?" demanded Kirk. "Who could
reasonably say that they'd want to die and give
up hope of ever surpassing their previous
accomplishments?"
"I would."
To Kirk's shock, the ^ws had not come from a
Calligarian.
They had been spoken by Dr. Richard
Daystrom.
Daystrom stepped forward, looking even older
than he had before. "They're right, Captain. They
are."
"Doctor ..."
But Daystrom continued to talk, and it didn'teven seem as if he was aware that Kirk 343
was standing there. That anyone was there. "It would have been
a blessing," he said distantly. "If someone had
come to me and shown me, after my first quarter of a
century in this universe--if they'd come to me and
said, "Look. Look at the pointlessness of the
rest of your life. Look at the tries and
failures, the breakdown, the frustrations that will be
yours--yrs and no one else's. No one to share
them. No one to care for you, or about you. A
lifetime of feeble attempts to recreate the
glory."
Not unkindly, aware of the man's personal
grief--not to mention his precarious mental condition
--Kirk said, "Please, Dr. Daystrom ...
you're not helping."
Daystrom looked at him for a moment,
refocused, and then seemed to lock onto
Kirk's presence. He sighed, his chest
trembling, and said, "My ... apologies,
Captain."
"He has nothing to apologize for," Alt said
softly. "He is simply elevated enough to understand
what every Calligarian already does. What is the
point of taking up society's resources foralife that has reached its point of anticlimax?"
"Because," said Kirk with firm authority, "you
risk missing the unexpected twist towards the end
of the second act."
He stepped over the unconscious body of
Macro and raised his voice to address everyone rather
than simply Alt. "With all due respect
to all of you, we're going in circles here. We
have reached a stalemate. And I see only one
way to break it."
"And that would be ..."
"I wish to commune directly with the Worldmind."
If Kirk had suddenly blown his brains out
before the assemblage, he could not have gotten a more
surprised reaction. There was a rush of muttering
that followed Kirk's request, and then Alt said
loudly, "That would be ... unwise."
"Perhaps," said Kirk. "But you've said that the
Worldmind made the decision. Therefore, it seems that
only the Worldmind can settle this matter. Ecma
feels that she has more to do, that her life has not
reached its peak. She wants more time to attain her
accomplishments. She should have that right. And if the
Worldmind is the entity that wants to deprive her of
that right, then that's whom I have to address." "You do not understand, Captain. You do not 345
have the mental discipline that even Calligarian children
have."
"And Calligarian children," replied Kirk,
"do not have the years of experience I have."
"We cannot allow it, Captain. You have no
idea what you would be facing. To let you go would be
tantamount to allowing you to kill yourself."
"I see," said Kirk sardonically. "How
thoughtful that you have more concern for an outsider than for the
life of one of your own people."
But now Spock stepped forward. "Master of the
Status," he said, "am I correct in
assuming that I, as a Vulcan, would have the proper
mental discipline to withstand communing with the Worldmind?"
Alt glanced at him appraisingly. "We have
had many years to study what we gleaned of
Vulcans from our first encounter, Mr. Spock.
I believe that you would be able to cope with the mental
demands. But that is--"
"Then, with the captain's permission, I wish
to be the spokesman for the Master Builder."
Kirk quickly crossed to the Vulcan and spoke
to him in a low voice. "Spock, you've been
over here most of the time. You hardly even knowEcma."
Spock raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Knowing
the individual in question is irrelevant, sir.
What is important is the concept--the value
of free will versus predestination. A gulf in
ideological discussion that has separated
philosophers for centuries. A rift, if you
will, much like the one that brought us to this pass. Do you not
find that ironic, Captain?"
At that Kirk actually had to smile. "No.
Contrived."
"What is required here," continued Spock,
"is an exercise in logic and debate. With
all due respect, Captain, if debate and
logic are required, sending a human to do a
Vulcan's job would be--"
"Illogical," said Kirk.
"Totally," agreed Spock.
"I suppose you're old enough to know what you're
doing."
"Indeed. In point of fact, I am old enough
to know better. But I wish to do it nevertheless. It will
be ... fascinating."

McCoy entered sick bay and walked overffEcma's bed. To his surprise, 347
Ecma's eyes were open, and she was staring up at
him in some confusion. He quickly glanced up at her
bioreadings and was pleased to see that they were stable.
He looked back down at her and said,
"Welcome back."
She licked her lips. "Why does my mouth
taste so bad?"
"The, uhm, contents of your stomach vacated rather
forcefully some hours ago," said McCoy.
"Oh, dear," she said, sounding remote.
"When? Where?"
"Right after the captain shouted at you about fighting.
On myself and the captain."
"I'm--I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry about it," McCoy said
gamely. "In my case it comes with the
territory. In the captain's case ... it
looked good on him."
"You must hate him," said Ecma in wonderment.
"He and Mr. Spock. You're always insulting
them."
McCoy glanced right and left to make sure
no one was listening and then, in a low voice, said,
"Of course not. People that I hate, I jignore. Kirk and Spock I ..." His jaw
flexed for a moment, and then he said, "I put up
with their foolishness. After all, without me looking out
for them, they'd have woken up dead a long time
ago."
"I understand," she said softly. "For my mouth
... could I ..."
"Oh. Of course. Where are my manners?"
He went to the food slot and punched in a quick
code, and a glass of shimmering clear liquid was
produced. "Here," he said, handing it to her.
"Since I was wearing some genuine Calligarian
food, I took the liberty of having the computer
analyze it. Derived the basic building
blocks of your nutrition from it, and I took the
liberty of programming it into our food system.
You can eat human food, but this should taste more like
what you're accustomed to."
She took the glass gratefully and drained the
contents in one gulp. Wiping her mouth, she held
it up and said hopefully, "More?"
McCoy smiled. "Can't ask for a better
review than that." He returned to the food
dispenser and came back with two more glasses. She
drank the second immediately and nursed the third.?How are you feeling?" 349
She stared off into space. "Empty," she said
in puzzlement. "I feel ... very empty. It's
... it's a little frightening."
"I'm not surprised," said McCoy. "You were
so linked with your people--with their philosophies, with your
society--t withdrawing made you physically and
mentally ill. I believe you'll be all right now,
though."
"I feel so ... so alone." She trembled
slightly. "How do you ... how do you stand it?"
He put a comforting arm ar ound her and said, "We
seek out others, and we try to pull one another
through. That's all any of us can do."
"Joe. Where is Joe? And Captain
Kirk?"
McCoy hesitated, unsure of whether
to tell her so soon after she had come to, but she
sensed that he was holding something back and clutched his
forearm agitatedly. "Tell me," she insisted.
"They've gone through the rift," said McCoy.
"They're trying to convince the Calligar to let you
go."
"They'll never do that," said Ecma. "Never."
"Well, your people have said that they won't releaseSpock, Scotty, and the others until such time
as
we return you."
Her eyes widened. "They can't!"
"Apparently they can."
"I"--her eyes were wide, her voice
quavering--?I never thought that ... I never
realized what they might do."
"Chances are, neither did the captain, or he
might not have been so quick to grant your request,"
said McCoy ruefully. "I don't think he
counted on all of you being so attuned to one another
that they would sense your sudden attempt to break
away from them. How come they didn't know you were
thinking of running off in the first place?"
"We're not mind readers," she said, "except
in times when we're directly in communion with the
Worldmind." She stopped, surprised that she had
mentioned it so casually, and whispered, "I--I
really am separate from them now." Then, forcing herself
back on track, she said, "Shifts of thought
pattern, that sort of thing--^th are our private
thoughts. But when I made a decision to break
away, that was a determination so profound that it got
the attention of the Worldmind and caused--"
"Your withdrawal pains," said McCoy. "Iunderstand." 351
"I cannot believe that they would resort to that,"
Ecma said.
"Well, what did you think they would do?"
demanded McCoy.
"I don't know! I had not even truly
decided that breaking away was what I was going to do!
It's unprecedented, Doctor. You have to understand
that. Part of it was desperation, and the rest was just pure
spur of the moment."
McCoy sighed heavily. "Well, whatever it
was, the captain gave his ^w, and he's not going
to break it. He's there fighting for you now, charging
on his horse."
"His horse?"
"Never mind."
"But--but what could he possibly do? How could
he convince them of something about which they will never be
convinced?"
McCoy thought a moment. "This Worldmind of yours
makes the determinations about when you die?"
"Yes," she said in a small voice. "I
am scheduled for thinning two days from now."
"All right, then. Knowing Jim as I do, the
chances are he's going to want to talk directlyffthis Worldmind of yours."
"ationo!" she cried out in alarm. "No, he
can't! This is too much! Your people being held
prisoner, the captain risking himself--th can't go
on! I have to go back!"
She tried to sit up, and McCoy grabbed her
by the shoulders. "You can't!" he said. "We have no
other shuttles that can withstand the rift!"
"My ship can! The one I came in!"
McCoy blinked. "I'll be damned. I
forgot about that."
"Where is it?"
"Right where you left it, I presume. Next
to the Enterprise."
"Tell them I'm coming back."
"No," said McCoy. And before she could
protest further he continued, "It's not up to me.
We have to talk to Mr. Sulu about it. No one
enters or exits a starship without permission from the
commanding officer. You want to go back, no one's
going to force you to stay--but we clear it through him.
Now, just wait here. I'm going to get you your
clothes, and then we'll get things sorted out."
He headed for the closet where Ecma's clothes
had been hung, stopping only to tap on the communit. "Sick bay to bridge." 353
"Bridge," came Sulu's voice.
"Commander," said McCoy, feeling a little
tired, "I have some interesting news for you. After
all this brouhaha, you're going to love this."

The huge building was as cavernous as Daystrom
remembered it. He glanced at the others and saw
that they were impressed as well. In the dimness the
ceiling of the communion center seemed so far away
as to be nonexistent. The individual beams of
light that shone down during communion, to a more
fanciful individual than the scientific
Daystrom, could have been rays directly from the
eyes of God.
Unlike before, however, no one was standing in the
cones of light. In fact, there were no cones of
light except one single, solitary beam. All
of the other Calligar had been removed.
"A Calligarian," Alt had explained,
"is capable of screening out, or allowing in, the
thoughts of others as he or she chooses. Since you
may lack that facility, we have endeavored
to simplify matters by making sure that all our people
are "off line,"' as you might put it. It will beyond and the Worldmind, Mr. Spock."
"I thank you for your indulgence," Spock said
graciously.
"I will admit," said Alt, "to a certain
degree of curiosity as to what the Worldmind will
say in response to you. I have been raised
to accept and believe certain things. Only the most
closed-minded of individuals will refuse even
to speculate as to what might happen if another
philosophy were to enter their sphere. This will be ...
interesting."
"I shall endeavor to be challenging," replied
Spock.
He approached the beam of light, and Kirk
followed closely until Alt said loudly,
"Captain, have a care. The moment an
individual steps into the light he is in
communion. Best to keep a distance."
Kirk glanced back at Alt, and at the
assemblage of Calligarians behind him. Then
he looked back to Spock. "We're an
interesting experiment for them, aren't we, Spock?"
"So it would appear," replied Spock. "But
any experiment can yield surprising results."
Kirk put a hand on Spock's shoulder.?Be careful." 355
"Naturally."
Spock turned and faced the white light. The
silence was that of a sunrise in a desert. There was
no heat from the light. It was simply there, purity
and truth, bridging the gap between the real world and the world
of the mind.
For Spock, who was accustomed to striding
multiple worlds every day in his continuing fusion of
Vulcan and human influences, did not find it
intimidating in the least.
Without another ^w he stepped into the light.
His back was to Kirk and the others, and the captain
waited apprehensively for ... what? He
didn't know. Some sign. Some ^w from Spock.
Some display. Something.
He sensed, directly behind him, Dr.
Daystrom. In a very low voice, as if whispering
in a church, Daystrom said, "Captain, I wish
to apologize for earlier."
"No apology required, Doctor," said
Kirk, his eyes never leaving his first officer and
friend.
"I feel as if I weakened your arguments to the
Calligar with my ill-timed outburst. If thereis any way I can make it up to you--"
"I said it's all right, Doctor. Now, if
you--"
And then Spock's back stiffened as if he'd
been stabbed. His legs began to quiver, his fingers
clenching into trembling fists.
There was a confused murmur from the Calligar, and
Kirk shouted into the darkness, "What's happening?"
"I do not know!" called Alt. "He is
encountering problems. It must be because he is not one of
us."
And Spock suddenly twisted in place, his
head snapping around, and to Kirk's horror, a
trickle of green blood was running from
Spock's mouth down over his chin. He had
bitten clean through his lower lip.
"Spock!" shouted Kirk, and he lunged
toward the Vulcan.
Daystrom dived at the captain, trying to stop
his headlong rush. Now there was shouting from everyone,
confused babbling.
The blood was pouring down Spock's face and
onto his uniform shirt. His eyes were wide open
and looked as though they were going to leap from his head.
"Let go of me!" shouted Kirk, and heshoved Daystrom away. And Daystrom 357
tried to grab him again, throwing his full weight
into the attempt.
Their legs became tangled up, and together
Daystrom and Kirk fell headfst into the beam.
Immediately their bodies stiffened, their faces
frozen in a look of total surprise. And their
minds leapt out of their bodies and flew away.

Chapter Twenty-four

Sulu sat in the command chair, stroking his chin and
regarding the shaken but nevertheless determined
Calligarian woman in front of him. "After
all this," he asked, trying to mask his annoyance,
"after everything that's happened, now you've decided you
want to go back?"
Ecma drew herself up. "I feel it's the
only way to avoid further ill feelings and
difficulties on my account."
"And if I send you back through the rift," said
Sulu, "and while you're going through the captain
returns with the contact team, how do you think he's
going to feel about having gone through all of that for your
sake, with you not even here?" She glanced at McCoy, but the doctor
simply shrugged. "I think," said Ecma, "that
he will realize that I was trying to do what was best for
all concerned, just as he was. I put it to you
another way, Commander. How would you feel if the
captain, and Joe and all the rest, never
returned, and your letting me return to my people could
have saved them?"
Now it was Sulu's turn to look at
McCoy, but once again the Enterprise chief
medical officer was silent. The message was
clear This was a command decision.
There was no reason to rush into things, though. There
was still time, although it was dwindling rapidly.
"Uhura, put me through to the Calligar," said
Sulu. "Let's see if they'll talk to us
now."
She nodded and sent out a subspace hail into the
heart of the rift. Nearby, on the screen, were the
waiting vessels of the Andorians and
Tellarites. They had kept their counsel all
this time, but their continued presence served to remind
Sulu of exactly the amount of difficulty that
they were in. This entire business was going to have to be
h andled with a great deal of tact. In a low voice Uhura said, "You 359
do realize that they'll probably be monitoring the
conversation. Should I scramble--"
"No," said Sulu. "They'll know we're
talking to the Calligar, and if we try and cover
it, it will just irritate them further."
"Especially the Tellarites," noted
McCoy. "They were born irritable."
"You're on, Mr. Sulu," said Uhura after
a moment.
"This is Sulu, in command of the Enterprise,"
he said.
The screen shifted, and a Calligarian
appeared. To Sulu's surprise, he actually
seemed to be upset about something. Well, this should
cheer them up a bit, he thought. "This is
Stanzia of the Calligar," he said.
"Your Master Builder has stated"--Sulu
gave her a quick look, and she nodded, her jaw
set--?t she has no wish for further
difficulties between our peoples. She has
stated that she is willing to return to the Calligar
in exchange for the return of Commanders Spock and
Scott, Shondar Dorkin, Dr. Daystrom, and
Thak. Please relay this information to your leaders andffCaptain Kirk and Commodore Tyler. We
await your response."
"There may be a problem," said Stanzia
uncertainly.
"What sort of problem?" asked Sulu.
"The problem being that it will not be possible
to accommodate your request."
"I don't understand," Sulu said a trifle
impatiently. "If we have agreed to your request
for her return, there should be no prob--"
"The problem is," said Stanzia, "that Shondar
Dorkin is dead, and Captain Kirk, Dr.
Daystrom, and Commander Spock are trapped in
communion and will, in all likelihood, die there.
So you see, we cannot return them all. Will you
settle for the survivors?"
"Oh, my God," whispered McCoy.
Ecma was slack-jawed, and Sulu was cursing
himself for not having scrambled the communication.
"Mister Suluffwas Chekov suddenly shouted in
alarm. "The Belligerent is on course with the
rift!"
"Uhura, cut the channel to the Calligarffwas
said Sulu. "Give me a line to the
Tellarites! Chekov, move to intercept the.Belligerent. All hands, red alert. 361
Clear the bridge," he commanded McCoy and
Ecma.
"I didn't mean--I didn't--" She was
trying to get out, and then McCoy gently guided
her into the turbolift.
"I've got the Belligerent," Uhura
called over the alarm. "And Ambassador Fox
wants to know if there's something he can do to help."
"Yes, he can sit on his thumb.
Enterprise to Belligerent, come in,
please."
The screen shifted, and there was the infuriated
visage of Khund. "Enterprise, I will say
this once Get the hell out of our way."
"We cannot allow you to enter the rift. The
fields of your warp drive will disrupt--"
"Why should we listen to you?" bellowed Khund.
"You said you had everything in hand! That everything was under
control! Well, it's not under control. The
Shondar is dead, and every Tellarite aboard
screams for vengeance!"
"Vengeance!" came the roars from behind Khund.
"Vengeance!"
"I don't care if you're all screaming forice cream," said Sulu sharply. "If you
approach the rift, we will open fire."
Uhura turned and said, "Mr. Sulu, I have
the Stealth on another channel. They are offering
their support."
"And the Andorians will fire on you as well,"
Sulu said quickly.
"Their moral support," continued Uhura,
"and they say they trust the Enterprise to be
triumphant. They're moving out of range now."
"Give them our thanks for the vote of
confidence," said Sulu.
"Commander, the Belligerent is on course for the
rift. Estimate penetration in thirteen
seconds."
"Fire a warning shot across their bow," said
Sulu.
The Enterprise phasers lanced out, cutting just
in front of the Tellarite ship and momentarily
slowing its progress. In response the
Tellarites suddenly changed course--m quickly
than the larger and less maneuverable Enterprise
could have--and banked hard around on the starship.
The phasers of the Belligerent roared to life,
stabbing outward and striking the starship amidships.The Enterprise rocked under the 363
assault.
The bridge shuddered as Sulu gripped the arms
of the command chair. "Target their warp nacelles,"
he said grimly. "Photon torpedoes.
Fire."
"Torpedoes fire," said Chekov.
The Belligerent came around fast, and the
photon torpedoes exploded against the shields just
below the nacelles. The Tellarite ship was slowed
for a moment, but then it regained strength and, with a daring
U-turn, angled back across its tracks,
dodging another set of phaser blasts as it
screamed through the void toward the rift.
"Tractor beams!" shouted Sulu. "Grab
them!"
The tractors pierced the darkness of space and
momentarily snared the arcing Tellarite ship. But
the tractors were designed for towing ships that, more
often than not, were out of power--not for restraining
vessels that were trying to escape. The tractors
held on for barely a moment--enough time for
Chekov to lock phasers on target--but by the time
the mighty weapons of the Enterprise had fired,
the Belligerent had ripped free of the tractorbeams.
"Full phaser array!" shouted Sulu.
"Fire!"
Phaser blasts bracketed the Tellarite
ship, but Tellarites were nothing if not
singleminded. The Belligerent sustained several
vicious hits, and one of their rear deflector
shields overloaded and burned out. But with
Tellarites that was not enough. Not nearly enough.
Andwitha final, arrogant roar of engines notched
up to warp five the Belligerent leaped into the
rift and vanished.
There was dead silence on the bridge for a long
moment, broken finally by two things. First was
Lieutenant Newman, at the science station,
reporting that sensors had detected a field
disruption in the temporal structure of the rift,
rendering it prematurely unstable. She estimated
that, within ninety minutes if not sooner, it would
collapse on itself.
The second was Uhura, reporting that the
Andorians were calling to comment that they were sorely
disappointed in the performance of the Enterprise.
Sulu's response was not recorded.
Chapter Twenty-five 365

Kirk saw nothing, and plenty of it.
And then everything came crashing down on him.
From everywhere, everywhere, sounds and images,
millions of bits of information. It wasn't an
attack. It was an assault. He didn't know
where to look first, what to think first.
Logic. He needed to sort it out. He needed
to process the information, sort through it, extract
what he needed and discard the rest. But he couldn't;
it was too much, like trying to pick out one snowflake
in a blizzard.
Everything was twisting around and back on him, and
he was a philosopher, and he was a healer, and he
was an explorer, and he was a grunt, and an
architect, sculptor, singer, writer,
scientist, failure, success. Everything,
everything and nothing, and oh God oh God oh
God stop it stop it stop it
stopitstopitstopit. ...
Tears were rolling down Kirk's face,
except he had no face, he felt it melting
away, and his left leg was floating away, and he
was literally coming apart, and there went his right arm, and it" waving to him. ...
And the fields were waving to him, home, home in
Iowa. ...
Home, he had come home, after hiding on
Vulcan for months, and there had been Carol
Marcus waiting for him, and she was coming at him now,
shrieking as she never had in reality, "You let him
die you let him die you saved so many you saved
Spock and McCoy and all of them over and over
and over again and you let your son die you let him you
let him you bastard you son of a bitch you don't
deserve to live you don't you don't you
don'tyoudon'tyoudon't. ...
And Carol was screaming at him, and he heard the
screams of all who had died under his command, all the
security guards, all the crewmen who had
placed their trust in him, and he was looking at a
pile of bodies in the engine room of the
Enterprise, the bodies piled like wood,
phaser-burned or fried or sucked dry of
blood or their red blood cells gone or
crushed beneath the heel into powdered fragments, so many
ways, and they were all equally dead, and they were being
shoveled into the gaping maw of the engines, burning
hotter than the flames of hell, but no, as hotz hell, because this was hell, and then he
saw David's arm sticking out from the pile of
bodies, he saw David's face staring
lifelessly at him in its final twisted
expression of pain, and he ran toward David,
screaming into the soundlessness, and yanked on
David's hand, and the hand came off, and it upset
the pile of bodies, and they tumbled down on
Kirk, down on Kirk, burying him, and the stink
of death was everywhere, all the deaths upon him, upon him
as they always had been and always would be, and hadn't
he done it all? Hadn't he accomplished
everything? What was the point, what was the goddamn
point, there would just be endless repetition now, nothing
new, nothing different, nothing that was remotely
evocative of the days when it was all fresh and
exciting and the adventure was out there calling to him,
now it was just death and death and it was everywhere, in his
eyes and up his nostrils, suffocating in it, and in
his mouth, and he could taste it, and death tasted
sweet, much sweeter than he thought, and the starship
engines roared louder and hotter, powered and fueled
by death, his lover, his all-consuming lover that had
killed so many, killed his crewmen, killed his
son, killed itself, but it kept coming back for more, ands did he, and they deserved each other, my
God, it was so clear, just end it end it God
please, and the end was going to be so good, as a
shovel dug deep and lifted Kirk and the bodies
up high, up over the engines, the flames licking
at them, and he would finally be part of the ship, finally
and completely consumed in body as he had been
consumed his entire life in mind, and- -
And a hand intertwined with his, pulling at him,
pulling him free, and just like that the charnel house
stench was gone. ...
And he was surrounded by stars.
His arms and legs were back, and his face, and
all of him. He turned, and there was Daystrom,
Richard Daystrom, staring at him with a concerned
look on his face. "Almost lost you there," rumbled
Daystrom.
There was still the pounding feeling, the sense of being
assaulted from all around, but it was subsiding, it was
controllable now, and Kirk looked in wonder at
Daystrom. "What is ..." he managed to get
out.
"We're inside the Worldmind mainframe," said
Daystrom, "in its data base. All of the
information stored in it is just that random bits ofinformation. And if you are unable to distill
the 369
data, then I'm afraid it's not--z the saying
used to go--"user friendly."'"
"How ... are you managing it?" Kirk put his
hand to his head, trying to screen out the fierce
pounding.
"It's a computer," Daystrom replied.
"I'm in my element. I saw ... all manner
of things ... but nothing as horrible as what I've
faced in my life with my nervous breakdown."
"I was--I was almost immobilized," said
Kirk. "I--"
"The further you bury your unhappiness, the more it
hurts when the Worldmind gets at it," said
Daystrom. "Now, me, I wear my misery on
my sleeve. It's not nearly as strenuous."
"An argument for mental balance if I ever
heard one."
"Furthermore," said Daystrom, "if we just
concentrate, we can draw strength from each other.
Singly it's harder, but knowing the other is here, we
can pool our defenses."
Kirk looked around, fighting to keep his
rationality. "Before we defend anything, we've
got to find Spock." They were standing on nothing, and suddenly Spock
appeared to their right, or perhaps it was to their left. It
was difficult to tell.
A vicious-looking knife--something distinctly
Vulcan in design--was lodged in his back.
He was vaguely waving at it, trying to pry it from
between his shoulder blades.
Kirk gasped. "Spock!"
He ran toward him, and it took him a full
thirty seconds to realize that, no matter how
fast he ran, he wasn't getting any closer.
Daystrom was right behind him, and when they came to the
realization, they stopped and tried to catch their
breath.
"It's like any other data base," said
Daystrom. "You just have to manipulate the data
that's at hand. And it comes from all around you, and from in
you. It responds to what you think, what's on your
mind."
And then there was a low laugh from everywhere. It
grew louder and louder, filling Kirk's head, and
he clapped his hands to his ears to try and block
it out. But that was impossible because it seemed to be
working its way from the inside of his brain outward.
"I'm calling on the Worldmindffwas shoutedKirk. "I'm here on behalf of 371
Ecma! I'm here on behalf of Spock! If
you're so blasted benevolent, why are you doing this?
Why are you trying to destroy us? Why are you trying
to destroy your own people?"
And the laugh grew louder, and suddenly a
Calligarian melted into existence some feet
away from Kirk. "The Worldmind is benevolent,"
cried out the Calligarian. "In fact, to the
rest of Calligar, nothing has changed. But
there's just one small pocket of it that's been ...
fixed. Calligar doesn't know it. And the
Worldmind doesn't know it. I've hidden the
existence of this little subsystem far too well. And
that's where you are, and that's where I am, and you will not
leave this place. And you have only yourself to blame."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Regger, you Federation idiot!" snarled
Regger, his face twisted in fury. "I'm the
son of Ecma! I'm the next Master
Builder. And you've come so close to ruining
everything, it's not even mildly amusing. I've
planned this for so long, and you, in your blundering, have
almost brought it crashing down. I'll give you this
I never thought you would survive this far. But you'llg no further."
"What did you do to Spock?"
"He wasn't expecting an attack," said
Regger simply. "He was anticipating
interaction on a plane of intellectualism.
He was easily disposable the moment he arrived.
I couldn't let him probe too deeply into the
order for the thinning of my dear mother."
"Of course!" said Kirk. "You didn't
want him to, because the order wasn't
legitimate. It's not her time. But you wormed
your way into the Worldmind and had it issue the
order."
"Took years of my life to accomplish it,"
Regger said proudly. "Making my inroads,
hiding my progress, bit by bit."
"It was perfect," Kirk realized.
"Arrange for your mother to be slated for thinning at the
time when you knew she would be meeting with us. She
felt that it wasn't her time, but she respected the
Worldmind too much for it to occur to her that there was
outside interference. She'd never question it. So you
knew that one of two things would happen. Either she
would flee her fate and beg for sanctuary, and you
would be made Master Builder. Or she wouldaccept the decree, march to her death, and 373
you would still become Master Builder."
"I was giving her an opportunity for
happiness," said Regger. "How much fairer could a
son be than that?" And then he was holding a phaser
in his hand. "Recognize this? It's from your mind.
You'll die here, and no one will suspect what
really happened. You gave it a fair shot,
Captain, I'll grant you that. But you can't be the
hero every time."
He brought the phaser up, aimed, and fired.
And Kirk, literally with the speed of thought,
ordered, "Shields up!"
The shield came up.
It was round and large and had a spike in the
middle. Lettering forming Latin ^ws surrounded the
edge of it, and in the middle was a large
representation of an eagle. The shield was on
Kirk's arm, and the phaser beam bounced harmlessly
off it.
He looked at Daystrom in surprise.
"It's all subjective," said Daystrom.
"All of it. This isn't physical against
physical. It's mind against mind. I'm with you.
Get him." Kirk gave it no conscious thought at all.
Just that quickly he was astride a magnificent
white horse. The horse's eyes were glowing red,
and it reared back, neighing so loudly that it seemed
to fill the skies. The horse had armor covering
the upper portion of its head and its mane, and on
the fitted metal piece, as naturally as if they
should always be there, were the letters NCC-1701A.
And then Kirk realized that he was armored as
well. It glistened and glittered, and his lance was
secured under his arm.
"Yaaah!" he shouted, and the horse charged
forward.
The horse thundered across the nonexistence of the
Worldmind, and Regger fired again with the phaser.
Kirk angled his shield down, and it deflected
the phaser blast once more, and then with a roar Regger
metamorphosed.
He grew larger and larger, his maw as wide as
space, his eyes as hot as the sun, losing all
resemblance to anything humanoid.
The horse reared up, whinnying in fear, and
Kirk fought to control it. The monster took a
step forward, the nothingness shaking beneath his step, and then
another step forward, and Kirk suddenly took-mand because, dammit, he was the commander, he 375
would not lose control, he would save the day, he
would save everything and everyone. And there were
McCoy's acid comments about being a knight, about
being Galahad, and he had said it so disdainfully, but
it had been true, all true.
He charged forward, the flag of the UFP a
fluttering standard at the end of his lance. The monster
swiped at him with its vicious claws, and Kirk
ducked under, barely missing having his head lopped
off, and spurred the horse forward, shouting in
defiance as the lance slammed straight into the
monster's chest.
The lance snapped, and the monster roared, staggering
back, clawing at its chest. Kirk brought the
horse around, pulled his sword from its sheath, and
charged forward again.
The sword whooshed just over the monster's head as
it ducked and lashed out once more with its claws. It
ripped across the belly of the horse, and the
magnificent animal screamed once and went
down, its entrails spilling out. Kirk threw his
sword away as he rolled across the ground
to avoid falling on his own blade.
He rolled to a stop and got to his feet, andDavid Marcus was coming toward him, desperation on
his young face. Kirk froze in place as
David called out, "Father--let me help you!"
"You're not real!" shouted Kirk. The sword
was a couple of feet to his right, just beyond reach.
"Yes, I am! Don't you see? I was
pulled out of your mind. Your subconscious! I
want to help you. I want to forgive you. Let
me, please! Don't turn away again. Don't
let me die again. Please! I want to help you
so much!"
Everything in his voice, in his appearance, was
sincere, andfora moment Kirk hesitated. David
came toward him, reached out for him ...
Kirk leapt to his right, grabbed the sword, and
in one quick motion brought it swinging upward just as
David grabbed for him, the scientist's face
twisted in disdain. The sword cleaved David
Marcus from just under his rib cage up and through to his
opposite shoulder, bisecting his torso.
David shrieked, loud and long, his face
transposing back into Regger's.
(and somewhere, in Regger's home at that very
moment, in a very private, very personal communion
center that he had constructed for private accessffthe Worldmind, Regger slumped forward, his 377
mind gone before his head hit the ground.)
And then all of it began to melt away, the
nonground beneath Kirk's feet. He heard a
shout from Daystrom, and then he was falling, falling,
stretching out his hands to try to grab something, but there was
nothing, nothing at all. ...
Nothing
at
all
and
he
fell
and
fell
and
Stopped.
He sat up.
He was in his quarters.
Daystrom was there. So was Spock, looking
extremely puzzled.
Kirk looked up. The top of his quarters was
gone. Instead there was a sparkling blue sky, and the
earth's sun shining down on him.
And a Calligarian whom Kirk did nrecognize, but he could tell from Spock's
expression that the Vulcan did.
Before Kirk could say anything the doors to his
quarters hissed open, and his mother walked in to offer
them brownies. There was a Tribble perched serenely
on her shoulder. Kirk politely refused the
offer, and she smiled, told him how nice his friends
looked and said they should get along well together, and
then left.
Spock watched her go and then looked back at
Kirk. "Your mother seems quite pleasant,
Captain," he said.
"You'd've liked her," Kirk replied, still a
bit baffled.
"I would tend to agree. Captain ... this is
Zyo. It was his determination to open
Federation-Calligar relations that--"
"Started all the trouble," said Zyo gamely.
"I'm also Ecma's father. A pleasure to meet
you. Your efforts on her behalf have been most
gratifying."
He extended a hand, and Kirk shook it
firmly. "You are aware of what just happened?"
asked Kirk.
"Oh, yes," affirmed Zyo. "As much as Ifind it replusive, by the same token
I must admit a certain degree of admiration for
my grandson. Imagine altering our base
perceptions without our even being able to tell. He
deserved to be the next Master Builder. He
really did. His intellect was quite formidable. A
pity you destroyed his mind, Captain."
"You mean he's ... he's dead?"
"Oh, yes. q. And worst of all, there's
nothing left of his mind, his spiritual aspect,
to salvage. He will be forever denied the privilege
of joining us."
"The privilege he tried to bestow
prematurely on Ecma."
"It would have been nice to see her," said Zyo.
"But I understand now that that would be selfish of me.
Her time will come, however."
"What do you mean, her time will come?" Daystrom
asked. "After everything that's happened, you still intend
to demand that she be returned?"
"Well, of course," said Zyo, sounding
surprised that the question should even be broached.
"She's still one of us. She's still of the Calligar.
She can't be permitted to leave."
"You're not being fair. Why can't she leave?" "Because then she will never be part of the honor,
of the
beauty, of the Harmony of the Worldmind," said Zyo.
"Don't you see? Where is the fairness of
depriving her of that? If she lives a normal
life span and simply dies, then that is the end
for her. She will be forever gone from us. She will live
alone and die alone. The misery, the torture of
that ... we cannot permit that for one of our own. We
love our people too much for that."
"If you truly love her," said Kirk
quietly, "then you will let her go."
Zyo laughed softly. "That old human
saying. A rationalization by humans who allow a
relationship to dissolve rather than fight to maintain
it."
"There is a time for fighting," said Kirk, "and a
time for giving in. A time for realizing the difference
between true love and selfish love. Just because you have
believed this for however many centuries doesn't
mean that you are right."
"And simply because humans have believed
otherwise doesn't mean they are right."
"True enough," said Kirk. "But doesn't
Ecma deserve the opportunity to decide for
herself?" "But she won't be able to," said 381
Zyo. "If we let her go, and she decides
she detests it ... she can never come back to us.
By the time the rift opens once more she will very
likely be dead."
"That is possible," said Kirk. "But it is
her decision."
"We have made plans for her."
"She has made other plans."
Zyo leaned back. "I must say I'm not
totally convinced. Our way is--"
"Is not living," said Kirk.
"We have access to every aspect of living!" Zyo
protested.
"Every aspect but one," Kirk told him. "The
chance to go on living. To experience something new.
You've forgotten already what it was like to be alive.
To breathe in air, to feel the press of a woman's
lips against yours. To hold a newborn child in your
arms, or even--even, God help us--ffbury a
child who has died. To stand on the bridge of a
starship and wonder what's out there, what's next?
What will we find? The value of that can never be
diminished, and the glory of the adventure cannot, must
not, be forgotten. To feel happiness andunhappiness, joy and misery, and have the right
to choose to feel those things--t's what she wants.
That's what you must give her."
Zyo seemed to pause, and now Spock said,
"You began this, Zyo. You started events in
motion. Now they've gone in a way you didn't
anticipate. But you must allow these events
to happen. Your ideas were good ideas. Now let
new ones take their place."
"Let her go," said Kirk. "Please."
Zyo stared at Kirk. "I must consult with the
rest of the Worldmind. This will be a very long,
exhaustive discussion, I am certain. Please
wait here." And he vanished.
"Wait!" said Kirk. "We don't have time for
long and exhaustive--"
And Zyo reappeared. He sighed deeply.
"I was correct. That was exhausting."
Kirk looked at Spock and Daystrom, and
then back at Zyo. "You're done?"
"Yes."
"You said it was going to take a long time."
"Captain," said Zyo smiling, "when you're
part of a mind that is capable of making decisions within
periods of time so brief that there isn't even ameasurement for them, a discussion of more than 383
a second is considered an eternity."
"And the decision?"
He smiled, and it looked like a smile filled
with pain. "Take her, Captain. Tell
Commodore Tyler to be good to her. And tell her
her father loves her."
"You will not regret this, sir," said Spock
gravely.
Zyo looked at him sadly. "I regret it
already. When you leave, please tell Alt that he
should commune immediately so that I can relate the
Worldmind's feelings on this."
"That will be fine," said Kirk. "May I ask
how we leave?"
And then he felt the hard floor beneath him.
The light had vanished.
Suddenly it was hard to breathe, but almost immediately
he knew why. Spock and Daystrom were lying on
top of him. "Somebody want to help me out
here?" he called.
Immediately he was being pulled to his feet, and he
found himself looking into the relieved face of
Montgomery Scott. The engineer dusted him off
as Kirk said, "How long were we out?" "About forty-five seconds, sir."
"Seemed like an eternity." He looked around
to see Daystrom and Spock on their feet.
Spock was stretching his limbs slightly as if
to rid himself of a backache, and Daystrom was shaking
out his arms and legs.
And now Alt was there, saying urgently,
"Well, Captain?"
"The Worldmind would like to speak with you. And Zyo
says hello," he added as an afterthought.
Alt's eyes widened in surprise, and then
he nodded and took a step back. The light
immediately projected down from heaven, and Alt's
face went slack.
"Alt's being given our marching orders.
We're free and clear to leave."
"Two problems with that, sir."
"What?"
"We've just been informed by the Calligar that a
Tellarite ship has come through the rift and is
attacking us, and the rift is going to cycle closed
prematurely. If we're not out of here within the
hour, we're going to be permanent guests."

Chapter Twenty-six 385

As McCoy and Ecma passed the
transporter room Ecma stopped, turned
to McCoy, and said, "I am very sorry,
Doctor."
"Sorry for what?" asked McCoy.
He never saw the uppercut that knocked him
cold.
Ecma left him where he lay and walked into the
transporter room. At the transporter
console Tooch was just confirming that the red alert had
been removed and shields were no longer up, and she
looked at Ecma in surprise. "Can I help
you?"
"I am very sorry, young woman," said Ecma.
"Sorry for what?" asked Tooch.

The Belligerent soared over the Worldnet,
firing in fury at the domed cities and getting
absolutely nowhere. Whatever the domes were made
of, they were clearly impervious to the weaponry of the
Tellarites.
Khund pounded the arms of his command chair in
fury. "We must destroy them!" he snarled.?There must be revenge for the Shondar! And if we
cannot destroy them from space, then we'll beam down
through their domes and destroy them one to one!"
"Sir!" called the communications officer.
"Getting a hail from the Callig--no, wait!
It's over a frequency from a Starfleet
communicator!"
"Put it on audio," growled the
Tellarite.
"This is Captain James Kirk of the
Enterprise," came the voice over the comm
unit. "Calling the Tellarite vessel
currently firing upon the Calligar."
"This is Khund of the Belligerent! We
cry for vengeance on behalf of Shondar
Dorkinffwas
"Vengeance!" shouted the crew on cue.
"Vengeance!"
"You won't find it here," said Kirk. "You can
shoot until your phaser banks are exhausted,
and it won't make a bit of difference to the
Calligar."
"We're prepared to fight a ground war, city
by city!"
"And are you prepared to live out here? Scan therift. It's closing." 387
"You lie!" snarled Khund. "Another
lying--"
"Sir, he's right," said the science officer in
alarm. "The temporal fluctuations are
increasing. Within the hour it will close, and perhaps
sooner than that."
Bubbling with ire, Khund shouted, "This is
your fault, Kirk. Shondar Dorkin is
dead, and you're responsib--"
"He's not responsible," came a new
voice, the voice of an Andorian. "I was there
when Dorkin died. He died bravely, nobly.
He died with two dozen of his enemies crushed beneath
his fists, and one in each hand at the moment he
breathed his last. He died saving us, and we would not
be alive if not for his brave and noble
sacri fice."
Khund looked around at his officers. They were
visibly impressed. Andorians and
Tellarites historically did not get on. For the
Andorian to speak so highly of the departed Shondar
...
"He may be lying," said Khund slowly.
His first officer stared at him. "He says oneof our own died in brave combat, and you're going
to say he lies about it?"
"Good point," Khund admitted.
Now Kirk's voice came back on.
"Don't let his sacrifice be in vain," he
said. "His body is right here, at these
coordinates. Beam us all up there, and let's
go before we're trapped here."
Slowly Khund nodded. "We've got your
coordinates," he said. "Stand by." And then he
tapped a comm button and said, with great
satisfaction, "Transporter room ..."

On the surface, Kirk and company stood there
for a moment, Kirk with the communicator in hand.
Alt was there as well. "They'll bring us up,"
he said confidently. "It's a surer bet than the
shuttle. The trip through was tougher than expected,
and if I can avoid having to depend on the warp
sled--"
"Aye," said Scotty. "Before all this started
I was going to let you know about that. But now
we'll--"
Then they heard the telltale hum of a
transporter. Kirk prepared hmfffmaterialize aboard the Tellarite 389
ship.
It took him a few moments to realize that his
concern was moot. The body of Shondar Dorkin
dematerialized, but the rest of them stayed right where
they were.
"Khund!" shouted Kirk. "You said--"
"No," came Khund's voice. "You said.
I never said. Furthermore, I now understand--the
flowery ^ws and praise were simply so that we would
bring you up. Well, I'm afraid not, my
friends. Enjoy the Calligar. You're going to be with
them for a very long time."
The channel was cut off, and Kirk immediately
turned and said, "Let's get to the shuttle and
get the hell out of here. Once they go through the
rift again it'll close in minutes."
"That," said Spock, "is a very great
likelihood."
They ran like hell.

"Mister Suluffwas called out Chekov.
"Someone has just used the transporter!"
"What?" Sulu was astounded. "Where would they
go?" Chekov glanced at the coordinates that had
been set. "Ecma's ship," he said.
"Send a security team to the transporter
room and open a channel to that ship. Enterprise
to Ecma. Have you boarded your ship?"
"Yes," her voice came back. "I
apologize for the means by which I did it. Your
sensors must be telling you the same thing mine are.
The rift is closing. I'm their only hope of
getting back. And besides, I don't know if
I'm ready to leave my people. I thought I was, but
now I--I don't know. I'm not sure, and
until I'm sure, I can't turn my back
on them. I just can't."
Everyone on the bridge looked to Sulu as he
was quiet for a time, and then he said, very softly,
"Do what you have to do. Godspeed. Enterprise
out."
And that was when the Tellarite ship hurtled out
of the rift into normal space. Without answering
any hails or even slowing down, the good ship
Belligerent leapt into warp six and was gone in
an eyeblink.
Leaving behind a temporal anomaly known
informally as Pike's Rift, which--thanks to all thewarp activity passing through--was now
going to close in less than five minutes.

The shuttlecraft howled through the temporal
battering at warp three and pushing it. The battering
was intense, and it seemed as if the universe around
them had gone mad.
The ride in had been strenuous enough, but in the
moments before the rift was preparing to cycle closed
it seemed as if the bizarre distortion was doing
everything it could to prevent the last refugees from
getting out. Time twisted and turned back on itself,
and Kirk, seated just behind Spock and Scotty,
saw things spinning back and away that didn't
seem to make sense.
"Captain, we're running out of power!" shouted
Scotty. "We've got two minutes at warp
three left!"
"Full ahead, Mr. Scott. Be the little
shuttle that could."
Around them space was on fire, flaming
images dancing around them, and two minutes
ticked down to one.
"Estimating exit time in one minute, ten
seconds," said Spock. "We've only got a minute of warp
left!" shouted Thak from the rear. "We're not
going to make it! We'll be crushed at impulse
power!"
"Even when warp power ceases," said Spock
calmly, "it will still take approximately
fifteen seconds for the warp field to disintegrate
around us."
"You mean we have a five-second margin for
error!" said Thak.
"I would say "error"' is too strong a
^w," observed Spock.
Time ticked down, down, and the gauge measuring
warp power dropped down, down ... and then out.
The rift roared around them, howling its fury, and
Spock said, "Warp field disintegrating. On
my mark and ten, nine, eight, seven ..."
The shuttlecraft staggered into normal space
and out.
In front of them, big as life, eminently
welcome, was the Enterprise. Thak also
noticed the Andorian ship many kilometers
away.
"Five," Spock said serenely.
And then they saw Ecma's ship hurtling towardthem and then angling away, toward the
rift. "What the hell?" came a shout from
Tyler.
"Attention Calligarian vessel." Spock
opened a link to it. Tyler had unbelted and was right
behind him, and now Tyler shouted, "Ecma!"
Her surprised voice came over the comm.
"Joe?"
"Ecma, we're here! We're fine!"
"They--they let you go? But what about my being
thinned?"
"That was an elaborate ruse on the part of your
son," said Spock. "You are not scheduled for
termina--"
"SPOCK!" said Tyler, horrified.
"I--I don't have to die?" came her
voice.
Tyler looked daggers at the Vulcan and then
said, "No ... you don't. But ... you can stay with
me."
"But I can live with my people now! I don't have
to run away from them!"
"You wouldn't be running away from them," said
Tyler desperately. "You'd be running to me!
Ecma! Listen to me--" "Twenty seconds until closure of the
rift," said Spock, glancing at his instruments.
"Ecma! Stay with me!" shouted Tyler.
"Please! After all this, please don't--"
And Ecma's craft vanished into the rift.
There was a little spark where it went in, and then it
disappeared.
There was silence in the shuttlecraft for a long
moment, and then Tyler said darkly, "That bitch."
"Joe," said Kirk softly. "Come on, now
..."
"She used me, James. Don't you see?
You all must see it. She used me until she
didn't need me anymore, until we cleared
the way for her return, and then back she goes.
She didn't love me. She never loved me.
It was all a game to her!" As the rift grew
smaller, shrinking into nonexistence, his anger grew
greater. "That's all she ever was! Some--some link
to a great moment in our youths! That's all. A
memory of a moment when we seemed to connect but
didn't. We never did, not really. Well, she
never meant anything to me! I felt sorry for
her, and she used me, so fine! We're quit of
each other, and--" And the rift closed. 395
And a split instant before it did, something
emerged.
And a voice crackled over the comm. "Joe?"
He lunged for the comm, elbowing Spock aside.
"Ecma?"
Her voice sounded thick, choked with emotion.
"What you did for me--what all of you did for me
--I thought I would be alone. And I was scared, but
I ... it won't be alone. It'll be together. A
different kind of together."
"It'll be great," said Tyler, grinning. "You
and me. I never doubted it for a moment. I knew
it was going to be us. It was destiny. I love you,
Ecma."
"I love you, Joe."
Spock looked at Kirk. "He never
doubted it for a moment?" asked Spock.
"Doubted what, Mr. Spock?" asked
Kirk. "I don't recall the commodore
doubting anything. Do you?"
Spock stared at Tyler, back at Kirk,
and then said, "Considering the vast number of
emotional flipflops humans make in their
lifetimes, it's amazing you do not all comeequipped with trampolines as standard issue."























Epilogue 397

The marriage of Commodore Jos@e Tyler and
former Master Builder Ecma was performed
by Captain James t. Kirk while the
Enterprise was en route to Vega for rest and
debriefing.
James Kirk, in his arguments and fight for
survival with the Calligar, settled a number of
uncertainties and doubts in his own mind. He
found this ironic but never had the nerve to tell
anyone.
The Tellarite government lodged a formal
complaint with the Federation and declared war on the
Calligar. This declaration lasted ten years,
during which time not a thing was done and the Tellarites
eventually declared victory in absentia, since the
Calligar were clearly not brave enough to show up and
fight. Shondar Dorkin was enshrined in the hall of
heros on Tellar, and a minor holiday was named for
him.
The Federation Intergalactic Studies
Council thoroughly debriefed all members of the
contact team and made a recommendation that the
Calligar be contacted again upon the next opening oftherift. However, when the time came for the
rift
to reopen once more the Federation was engaged in major
hostilities as part of the Klingon-Romulan war
and unable to dispatch a research team. The rift
opened and closed undisturbed.
Thak the Andorian wrote a popular
musical play based on the Calligar and won
the Zankar-Bowles Prize for creative fiction
that year.
Dr. Richard Daystrom, combining elements of a
thought-responsive environment with his previously
discarded M-5 research, developed a
theoretical computer program that would create
images with the ability to think and respond in a
human manner. Hailed as "Daystrom's
Comback," this was the groundwork from which holodeck
technology was derived.
Macro awoke from Tyler's phaser stun
blast to be informed that he was the new Master
Builder. He was also told that the reason he had
acquired this high honor was that his sister was gone
forever, and his son was dead.
Upon learning of this, Macro began crying.
And he never stopped until the day he died.