STAR TREK
SANCTUARY
BY
JOHN BORN HOLT
POCKET BOOKS New York London
Toronto Sydney Tokyo Singapore This book
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and
incidents are either products of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or
persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
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Copyright at 1992 by Paramount Pictures.
All Rights Reserved.
StAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of
Paramount Pictures.
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ISBN 0-671-76994-4
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To jean Reich, who's been our sanctuary in so
many ways. Foreword
I never met Gene Roddenberry, but his
effect on my life has been extremely
far-reaching. I might have struggled several more years
to become a published (not to mention best-selling)
novelist had he and Pocket Books not created the
Next Generation book series. G.r.
personally approved the outline for the book you are
holding in your hands, and for that I am extremely
grateful. I could go on and talk about how much Star
Trek means to me as a whole, but I think you can
judge that for yourself from this book and my Next Generation
novels.
Suffice to say, I miss you, Mr.
Roddenberry. Thanks a lot. Now, prepare yourself
for a blitz of thank-yous. My feeble memory
needed a lot of help to complete a book taking
place during the original five-year mission. First
of all, to those who read it and offered comments along the
way Andrea and Kevin Quitt and the toughest
critic of all, my wife, Nancy. Then
to Judy and Garfield Reeves-Stevens, who
loaned me ix their long-out-of-print Concordance and
offered me plenty of moral support. Thanks to that
fount of Star Trek knowledge, Jim Shaun Lyon, and
my creature researchers Priscilla J.
Ball, Cory Sims, Marte Brengle,
Jon Woolf, Carolyn Kinkead, Jim
Singleton, Anne Davenport, and Matthew G.
Mitchell. Actually, they're all human, but they
know a lot about things that aren't. Special kudos
to Kevin Ryan, my editor, who believed in
Sanctuary and persevered to get it approved.
Thanks to friends and colleagues who helped me in
various invaluable ways Ashley Grayson,
Caroline Meskell, Eric Baldwin, Phyllis
Hirsen, Steve Robertson, Barbara Beck,
Susan Williams, Marilyn Dennis, Jane
Emaus, and Linda Johnston. One theme of this
book is that space travel is a privilege that
can be taken away. In many respects, it's already
been taken away from us after the great hope that was
inspired by the Apollo moon flight more than twenty
years ago. I don't wish to belittle the space
shuttle program, but I expected more from space
travel than the Pentagon plopping a spy
satellite in orbit every now and then. The proposed
orbital space station has been compromised to death,
and NASA is on the ropes financially and
morale-wise. The once proud Russian space
program is apparently gone forever. Thanks
to visionaries like Gene Roddenberry, space
travel exists in our imaginations and popular
culture, but that's not good enough. It's time for the
private sector to pick up the fallen banner.
I speak principally of Japanese companies and
huge multinationals that haven't got anything
better to do with their money than buy expensive
trophies like country clubs and movie studios.
It's time for the Sonys and General Electrics of the
world to return to us the wonder of space travel.
They have the money, reIt
sources, and technology to do it. What about joint
ventures? What secrets does NASA have
anymore?
But I suppose our government will continue to be
xenophobic and continue to guard technology that we
no longer have the will to use.
It's sad that space travel has been taken
away from us, and there is no one who wants to give it
back. John Vornholt Xi Historian's
Note
This adventure takes place during the original
five year mission of the USS Enterprise.
CA-PTAIN Kirk leaned over his
helmsman's shoulder and stared at a tiny dot on the
viewscreen. It was barely distinguishable from the
stars around it, but the stars were moving in relation to the
Enterprise. The blip wasn't.
"Are we gaining on him at all, Mr.
Sulu?" asked the captain.
"Negative, sir," answered the veteran
officer, blinking away the heaviness from his eyes. This
chase had started twelve hours ago, and it was
beginning to take its toll on everyone.
"His top speed matches our top speed warp
for warp."
"How is that possible, Keptin?" asked Chekov
with frustration.
"That ship must be one-tenth the size of the
Enterprise. was "Approximately one
twenty-second the size of the Enterprise, was
responded a voice behind them. First Officer
Spock straightened up from his science station.
"However, size has nothing to do with warp
capability, especially on a ship with low mass
and a small crew. With minimal life-support
needs, ninety percent of a ship's energy can be
devoted to its propulsion system. It would also
appear that the designers of Auk-rex's ship were able
to avail themselves of the latest Starfleet
technology."
"And why shouldn't they?" muttered Kirk.
"They've been plundering our trading vessels for
five years now. Blast that pirate! I thought we
had him."
"Begging the Keptin's pardon," said Chekov,
"but in thirty-eight minutes, we will enter a
sector of space that has never been charted or
explored by Starfleet. Do you wish to continue
pursuit?"
"Absolutely," Kirk replied.
"Auk-rex has attacked three freighters in
the last month, and Starfleet wants an end to it."
He turned to his trusted first officer.
"Spock, you've got to figure out where he's
going. Chart his course."
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow.
"That will be difficult, Captain, since we have
no firsthand knowledge of this sector. But I shall try."
Kirk rubbed his eyes and said, "Lieutenant
Uhura, radio our position to Starfleet and tell
them of our intentions."
"Aye, Captain," answered the communications
officer as her hands moved over her console.
Kirk strode toward the double doors of the
turbolift, and they whooshed open at his
approach.
"You can reach me in sickbay," he announced
to no one in particular.
"Maybe McCoy has some ideas."
Dr. McCoy smiled slyly over a snifter
of brandy.
"So, Jim, he slipped through your fingers. The
trap wasn't good enough?"
"Nothing wrong with the trap," Kirk answered
testily. Perhaps the most irritating thing about
McCoy, he decided, was that Bones liked to see
people act human. And to err was human.
"It was a good idea," he insisted.
"But somehow, that thief sensed the freighter was a
dummy. He got close to the bait, but he
didn't nibble."
"That's why he's been around for so long." The
doctor shrugged.
"I know he's been a real pain in the cahoot,
but you've got to admire Auk-rex a little bit.
It's not easy being a pirate these days, with so many
treaties and regulations. As I understand it, he never
takes life wantonly."
Kirk scowled.
"No, he just cripples a ship and
takes its most valuable cargo. He figures out
what it's carrying by tapping directly into the computer,
then he beams it off before they know what hit them,"
"Hmm. The computer data is worth something too,
I bet. What else do we know about him?"
"Not much," Kirk admitted.
"He's sophisticated but very mysterious. We
don't know if he's human, or Klingon, or
what. He never hails a ship by voice or
visual, always code. And he sticks to trading
routes on the periphery of the Federation. Starfleet
has so many questions for him, they don't want him
killed, only captured."
The doctor shook his head, clearly amused.
"And in order to capture Auk-rex, we are
basically seeing how far and how fast the Enterprise
can go."
"That's about it," answered Kirk. He took a
sip of his lukewarm coffee and frowned.
"I came here to see if you had any ideas, but it
sounds like you're rooting for the pirate."
"Well," said McCoy, smiling, "it's that part
of me that always roots for the underdog. Here we are, a
big starship, and we can't capture one little puddle
jumper
"Hardly a puddle-jumper," Kirk said
evenly.
"That little ship is the equal of anything in
Starfleet." The captain mustered a smile.
"He's fast, but not fast 3 enough. He can't
lose us, and sooner or later he'll have to come out of
warp. When he does, we hit him with a tractor
beam and it's all over."
The doctor nodded.
"But will it be sooner or later?"
"I wish I knew," admitted Kirk.
A high-pitched tone sounded, followed by the voice
of Mr. Spock" Bridge to captain."
The captain crossed to the wall and switched on the
comm panel.
"Kirk here. What is it, Spock?"
"We are crossing into the uncharted sector now,"
Spock answered.
"No change in status, but I have a theory about
where Auk-rex may be headed."
"I'm on my way," answered Kirk, switching
off the panel. He turned to his friend and smiled.
"So, Bones, do you want to come along and root for
your underdog?"
"Wouldn't miss it." The doctor
grinned.
When Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy reached
the bridge, everyone but Spock glanced
expectantly in their direction. The slim
Vulcan stood motionless over his science console,
absorbing data that were scrol ling by too fast for a
human to read. Kirk waited patiently until
Spock turned to face them.
"Where do you think he's going?" asked Kirk.
"I can't be certain," Spock admitted, "but
long range scanners indicate that the course of the
pirate vessel will take it directly into a solar
system with nine planets, one of which may have an
atmosphere capable of supporting humanoid
life. Although Starfleet has never officially
explored this sector, we have compiled a number of
reports and rumors."
"Why, Spock," remarked McCoy, feigning
astonishment, "it's not like you to traffic in rumors."
"Perhaps not, Doctor," agreed the Vulcan, "but
everything we know about this sector is
unsubstantiated. Therefore, we have no choice but
to traffic in 4 rumors." Spock turned
to Kirk.
"Have you ever heard of a planet called
Sanctuary?"
"Sure," answered McCoy.
"It's a mythical planet, a place where
fugitives from all over the galaxy can go to escape
their persecutors. It's one of those places like El
Dorado or Atlantis-sounds good, but there's never
been any proof that it exists."
Spock nodded.
"It does not exist in any area explored
by Starfleet.
However, most of the galaxy has not been explored
by Starfleet. Klingon charts list such a planet in
this vicinity, and the sanctuary planet is mentioned in
the mythologies of numerous spacefaring worlds. According
to legend, Sanctuary accepts all who fear
capture or harm, both the justly and unjustly
accused. It accepts no appeals from pursuers, and
no one who has reached Sanctuary has ever been
captured later."
"What are you saying?" asked Kirk, striding
to his captain's chair.
"That Sanctuary is a real planet, and that's
where he's headed?"
"I cannot say whether Sanctuary is real,"
replied Spock.
"But the Klingons believe it exists, and so may
Auk-rex."
Kirk nodded, gazing thoughtfully at the tiny dot
on the giant viewscreen.
"He doesn't have many options, does he?"
"No, Captain."
James T. Kirk straightened up in his chair.
"We didn't get much of a look at his ship, but
do you think it's capable of atmospheric reentry?
Could he land on this planet?"
"His ship is small enough," answered
Spock.
"It has already proven quite versatile, and
atmospheric reentry would help it elude larger
ships that must remain in orbit, such as the
Enterprise. Even if his destination is not the fabled
sanctuary planet, landing on a 5 planet's
surface would seem to be his only means of
escape."
"Mr. Sulu," asked Kirk, "how long before
we reach this unnamed solar system?"
"Forty-four minutes," answered the helmsman.
Kirk punched the communicator on the arm of his
chair.
"Captain Kirk to shuttlebay.
Prepare shuttlecraft Ericksen for immediate
launch."
"Aye, Captain," came the reply.
"How many in the party?"
Kirk glanced back at Spock and McCoy.
"Three," he answered. He switched off the
communicator and smiled slyly.
"Bones, would you like to make a bet with me that your
pirate won't get away?"
"Sure." The doctor shrugged.
"What have you got to wager?"
Spock raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"If I lose," said Kirk, "I'll take that
physical you've been nagging me about. If you
lose, you quit nagging me about it."
"All right," agreed the doctor.
"But don't you still intend to lasso him with a
tractor beam when he comes out of warp drive?"
"I do," said Kirk, nodding with determination.
"But he'll come out of warp drive slightly
ahead of us, and there may not be enough time. If he
makes it into the planet's atmosphere, we'll have
to follow him to the surface in the shuttlecraft.
Then we'll send his coordinates back here and beam
Auk-rex and his pirates off their own ship,
just like they beam the loot off the ships they attack."
McCoy observed wryly, "You seem to have thought
of everything."
Kirk nodded, the smile fading from his lips.
"I hope
S.
They were still a hundred million kilometers
away from the planet, but the scanners magnified and
stabilized its image until it filled the
viewscreen. The aquamarine sphere was wrapped in
swirling white mists and tied with darker strips of
rain clouds. Where the surface peeked through the
clouds, it revealed the turquoise of endless seas
or the occasional speck of verdant green.
From this angle, there appeared to be only one
good-sized continent, but the seas were speckled with
islands, some of them in long chains that resembled
broken necklaces. One pole was completely
covered with ice, and the system's sun glinted so
brightly off its blinding whiteness that it looked like a
neon skullcap. No one needed a sensor to know that
the shimmering planet brimmed with life. If it was not
named Sanctuary, it would surely be one for any
traveler weary of the blackness of space.
"A pretty planet it is," observed
Montgomery Scott, chief engineer of the
Enterprise. As third in command after Kirk and
Spock, Scotty had joined his comrades on the
bridge in case he had to assume the captain's
chair.
"And I'll be glad to be coming out o'warp drive,
I'll tell you. The engines canna take much more."
Captain Kirk smiled at the familiar
remark, but his good humor was shortlived.
"The quarry has slowed to warp one," announced
Sulu.
"We'll overtake him in two-point-five
minutes, about the same time we reach the planet."
The captain leaned forward tensely.
"Steady as she goes, Mr. Sulu-take us
down to warp one. When he goes to impulse power,
I want to be only a second behind him."
"Keptin," said Chekov, "we are close enough that
I can lock on with phasers."
"That's a last resort," Kirk warned.
"Starfleet won't learn much about Auk-rex if
we blow him to bits. But we don't want him to know
that. Ready tractor beam."
"Aye, sir," answered Chekov in his clipped
Russian accent.
"Uhura?" asked Kirk.
The lieutenant swiveled around in her chair.
"I'm hailing him on all frequencies," she
reported, "but there's still no response."
Kirk nodded.
"I doubt if he wants to negotiate, but
let's keep trying."
"Captain," said Spock, a trace of
curiosity in his voice, "I am receiving odd
readings from the planet. Our sensors are not
registering as they should-was "Captain!" exclaimed
Sulu, cutting off Spock.
"He has stopped completely and is reversing
course, heading toward us!"
"He has launched a photon torpedo,"
Spock announced with no emotion.
Kirk barked, "Shields up!"
Chekov pounded a button on his console, and a
second later the Enterprise was rocked by an
explosion.
"A miss, sid" proclaimed Chekov.
"But a close von."
"He has reversed course again and is headed to the
planet," said Spock, who turned away from his
instruments and looked at Kirk.
"His approach is non orbital I would say
he is preparing to land."
Kirk pounded the arm of his chair.
"Damn him! If he thinks that little stunt will
save him, he's wrong. Sulu, take us
to impulse power."
"Impulse power," said Sulu, sliding down his
trim pot controls. There was a slight whine in the
engines as the ship dropped out of warp drive.
"Activate tractor beam," Kirk ordered.
Chekov plied his controls for a moment, then shook
his head, puzzled.
"Negative reaction, Keptin," he
reported.
"Something on the planet is counteracting the effect
of the tractor beam. It's like an unusual gravity
field."
Captain Kirk bolted from his chair.
"Bones, Spock," he ordered, "follow me!"
The captain paused at the turbolift and motioned
to his chief engineer.
"Scotty, you have the bridge. Take us into standard
orbit and have the transporter room stand by for
coordinates. Get a security team down there,
too. Tell shuttlebay to prepare for
launch."
"Aye, Captain," said the Scotsman. He
eased himself into the captain's chair as Kirk,
Spock, and McCoy rushed out.
"Take us in, Mr. Sulu. I'll inform
security to prepare a little welcoming party for our
visitors."
"Separation successful," Spock relayed into the
radio as the shuttlecraft Ericksen veered away
from the Enterprise. Kirk, in the pilot's seat,
got his first look at the planet through a cockpit
window and not a viewscreen.
It appeared even more serene and inviting in its hazy
blueness. In every other direction, innumerable stars
twinkled with an immediacy not captured by the
electronic imaging of the viewscreen.
"We are gaining on Auk-rex's ship," said
Spock, studying the copilot's instruments.
"It has just entered the outer atmosphere of the
planet. Close to the planet's surface, we will
have far more maneuverability than they have."
Captain Kirk leaned forward in the pilot's
seat, pushing the controls of the small craft
to maximum speed. Behind him, he could hear Dr.
McCoy shifting uneasily in his seat.
"What's the matter, Bones?" he teased.
"I thought you wanted to be right in the thick of
things-to root your pirate on."
McCoy shook his head.
"I don't know, Jim," he muttered.
"Something about this just doesn't seem right. I have a
feeling Auk-rex knows more than we do.
"I would have to agree with the doctor," said Spock.
Kirk blinked with surprise at his trusted
comrade.
"You agree with McCoy about his vague feelings
of unease?"
"Not vague feelings," corrected Spock.
"But I was unable to complete my scan of the
planet, and it possessed some very unusual
characteristics."
"It's class-M," said Kirk, "you can see that
from here."
"Agreed," said Spock.
"However, I would have preferred to complete my
examination."
"Can we delay at all," asked Kirk, "and not
lose their trail?"
"Negative, Captain," came the reply.
"The success probability of our plan
is very high, barring unforeseen circumstances."
"My favorite kind," muttered McCoy.
A voice chimed from the intercom "Scott
to shuttlecraf t."
Kirk hit the switch.
"What is it, Scotty?"
"I don't want to alarm you, sir," came the
response, "but there appear to be at least six
ships orbiting the planet. Three of them are leaving
orbit in order to intercept the pirate ship, or
us, I can't tell."
"What!" exclaimed Kirk.
"What kind of ships?"
""Unable to verify at this time," Scotty
replied.
"They were stationed on the other side of the planet when
we approached. This seems to be a very busy
place.. .." His voice was obliterated by waves
of static.
"Entering atmosphere," Spock announced.
"Please brace yourselves."
Kirk manipulated the controls as the
shuttlecraft was jostled slightly upon entering the
upper atmosphere of the aquamarine planet. The
invaded air roared in their ears, and speech
seemed like the most pointless of efforts. Heat rose
inside the tiny cabin as their view was obliterated
by streaks of ionized flame. Whatever was happening
above the planet faded in importance as they
gradually entered the ecosystem of the living astral
body.
When they emerged below the clouds a few minutes
later, Kirk noted that it was as if they had embarked
on an ocean cruise. For countless kilometers in
every direction, nothing was visible but the clearest aqua
seas, so clear that clumps of seaweed could be seen
waving to them from the depths.
The ship skimmed over the dancing waves for
several seconds.
"We should have Auk-rex's ship in view in a
matter of moments," Spock reported.
Kirk had other things on his mind.
"Scotty? Scotty?" he repeated, trying
to raise the Enterprise. There was no answer, even
when Kirk tried again on his personal
communicator.
"What's going on here?" he complained.
"That entry shouldn't have knocked out our
communicators."
"Visual contact with the quarry," said
Spock. Although Kirk and McCoy peered
relentlessly into the dimpled horizon, they could see
nothing but sloshing sea. But Kirk's eyes caught
movement in the clumps of sargasso like weeds
beckoning from the bottom.
He jammed the controls hard to port as a thick
brown tentacle lashed at them from a cresting wave.
The shuttlecraft banked around the sinewy
appendage, and they swiveled in their seats to see a
gigantic mollusk lumber to the surface and roll
lazily in the sun. Its purplish body blotted
the turquoise sea like an ink spill. "Nice
welcoming committee," said the captain, leveling off
the small craft at an altitude that no longer
skimmed the waves.
"We're not as close to the water as we appear."
"We're close enough for my taste!" snapped
McCoy.
"Isn't there any land on this planet?"
"Yes, there is," Spock replied.
"And we are approaching it rather rapidly."
Kirk pointed excitedly at a dot of
activity on the hazy horizon.
"I see him!" he exclaimed.
"To starboard. I think I also see land."
"Quite correct, Captain," Spock agreed.
"We will be passing over what might be considered a
large island, or a small continent. If we were here
for any length of time, I would prefer to study the
marine life, which I am sure is more varied and
abundant than the terrestrial life."
McCoy scowled.
"Get us out of here in one piece, and I'll buy
you a ticket back."
Captain Kirk tried his communicator again.
"Kirk to Enterprise. Uhura, do you hear
me?" He waited for an answer that never came, then
tried the shuttlecraft's comm panel-with the same
results.
"The communicators are still out," he grumbled.
"Spock, how are the other shuttlecraft
systems?"
"Other systems are operating efficiently," the
Vulcan replied, shifting his gaze from the cockpit
window to his instrument panel.
"Auk-rex is headed toward a mountain range.
Do you wish to pursue?"
"We've come this far," Kirk said gravely,
"let's get him."
Lieutenant Uhura swiveled around in
her chair, not biding the concern in her voice.
"Mr. Scott," she called, "still no word from the
captain. And we're being hailed by one of the ships in
orbit. A Klingon ship." Scotty stiffened in the
captain's chair.
"Has he armed his weapons?"
"No, sir," she answered.
"Shields are still up," said Chekov.
"We can go to red alert on your order."
"Put his ship on the screen," ordered
Scotty.
At once, the threatening figure of a Klingon
warship popped onto the viewscreen. Its
predatory visage was softened by the bluish outline
of the planet behind it, and it kept a respectful
distance in its own orbit.
"And the other five ships" 2" asked Scotty.
Sulu shook his head.
"One of them fired some shots at both the
shuttlecraft and the pirate. But the atmosphere,
or something, deflected them. I can't place the
origins of the other ships-they all seem of different
types. I'll put the computer on it."
"Fine," said Scotty, not really thinking that any
of this was fine. His captain, first officer, and
ship's doctor were out of contact, and he was sharing
orbit with a Klingon and God-knows what-all.
"Put the Klingon commander on the viewscreen,"
he said disgruntledly.
The image of a Klingon officer appeared on the
screen. He was an older Klingon, with bumps that
undulated down his forehead and gray hair that hung
to his shoulders in a haphazard tangle. His face
looked thin and wiry and was graced with a slim
patrician nose. But beneath his short-sleeved leather
armor, huge biceps bulged and forearms rippled with
tough sinew.
He pounded the console in front of him.
"Earth Captain," he growled, "I salute
your bravery!"
Scotty blinked in surprise.
"Bravery? What do ye mean by that, sir?"
Magnanimously, the Klingon flung his arms
open. "I have always heard that humans are cowardly,"
he replied, "but this was a magnificent act! I have
orbited this planet for many years-1 have no idea
how many in your reckoning-and I have never seen such
devotion to duty. I salute those brave warriors
who pursued the fugitives to the surface of the
planet. May they live to catch them and
disembowel them in the public square!"
"Aye," said Scotty uncertainly.
"We will give them your regards, when they return
to the ship."
"Return to the ship?" asked the Klingon,
puzzled.
"What ship?"
"The one I'm sitting on."
The Klingon roared with a laughter so fierce he
dissolved into tears.
"That is a rich jest," he finally sputtered.
"Surely you do not expect to see them again? That's
what is so brave about their action-to know they will never
return!"
"Never return?" asked Scotty. He could
hear Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu echoing the same
words.
"Of course," said the Klingon.
"You know there is an impenetrable shield around the
planet. Ships can go in, but they can't come out. Or
else we would all go in and disembowel our
fugitives."
"I see," Scotty replied, leaning forward
intently.
"Tell me about this place. Is this the
sanctuary planet?"
"Yes, this is Sanctuary. Where did you think you
were? The other scum about here are bounty hunters, so
we two are the only representatives of
imperial powers. My orders are to intercept and
prevent Klingon fugitives from reaching
Sanctuary, so I will choose to ignore the
hostilities between us for the moment. Will you station yourselves
here to intercept other fugitives?"
"We are awaiting orders," Scotty answered,
trying not to betray any more of his ignorance than he
14 already had.
"We are investigating. In your experience,
nobody ever gets off the planet?"
"Nobody," answered the Klingon
sympathetically.
"That is why I hope your landing party is
successful, to teach that riffraff down there a
lesson.
Or else you have lost your men in vain."
Captain KiRK leaned forward in his seat,
adrenaline pumping, as he watched a disc like
vessel weave between green foothills and towering
spires in a desperate attempt to elude them.
He heard a loud gulp and glanced back
to see McCoy covering his eyes with his hands.
Kirk's own knuckles were tightly clenched on the
controls. Although they had chased the pirate vessel
over thousands of light-years of space, none of that
compared with this harrowing pursuit over a few
kilometers of rugged terrain.
As Spock had predicted, the sleek pirate
vessel was clumsy and unwieldy compared to the
shuttlecraft.
"We could easily pull alongside
Auk-rex's ship," said Spock, "but he is
flying too erratically to risk getting closer."
"We can see him fine from here," agreed
McCoy.
"What are we going to do, with the communicators out?
We can't send his coordinates back to the
Enterprise. was "He's right," said Kirk.
"We need a new plan. Any ideas,
SpocWill?"
"He will undoubtedly run out of fuel before we
do," answered the Vulcan.
"Flying a warp-class vessel this close to the
surface is very fuel-inefficient."
McCoy growled in reply, "That's not a
plan-that's just waiting him out.
What's the matter with that idiot? Doesn't he
know he's beaten?"
Kirk smiled.
"Why, Bones, I thought you were rooting for
Auk-rex. The last of the rugged individualists."
"That was before the communicators went out," grumped
McCoy, "and before we found out this planet is ringed
with ships. I knew there was something fishy about this
place."
"All right," said Kirk, "if he doesn't land
soon, or we don't reestablish contact with the
ship, we'll abandon our pursuit and go back.
We can send a larger search party later."
"Now, that's a plan," said McCoy.
"Mountains ahead," remarked Spock.
Kirk turned his attention back to the horizon.
"Mountains ahead" was the kind of understatement only
Spock was capable of making, the captain thought.
Anyone else would have said, "Awesome towering peaks that
reach into the clouds."
Like the smaller spires that graced the
foothills, these giant spires appeared to have been
carved by the erosion of millennia. Unlike the
graceful sl opes of Earth, they were angular and
twisted; lush green shrubbery did little
to soften their rugged appearance. Probably this entire
landmass had been covered in water not so long ago,
thought Kirk, and the tips of these majestic fingers had
once been islands, the first grip of land on this
watery world. Now the mountains poked their way through the
dense clouds as if they were trying to grab the heavens.
And Auk-rex's ship was headed straight for the
tallest summit.
"What's that idiot doing now?" McCoy asked,
anticipating Kirk's own thoughts.
Spock answered, "I would say, Doctor, that
he is leading us into the mountain range, hoping we will
not be foolish enough to follow."
"He'll crash!" Kirk exclaimed, leaning
forward intently.
"Quite likely," Spock agreed.
"His ship does not have the maneuverability necessary
to avoid the mountains."
"He'd rather die than be captured," McCoy
said in amazement.
Kirk flipped open his communicator.
"Kirk to Enterprise! Come in, Enterprise!"
he begged. There was no response. He hit
another button.
"Shuttlecraft to Auk-rex!" he
shouted.
"Come in, Auk-rex!" The silence was as still as the
jagged peaks that loomed ever closer, The pirate
vessel no longer weaved back and forth; it blazed
toward the highest mountain on an inevitable path
to self-destruction. Kirk pulled back on his
controls, allowing their quarry more room, but its
course remained true. The deadly fingers of rock
drew steadily closer, and the captain was forced to gain
altitude, brushing against the dense cloud cover.
No one breathed in the tiny cabin as destruction
towered all around them.
The peaks of the tallest mountains were totally
obscured, and the peaks of the smaller ones were all too
visible. But more horrifying was the sight of the gleaming
pirate ship, hurtling toward a cloud enshrouded
mountaintop.
"Pull up!" urged McCoy.
"For God's sake, pull up!"
It was unclear to Kirk whether McCoy was
talking to Auk-rex or to him.
He increased speed, and the shuttlecraft bore
down on its quarry as if it had talons and could
pluck the ship from destruction at the last moment.
Kirk watched in horror as the pirate
ship was obliterated in a fiery crash that pulverized
the mountainside. The captain pulled up on his
controls just in time to avoid the same fate.
"Merciful heavens," breathed McCoy, slumping
back in his seat.
Kirk pitched the shuttlecraft into a deep
bank and circled the mountain to cruise past the crash
site. They watched in morbid fascination as a
rock slide carried the flaming wreckage into a
deep gorge. Seconds later, it was as if nothing
had happened to disturb the cloud-enshrouded stillness of the
mountains.
Kirk again cruised past the crash site.
"Jim," said McCoy, "if you're looking for
survivors, I think you can forget it."
"On the contrary, Doctor," said the Vulcan,
"I think there is a fair possibility that there are
survivors. Seconds before the crash, two people
ejected."
"What?" said Kirk, peering out the window.
"I didn't see them."
"You were undoubtedly watching the crash," answered
Spock, "whereas I was trying to track the path of the
ejection pods. I am afraid that in this rough
terrain, it is uncertain whether they could
survive ejection. Also, the shuttlecraft
sensors have stopped functioning."
"Great," muttered McCoy.
"How are we going to find them?"
Spock suggested, "We could land and search for them
on foot. I believe I know their approximate
location, and there is some terrain in the vicinity that is
level enough for a landing."
Kirk strained to look out the window.
"Do you 19 really think there's a chance two people are
alive down there?"
"A fair chance," answered Spock.
"They may very well be injured."
"We should land," McCoy said forcefully.
"We can't abandon two people who need help-this is
a medical emergency. Besides," he added, grinning
at Kirk, "you're going to lose your bet if we
stop now."
The captain nodded.
"We've come this far-we might as well see it
through.
We'll look for them until dusk, then we'll
return to the ship and do a complete scan. I hope
Scotty is making friends up there."
On the bridge, Scott paced as
Sulu rattled off a litany of hull types and
ship standards, gazing at his computer screen.
"In addition to the Klingon," he summarized,
"there is a Saurian ship, an Orion ship,
two more that could best be described as mongrel, and one
that defies any description. All are armed, but
none appear aggressive.
Like the Klingon, they seem to have accepted us as just
another bounty hunter."
"Bounty hunters," said Scotty distastefully.
"so this is what we've been reduced to, begging
help from bounty hunters." He motioned to the
beautiful aquamarine sphere that filled the
viewscreen.
"All because of that accursed planet. Any word from
them or the captain?"
"I've hailed the planet on every frequency,"
answered Uhura.
"There's no response. Shall I hail the
Klingon again?"
"No," Scotty said, sighing, "try one of the
others. Try the Orion ship.
They're semicivilized."
A few seconds passed as Uhura sent standard
greetings over several frequencies.
Scott watched her grip her headset and frown
intently as she listened to 20 the Universal
Translator. Finally, the lieutenant turned
disgustedly to the chief engineer and reported
"The Orion captain is very busy and can't talk
unless we have some prisoners of value on board.
If we do, he is willing to trade slave women
for them."
Scotty shook his head with dismay.
"Heaven help us. And heaven help the captain,
the doctor, and Mr. Spock."
Captain Kirk piloted the shuttlecraft between
the mountains in a series of lazy circles that brought
them into a narrow valley. They landed in a dry
rainwash that was the flattest and least overgrown terrain
in the lush basin. The plants and trees had a
distinctly bladder like appearance, with leaves that were like
thick pods and branches covered with green
globules.
Orange flowers dotted the tops of the larger
pods, and thick vines snaked along the floor of the
arroyo.
The door of the shuttlecraft rose, and Spock
leaped out, followed by Captain Kirk and Dr.
McCoy. Spock pointed his tricorder
at the nearest vegetation and twisted its dials. After
a moment, he closed the tricorder and clipped it
to his waist.
"My tricorder is inoperative," he said.
"Mine, too," added McCoy, following suit.
"What is it about this place?"
"Whatever it is," said Kirk, "it's consistent.
All our equipment has been affected." He
took a few steps and filled his lungs.
"Nothing wrong with the air here, though. You can smell
those flowers from ten meters away. And the temperature
is comfortable. This part of the planet is certainly
habitable."
"Well," said McCoy, "there must be some reason
all those ships are in orbit."
"Sanctuary," answered Spock.
"Their reasons are probably no different than
ours. May I suggest we 21 follow the wash to the
north? It will take us into the approximate area of the
crash, and the walking will be easier."
"Lead on," said Kirk.
"Watch out for sinkholes and quicksand. I think it
rains fairly often here."
Watchfully, the three explorers walked along
the floor of the valley, which was shrouded in
perpetual shade by the immense peaks surrounding it.
Twice they stopped to watch herds of pale fish like
creatures crawl laboriously across the gully on
pseudo-legs that looked like fins. Spock suggested
that they were an evolving species that probably moved
from pond to pond as the water dried up. McCoy
got a start when several fist-sized rocks he was
standing near suddenly sprouted legs and scurried
away. The largest animal they saw was a winged
creature that leaped from a fissure in the mountainside
and sailed like a glider after a herd of the ambulatory
fish, snatching one up in its reptilian jaws and
sailing away to the opposite side of the basin.
As the day wore on, the clouds over their heads
dissipated, and they found themselves craning their necks
to study the majestic peaks. The mountains rose in
profusion like stalagmites, one outdoing another in
spindly splendor, but none of them bore signs of
life other than native species. They walked
until the shadows deepened from one end of the gully to the
other, accenting the stark crevices and fissures in the
moss-covered rocks. Kirk wondered at the
strange calls, neither fully birdlike nor
animallike, that echoed in the rugged canyon.
Finally, Spock stopped abruptly.
"Captain," he said, "without tricorders or
scanners, we could search this terrain for weeks before
locating something as small as an escape pod. They
could have fallen into a crevice, or they could be in those
thickets twenty meters away. We have
effectively exhausted the small 22 chance we have
of finding them under these circumstances."
Kirk nodded and turned to McCoy.
"What do you say, Bones? Are you ready to turn
back?"
The doctor heaved a sigh.
"I suppose so, Jim. I hate to leave
anyone who might be injured, but there are worse
places to be stranded than this."
"If we pick up our pace," said the captain,
"we'll get back to the shuttle before it's
completely dark. Let's go. tilde 1
As the shadows lengthened, the strange howls and
cries increased, as if there was a different set of
denizens who made their appearance at nightfall.
This caused the three searchers to pick up their pace
considerably, even as they took turns trying
to raise the Enterprise on their communicators.
They were almost running along the arroyo when Spock
stopped suddenly, twisting his head in every
direction.
"What is it, Spock?" asked Kirk.
"Don't you recognize this place?" asked the
Vulcan.
"Come on, Spock," said McCoy, "we
haven't go t time for sight-seeing. Let's get
back to the shuttlecraft."
"Precisely," answered Spock.
"We are at the site of the shuttlecraft. This
is where we left it."
"What?" barked Kirk, scanning the dark walls
of the canyon.
"Where is it?"
Spock bent down and placed his hand in a slight
depression in the sandy soil.
"The forward strut touched down here. As to where the
vessel is, I cannot answer."
Determinedly, Kirk cupped his hands around his
mouth and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Who's
there? Is anybody out there?"
"No need to shout," said a mellifluous voice.
The trio whirled around to find a slim,
white-robed humanoid standing in a spot they had just
passed. In the fading light, Kirk could see a
pleasant, unlined face and a welcoming
smile, but he couldn't determine the sex of the
creature. Its demure manner and slight build
suggested it might be female, but the timbre of its
voice and its substantial height led him to consider
the male sex. Its head was shaven bare, and the white
robe reached from neck to ground, revealing no trace
of breasts or sexual organs.
"I am Zicree," said the figure with a polite
bow.
"I am a Senite; we are the keepers of
Sanctuary. You will see us wherever you journey on this
fair planet, so let me explain a bit of our
history.
"As you may have surmised," Zicree continued,
we are androgynous. We were bred to be sexless by a
religious order that was the first to seek sanctuary on
this planet many centuries ago. The original
mission of the Senites has been lost in antiquity,
and now the order serves to greet new arrivals and
welcome them to Sanctuary. If you like, I will
transport you to one of our villages."
"What we would like," said Kirk bluntly, "is
to have our shuttlecraft back."
Zicree bowed slightly and maintained its
pleasant smile.
"You will have no need of your shuttlecraft,"
explained the Senite.
"We will afford you all the creature comforts you
desire. Please, come with me to the village, and you
will see for yourselves."
"We don't intend to stay here," Kirk insisted.
"We pursued a craft to the surface of this
planet, but it crashed. Now we intend to leave."
The face was pleasant no more. In fact, it
recoiled in phorror.
"You are persecutors!" gasped the Senite.
"Let me explain," said Kirk.
"We didn't know-was "Foul persecutors!"
Zicree hissed. Then, as if ashamed of its
anger, the humanoid collected itself and rose to an
imposing height.
"You have invaded 24 our planet to harm the
persecuted, but Sanctuary accepts all. Someday,
may you be worthy."
Zicree waved its hand in a deliberate
gesture and disappeared.
"That's a fine how-d'ya-do!" snapped Dr.
McCoy.
"He ... she ... it steals our shuttlecraft,
then accuses us of being foul persecutors."
Mr. Spock raised an eyebrow and looked at
the captain.
"This is a serious matter," he intoned.
"We are totally without supplies, communications,
and the ability to leave this planet."
"You don't need to tell me," answered Kirk,
flipping open his communicator.
"Kirk to Enterprise. Come in, Enterprise.
Come in, Enterprise!"
The captain waited a few seconds for a reply
that never came, then snapped his communicator shut.
"We're going to find a way off this planet,"
he vowed.
"From this moment on, everything else becomes
secondary."
Spock suggested, "We may want to find
shelter for the night."
As if to accentuate his statement, several eerie
howls erupted from the mountains overhead and echoed
throughout the darkening valley.
McCoy snapped his fingers and pointed to the spot
the Senite had occupied a few seconds before.
"Zicree mentioned some villages," he said
hopefully.
"Maybe there's one not too far from here.
Which way should we go to find it?"
"We flew in from the east," answered Spock,
"and we passed nothing that looked like a settlement.
This mountain range extends to the north, and we may
assume that a village would be built in the lowlands,
or near the coast. Therefore, I suggest we proceed
to the west or the south."
The captain looked doubtfully at the sky.
"Does this planet have any moons?"
"Two moons," answered Spock.
"There's one of them now," said McCoy, pointing
overhead. A pinkish disc was peeking around the side
of the tallest mountain, the one where Auk-rex's ship
had crashed.
"Let's get going, then," said the captain.
"We should have enough light to see by. We'll follow
this creek bed south, assuming it must run eventually
into the sea."
Kirk knew that there was nothing else to be said or
done, so the three off-worlders followed the gully in the
opposite direction to the one they had explored
earlier. In the darkening gloom, they tripped over the
vines that crisscrossed the dry gravel, but that was
preferable to trying to negotiate the jungle of
bladder plants on either side of them.
The strange howls increased in intensity at one
point, and a swarm of flying creatures swooped
overhead. But Kirk shouted back at them, and they
kept their distance.
The night wore on, and McCoy couldn't
remember a time when he had seen the captain
angrier, or more determined. They had been stranded on
planets before, but he couldn't recall anyone ever
stealing the captain's shuttlecraft before. Despite
the affront, McCoy hoped his old friend would be more
tactful the next time they met a Senite. It
seemed the Senites held all the cards in this
situation. It was their planet, and if they wished
to glorify criminals and belittle authority, that was their
business.
McCoy only wished he hadn't been so
cynical about Sanctuary being a real planet. It
was all too real. If they had thought the myths were
true, they might have been more careful in their headlong
chase.
The doctor didn't worry much about the
Enterprise, knowing Scotty was a prudent and
cautious man who 26 loved the ship more, than
anyone and would never endanger it. But McCoy could
see the worry in Kirk's furrowed brow and
determined stride, and he knew it wasn't
entirely due to their predicament on the planet.
Jim worried about the ship all the time, more so when
he wasn't on it.
This dichotomy never failed to amaze McCoy
Here was a man who loved and fretted over his ship like
a jealous husband, yet he was always the first in line
to lead a landing party. Well, thought McCoy, a little
compulsion never hurt anybody, especially a
starship captain.
The second moon made an appearance; even in
mid crescent it was a large white beacon that made
their journey easier. The doctor watched as
Spock stopped to try an experiment with one of the
bladder plants that grew in profusion. He
plucked a fist-sized bladder from a healthy-looking
specimen and made an incision in it with his fingernail.
Then he cautiously sucked some of the liquid that was
stored within.
When the Vulcan didn't keel over, McCoy
tried some of the juice. It tasted a bit oily and
alkaline, but he supposed it wouldn't kill him-at
least, not right away. While they stopped to drink,
Kirk surged ahead, unmindful of thirst or rest.
Spock and McCoy had to run to catch up.
"If the Senites are androgynous," said the
doctor, trying to make small talk and break the
monotony, "how do you suppose they reproduce?"
Spock cocked his head thoughtfully.
"Zicree said they were bred to be sexless, which
rules out natural evolution. That would indicate
genetic engineering with an origin in traditional
male and female parentage. How they could exist for
centuries as an androgynous species, I do not
know, unless they have a large store of frozen
embryos that they incubate at given intervals."
McCoy nodded approvingly.
"I knew you could figure it out, Spock."
Spock cocked his head at the doctor, wondering
whether that was a compliment or not.
"I only know they're thieves," grumbled
Kirk.
"This whole planet would seem to be nothing but
thieves. The sooner we get off, the better."
The words had no sooner left his mouth than a
rock came sailing out of the gloom, striking the
captain hard in the shoulder. Kirk grunted in pain
and dropped to his knees.
The doctor and Spock barely had time to react
before a fusillade of rocks pummeled them;
they scrambled along the ground, trying to find cover
among the bladder plants. One rock struck
McCoy in the back, knocking the wind out of him, and
he felt Spock drag him out of the line of fire.
Through half-closed eyes, McCoy saw Kirk
draw his phaser and aim it in the direction of the
attack. Nothing happened when the captain pressed
the trigger, and a new hail of rocks forced him
to scramble for his life.
Kirk crouched beside the others.
"No phasers," he breathed.
At once, Spock gripped one of the thick
vines that covered the dry creek bed and ripped it from
the gravel with a burst of inhuman strength.
As McCoy gasped for air, Spock broke the
root into club-sized sections and handed one to the
captain.
"The doctor is injured," he whispered.
"We must arm ourselves as best we can."
No amount of weapons could have prepared them for the
blood-chilling screams that rent the night air. They
were screams of rage and attack, intended to terrify.
Several large figures rushed out of the darkness, and
Mrk jumped to his feet to meet them. Spock was
a second behind him, and McCoy could do little
more than observe the fight amidst excruciating
efforts to catch his breath.
The captain swung his club and smashed it over the
head of a burly creature, which promptly crumpled
to the ground. His club in splinters, Kirk was easy
prey for two attackers who wrestled him off his
feet and rolled with him into the gully. Spock fared
better, jamming his club into one attacker's stomach
and applying the Vulcan nerve pinch to another.
He stepped over the two unconsci ous bodies
and was about to aid the captain when a bolo like weapon
came whipping out of the darkness and wrapped around his
neck. Spock was too stunned to resist a second
wave of monstrous figures who leaped upon him with
horrid cries.
Still racked with pain, McCoy picked up one of
Spock's makeshift clubs and staggered to his
feet. Determined to do something, he swung his club
at the nearest figure, a reptilian creature of
solid muscle. It looked back at him almost
pityingly, then snarled and smashed him in the face with a
massive fist. McCoy tasted his own blood
streaming from his nose and wondered if he was going
to die. He tried to swing the club again, but arms
wrapped around him from behind and yanked him off his
feet.
The last thing he remembered seeing was a metal
wrench, glimpsed out of the corner of his eye and swerving
toward the center of his face. Chapter Three
Paiation-and a splash of water in his face-brought
McCoy to his senses. The pain was no longer
localized in his rib cage but stretched the entire
length of his body, from his face to his tightly bound
arms and legs. The water that revived him also washed
flakes of dried blood into his mouth, and he
wondered if his nose was broken. The mere act of
opening his eyes brought a blast of pain from a wound on
his forehead.
When McCoy saw the monstrous apparition of a
bipedal lizard staring down at him, growling with
laughter, he didn't particularly want to keep his
eyes open. But he wanted to know what had become of
his comrades, so he twisted around as much as his bindings
would allow. He saw Kirk and Spock behind him,
getting similar dashes of cold water in their
faces. His relief at seeing them alive was
tempered by the fact that they were bound as he was-seated
on the ground with their arms behind them and their legs tied in
front. Their tunics were torn and dirty, and their
faces were covered by various welts and
lumps.
Captain Kirk looked far worse than
Spock, with nasty abrasions on his arms and chest, but
that didn't stop him from glaring at his captors.
Spock sat in almost peaceful repose, his
expression its usual combination of calm and alertness,
despite the streak of dried blood. that stretched from
his hairline down his angular cheekbone to his chin.
Early rays of dawn were creeping into the valley, which
afforded McCoy a good look at the motley crew
that had ambushed and seized them. Judging from the size
and grizzled appearance of the gang members, who
numbered eight, they were lucky to be alive.
The giant reptilian creature was obviously
a Gorn, or some kind of closely related
species. There were two Klingons with long hair and
unkempt beards, and they glowered at the captives
with pure hatred. One of the Klingons kept twisting
a crude knife in his belt as if he was anxious
to use it. A green-skinned Orion was a member
of the party, but he paid scarcely any attention to the
captives, being far more interested in ransacking their
utility belts and studying their phasers and
tricorders.
There was also a burly Tellarite, with his
distinctive snoutlike nose.
The other three members of the band looked mostly
human, but none of them would win prizes as prime
specimens of humanity. One of them wore a
crude eyepatch and a deep sear that obliterated
half his nose. The other two sported long beards
and the craggy appearance of mountain men, as McCoy
remembered them from Earth history. All eight were
male and were wearing clothes that could only be described
as rags.
After his cursory examination of the odd tribe,
McCoy turned his attention to their camp. It
appeared to be a more-or-less permanent encampment,
with several ramshackle huts made from dried bladder
plants stitched together. Larger leaves formed the
roofs. A stream about two meters wide meandered
down the center of the clearing, and there was a large fire
pit full of smoldering embers.
Three strange animals that looked like a cross
between rodents and goats were tied to stakes in a
makeshift corral, and fish bones were littered all
over the camp. Several unappetizing strips of
meat hung drying on a line.
McCoy looked back at Kirk, who,
despite his anger, was not going to give his
captors any cause to further abuse them. They were
hog-tied and hornswoggled, as McCoy's daddy
used to say, and there wasn't any point in being
belligerent.
The Klingons, however, did not feel the same
way.
"I don't like the looks of those uniforms,"
muttered the one with the knife.
"I say we kill them."
"What art, those uniforms?" asked the Gorn in a
guttural voice.
"They are definitely of the Federation," answered the
Tellarite in stentorian tones.
"Although what they are doing here, I cannot say."
"The same thing you are," Kirk answered quickly,
"trying to get away from the Federation."
The Gorn moved menacingly toward the captured
human.
"You speak when we tell you," he ordered.
The human with the eyepatch stared curiously at
Spock with his good eye.
"Is that a Romulan?" he asked.
"No Romulans in the Federation," answered the
Tellarite, blinking his pinkish beady eyes.
"He must be a Vulcan."
"We stole these uniforms," McCoy found himself
growling, trying to sound as tough as he could. He
expected a swift blow to the head, but instead he
got everyone's attention. Apparently, this bunch was
bored enough living in isolation to listen to a tall tale.
"We're pirates," said McCoy.
"You ever heard of Auk-rex?"
The green-skinned Orion stood up, a phaser
in his hand.
"I've heard of Auk-rex," he said.
"So have I," said a grizzled human.
"I tried to sign up with him on Rigel 11,
but he had just left."
"Well, you can sign up with me now," snapped
McCoy, "if you untie these ropes. But I'm
afraid I haven't got a ship anymore."
A Klingon stared suspiciously at McCoy and
twisted the knife in his belt.
"Tell us what happened."
"They laid a trap for us near Capella
IV," began McCoy, "Starfleet, I mean.
Sent out a dummy freighter and had a big starship
lying in wait for us. We got wind of it just in time
to make a break for it. We knew about Sanctuary,
so we headed here, but that damn Enterprise
chased us all the way.. .."
"Enterprise!" hissed the Klingon.
"Captain James T. Kirk." He said the
name as if it were one of the vilest curses in the
galaxy.
"Indeed, a scoundrel," added the Tellarite.
"Scourge of the galaxy," McCoy agreed.
"Anyway, we've been looting Federation ships
for so long, we have a whole collection of their
uniforms. We knew we couldn't outrun them, so we
changed into these uniforms and beamed ourselves aboard the
Enterprise just before it destroyed our ship. Once
on board, we killed the transporter operator and
had the run of the place. They thought Auk-rex was
dead and had no idea we were walking around the
Enterprise like we owned it. It was a piece of
cake to put a phaser on overload, blow up the
engine room, and steal a shuttlecraft during the
confusion. So here we are!"
The Gorn gave them a crocodilian smile.
"That's smart thinking," he growled.
"Can you prove it?"
"We're here, aren't we?" asked Kirk.
"If we were really Starfleet officers, what would
we be doing on Sanctuary?"
None of them had an answer for that.
"You might end up wishing you had stayed on the
Enterprise, was grumbled one of the humans.
"Sanctuary may look like paradise, but it's
not."
For the first time, Spock spoke "We would
appreciate it more if we weren't tied up."
The Gorn turned and surveyed his comrades.
"What do you say?"
"I believe one thing," answered the Orion,
"they just arrived on Sanctuary. All their
equipment is new. The electronic stuff is
worthless, of course." He gave McCoy a
terrible start by turning a phaser on him and pressing
the button. Fortunately, he was right-it was
worthless.
"That I don't understand," said Kirk.
"Why won't any of the equipment work?"
The Tellarite shook his furry head.
"Those blasted Senites!" he cursed.
"Who knows what they are up to, or what they
want? They have a means to disable everything
electronic, except what is theirs, of course.
The one thing that unites our little group is that none of
us trust the Senites."
A bearded human stared suspiciously at
Spock.
"I don't suppose the Senites sent you to find
us, did they?"
Spock shook his head and replied, "The one
Senite we have met refused to return our
shuttlecraft and proved somewhat disagreeable."
"You'll never see that shuttlecraft again," said the
talkative Tellarite.
"I say we let these three go. What harm can
they do us?"
When no one could provide an answer, the Gorn
growled, "Cut them loose." Reluctantly, the
Klingon drew his knife and sliced the bindings around
their arms and legs.
"Don't make me regret this," he whispered
to Kirk.
The captain, Spock, and McCoy stood
stiffly and massaged their aching limbs. Kirk and
McCoy staggered to the stream to get a drink and wash
the blood from their faces. Spock stood stoically,
but McCoy knew the watchful Vulcan was poised
for action, should the need arise.
His face dripping wet, McCoy looked up from
the stream and pointed to the medikit on his
utility belt, which the Orion held in his green
hand.
"Could I have that back?"
The Orion narrowed his eyes.
"I thought you said you were a pirate, not a
doctor."
"You beat us up so badly," grumbled the
doctor, "that we need first aid."
"No," grunted the Gorn.
"We keep everything."
The Tellarite smiled.
"Consider it a payment for passing through our camp.
We might be able to trade them for something."
Kirk hid his disappointment, but he felt
surreptitiously under his tunic and was reassured
to find his communicator.
"In exchange for the equipment," he said,
"may be you can give us some information. Is there any
way to get off Sanctuary?"
The Tellarite snorted a laugh, his piggish
nostrils flaring. There were several guffaws, and a
Klingon sneered, "You can die."
The laughter died quickly, and a pall fell over the
camp, despite the magnificent sunrise that was
bathing the mountaintops in a golden light.
Kirk's simple question and the Klingon's blunt
answer had apparently uncovered a truth that was
seldom spoken, and even harder to accept. "Flying
days are over," said the Gorn with melancholy
lifting its reptilian face toward the golden
sky. The Gorn didn't look like it could cry, but
McCoy saw its heavy eyelids blink several
times.
More to change the subject than anything else, the
doctor asked, "Are there many camps like this one?"
"There are more survivalists," answered the one
eyed human, "but most people live in the villages.
We don't like the villages-they're all run by the
Senites."
"What is your specific dislike of the
Senites?" asked Spock.
"We don't trust them," hissed a Klingon,
"like we don't trust you."
The Tellarite shrugged.
"It is mostly a general dislike of being
dependent upon the Senites for everything we eat,
drink, and own in the world. Like Red says, we are
survivalists and prefer to live by our own rules and
wits. Plus, we've heard rumors."
"About what?" asked Kirk.
A Klingon snarled, "Why don't you go to the
village and find out?"
"Perhaps we should do that," Spock offered.
The Tellarite pointed down the stream, which wandered
through lush hills and disappeared in a golden mist on
the horizon.
"Just follow the stream," he said.
"It connects to a river that flows to the sea. At
the sea is a village-Dohama, I believe."
Sheepishly, one of the mountain men stepped forward and
said, "If you see any women, tell them it's not so
bad up here."
Kirk smiled.
"We will."
After a brief farewell, Kirk, Spock, and
McCoy were on their own again, hiking along the bank
of the stream. McCoy noticed the two Klingons
following them from a distance, and he wondered if they
might attack. He warned Kirk and Spock, but
the Klingons turned back after a few kilometers,
apparently satisfied that the strangers were leaving their
valley.
Spock lowered his voice to ask, "Captain,
considering the Prime Directive, should we have left
our phasers and tricorders with them?"
"I don't see that we had much choice," Kirk
muttered.
"And this planet is already an amalgam of useless
technology. At least we still have our
communicators. Believe me, I'll be happy
to explain to Starfleet how we lost our
equipment-if I get the chance."
"Owl" groaned McCoy, massaging his still tender
nose.
"I wish I could have gotten my medikit back."
"Perhaps," Spock suggested, "the Senites will
repair our wounds."
"I don't know," said McCoy doubtfully.
"We were told not to trust the Senites."
"Doctor," replied the Vulcan, "we can
surmise that all of the people we met in that camp were
antisocial criminals before arriving on
Sanctuary.
They can hardly be expected to like authority."
In spite of their predicament, Kirk grinned.
"That was some story you told them, Bones."
"Not bad, huh?" The doctor nodded, quite pleased
with himself "But highly inaccurate," Spock added.
"The computer would alert us if three intruders
beamed aboard the Enterprise, and the
shuttlebay would be sealed if there was an explosion in
the engine room. Plus-was "It was fiction!"
snapped the doctor.
"And it served its purpose," agreed the
captain.
"Now, if we could just talk our way off this
planet. Spock, do you think we should trust the
Senites?"
Spock replied, "They have not sufficiently
demonstrated their trustworthiness. However, their
position of authority cannot be disputed."
The captain nodded grimly.
"You're right about that. We'll have to find a way
to get them to help us."
With that final thought, the three walked wordlessly beside
the pristine stream that flowed from the mountains of
Sanctuary.
Montgomery Scott paced the bridge of the
Enterprise, pounding his fist into his palm
repeatedly. Uhura glanced back at him from her
communications console. She wished there were something she
could say to ease the acting captain's worry, but there
had been no contact with Captain Kirk, Mr.
Spock, and Dr. McCoy for more than thirteen
hours.
Countless attempts to contact anyone on the
planet had failed, and the other ships in orbit were more
of a threat than a solution.
Uhura was waiting for Scotty to turn to her and
ask her to send a message to Starfleet. The
message would report the disappearance of three of
Starfleet's finest officers, but it would report the
Enterprise as being safe. She knew what the
consequences would be Starfleet would be alarmed, but
they would realize that the Enterprise was more important
than any three officers, no matter how skilled
and experienced. As a precaution, they might order
the Enterprise to evacuate orbit immediately. Even
if they listened to Scotty's impassioned plea
to stay, they would soon realize he could not risk
searching the planet.
Eventually, in a day or a month, there would be
urgent business for the Enterprise elsewhere, and
Scotty would be ordered to leave. Uhura knew she
would be the conduit for this disturbing series of
messages, and the prospect filled her with dread and
sorrow.
"Commander Scott," she said softly, "I can try
to contact the planet again, and beg them to respond on
humanitarian grounds." Scotty stopped
his pacing and stood at attention.
"Let us try contacting our Klingon friend," he
said, not hiding the irony in his voice. To think that a
Klingon was perhaps the most civilized of their partners in
this futile orbit was hardly reassuring.
Scotty then turned to Chekov.
"Ensign," he ordered, "ready another
probe."
"But, sir," Chekov said politely, "we have
already launched eleven probes, and not one has
reported back."
"Make it an even dozen," Scotty replied.
"I have the Klingon commander," Uhura reported.
"Shall I put him on the screen?"
"On screen." The engineer nodded.
The gray-haired Klingon appeared on the
viewscreen, his roughhewn features softened by what
almost looked like a smile. How boring it must be,
orbiting this planet year after year, thought Uhura.
She could hardly imagine feeling sympathy for a
Klingon, but she did for this one, a dutiful officer
at the end of his career, stuck in the most dead-end of
assignments.
The Klingon rubbed the back of his neck with a
towel.
"You must excuse me for being winded," he said.
"I have just come from my exercise period.
It is my only pleasure."
Judging by his physique and the impressive
size of his biceps, Uhura figured he must have
plenty of time to indulge his pleasure.
Scotty bowed his head cordially.
"We didna exchange names, so permit me
to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant Commander
Scott of the USS Enterprise. The Klingon
nodded.
"I am Commander Garvak of the cruiser Rakhon,
from the Klingon Empire. I suppose you are
calling to say you are leaving."
"On the contrary," Scotty lied, "we've been
ordered to try to retrieve our men from the planet.
Do ye have any idea how we might accomplish that?"
Garvak shook his head, not bothering to hide his
disbelief "You earthlings will lose my respect with
such foolish schemes. Perhaps what I've heard is
correct-you are an inferior species. I have
told you, no one leaves Sanctuary. The best we
can hope to accomplish is to prevent other
fugitives from reaching the planet."
Scotty took a deep breath, and
Uhura knew he was trying to keep a cordial
tone to his voice.
"I understand that," he replied, "but Sanctuary
must have guardians, someone who maintains the shield and
makes the rules. Is there any way to contact
them?"
"The guardians you refer to are called
Senites," answered the Klingon.
"Communication with the Senites happens very rarely,
at their convenience. Some time ago, we succeeded in
destroying a ship before it reached their protective
shield, and the Senites contacted me. They offered a
considerable reward for me to leave orbit forever. I
refused and have not heard from them since."
"Is there anything you can tell us about their shield?"
Scotty asked.
The Klingon nodded.
"It extends approximately thirty
kilometers from the surface. They have spot
deflectors that they use to stop phasers and other
weapons farther out in orbit. That is why most
attempts to stop fugitives are unsuccessful.
In fact, if I tried to open fire on you right
now, it would probably do me little good. The Senites
have learned a great deal from all the
technology they have amassed."
"If their defenses are so good," asked
Scotty, "how do ye know so much?"
Garvak shrugged.
"We attacked Sanctuary with an entire
fleet. We were unsuccessful, but we did learn the
40 extent of their protective devices. Since
then, I have been stationed here, guarding and watching. If
I have sufficient warning, I can leave orbit and
destroy a ship that is trying to elude Klingon
justice.
Otherwise, I am powerless. As you are."
Uhura wished the Klingon didn't have to be so
blunt-or so right.
"Powerless" was the only word to describe their
situation.
Scotty cleared his throat and said, "Thank you
for the information, Commander Garvak. I won't detain you
any longer."
Even the Klingon looked melancholy when he
replied, "It was not an inconvenience, Commander
Scott."
The screen went blank for a moment, then was filled
with the aquamarine planet, looking so serene yet so
inscrutable.
Glumly, Chekov asked, "Shall I launch the
probe?"
Scotty shook his head and slumped into the
captain's chair.
"Lieutenant Uhura," he sighed, "we have t a
prepare a message for Starfleet."
Despite the cloud cover that flowed and ebbed with a
persistent breeze, Captain Kirk was unprepared
for the fury of their first rainstorm on Sanctuary. It
drenched them in a matter of seconds, making a
search for cover futile. But the shower was over in a
few minutes. Spock took to calling the landmass
they inhabited an island, saying the weather patterns
were typical, and Kirk found no reason to disagree.
The stream they had been following had widened
to approximately ten meters across and was rushing
along at a considerable pace. Kirk stopped in
midstride along the well-worn path, knelt, and
watched the rapid flow of water. Because he was in the
lead, Spock and McCoy stopped, too.
"Are you all right, Captain?" asked Spock.
"I'm not tired, mind you," answered Kirk, "but
if we built a rail, we could float along this
stream. It's gotten substantially wider since it
joined up with that underground stream."
"It's also gotten faster," McCoy pointed out.
it1's really moving, in case you hadn't
noticed."
Kirk countered, "We could reach the village in a
few hours, instead of a few days."
"Captain," Spock replied, "may I
remind you that we do not know where this stream leads,
into rapids or other bodies of water. We would have
to go wherever the river took us."
"True," said Kirk stubbornly, "but we
wouldn't have to walk. And we would travel ten times
faster unless you really want to do this for the next couple
of weeks."
"We would travel considerably faster," Spock
agreed, "at a certain amount of risk."
"I'm willing to take it, because the one thing we can't
waste is time," said Kirk.
"We can't be sure how long the Enterprise will
stay in orbit, so we have to find our way back
quickly. The Senites are the key to escape, so we
must get to their village."
Spock nodded.
"Very well. I believe we can lash vines together.
It will be crude, and we will get wet."
Kirk pinched his damp uniform and shrugged.
"I'm already wet."
"Well," muttered Dr. McCoy, "I never
thought I'd make a good Huck Finn, but let's
try it."
"Let me try this first," sighed the captain,
reaching for his communicator. He performed the ritual
that was by now so familiar, with the same result-they
remained out of contact with the Enterprise.
Kirk took the lead in gathering the same kind of
vines they had employed as weapons during the
attack. Because the creek bed wasn't dry
anymore, they had to search through thickets of bladder
plants before finding vines that were dry enough to uproot from
the ground and break into sections.
Kirk ordered McCoy to look for something that could
be used to lash the sections together, and the doctor
discovered a sort of creeping parasitic plant with
long shoots that intertwined with the bladder plants.
By stripping away the thorns and braiding the shoots,
they found they could make a natural twine with a fair
amount of tensile strength. McCoy's deft fingers
set to braiding, while Spock and Kirk uprooted
their building material.
Despite the wealth of materials, they were
hampered by their lack of tools. They worked the
better part of the afternoon and didn't finish the crude
vessel until dusk. Captain Kirk had no
desire to navigate strange waterways in the
dark, so he commanded his tiny crew to look for food and
try to get some rest. Spock had turned himself into a
guinea pig, stopping often to taste new varieties
of bladder plants as he discovered them. Spock had
suffered no ill effects from any of his taste tests,
but Kirk knew that his Vulcan physiology was
unusually hardy; so he and McCoy ate only the
mildest varieties. The only alternative was if
they chanced upon a herd of ambulatory fish, which
didn't seem likely this close to water. They
couldn't risk stuffing themselves with strange greenery, so
they ate just enough to keep the gnawing in their stomachs to a
dull roar.
A strong wind favored them, blowing away the
clouds and granting them a dry, starry sky to sleep
under. Taking the second watch, Kirk was awake
during the deepest part of the night, and he watched the
moons of Sanctuary jockeying for prominence. First
came the pinkish moon, rising swiftly from the
mountains and climbing to an apex that commanded the whole
valley. Kirk decided its strange color and
43 fuzzy appearance might be caused
by dust and debris that were caught in the moon's own
gravity. Perhaps it had begun its career as a
captured comet, he surmised, which could explain the
shifting tides and sudden regression of oceans on the
planet. The second moon appeared later, but its
neon brightness took over the night, leading Kirk
to believe that it was considerably larger than the pink
moon.
With no ground lights visible in any direction,
the stars glittered like spilt sugar on a black
tabletop. But they looked far away to Captain
Kirk. When you were among them, he recalled, they
streaked by at warp speed, or glowed like the lights of a
familiar city. From solid ground, the stars appeared
nebulous, indeterminate.
Was this what it was like on Earth, Kirk wondered,
before they perfected space travel? How did they
deal with the realization that spaceflight was possible, but
beyond their capabilities? How did they fight the
longing, the thirst to explore, the need to see what was
behind those twinkling lights? The vast new land under his
feet was not without a certain allure, but to be shut
off from the stars was unbearable.
Kirk still seethed with anger at the thought of the
Senites stealing his shuttlecraft.
Sanctuary was protection with a price. It
welcomed fugitives from the farthest reaches of the
galaxy, but it clipped their wings and made them
exiles from space. The thought made Captain
Kirk shiver more than the constant wind at his back and
his damp clothes. Chapter Four
THEY EA-SFD the raft into the swift
current and hung on, unable to climb aboard. The
bundle of hollow roots was about two meters long
and a meter wide and would have allowed three men to sit
comfortably, but the rushing water wouldn't allow it. The
current spun the little craft around and around until
all they could do was cling. Luckily, the water was
only waist-deep, and by concerted effort they were finally
able to find footing and hold the raft still. McCoy
climbed on in front, Spock in the middle, and
Kirk leaped on at the last, and they rode the
lumpy conveyance as one would a log. They still spun
around out of control, only now they were seated and hanging
on.
Keeping their balance was a major effort, and
keeping dry had been forgotten after the first second,
but they were moving briskly. The banks were nothing but a
blur, and Kirk found he had to concentrate on the
far-off horizon to gain any perspective.
The spinning and speed were so disorienting that he finally
watched only the raft in front of him and the backs
of his comrades. Spock had been right-they were going
wherever the river took them.
They were buffeted the hardest where other tributaries
joined the river, but each new influx widened it and
made the center of the river smoother.
To avoid rocks and debris, they learned
to paddle with their hands to stay in the center, about twenty
meters from either shore. The water tasted good, and enough
sloshed in their faces for them to get plenty to drink,
but there was no time to relax. It was a grueling
struggle to keep their grip on the sodden vines,
while kicking and paddling the raft away from trouble.
McCoy, in particular, had to muster most of his
strength for hanging on. For long intervals, they
spun aimlessly in the center of the waterway.
During an out-of-control period, they suddenly
hit white water and were bounced and jostled along at
a much greater speed. The water roared in their ears and
made talking impossible, and it took all their
efforts just to stay afloat. McCoy nearly
slipped into the frothing water once, but Spock's
strong arm was there to slam him back onto the raft and
hold him in place until he found a
grip. They were moving too swiftly to take any
sort of bearings, and Kirk merely watched and
waited for whatever would happen.
The roaring abruptly grew louder, and they were
catapulted into midair. A waterfall! thought
Kirk. Now the raft was over his head; he groped
for it, but it floated just out of reach. He heard
McCoy yelling as they dropped several meters through
the misty air, but the weightless experience was not
unpleasant. It ended abruptly with a collision
against very cold water.
Kirk sank many meters toward the bottom and had
to swim with all his might to break out of the downward
current. Gasping for air, he broke to the
surface, and then he had to swim furiously
to escape the plummeting waterfall.
Several meters away he saw McCoy clinging
to the raft, and he smiled. The time it really counted,
the doctor had held on. Spock, however, was
nowhere in sight, even after Kirk stroked his way
to McCoy's side.
"Are you all right, Bones?" he panted.
"Okay."
"Where's Spock?"
McCoy looked around, puzzled.
"I thought I saw him.. .."
Captain Kirk gazed across the smooth surface
of the water. They had been dumped unceremoniously
into the most beautiful lake he had ever seen.
Pristine water the color of amethyst was
surrounded by gently drooping trees whose tentacle like
branches seemed to be drinking from the lake. The
closest bank looked like an easy swim.
But where was Spock?
The Vulcan rocketed to the surface a few
meters away.
"Get on the raft!" he barked hoarsely.
Kirk grinned.
"Spock, we made it through! We're all right."
"On the raft, immediately," the Vulcan
reiterated.
"No time to explain."
McCoy wasn't waiting for an explanation, and
he clambered from the chilly but peaceful water onto
the shaky bed of roots. Spock wasn't far behind
him, and Kirk could see that the Vulcan was as serious
as he sounded. It wasn't until all three sat
astride the raft that the captain noticed a gash on
Spock's calf and a substantial stream of green
blood.
"Spock, what happened to you?" Kirk demanded.
"I was bitten," Spock replied simply.
"I stayed down there in order to find out what did
it."
"And what did it?" asked McCoy.
The Vulcan nodded toward the surface of the
water. 47 "I believe, Doctor, that if you
watch the water, you will shortly see. We would be
wise to keep hands and feet aboard."
That was easier said than done, and Kirk didn't
pull his feet out of the water until he began to see
languid silvery shapes streaming back and forth
directly under them. The creatures snaked their way
to the surface, as if they preferred the cold
bottom where the amethyst turned black. He drew
every limb toward the center of the raft as the eel like fish
swam closer and he saw their ferocious jaws, the
equal of any pike's or barracuda's. Their
long, silvery bodies looked like women's belts,
but they were many times larger and full of teeth and sinew.
Two of them broke the surface with ribbonlike
dorsal fins that were two meters long, stretched across
sleek spines. The fish had the vapid eyes and
lazy attitude of bottom dwellers who were
slumming by feeding at the surface.
Kirk gulped.
"Swimming to shore is out."
Spock observed, "This lake probably
empties over another fall on the other side, if
we can reach it. This is probably the crater of an
inactive volcano."
"Smoke!" said McCoy, pointing furiously.
"There's smoke!" The doctor gestured toward a
wisp of gray smoke that rose over the drooping
trees only to be swept away by the wind.
"A settlement," breathed Kirk.
"Could that be Dohama?"
"Unlikely," answered Spock.
"The survivalists said Dohama was on the
ocean, not a lake."
Kirk peered intently at the far-off bank.
"I see something more useful than smoke," he
said.
"Someone is watching us from the bank."
The captain began to wave his arms as much as he
could without rocking the raft.
"Hey! Hey!" he called.
"Throw us a line. A rope. We're surrounded
by these fish. Throw us a rope!"
Upon being directly addressed, two
naked children with stark white hair stepped out from the cover
of one of the tentacle trees. They stared with frank
curiosity at the unfortunate rafters, not sure
what they should do. It was obvious neither one of them had
a rope to throw. The smaller child said something to her
playmate, and they both laughed. No matter what
Kirk said or how hard he waved, the children were content
to watch.
This could have gone on for several hours, but an
adult female with a similar shock of white hair
appeared on the bank of the lake. She promptly
grabbed both children by their arms and made off with them. This
prompted even more frantic yelling from both Kirk
and McCoy, and McCoy let his foot slip into the
lake. At once, he yelped and pulled his foot
out of the water with a hideous fish attached. It tried
to sink its teeth deeper into his boot, whipping its
long body in an attempt to pull him off the
raft.
Spock smashed the beast with his only available
weapon, his fist, and it lashed out with its tail and
nearly knocked the Vulcan off his precarious
perch. Reaching quickly, Kirk yanked a loose
root from the raft and inserted it between the fish's jaws
and McCoy's limb. With an effort that
brought a scream of pain from the doctor, he pried the
jaws loose. Or, rather, the hideous creature
finally turned loose and slithered away.
The doctor examined his own foot briefly and
found there were only a few scratches, no deep
punctures.
"Thank God for good leather," he breathed.
They were careful not to make any more rash moves
aboard the raft. The white-haired children were gone,
along with their overzealous protector, but shortly a
man and a woman of different species appeared on
the bank.
The dark-haired woman carried a rope, which she
tied to a fist-sized stone, while the blue-skinned
man cupped his hands to shout at them.
"Do not attempt to swim!" he warned.
"The lance fish are dangerous!"
"Now he tells us," McCoy said, smiling with
relief.
It took several attempts for the woman to throw the
weighted rope directly to the raft, but she had
obviously been well chosen for such a rescue
mission. Each throw was a near miss until at
last Spock made a one-handed grab of the stone in
midair. They secured it to the bow of the raft
and let the man and woman slowly tow them in.
When they got close to shore, the woman sprinted
away, allowing them only a fleeting glimpse of
her rugged beauty. The blue-skinned humanoid
looked like he would be glad to leave, too, but he
reluctantly remained to pull them safely to the
bank.
Before they could even thank him, he spoke to them
brusquely "Go past Seaside Falls--he
pointed to the far end of the crater-sized lake--and set
your whatever it is-in the water at the wide part of the
channel. I can help you no more than that. We are a
closed community."
He turned to leave, and Kirk called
desperately after him, "Dohama! The Senites!
Where are they?"
"Do as I have said," commanded the man.
"But do not follow me to our village. We kill
strangers."
It was spoken as a matter of fact, not a warning,
and Captain Kirk was not at all inclined to doubt his
word. So they didn't investigate the small band of
men, women, and children who lived in the forest by the lake.
They hefted their soggy raft and trudged around the
crater, looking for a place past the
Seaside Falls to put it in.
"Lieutenant Scott," said Uhura with
urgency, 44message coming in." Scotty
twisted around in the captain's chair.
"From Starfleet, I'll wager."
"No." Uhura blinked, trying to concentrate on
the intermittent syllables.
"From one of the ships in orbit, the Gezar tilde
v, she calls it. She says a fugitive ship
is about to enter orbit, and that if we score a hit,
she will split the reward with us."
"What in blazes?" muttered Scotty.
"Put this woman on the viewscreen, and let's
see what she's up to."
Uhura shook her head.
"She has broken off contact and is leaving
orbit."
Scotty sat up in his seat.
"Yellow alert," he ordered, "full
shields."
"Shields up," Chekov responded.
"If they're going to start shooting," said
Scotty, "let's try to stay out of their way.
Sulu, be prepared to leave orbit."
"Aye, sir," answered the veteran
helmsman.
Chekov broke in, "Two more ships have gone
to impulse power and are leaving orbit. And the Klingon
ship is readjusting its orbit."
Scotty sat forward.
"Can you get a fix on their course?" he asked.
"What about the incoming craft?"
Chekov punched buttons and waited for a long
moment.
"Their courses are converging," he answered.
"The Gezary is the farthest out, followed by two
others, with the Klingon in a new orbit, which puts him
closest to the planet." The ensign turned to look
quizzically at the acting captain.
"It's almost as if they are forming a gauntlet."
"Taking up stations," Scotty surmised.
"Each one trying to guess where the ship is going
to be when it comes out o" warp drive. I wonder
how many times they've been through this drill?"
Sulu added, "I've located the incoming
vessel. I can estimate its arrival and put it
on the viewscreen."
"Go ahead," Scotty ordered.
"In fact, put some distance between us. Let's
watch the whole thing from the back row."
They accelerated briefly.
"Shifting to polar orbit," Sulu announced.
"Short-range scan on the viewscreen."
Ship's sensors joined forces with the computer
to re-create a scene that would have been difficult
to see firsthand. Four bounty hunters, some commissioned
and others rogue, lined a strip of space that
stretched for a thousand kilometers from Sanctuary. The
viewscreen showed the farthest ships as silvery
blips, but the Klingon bird of prey and the
green-hued Orion cruiser loomed much larger.
They hung in space like vultures, hovering over the
well-used approach path.
A streak entered the gauntlet and slowly
materialized into a silvery missile. At once,
phaser fire erupted from every corner of the screen, and the
blackness of space filled with a blazing
crisscross of destruction.
As they tracked the fleeing vessel, the colorful
rays converged and shattered the starscape with silent
explosions. Seconds later, the aftershocks rocked
the Enterprise.
"Shields holding!" announced Chekov.
Somehow, through it all, the incoming ship spiraled
toward the aqua planet. The Klingon ship
laid down a pattern of three photon
torpedoes, any one of which should have atomized the tiny
craft, but the torpedoes veered off at the last
moment and fizzled harmlessly in the atmosphere.
Scotty blinked, not sure he could believe what
he had just seen, but he felt that Garvak knew what
would happen and was treating them to an example of the
Senites' remote deflectors. Despite the
impressive fireworks, the all-out attack consumed
only a few seconds; then the renegade ship had
disappeared into the planet's atmosphere and the space
around Sanctuary was peaceful again. Scotty turned
to Uhura, who was working her console furiously.
"Was there any disruption in the shield during all
that?"
Uhura shook her head with frustration.
"I tried every channel, but there was no response.
There was a momentary flux in the wave generation
field.
Maybe if the landing party tried to contact us when a
ship entered the atmosphere, they might get through....
I don't know."
"You tried," Scotty said, mustering an
encouraging smile.
"We'll be ready for that opportunity when
it happens again."
Then the engineer's brow furrowed thoughtfully under his
boyish bangs.
He rose slowly from the captain's seat and began
to pace.
"We can be ready if we're warned in advance,"
he mused.
"And we were warned in advance."
"By the captain of the Gezary, Uhura reminded
him.
"I know the frequency they use."
"One second," said Scotty slyly.
"Let's play their game a wee bit. Maybe
we'll learn more that way. Lieutenant Uhura,
please inform the Gezary that we apologize for not
firing at the fugitive. At future
opportunities, we will be happy to cooperate.
11 Chekov looked back and shook his head,
puzzled.
"Now we are the bounty hunters?"
"You can win more flies with honey than vinegar,"
answered Scotty. He added, "We need friends.
We need all the help we can get."
The Scotsman stopped directly in front of the
viewscreen and stared at the majestic orb
called Sanctuary. They were flying over her
enormous frozen pole, and the planet looked as
white and pure as a child's snowball.
"I'll find yer weakness," Scotty vowed to the
icy globe.
"I'll break you yet."
Bruised, battered, cold, and hungry, the
three rafters drifted into a wide channel where the
river could finally stretch out and rest. The sun had
vacated the sky, leaving a charcoal smear of
clouds, but there was enough light to see the endless
silhouette of the ocean, and most of that illumination
came from a display of colored lights on the eastern
half of the bay. The lights swayed on high standards
in a stiff breeze and didn't do much to illuminate
the cluster of buildings beneath them. The longer you
watched, thought Kirk, the more the candy-colored lights
seemed to wave in a welcoming fashion. They were
paddling in that direction before he could muster enough strength
to actually give the order.
Putting thoughts of unusual aquatic life out of
their heads, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy abandoned
the raft to its own fate as they neared the shore and
swam with desperation. At last they scrambled up the
bank and collapsed on the gravel. Too
tired to speak, the three staggered to their feet and
trudged slowly in the direction of the swaying
carnival lights.
As they drew closer, the wind shifted, and they
caught the tinkle of music and the smell of food on
the ocean breeze. It was a greasy, meaty smell,
redolent of fat and spices, the kind that sets taste
buds to watering. Despite his bruised face and
painful foot, McCoy grinned foolishly at
Kirk and picked up the pace. The captain glanced
at what was left of his grimy uniform and wished he
could make a better impression, but the growling in his
stomach told him to ignore such niceties.
Spock marched stoically beside him, but the Vulcan's
stride lengthened as they got closer to the tempting
sights and sounds.
Laughter mingled with gay flutelike music, and
people could be seen lounging by an arched doorway in the low
ornamental wall that surrounded the village. There
seemed to be no guards and nothing to stop them From
entering.
The colored lights twinkled and danced on the
standards above the wall, beckoning them. Despite
their bedraggled appearance, Kirk, Spock, and
McCoy were given little more than passing
glances as they strolled through the crowd of revelers,
each of whom carried a goblet and a shank of grilled
meat. It was as if somebody were throwing a party, and
everyone was invited.
Inside the wall, the village looked quaint,
like something from Earth's Renaissance period, with
crooked little two-story houses, a few grander
buildings with porches and porticoes, and a village
green. From every rooftop were strung the ubiquitous
colored lights, but it was another type of light that
caught their attention. In the center of the village
green, sparks were shooting from huge iron braziers,
upon which mammoth chunks of meat were roasting in open
flames. A white-robed Senite dutifully
manned each barbecue pit, grilling the
delicacies to perfection before doling them out to waiting
diners. Other Senites were filling goblets with sudsy
amber liquid drawn from wooden barrels, and
McCoy began drifting toward these libations.
Kirk caught up with McCoy as he was accepting
a goblet from a smiling, shaven-headed Senite.
"Bones, we don't know anything about this food or
drink. Is it safe?"
"It's not safe to do without food and drink," said
McCoy, "and that's our only
alternative. I'll tell you more about the drink in a
second."
The doctor chugged the liquid for several
seconds and came up with a sudsy but satisfied
grin.
"Tastes like the finest Elysian ale," he
pronounced.
"I say it's fit for consumption, and I intend
to test that meat next."
com55 Kirk sighed not too reluctantly and
took a goblet proffered by the agreeable Senite.
He was tempted to ask the Senite about their
shuttlecraft, but the androgynous being was suddenly
deluged with requests for more ale. The crowd included
Klingons, Saurians, humans, and creatures
too bizarre to be called humanoid. The captain
hadn't seen so many different races in one place
since the time the Enterprise had transported
dozens of ambassadors to an important conference.
Despite the lowlife appearance of many of the
fugitives and a few drunken shouts, the gathering was
peaceful. And why shouldn't it be peaceful, thought
Kirk, with all the free drink and food anyone could
want?
He took a sip of ale and had to admit
that it tasted better than muddy river water.
Strains of lively flute music reached his ears,
and Kirk looked up at one of the balconies to see
a small orchestra composed entirely of Senites.
Like the other Senites in attendance, they toiled
tirelessly on behalf of the revelers, creating
intricate music to which many were dancing a jig or
walking with a skip. Under a colorful awning, there were
tables set up, and groups were eating, playing dice
or cards, and guffawing loudly. If there was a
cheerier place than Dohama on this windy night,
Kirk never expected to see it.
He turned around and discovered that McCoy had
vanished. After a moment's panic, Kirk spotted
the doctor standing with Spock beside one of the barbecue
pits. The Senite on duty was grilling a portion
of meat and several large vegetables split
lengthwise.
As Kirk approached, Spock turned to him.
"Our host has graciously offered to cook
vegetables for me," the Vulcan explained.
"Is there anything they won't do for us?" Kirk
asked sarcastically. "Nothing, sir," the Senite
said without a trace of irony, smiling.
"After you have finished eating, I will direct
you to the inn, where you can bathe and select clean
clothes."
"Sounds good to me." McCoy grinned.
"How is my chop coming?"
"Done, sir!" the Senite answered
pleasantly. The being gripped the meat with tongs and
wrapped it in a cloth napkin before handing it to the
hungry doctor.
"You know," McCoy said to Spock, "on Earth
there was a tribe of people called Eskimos. Their
entire diet consisted of nothing but meat and whale
blubber, and they lived a long time."
Spock replied, "Longer than the whales, I
presume."
Within a few seconds, both his comrades were
wolfing down their food, and Kirk could resist no
longer. He couldn't remember when he had tasted
food as delicious as the thick chop prepared for him
by the Senite, and he made a mental note to let
everyone on the Enterprise have shore leave in the
village. Then he remembered that, no matter how
inviting Sanctuary seemed, they were not here by choice
and could not leave of their own free will.
"Where do the Senites put the shuttlecraft and
spaceships they corifiscate?" he asked
the cook.
"I wouldn't know, sir," the Senite answered,
smiling agreeably.
"My duty is to serve the persecuted."
"Leave him alone, Jim," McCoy scolded
his friend.
"At least while he's cooking."
"Technically speaking," said the Senite, "I am
not a "he." 11
"Sorry," said the doctor, wiping sauce off his
chin.
"Tell me, what's the occasion for this big
shindig?"
The Senite shook its head in momentary confusion.
"There is no occasion-this is the evening meal."
"Fascinating," said Spock.
McCoy shook his head.
"I don't see what those crazy mountain men could
have against this."
"Dohama is not for everyone," the Senite
replied.
"Yes," said Kirk impatiently, "and we
appreciate the food. But who can tell us about our
shuttlecraft?"
The Senite pointed toward an older
building at the far end of the main street. It had a
big portico and lots of iron railings, several
cheerfully lit rooms, and enough banners, awnings, and
colored lights to attract attention.
"Go to the inn," said the Senite.
"The important thing is to rest after your long
journey."
"Right," muttered Kirk. He felt he was being
talked down to, and he didn't like it. The
Senites reminded him of a distant aunt who used
to talk to him like a child, even when he wasn't one.
"Cheer up, Jim," said McCoy, hefting his
goblet.
"We should be happy to get off that river. The
Senites seem like reasonable people-I'm sure all
we have to do is explain what happened."
Kirk murmured, "If we can find somebody
to explain to. was Spock finished his meal and wiped
his mouth with the thick napkin.
"We have very little choice but to confront the
Senites," he agreed.
"However, in our present condition, I feel rest
is a more prudent course of action."
Kirk nodded toward the garish building.
"Lead on. 91 They strolled down a
miniature boulevard, which was decorated with
impressionistic statues and well manicured
bladder plants sporting crowns of vivid orange
flowers. Carnival lights lined the rooftops, and
shops on both sides of the street were open. The
businesses were as varied as the creatures in them a
tattoo parlor, a sweets shop, a library, a
game parlor, a hat store, a museum of
oddities-all ru n by the 58 ubiquitous bald
Senites. At one house, which was bathed in green
lights, women dressed in frilly nightgowns
leaned provocatively from the windows and
balconies. They should have looked attractive, but
there was something wrong with them, thought Kirk. Their
expressions were so cold.
"Senites," said Spock.
"They have been decorated as women. Their purple
and red hairstyles are obviously wigs. With a
shortage of women on the planet-was "That's quite all
right, Spock," said the captain hastily, "I get
the picture. All I want from the Senites is a
way off this planet."
Despite the wigs and provocative poses on
display, very few customers were frequenting the
green-lit house. The smoke shop next
door was much more popular, judging by the plumes of
dingy smoke that billowed from it.
Kirk paused and stared through the window; he saw
various combustibles being dispensed, but no money changing
hands. It seemed incredible, but the Senites
apparently gave everything in this town away for free,
including themselves.
Outside the smoke shop, a dutiful Senite was
sweeping tobacco butts and other litter into a
receptacle. Kirk watched the white-robed
figure for a moment, wondering what it thought of the
menial labor. His question was answered when the Senite
looked up and smiled beatifically at him. Like a
monk assured of his special relationship with God,
the Senite walked on, scooping up the debris of
hundreds of unmindful carousers.
Kirk shook his head and stumbled onward.
Despite his immense curiosity and lingering anger,
exhaustion was taking its toll. Now that the thought of
sleep had planted itself in his brain, he could think of
little else.
He caught up with Spock and McCoy as they
stood on the steps leading to the inn. 59 "Whatever
happens in here," said Kirk, "let's stay together."
"Agreed." Spock nodded.
McCoy yawned.
"I'm liable to do anything for a bed."
The door swung open in their faces, and a
veritable giant of a man stood in their path. He
looked mostly human, except for an
overabundance of facial hair, and he cast a
disdainful eye on the bedraggled strangers.
"Fresh meat," he sneered.
"What do you mean by that?" Kirk bristled.
"I mean you just got here." The giant scowled.
"That's the truth, isn't it? You don't look like
you've grown fat and happy in Dohama."
"We just arrived." McCoy nodded wearily.
"Will they let us spend the night here?"
"Oh, sure," answered the big man, muscling
past them.
"They'll let you do anything you want. But when
you've had your fill of this life, come and see me on
the waterfront."
"Bed first," said McCoy, yawning again and heading
into the inn.
"Can you get us off the planet?" Kirk asked
hopefully.
The behemoth sputtered with laughter.
"You are fresh meat, aren't you?
Come and see Billiwog. We'll work out a
deal." He saw someone in the crowd he knew,
hollered an unpronounceable name, then swaggered off.
"Dohama does not lack for colorful characters,"
observed Spock.
"Hey!" they heard the doctor call. McCoy
had proceeded ahead, finding himself in the restaurant
section of the inn, and Kirk and Spock wearily
followed. It was a friendly place; every spare
centimeter was decorated with scraps and mementos from
hundreds of visitors and their useless technology.
From the walls and ceiling hung strange weapons,
odd devices, chunks of metal with the names of ships
on them, holographic photos, emblems, tattered
flags, helmets, hats, blackened circuit
boards-a cornucopia of space junk.
"At least we know where some of the stuff goes," said
Kirk, staring in.
awe at the walls.
Senites bustled about, serving food to an
appreciative and loud group of diners. The food
looked and smelled marginally healthier than the meat
cooking in the open air. A rather chubby Senite
approached the newcomers.
"My, my," it remarked, frowning, "you
boys look a mess. Have you had anything to eat?"
"We've eaten, thanks," said Kirk, reacting
cordially to the mother-hen quality of the Senite.
"We're looking for a place to sleep."
"Then you've come to the right place." The innkeeper
smiled, taking a key from the pocket of its apron
and handing it to the captain.
"Go up to room six and make yourselves comfortable.
You'll find robes and towels in the closet, and
I'll send somebody by in the morning with fresh
clothes."
"That's very gracious of you," said McCoy, "but
we can't afford to pay."
"Pay what?" asked the jovial Senite.
"There's no money on Sanctuary.
You're safe now from your former life, be it
deprivation, persecution, or the pursuit of false
idols, such as money. To show that you have discarded your
past life, we ask you to contribute something to our
collection from all over the galaxy." The being
motioned around the festooned walls.
"We haven't got anything," lied the captain,
feeling his communicator in his pocket.
"That's not true," countered the Senite. Before
Kirk could respond, the androgynous being
fingered the insignia on his chest; it was barely hanging
on to the tattered cloth.
"I've never seen one like this. You don't intend
to keep wearing these clothes, do you?"
Kirk shook his head, unable to deal with the
prospect of losing his command insignia and,
by extension, his identity.
"Tomorrow, maybe," he said.
"Ah, yes, tomorrow," replied the Senite, letting
the insignia slip from its fingers.
"Sleep well, my children." The innkeeper bustled
off to greet more new arrivals.
"Fascinating," remarked Spock.
"Apparently, the purpose of this society is
to make people feel welcome."
"A little too welcome," muttered Kirk.
"I haven't got enough energy tonight, but tomorrow I'm
going to get some answers."
McCoy dragged himself toward the stairs.
"Jim," he said through yet another yawn, "will you
quit looking a gift horse in the mouth?"
Kirk glanced around doubtfully as he trudged
up the stairs. Behind him, he heard two Klingons
growling as they arm-wrestled. No, he wasn't going
to look a gift horse in the mouth, not tonight.
But he was going to give it a closer inspection in the
morning.
The room was clean and functional, and it had a
settee, two cushiony beds, and a full bath.
Kirk got into bed, put his head on the pillow, and
was asleep in the shortest unit of measurable time.
That night over Sanctuary, a large warship was
blown up by bounty hunters seconds after coming out of
warp drive. But the scanners aboard the
Enterprise picked up fifteen fugitives beaming
to the planet, all but one of them safely. The
unlucky crew member was probably the
transporter operator, and his molecules were
scattered with the ship's. Nevertheless, it proved
to Scotty that the mission of the bounty hunters was a
62 futile one. For all the fish they netted,
most of them dead, they were powerless to stop the vast
majority who sought Sanctuary.
And what of those who found Sanctuary? Unless they
had gills, thought Scotty, the inhabitants had
precious little of the planet to play with.
He gazed at the sparkling aqua globe. It had
better be paradise, he decided, because the people who
went there were gone as surely as if they'd gone
to heaven.
A GENTLE RAPPING on the door awoke
Captain Kirk, and he sat up in the unfamiliar
bed to see Spock sitting on the settee across from
him, looking quite elegant in a gold-embroidered
robe of royal blue. The Vulcan might have been
awake for hours, judging by the alertness in his eyes
and the sun streaming through the cheery lace curtains.
McCoy was still snoring away in the other bed, even
after the rapping sounded again.
"Somebody wishes to enter," said Spock.
Kirk reached for his own robe before calling out,
"Come in!"
The door swung open, and they saw the plump
Senite from the night before, pushing a rack of clothing
in a conveyance that took up the entire hallway.
"Come now, no sleeping until noon," scolded
the Senite.
"We've got to clean this room. Remember, you
can only stay here for two nights. After that, you have
to see the landlord about getting a house. Now, what
size are all of you?"
Kirk was bursting with questions and residual anger, but
he recognized the need to have clothing that wasn't
ripped to shreds. From what he could see of the offerings
on the rack-mainly nondescript
windbreakers and trousers-he knew they would be less
conspicuous wearing such clothes. They would look like they
fit in, which was all right as long as they didn't
feel like they fit in. Despite the happy
hordes milling around Dohama, Captain Kirk
had no desire to spend the rest of his days in mindless
carousing.
He knotted the robe around his waist and strode
to the open door. The rack of clothing stretched for
several meters, but Kirk quickly selected brown
pants, a flannel shirt, and a blue windbreaker.
All seemed well-made and clean, if not
exactly new.
The Senite handed him shoes, socks, and underwear.
"Just take what you can wear," it directed,
smiling.
"You can get new whenever you want-just go to any
clothing shop."
"What tis your name?" asked Kirk.
"Lincree." The Senite bowed politely.
"But you don't have to tell me yours."
"I would like to tell you mine," the captain continued.
"It is James T. Kirk. I command a
Federation starship that is orbiting this planet as we
speak. I can appreciate what your order
is doing here, but we came to this planet unaware that
it was Sanctuary, or what the rules were. As you
said last night when you looked at my insignia,
it's a very rare one in this sector of space. In
fact, no one from Starfleet has ever been here before.
All we ask is that you return our
shuttlecraft and let us leave. We won't bother
you again, and we'll put this planet on our charts, so
everyone will know."
Lincree nodde d thoughtfully.
"James T. Kirk, I've run this inn for many
years, and I've met almost everyone who ever came
to Sanctuary, and they all wanted to leave after the first
day. It's new, it's strange, it's not what they
expected. But mostly they're bothered by the fact that
they can't leave the planet to return to space."
McCoy was sitting up in bed, too, listening
intently. Kirk held his tongue and let the
Senite complete what sounded like a well-rehearsed
speech.
"This planet works on one basic principle,"
Lincree went on.
"Integrity.
We are successful in keeping the persecutors
at bay by maintaining the integrity of this
planet and our mission. If we were to allow people to come
and go, the persecutors would send spies to the planet
in order to kidnap refugees, or kill them.
Everyone is safe here, knowing they are free from
persecution, and everyone enjoys creature comforts and
freedom.
You know, Dohama is not the only place you can
live. There are many other settlements, some much
different from this one."
"In your terminology," said Spock, "we would
be called persecutors. Is there no special
method for dealing with persecutors?"
"No," answered Lincree, still smiling
agreeably.
"That is the other bulwark of our mission. We
don't care what you've done before you came here. We
don't judge you by your past-you are a part of
Sanctuary now."
Quietly, Spock selected his wardrobe,
while Kirk racked his brain for a line of logic that
he could employ against the Senite. At the same
time, he fought the sinking feeling that the Senites really
backed up every one of their claims. From a security
standpoint, a one-way ticket to Sanctuary had many
benefits, but not for him.
"What can we do to prove to you that we are sincere?"
he asked.
"We can't stay on Sanctuary, no matter how
lovely it is." The innkeeper looked honestly
aggrieved as it replied, "If you insist upon that
attitude, I'm afraid your stay here will be
disappointing."
"Where is our shuttlecraft?" Kirk asked
bluntly.
Lincree smiled. "if you came here in it, then it
must be on the planet somewhere." The Senite turned
to Dr. McCoy.
"Your turn, dear boy. We haven't got all
day."
After exchanging the remains of their uniforms for
clothing that was at least clean and inconspicuous, the
newcomers ate a breakfast of rich pastries-all
that was offered in the dining room-then took to the streets
again. By day, Dohama was not much different than
by night, thought Dr.
McCoy. The same mind boggling mixture of
humanoids wandered through seedy pleasure parlors,
lively game establishments, and greasy food
emporiums, all lubricated by ale dispensaries.
If anything, Dohama looked seedier
by daylight, minus the shadows and colored lights. The
nearby sea cast an odor about the city that was both
pure and alien.
McCoy had been disturbed by Lincree's little
speech about everyone feeling hemmed in when they first
arrived on Sanctuary, then later adapting. But the
more he thought about it, the less he believed it. Some people
were looking for a life of ease; others, like the captain
and Spock, would never he happy just lazing in the
sun. The doctor admitted to himself that the idea had
some appeal, but he couldn't envision a life without
any challenges. That seemed more of a sacrifice
than giving up space travel. He suddenly had
a grudging respect for the survivalists they had
encountered earlier.
They strolled down one clogged street after
another, studying everyone they passed. By the harsh
light of day, the motley populace of Dohama
did not appear so jovial, and more than a few were
hung-over. They growled and grumbled at each other,
and there was the occasional unyielding shoulder when passing
a stranger at close quarters. Still, most of the
denizens of Dohama loped along in a satiated
daze. Why bother thinking or stealing when everything was
free? thought McCoy. It was the perfect
solution to the homogenization of lowlifes and riffraff
from all over the galaxy. No wonder so many of them
had accepted this life-it was painless.
Spock was trying to appear unobtrusive, but it
was impossible. Re looked too interested in what was
going on, the doctor decided, and he didn't
look hung-over enough. It was easy for the doctor
to look bedraggled-his nose was swollen, there was a
gash in his forehead and a crust of beard on his chin, and
he walked with a limp from the lance fish attack. A
well broken in but sturdy pair of boots
furnished by the Senites was doing some good to cushion his
tender foot.
It was inevitable, thought McCoy, that Spock should
stare too hard at someone. In this case, it was a
lopsided, red-skinned humanoid with arms that
dangled to his knees. The thing was bare-chested and
covered with black fur, except those parts where naked
skin lay exposed in unappetizing folds of
flesh, due no doubt to the rich Dohaman diet.
He waddled up to Spock.
"Look, here's a Romulan," he slobbered,
"or maybe a Vulcan. I get them two
confused. What are you?"
"Vulcan," replied Spock.
"Right answer." The creature winked a
bloodshot eye.
"Bastard sons of the Romulans."
"That is incorrect," answered Spock.
"The Romulans, are. an offshoot of the
Vulcan race, not an older race."
Captain Kirk stepped to his friend's side.
"It's not 68 important, is it?" he asked
amicably.
"We're all friends."
The red humanoid lisped, "Moguru would like
to be friends."
McCoy joined his comrades, taking heart in their
strength in numbers.
Moguru had approached Spock alone, so it was
three against one.
"Three of you, yes," the bulky humanoid said,
bobbing a head that had almost no neck to bob from.
"That is what they told me. They say you are
looking for a shuttlecraft?"
"Yes!" exclaimed Kirk in a whisper.
"Do you know where our shuttlecraft is?"
"Well, hmm, maybe," answered Moguru.
His rheumy eyes glimmered hopefully.
"What would you give to know?"
Kirk shook his head dejectedly.
"We don't have anything to give."
"Oh, too bad," slobbered Moguru.
"I would give you a shuttlecraft for one thing."
"What's that?" whispered McCoy.
"A woman." Moguru leered.
"You go get me a woman on the island of
Khyming, okay? Then I take you
to shuttlecraft. I'll take any woman, even
human. Easy, for a smart Vulcan."
McCoy asked suspiciously, "How do you know
there are women on this island Khyming?"
"Where else they go?" Moguru shrugged.
"All right," said the doctor, "suppose we do
it. How do we know you're telling the truth? How do
we know you can hold up your end of the bargain?"
Moguru looked hurt at the suggestion he
might be less than honest.
"I
have big friends," he boasted.
"They know you." He lowered his voice.
"You are the persecutors."
That got McCoy's interest, because they hadn't
told anyone on Sanctuary about their
circumstances69 except for the Senites.
Kirk looked like he was making a decision.
"We believe you. The captain nodded.
"I don't know how long this quest will take, because
I don't know where Khyming is. Will we be able
to find you later?"
"Yes-s-s," sliavered Moguru.
"Price will not change comshuttlecraft for
woman." With a precarious rocking motion, the
creature ambled away.
McCoy shivered.
"No wonder those women on the lake ran away
so quickly.
They're the only attraction the Senites can't
furnish."
"We learned a couple other things in that
exchange," said Kirk.
"The Senites have been talking about us behind our
backs, and there's an island named Khyming."
Spock observed, "Because one Senite has
talked to Moguru about us doesn't mean he knows the
location of our shuttlecraft."
"True," muttered Kirk.
"We don't know who we can trust, or if we can
trust anybody. What was the name of that big fellow
we ran into last night, in front of the
inn?"
"Billiwog," answered Spock.
"He resides at the waterfront, I
believe."
"Let's see what kind of deal he can make,"
announced the captain, waving his men toward the
unmistakable smell of the open sea.
Scotty tugged at the tunic of his
gold-brocaded dress uniform, wondering if he
had put on a few pounds lately. There had been
too much time in the last few days for drinking coffee,
eating, and worrying, as the Enterprise cruised
lazily around Sanctuary. The occasion for the dress
uniform was a break in the monotony, however, as the
chief engineer was about to beam over to the ship of a lady
bounty hunter.
The Enterprise had tightened its orbit
to cruise beside the Gezary, keeping station within
transporter range. After testing the transporter
with inert samples, they were sure the Senites"
interference applied only to weaponry. After all, more
than a dozen fugitives had transported to the
planet only the night before, although Scotty doubted
whether they could transport off the planet so
easily. That was his main mission in meeting
with the captain of the Gezary, to learn everything she knew
about the Senites. Scotty was determined to get some
respect from the keepers of Sanctuary, and the
Gezary had been able to warn him in advance about an
incoming ship. They must have some sort of inside
information, or at least insight, as to how Sanctuary
worked.
Scotty pulled at the tight collar of his
uniform and positioned himself on a transporter pad.
"Do ye have the coordinates they gave us?" he
asked the operator.
"Locked in, sir," responded the female
ensign.
The engineer took a deep breath and said,
"Energize."
His molecules reassembled in what appeared
to be a jail cell, with rusty iron bars all around
him. At once, Scotty grabbed his communicator
and was about to contact the Enterprise to make a
retreat, when a small viewscreen over his head
crackled on, and a beautiful woman with slightly
greenish skin and red hair appeared.
"Do not be alarmed," she assured him.
"You are not our prisoner. Our line of business
often makes it necessary to transport
prisoners to and from the ship, so we take the
precaution of beaming directly to our holding cell.
It is a common procedure, I assure you. If
you will be patient, my jailer will meet you and bring you
to the dining room." The image winked out.
Scotty took an even deeper breath and
wondered if he shouldn't have been more careful. But the
captain of the Gezary wouldn't consent to coming aboard the
Enterprise, even though she was the one who'd suggested
that a face-to-face meeting was the only way
to avoid having the Senites eavesdrop on their
conversation. He spent several anxious moments
waiting, until a hidden door slid open and a
large, bearded humanoid walked in. The man,
who had extremely pale skin and the outlines of
antennae around his ears, was carrying a weapon that
looked like a steel coil.
"Commander Scott?" growled the jailer.
Scotty stood at attention and nodded.
"I am he."
The jailer reached outside the hidden door and
tripped something in the corridor. Scotty's cell
door finally creaked open, and he stepped out with
relief. He followed the jailer into a dingy
corridor that badly needed paint and
maintenance-the wall lining was cracked and chipped,
lighting fixtures were broken, and exposed wires
poked out from a circuit box. This was not a favorable
impression to make on the Enterprise's chief
engineer, and he began to wonder about the wisdom of
dealing with such unsavory characters.
His doubts were reinforced a few moments later when
he was ushered into a friendly but equally run-down dining
room. Large tapestries hung on the walls, but
they were so dusty that it was hard to tell what sorts of
scenes they depicted. The overstuffed chairs and dining
table looked elegant but old-and badly in need of a
vacuuming. Overhead, a light flickered
annoyingly, but the worst of the offenses was the musty
smell that assaulted his nostrils. The only
redeeming quality of the Gezary's dining hall was the
presence of the female he had seen on the
viewscreen, a lovely green-skinned lass with red
hair that tumbled down to her waist.
"Welcome," she greeted him with a smile.
"I am Pilenna, captain of the Gezary.
"Commander Scott." He nodded formally.
"Montgomery Scott of the USS Enterprise.
was "May I call you Montgomery?" she asked.
"We don't stand on formality much around
here."
Scotty eyed the dirty surroundings with disgust.
"That, I can see."
"Oh, you don't like our housekeeping?" remarked
Pilenna.
"Well, we're shorthanded at the moment, and we
don't have the parts to repair our support system.
I suppose I could get slaves to do the cleaning,
but unlike most Orions, I don't believe in
slavery."
Scotty shrugged.
"You have to live here, not me. But it wouldna take
much to make the Gezary shipshape."
"No, I suppose not." Pilenna sighed.
"But we've exhausted almost all our resources
just staying in orbit. I didn't want to go back
to my home port without anything to show for all the time
we've spent here, but I might have to."
Scotty asked, "Are you affiliated with the other
Orion ship that's in orbit?"
"No!" snapped Pilenna, seething.
"Filthy slavers, that's all they are!
I should have made myself clear-I am only half
Orion. I'm an escaped slave myself, and my
biggest thrill is to capture slavers who
have bounties on their heads. There are a goodly number
of both slavers and escaped slaves below on the
planet."
"I see," said Scotty.
"What else do ye know about Sanctuary?"
"Let's not talk business over an empty
table," said Pilenna. She clapped her hands, and a
short humanoid who was barely a meter tall
brought cups and a carafe into the room.
Captain Pilenna seated herself.
"Don't worry, Montgomery," she said with a
hint of mockery, "we wash the cups and pitchers.
I have only a bit of Regulan wine to offer, but
it's quite good."
For the first time, Scotty smiled.
"I have a fondness for Regulan wine."
"You see," she replied, "we have much in common.
What brings you to Sanctuary, besides the wish to see
criminals brought to justice, and their captors
amply rewarded?"
"It's not so much what brings us here," answered
Scotty, "as what keeps us here. Before we knew
much about Sanctuary, we sent a shuttlecraft to the
surface of the planet in pursuit of a pirate
vessel. Now we're out of contact, and we
dunna know how to get our men back." He
neglected to mention that one of the missing men was his
captain; better to let Pilenna. think she was
dealing with an equal.
"Hmm." The woman nodded thoughtfully.
"That is quite a problem, much greater than our dirty
ship. I would say your only hope is to appeal to the
Senites, although I doubt that it will do much good."
"How do we get their attention?" asked Scotty
with frustration.
"We've hailed them on every channel, we've
appealed to them on humanitarian grounds all to no
avail."
Pilenna took a sip of wine.
"I can arrange for you to talk to the Senites. For
some reason, probably because they know I'm an
escaped slave, they are willing to answer my
hail. I can also tell, from increased gamma ray
production, when the Senites are arming their
deflectors to protect an incoming ship. That's
how I warned you the other day, for all the good it did
us."
Scotty sat forward excitedly.
"How soon can we contact them?"
Pilenna raised one hand and smiled
sweetly.
"First we must discuss payment for this small
service. How soon can you get a crew over here
to clean and repair my ship?"
Scowling, Scotty stared at her for several
moments. Finally, he reached for his communicator and
flipped 74 it open to accompanying beeps.
"Scott to Enterprise, he said.
"Bridge here," Uhura answered efficiently.
"Patch me through to engineering and life support,"
said the chief engineer, glaring suspiciously at the
beautiful green-skinned woman sitting across from him.
Kirk, Spock, and McCoy wandered along
Dohama's picturesque wharf. It differed from
other streets in the village in that there were shops and
bars only on one side instead of both. On the
other side was a vast blur of choppy water, with a
few flying creatures skimming along the white
capped waves. Farther out at sea, a fog
engulfed the horizon, making it appear as if the
sea and the sky were one entity. It was a lonely and
forbidding sight, and Kirk couldn't banish the memory
of the giant mollusk whipping its tentacle at them.
There were shouts and a fight broke out in front of
them, as a half dozen strange creatures
tumbled out of a bar and began belting each other with
goblets, fists, and whatever they could lay hands on.
Instantly, an army of Senites seemed
to materialize, and the white robed peacekeepers
gathered around the combatants and pushed them en masse
off the wharf into the sea, as a throng of onlookers
howled with laughter. The brawlers sputtered to the
surface and sloshed ashore, all the fight washed out
of them.
"Quite efficient," observed Spock.
"And cold-blooded," McCoy added.
"Let's avoid them," said the captain, leading his
small party in a circuitous route around the crowd.
At the far end of the wharf, tied to pilings and bobbing
in the water, was a collection of rickety
sailboats. On the shore was a pile of discarded
lumber, and they could see a giant figure sawing
away at what looked like a broken light standard.
As they drew closer, they could tell that the worker was
none other than the hairy humanoid they had met the
night before, Billiwog.
He waved as he saw them approach.
"What's all the commotion about?" he asked
good-naturedly.
"A fistfight." Kirk shrugged.
"The Senites pushed them into the water."
"Hmm," said Billiwog, wiping sweat from the
only part of his body that wasn't covered with hair,
his forehead.
"Hope they can swim." He went back to sawing
the wooden post.
"What are you doing?" asked Spock.
"Well," answered Billiwog, "these
lampposts make good masts for my sailboats.
On windy nights like last night, usually one or
two of them come down. The Senites won't bother with
"em if they're broken, so I grab term . It
"You made all these boats?" asked Kirk,
impressed.
"Who else?" muttered the builder, not stopping his
work.
"I'm the only one in this town who does anything
useful. So, have you fellows had enough of Dohama?"
"Yes," Kirk and McCoy answered in
unison.
Billiwog stopped sawing.
"Then you're ready to buy a boat?"
Disappointed, the captain asked, "Is that what you
meant by getting away from Dohama?"
"What else?" replied the giant.
"You didn't think you could fly away, did you?"
"We had hoped we could get our shuttlecraft
back," said McCoy.
"Hmm," remarked Billiwog with a smirk, "then
you're stupider than those guys in the water. Get a
boat from Billiwog, and see something of this
planet!"
Kirk lowered his voice and asked, "Have you ever
heard of an island named Khyming?"
"Oh, you're interested in women. was The
shipbuilder winked.
"Can't say I blame you, there's precious few
of them around here. And a rouged Senite just doesn't
cut it."
"Then Khyming does exist," said Spock.
"It sure does, Pointy Ears. And if you're
fixing to go there, I've got just the craft for you."
Billiwog led them toward the most lopsided,
rickety-looking boat in the water.
"This one's special, sealed with lunk juice.
It'll get you to Khyming, easy, and there's room enough
to bring a couple women back!"
The captain sighed.
"This isn't really what we had in mind, and
we're not interested in kidnapping women.
What else is on that island?"
"Lots of stuff," said Billiwog
mysteriously.
"Maybe what you're looking for. Take a trip
and see. There's no point in hanging around here."
Kirk could certainly agree with that, but the choppy
sea looked more dangerous and alien than anything they
had seen in Dohama.
"What else is out there besides Kbyming?" he
asked.
"Who knows?" Billiwog shrugged.
"You could play it safe and sail along the coast.
You're sure to find other villages, maybe some that
aren't controlled by the Senites."
That wouldn't do them any good, thought the captain.
Thanks anyway," he said.
"I don't think we're ready to go seafaring
yet."
"Suit yourselves," answered Billiwog, picking
up his saw.
"But I'm a good judge of character, and I say
you'll be back." The shipbuilder went back
to cutting a new mast.
As they walked away, the captain turned to his
comrades.
"I'm at a loss," he admitted.
"I don't want to explore this whole planet
looking for our shuttlecraft, and kidnapping women
is out of the question. So what are we going to do?"
"Captain," said Spock, "I have been
formulating a plan. The probability of success,
however, is far from certain."
McCoy responded impatiently, "What is
it, Spock? Nobody else has any ideas."
"We have explored most of Dohama," the
Vulcan explained, "and we have seen how and where the
fugitives live. Although there are many Senites in
the village, they do not appear to reside here. They
must live elsewhere, coming here only to perform their
duties."
"I see what you're getting at," Kirk said
excitedly.
"We know the Senites have the ability
to transport themselves--we saw Zicree do it the first
day. How can we find their transporter?"
Spock lowered his voice.
"My suggestion is to follow a Senite after its
work period is over."
"Good thinking," said McCoy, glancing around the
busy waterfront.
"Let's pick one."
Within a few seconds, a stocky Senite
strolled by, sweeping bits of litter into a trash
receptacle. It seemed to be headed toward the
center of the village, and Kirk quickly nodded his head
for his friends to follow.
Thanks to its white robe, there was no
difficulty in distinguishing the Senite from the
fugitives, even when Kirk, Spock, and
McCoy followed at a distance of several meters and
spread out to look less conspicuous. In a town where
the only real activity was aimless wandering, the
captain felt fairly confident that they wouldn't be
noticed. The Senite seemed to pay them no
attention as it steadfastly performed its menial task.
Kirk only hoped that there was an end to the
Senite's work shift, that it eventually went somewhere
to rest and sleep.
It was midafternoon before the stocky Senite stopped
to empty its trash receptacle into a bin set up
for that purpose. Kirk and company stopped as well,
pretending to study a selection of earrings and jeweb
y that were free for the taking. The Senite running
if.e jewelry stand suggested that McCoy have his
ca-s pierced, and the doctor politely
declined. Their qua'ry, meanwhile, cleaned its
trash receptacle thoroughly and handed it to a fellow
Senite. The shift was over, Kirk thought
excitedly, and he nudged his comradcs to continue the
chase.
The Senite moved swiftly now, its hands
folded in the billowing sleeves of its white robe.
Kirk and h s men had to walk briskly to keep
up, and the captain was concerned that their pursuit would be
noticed. But they had no other recourse, and no
other plait. After leading them through numerous side
streets, the Senite went down a narrow alley,
opened an unmarked door, and stepped inside. The
door slammed shut, and stood waiting for Kirk,
Spock, and McCoy.
"This is it," said Kirk.
"What's behind that doorl" "There is only one
means of finding out," answered Spock.
McCoy swallowed hard.
"Maybe we don't all have to go. One or two
of us could wait here."
"No," answered the captain.
"The last thing we need is to be separated.
With our communicators net working, we might never
find each other."
"Agreed," said Spock.
"With your permission, Car comtain, I will lead the
way."
The captain nodded. The Vulcan strode toward
the." unmarked door, with Kirk and McCoy
following close behind. To their disappointment, they entered
what appeared to be nothing more than a large broom
closet. Trash receptacles, bins, and cleaning
materials neatly lined one wall; empty clothing
hooks and shelves lined another. There were no other
doors, no windows, and no sign of the stocky
Senite they had followed.
Kirk slapped his thigh and muttered, "Dead
end."
"Perhaps not," said Spock. Meticulously, the
Vulcan began to feel along the walls, rapping
them with his fist to see if there were hollow spots.
McCoy shook his head.
"Something tells me they've thought of everything."
Suddenly, the door to the alley opened, and
Lincree, the chubby Senite from the inn, stood
blocking the sunlight. The Senite they had followed
stood behind Lincree, and there were more Senites visible
in the alley.
Gone was the cheerful expression that
Lincree had exhibited earlier in the day.
"You are becoming rather tiresome," said the Senite.
"Why can't you simply accept Sanctuary the
way it is? As so many others do."
"Because we want to leave!" snapped Kirk.
"We came here by mistake, and now you're holding
us against our will. If you won't give us back our
shuttlecraft, at least let us contact our ship.
Or transport us there yourselves. To us, this isn't
sanctuary, it's a prison. was "Persecutors!"
sneered the stocky Senite behind Lincree.they are a
disruptive influence."
141 agree," said Lincree.
"It is rare for us to refuse anyone sanctuary,
but this is a crucial time in Dohama. We cannot
afford dissension," The Senite reached into the folds of
its robe and brought forth an object that looked
suspiciously like a weapon. Kirk didn't wait
to see what it was; leaping forward, he smashed into the
Senite's chest and gripped its hand, just as a blue
beam shot from the weapon and seared a black streak
along the wall. The androgynous creature was
surprisingly strong, almost his equal, but Kirk
fought with the strength of a man who feared for his life.
Luckily, their position in the doorway
prevented any other Senites from aiding Lincree,
and Spock was soon at his side. He applied the
Vulcan nerve pinch and Lincree sank to the
floor, leaving Kirk in command of the weapon.
Kirk aimed the weapon from one Senite to another
until they stood well back from the door, allowing
him and his comrades to exit into the alley and move
toward the street. They heard raucous laughter from the
streets nearby, reminding the captain that they were
three among many. There was no doubt in his mind that many
of the contented lowlifes of Dohama would side with the
Senites against them, if given the chance.
"Will you help us?" he asked again.
"We mean you no harm."
"You will not be able to use that," a Senite warned,
stepping toward him.
Kirk glanced at the silver object in his hand.
It bore more resemblance to a lopsided piccolo
than a weapon, and he could find no trigger
mechanism. When he looked up, the pack of
Senites was advancing, and none of them wore their
usual beatific smiles.
"Retreat would seem to be in order," said
Spock.
"Let's go, Jim!" McCoy urged.
Kirk nodded, and the three ran from the alley into the
street.
Scotty suppRessED a cough and held his
breath as a cloud of dust spewed from the Gezary's
air filtration system. He motioned to a masked
assistant, who stepped forward and removed an air
filter that should have been removed years earlier.
"Replace all the filters," Scotty
ordered.
"I believe our n-4 filters should do the
job. Whatever ye put in there, it will undoubtedly be
an improvement."
"Aye, sir," said the assistant.
"I'll send over to the ship for them."
Scotty nodded and stepped away from the billows of
dirt.
"I'll be supervising the repairs in the engineering
department."
He strode into the main corridor of the Gezary and
took a breath of relatively clean air.
Scotty had twenty-six Enterprise personnel
slaving away on the Gezary merely to make it
presentable. In all his years of cruising the
galaxy, he had never seen a spacefaring vessel
that was so dirty and in such ill repair. Of
course, he thought with some charity, Pilenna was not
affiliated with an organization like Starfleet, which
maintained numerous star bases for the purpose of
sustaining its fleet. She was reliant solely upon
her crew and tier own wits; spare parts had to be
begged or, in this case, bartered.
Under normal circumstances, he would never have
committed the Enterprise's crew to such a cleanup
effort, but, like everyone in orbit around this infernal
planet, he faced the problem of combating boredom
and low morale. Every member of his crew was well
aware that the captain, the doctor, and Mr. Spock
were lost, and there was precious little they could do about it.
He could only hope that the charity effort aboard the
Gezary would, in small part, take their minds off the
terrible loss they were facing.
His communicator beeped, and Scotty flipped
it open.
"Scott here."
"Lieutenant Uhura," came the response.
"I just received a reply from Starfleet concerning our
message.
Scotty's stomach did a wrenching turn. This was
the moment he had dreaded. He had been totally
frank in his appraisal of the situation
to Starfleet, and he could well imagine their
reaction. What he couldn't imagine comand didn't
want to imagine-were the needs that had arisen in the
meantime, needs that required the presence of the
Enterprise in some other far-flung sector of
space.
"What did they say?" he breathed.
"They express their concern," Uhura
summarized, keeping her voice as unemotional as
possible, "and they want reassurance that the
Enterprise isn't in any danger. They also
remind us that the Enterprise is due to take part in
maneuvers near the Neutral Zone in
seventy-two hours." "Seventy-two hours."
Scotty sighed.
"They like ta stick ta their schedules, Starfleet
does."
"Should I acknowledge receipt of their
message?" asked Uhura.
"No," said Scotty.
"Ask them to resend it. Tell them ... there was
interference."
"Yes, sir," Uhura replied. Scotty
thought he detected a note of relief in her
voice.
"Scott out," he said, snapping his communicator
shut.
The work was far from done aboard the Gezary,
Scotty knew, but it was time to demand his half of the
bargain. If Pilenna wouldn't help him contact the
Senites immediately, he would simply leave her ship
in a shambles. With determination, Scotty strode
down the corridor toward the private quarters of the
bounty huntress.
Kirk, Spoc-k, and McCoy dashed through the
crowded streets of Dohama until they realized the
Senites were not following them. Only then did they
stop to catch their breath and consider their limited
options. Kirk stuffed the useless weapon into the
pocket of his drab jacket.
"What now?" he asked, disheartened.
"Captain," said Spock, "I apologize for the
failure of my plan."
"It wasn't your fault," McCoy pointed out.
"It's obvious we're not going to get any
favors out of the Senites."
A Senite running an ale dispensary on the
corner gave them a curious look, and Kirk
motioned his men to keep walking. There was no sign of the
pack of Senites who had cornered them.
And why should the Senites make a spectacle of
themselves running through the streets? he thought. They had
eyes and ears everywhere; Dohama was their turf. They
could afford to wait for the three troublemakers to go
to sleep or otherwise let down their guard.
"We've got to get out of Dohama," Kirk
said finally.
"There's no point staying here and some very good
reasons to leave. But we can't spend days walking
somewhere else. I think it's time to find out more about that
other island."
Billiwog smiled and waved when he saw them
coming. The hirsute humanoid was sitting on his
pile of lumber, grilling a fish over an open
fire.
"I
knew you'd be back," he said simply.
"Why are you cooking your own food?" asked
McCoy.
"Senite cooking isn't good enough for you?"
He smiled.
"Let's just say I like a change of pace."
"We want your best boat," said Kirk.
"I know a little bit about sailing, enough to know a good
boat when I see one, and that one you offered
us wasn't a good one."
Billiwog's face darkened, and he rose to his
full, impressive height.
"What boat you get depends on what you have
to trade."
Kirk frowned, considering. Then he reached into his
pocket and pulled out the mysterious Senite weapon.
"How about this?" he asked.
"We took it from the Senites when they tried
to use it on us. It's some kind of weapon."
"Oooh!" exclaimed Billiwog, his eyes
beaming with delight. Gingerly, he took the silver
object and held it up to the sun.
"For this, you get any boat you want. I'll
even throw in a couple oars. Do you know how to make
it work?"
"No," answered Kirk.
"I'd be careful with it, though."
Spock was already walking along the wharf, studying the
co liection of crude vessels. He stopped in
front 85 of the one with the highest mast and began
to inspect the workmanship of its hull. He climbed
into the boat, checking the inside for dampness.
"Of" Pointy Ears knows what he's doing,"
said Billiwog, nodding in Spock's
direction.
"That's the best boat I have. I traded for
it-didn't build it myself. If you're not sure
what you're doing, you might be better off sailing up
the coast."
"Be straight with us," said McCoy.
"What exactly is on Khyming?"
"Women," answered Billiwog, "and
political refugees. It's common knowledge that a
better class of people gets sent to live on
Khyming. One time I was there, I saw what you
might call a seminary, where they train the
Senites. I can't tell you that you'll find what
you're looking for, but I can tell you that you won't
find anything in Dohama but a hangover."
Spock rejoined the group.
"I have selected a vessel," he reported.
"I can find no leaks in the hull or holes in
the sail. The mast, rudder, and tiller appear to be
sturdy."
Billiwog licked his finger and stuck it into the
air.
"You're in luck," he announced.
"There's a southerly wind that should take you right
there-with a full sail. If you leave now, you
might make it before dark."
"Which way?" asked Kirk, peering gloomily at
the sea and the fog bank beyond.
"Straight into the fog," said Billiwog.
"You would probably be able to see Khyming from here
if it weren't fogbound. Just don't sail past it.
And look out for the lunks."
"Lunks?" asked McCoy.
Billiwog smiled.
"Giant sea creatures."
Pilenna slowly buttoned her low-cut tunic,
obviously enjoying Scotty's embarrassment. But
she had admitted him into her quarters while in a
partial state of undress, and he was not going to be
dissuaded from his task by a bit of Orion teasing.
Except for her flesh being green, it wasn't
anything he hadn't seen before.
"Why do you want to contact the Senites now?" she
asked with mild disapproval.
"You haven't finished your end of the bargain yet."
"Because, I've just received word that I may have to leave
Sanctuary very soon. Please, it's a matter o'
life and death."
"Isn't everything?" The bounty huntress reached
for a brush and began combing her lustrous red
tresses.
"It would be a shame to see you leave so soon.
We were just getting to know each other."
"Were this another time and another place,"
Scotty murmured, "I would be pleased to get to know
you better."
Pilenna smiled.
"I once heard a human say, "There is no
time like the present." But he did not have your sense of
duty."
She sat down at her purple vanity and
swiveled a small viewscreen into place.
"I generally call them from here. It's more
private." Pilenna waved her hand over a
colored panel, which flickered on. The screen did
likewise.
"This is Pilenna of the Gezary, she said,
"calling the keepers of Sanctuary. May I
please speak with the hallowed order of Senites?"
There was a substantial wait, but Pilenna did
not repeat her request. She smiled at Scotty,
who fidgeted nervously.
"They will reply," she explained, "in their own
good time."
Finally, a serene face below a bald
pale appeared on the viewscreen and a lilting
voice replied, "I am Felcree of
Sanctuary How may I help our sister in the
sky?"
"I am humbly in your debt," she acknowledged.
"With me is the captain of another vessel that
orbits 87 your peaceful planet. He is
confused and wishes to speak with you."
"So be it," said the Senite, not looking very
enthusiastic about the prospect.
Pilenna rose and let Scotty take a seat
in front of the viewscreen.
"I am Lieutenant Commander Scott of the
Federation starship Enterprise. Until three days
ago, we had no idea Sanctuary existed. This
sector of space is unfamiliar to us-in error,
we sent a shuttlecraft with three crew members
to the surface of your planet. They arena
fugitives, and no one was pursuing them. We ha
vena been in contact with them since they entered your
atmosphere, and we hope ye will help us locate
them and return them to our ship."
"Impossible," answered the Senite.
"As you have no doubt learned, we offer sanctuary
to all who seek it, and we cannot determine in
advance their motives or worthiness. We
safeguard the persecuted by refusing to permit anyone
to come to the planet and leave again. This simple
security system has discouraged persecutors for
hundreds of years, and we see no reason to change
it."
Scotty struggled to keep his voice calm and
reasonable.
"Ye cart speak to them yerselves," he
suggested.
"I'm sure they will tell you they want to leave.
Surely you must be able to rectify mistakes like
this."
The Senite shook its head and replied sternly,
"All who come to Sanctuary do so of their own free
will. You must not fear for the safety and well-being of your
friends. All who come to Sanctuary are afforded
dignity, respect, and creature comforts." The
image flickered off.
Desperately, Scotty waved his hand over the
panel and begged, "Come back!
Come back! You dunna understand!"
He felt tender hands on the back of his neck.
"They 88 understand all too well," sighed
Pilenna.
"They simply don't care."
Scotty slammed his fist down, shaking the
purple table down to the deck.
"I'd like ta blow that planet out o' the sky!"
"But you won't," breathed the Orion, her deft
fingers massaging the knots of anger from his shoulders.
"I've never known the Senites to lie about
anything. Your friends probably are enjoying dignity,
respect, and creature comforts." She cooed in his
ear, "There's nothing wrong with creature comforts."
The Scotsman closed his eyes, feeling too
numb and helpless to do anything. He let
Pilenna's skilled hands play across his chest for a
moment. Then, with an effort, he roused himself and
stood.
"Madam," he said, bowing politely, "I have
too much to do to enjoy yer company at the moment."
"I'm not going anywhere," she answered, smiling.
"And, perhaps, neither are you."
A giant wave slammed the tiny boat, as
sheeting rain and wind ripped the sail from the mast.
Spock tried heroically to wrap the sail around the
boom to save it, but he lost his footing as the boat
tipped, and the sail tore from his hands and vanished.
McCoy hung on to the tiller as if it
would do some good, but the boat spun in the maelstrom,
out of control.
Captain Kirk gripped the two oars tightly,
knowing they were probably their only hope of salvation.
The squall had struck suddenly when they were
barely out of sight of the shore, just after they reached the
fog bank. Before then, their spirits had been as
buoyant as the tiny craft, as the sail billowed and
they skimmed along the waves enroute to a new
destination. Kirk remembered quite a bit from the sailing
he'd done as a boy, and Spock knew the
rudiments. 89 They let McCoy steer as they
manipulated the sail, the ropes, and the boom;
managing a boat with a single sail had proved
relatively easy, as long as they kept the wind
leeward, at their backs. Even entering the fog
hadn't dampened their spirits, because they knew it meant
they were closing or, Khyming.
Unfortunately, the fog had masked the pending
storm, and they didn't know enough about the sea to realize
that the choppy waves meant a squall was brewing.
Before they knew it, they were in the squall. Now there was
nothing to do but ride it out somehow
"Keep low!" yelled Kirk.
"Keep to the center of the boat!" His
greatest fear was that one, or all, of them would go
overboard.
Like three men riding a giant. bucking bronco,
they lurched up and down over the waves. The howl of the
wind was horrific, thunder shattered their senses, and
lightning punched the sky with jagged rays. With the sail
gone, Spock set to bailing water with a small can
Billiwog had tossed into the boat at the last
moment. Incredibly, he held onto the boom with his
other hand and kept it from sweeping back and forth, taking
their heads off. Kirk longed to pull out his
communicator and make a desperate attempt
to contact the Enterprise, but he didn't dare let
go of the oars, not for a second. McCoy huddled in the
stem of the boat, wrestling with the tiller.
This nightmare made their day riding the river seem
like a walk in the recreation room, thought Kirk.
He was drenched and so sick of water that he vowed never
to take a shower again. The sky was getting darker, and not
just because of the storm. What would they do if they were driven
way off course, past Khyming? The captain
squinted his eyes against the spray and tried not to think
about it. Finally, mercifully, the wind began
to abate. The rain was still coming down in sheets, but it
brought only discomfort, not a terrifying
ride at the mercy of a frenzied sea. One by one,
Kirk, Spock, and McCoy lifted their heads.
The waves continued to jostle the boat, but they weren't
as fearsome as a few moments earlier. Except for the
relentless rain, the storm seemed to be losing force.
Kirk finally loosened his grip on the oars and
handed one to Spock.
"You take the port side," he ordered,
"I'll take starboard."
"Which direction are we going?" asked McCoy.
"I had a compass in my pack, but those damn
survivalists took it."
Kirk smiled. Relief that they were still alive
washed over him like the warm rain.
"Well," he remarked, we have to make a
guess. In one direction should lie the island, in
another Dohama, and in a third, more of the coast.
If we guess wrong and row in the fourth direction,
we'll row ourselves farther out to sea."
Spock furrowed an eyebrow and said, "I beg
to disagree, Captain. We do not have to guess. The
storm was accompanied by a
one-hundred-eighty-degree change in wind
direction. Therefore, rowing into the wind should take us
south, toward Khyming. There are two
unknown factors, however-that we were blown off
course, and that the wind will change again."
"So," the doctor concluded, sighing, "your guess
is we should row into the wind?"
Spock nodded.
"I would categorize it more as a theory than a
guess, Doctor, but I do believe the windward
direction will take us near our destination."
"Sounds good to me," said Kirk, plunging his oar
into a peaking wave.
"Let's put our backs into it!"
Spock stroked his oar through the turbulent sea,
trying to stay in unison with his captain, while
McCoy laid into the tiller, maintaining a course
straight into the ragged wind. With muscles straining,
they began a slow pull toward an unseen shore.
Scotty strode onto the bridge and took the
captain's seat with a vigor that surprised Uhura,
watching from her communications console. He stared at the
aquamarine planet on the viewscreen, as if
making up his mind about something.
"How did repairs on the Gezary go?" she
asked conversationally.
Scotty cleared his throat and straightened in his
seat.
"Very well," he answered.
"Although I think the captain of the Gezary wasn't
completely satisfied."
"Were you successful in contacting the Senites?"
she asked.
Scotty's shoulders drooped slightly, and he
gazed around at the expectant faces of Chekov,
Sulu, and the other bridge personnel.
"I talked to them, all right." He frowned.
"But they refuse to change their rules for anything
or anyone. They maintain that all who come
to Sanctuary do so of their own choice, and their greatest
protection is that no one can leave. Short of mounting
a full-scale attack on the planet, I
dunna know what we can do ta change their minds."
The acting captain stared at the planet and set his
jaw firmly.
"I've reached the conclusion that we must depend upon
Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Dr.
McCoy to arrange their own escape, however they can.
We must be ready to help them at a moment's
notice. That means listening, watching, monitoring,
and being aware of everything that happens below on the
planet. We know there are fluctuations in radio and
gamma waves when the Senites are forced
to use their deflectors, so we must be aware of any
minute changes."
Scotty took a deep breath and concluded,
"If anyone can escape from that heathen planet, it's
those three. We just have to stay here as long as
Starfleet will let us, then be ready to help them."
CONSTANT raIN CHILLED Captain Kirk to the
marrow of his exhausted bones, but every pull of the oar
brought them closer to the island, he hoped.
Beside him, Spock strained in unison against his
oar, while McCoy wrestled with the tiller to keep
them on a course into the wind. One result of the rain
was that the fog had been washed away, and Kirk could
see the pink moon creeping over the horizon
directly behind the boat, casting a strange salmon
glow over the rippling waves.
Kirk peered into the drizzle, hoping Khyming would
have its share of lights. Otherwise, they could row right
past the island in the thickening darkness. At least the
sight of Sanctuary's first moon gave Kirk some
indication that Spock had been right; they were still heading
south. He vividly remembered the pink moon
rising over the northern mountains on their first night
on Sanctuary.
The Enterprise, the shuttlecraft, the
chase and horrendous crash of Auk-rex's ship-it
all seemed eons ago, in another lifetime.
Kirk would never admit defeat, but He had
to admit that time was running out for them. Every day they
spent on Sanctuary, every day out of contact, was a
day closer to the moment when the Enterprise would be
summoned elsewhere. Perhaps the ship had already been
called to an emergency, Kirk thought glumly. Of
all people, her captain knew the value of the
Enterprise to the Federation, and it far outweighed the
lives of any three crew members. Unless there was
an emergency, Scotty could jockey for a certain
amount of time, but what else could he do? The captain
could only hope that Scotty hadn't risked sending
anyone else to the planet in search of them
The sun was setting on their fourth day on
Sanctuary, and they were no closer to discovering where their
shuttlecraft had been taken. Kirk knew why,
of course. The Senites' logic was so sound that even
Spock had found no reason to quarrel with it-they
kept the fugitives safe by separating them from their
persecutors forever. Everyone was forgiven his crimes,
even those persecutors foolish enough to chase their
quarry to the planet.
Kirk had never given real thought to the
concept of sanctuary before.
This version, he mused, denied everyone what they
sought The persecutors lost their prisoners; the
prisoners lost their freedom; and the saviors were
turned into jailers. Kirk didn't know whether
to hate the Senites or feel sorry for them.
"Captain," queried Spock, "can you verify
whether that is a light I see to starboard?"
Kirk leaned eagerly over the right side and peered
into the gloomy distance. Rain pelted his face, making
it difficult to stare, but he did think he saw
something shining in the distance-a star on the water.
"McCoy!" he barked.
"Make for that light."
"Where'," Where?" rasped the doctor, squinting
into the rain. He couldn't see the light immediately, so
he aimed the boat in the direction Kirk was leaning.
Spock and Kirk took up their oars in earnest.
Ignoring bodies that were shaking with exhaustion and
cold, they drove the tiny craft through cresting
waves. Finally spying the solitary light,
McCoy set an unyielding course. Kirk
began to imagine he saw a faint silhouette of
land to go along with it. No matter where they landed on
Sanctuary, the captain vowed to himself, he
was not going to take any more journeys by water.
As they neared the light and saw that it was no
mirage, Kirk began to worry about rocks. All
they could see was a simple white light, like a
lantern, where a searchlight would have been much
preferred. For all he knew, the light might be
perched on deadly boulders, where they could be sucked in
and pulverized without warning.
As if in answer to an unspoken prayer,
Sanctuary's huge white moon gleamed through rents
in the racing clouds as it slowly rose from the east,
fitfully lighting the way through a small harbor
dotted with reefs, made more dangerous by low tide.
At the sluggish pace at which they were rowing, they had
no difficulty avoiding those accumulated remains
of billions of microscopic anima ls, but
Kirk wondered what might have happened if they had
scudded into the harbor with a full sail and the wind at
their backs. They might be swimming at this point,
he decided, or sprawled across a reef with their
boat.
The island itself was barely visible as a dark and
forbidding outline.
There was apparently nothing on shore but a simple
adobe hut, where the light hung swinging on
the porch. No one seemed to be around; the darkness had
taken hold, broken only by flashes of
moonlight, and rain continued to pelt them.
"I see a beach," Kirk called, pumping the
oar through the water.
"Do you see it, Bones?"
"Yes, yes!" the doctor called.
"I'll make for it."
But the closer they got, the stronger the offshore
current became, dragging the boat away from the
elusive light. Kirk and Spock rowed like whipped
slaves, but they couldn't make any headway in the
tumultuous surf.
"Stop! Stop!" Kirk gasped, his body spent
and his muscles quivering.
"We're not, getting, closer."
"I volunteer to swim," said Spock, taking
off his boots.
"No, no!" protested Kirk.
"I will-was "Jim," said the Vulcan, "I am
weary, but I am not as close to exhaustion as you.
Please, tie the end of this rope to the boat and feed
me the line as I swim."
Every passing wave buffeted them in a new
direction, and McCoy had a difficult
time trying to keep the tiller pointed in the right
direction.
"Listen, you two," he shouted, "let me go. I
haven't been pulling an oar."
But Spock had stripped off his jacket, shirt,
and boots, and had one end of the rope tied around his
waist. He stood poised to jump into the water.
"With your permission, Captain?"
Kirk was busy wrapping the rope around a spar,
then his own waist.
"We don't want to lose you, Spock!" he
shouted over the slathering surf.
"If you feel yourself weaken, pull on the rope a
few times, and we'll pull you back. That beach must
have a steep drop-off to create such a strong
current, so watch your step."
"I will heed your advice," Spock replied.
A second later, he dove gracefully off the
side of the boat and was soon slicing his way
efficiently through the waves.
Spock had only one plan, and that was to get beyond
the breakers where the offshore current wasn't so
fierce. As long as he swam on the surface, it
couldn't impede him too much, and he felt the incoming
waves giving him impetus. But if he
slowed for an instant or let his legs dangle in the
water, a whiplash effect threatened to hurl him
backward. So he kept his arms and legs
moving-despite utter exhaustion comtrying to ride the
waves to aid his progress.
The beach was getting deceptively closer, but
Spock knew from the strength of the undertow that he must still
be over the drop-off. The sand lay just a few meters
away, and he could see their beacon-an electric
light bulb or lantern, he realized-swinging
jauntily in the wind. Obeying a very human
impulse, he put his foot down to see if he could
touch bottom.
Almost immediately, Spock realized that what he'd
touched was not the bottom, but something lying on top of
it. His foot struck what felt like cold jelly,
or an ice pack. It clung to him gently at
first, then more insistently, as flaps of sticky
coldness wrapped around his foot and consumed his
ankle. Spock didn't waste a precious
moment; he instantly pulled on his rope to signal
the captain.
His sudden motions intrigued the beast, and he felt
it ooze up en masse from the sodden sand and wrap
around his entire leg. Spock began
to kick with his other leg and paddle his arms with all his
might. But the creature clung and he could feel a
thousand little suckers begin to explore his flesh. He
pulled on the rope as hard as he could and bellowed,
"I am in need of assistance!"
In the boat, Kirk and McCoy tugged on the
rope for all they were worth, and they quickly pulled in
the slack that trailed after Spock. Spock felt
the rope tighten around his waist, and he knew his friends
had heard him.
But when they began to wrench him away from the slimy
entity at the bottom of the drop-off, 98 they began
a tug-of-war contest. The thing retreated deeper into the
sand, trying to take Spock with it.
For the first time, the Vulcan was yanked underwater.
Fortunately, he had taken a breath and used that
moment to give his captured appendage a firm
yank. He didn't completely free himself from the
cold stickers, but he got part of his leg free, and
he kicked at the tentacles with the other, bobbing to the
surface long enough to gulp air before the creature
regained its slimy grip and dragged him deeper.
In the moment before the water closed again over his
head, Spock saw Kirk and McCoy reeling in
rope, getting closer to him at a fast
rate. He went under just as the boat picked up an
incoming wave and began rushing toward the beach. Kirk
staggered to his feet and grabbed an oar, ready to do
battle or make a rescue, whichever came first.
Spock's breath was nearly running out, and he
tried to control his strength as he swam steadily
toward the surface. The thing still gripped his foot-but
leisurely, as if it no longer felt threatened.
The tug-of-war was over for the moment, and Spock felt
the rope scratch his shoulder and head in the other
direction. With powerful strokes, he reached the
surface and took a deep breath before the mollusk
pulled him under again.
A wave dumped the boat on the shore, smashing
it into pieces. Kirk and McCoy scrambled
to untangle themselves from the mess and claim a
foothold in the sand. Suddenly, the rope around
Kirk's waist yanked taut, dragging him across the
wreckage, and he grabbed his oar. As a wave
crashed over his head, he felt McCoy gripping
him under his arms and halting his slide back into the
water. Kirk scrambled to his feet and helped
McCoy get to his, and they dug their heels into the
sand as their opponent renewed its claim on.
Spock. The rope pulled tight, yanking
them off their feet and smashing them into an incoming
wave. Sputtering, Kirk struggled to his feet,
and he knew the thing was winning. Then suddenly he
heard gasping and splashing, and he realized that
Spock was alive and only a few meters away.
He redoubled his efforts, pulling in the rope
hand-over-hand. Spock was unsure why the thing had
retreated, but it no longer held his leg. He
clung gratefully to the lifeline until he felt
himself tumbling into Kirk and McCoy.
They hauled the bedraggled Vulcan ashore, far
from the breaking waves, and all collapsed on the sand.
Panting, Kirk looked up-and saw the slim
Senite standing by the house. Even with the hood over its
head, the being was recognizable as Zicree, the first
Senite they'd met-the one who knew the most about their
missing shuttlecraft. Zicree held a small
blue instrument in its hand.
Kirk stared at Zicree for a moment, then turned
to check on his friend.
Spock was kneeling on all fours, spitting out
water and trying to fill his lungs with air instead.
"He'll live," McCoy reported, "but that was
awfully close. What was that, Spock?"
"A giant ... mollusk," the
Vulcan rasped.
"Try to imagine ... a snail that is as large
... as the bridge of the Enterprise. was "We call
it a lunk," said a voice behind them. Zicree had
strolled from the house to the water's edge.
"In fact, that lunk is well known to us.
We call him Old Hemcree."
"He retreated," panted Spock.
"Somehow ... you drove him away."
"With this," the Senite replied, holding up the
blue instrument.
"Sound waves. Few humanoids can hear them,
but the lunks are repelled."
Kirk stood up and smiled gratefully.
"Then you
SANCTUARY
saved Spock's life. Thank you. I
remember you ... your name is Zicree."
The Senite sighed disgustedly.
"I remember you as well. Because it was I who
welcomed you to Sanctuary, you are more or less my
responsibility."
"Give us back our shuttlecraft," said
Kirk, "and we'll be gone."
"You were almost "gone" a second
ago," the Senite replied wryly.
"As difficult as this may be to believe, we
Senites admire initiative.
Therefore, you may stay on Khyming. To live on
Khyming is a privilege, and your behavior will
determine how long you may stay. You will find clothes
and food in the small house that guided you here." The
Senite turned and started toward the dark forest beyond the
shore.
"Wait!" called Kirk.
"We have many questions. We need help."
The Senite turned briefly and replied, "I
just helped you, and I wasn't obliged to do so. I
want the population of this planet to have drive and
initiative, as you three have. Therefore, I will help
you if I can. But don't expect to leave
Sanctuary. That is beyond my powers, and certainly
beyond yours."
The white-robed figure disappeared into the thick
foliage that surrounded the spit of beach. With the rain
still coming down hard and each man exhausted to the bone,
Kirk wasn't about to look another gift horse in
the mouth. He motioned his men to follow him to the little
hut with the welcoming lantern.
True to Zicree's word, they found
clean clothes of the same ilk as they were wearing and a
simple but plentiful meal of coarse grains cooked
with considerable skill and seasoning. They even had
bowls and spoons, Kirk noted. Already, the
dietary standards of Khyming seemed to be far
different from those of Dohama. They now had warm
porridge sitting in their stomachs, dry clothes on
their backs, and a sturdy 101 roof over their heads.
Kirk watched Spock and McCoy fall asleep
and felt himself drifting off into a sleep as heavy,
he imagined, as the Junk under the waves.
The captain stepped out of the hut the next morning
to find that the rain had stopped and fog had reclaimed
the island. The morning mist was so thick that he could
hear but not see the waves that pounded the treacherous beach
a few strides away. He stepped forward
cautiously and found several chunks of the boat that had
washed farther ashore. The landing party was tough on
watercraft, Kirk thought ruefully.
Then he shuddered at the thought of the creature that had
nearly gotten Spock, and perhaps all of them. Of
course, the Senites had learned bow to control the
lunks, just like they controlled so much of their
environment.
were there limits to their control? wondered
Kirk. Did they ever make a mistake, ever
leave the barn door open?
"Captain!" he heard the familiar voice of
Mr. Spock calling.
"Over here!" answered the captain. He kept
talking so that Spock would find him in the pea soup.
"I'm not sure what kind of special
privilege it is to live in this fog all the time."
"We haven't seen the rest of the island," Spock
observed.
"How do you feel?" Kirk asked.
"Any ill effects?"
"Only this." Spock indicated his bare foot,
lifting it to show the captain a rash of circular
welts that covered his appendage from toe to midcalf.
"Ouch," said Kirk sympathetically.
"Does it hurt?"
"I can bear it," replied Spock, "if I do
not wear a boot. Actually, I feel quite well."
Kirk stretched his arms and took a deep breath
of 102 cool mist.
"I feel good, too. It's amazing what a
couple good meals and lots of exercise will do."
"Nearly get you killed!" called a third
voice from the fog. Dr. McCoy
straggled over to join them.
"Are we on our way somewhere else already?"
"Yes," answered the captain, "I believe we
are. Unless, Bones, you want to become a
beachcomber."
"Oh, I'm all in favor of finding a town or
something," countered the doctor.
"But I'm all for staying there, too. That is,
unless we have a chance to get back to the ship."
Kirk looked around but saw absolutely nothing
but dense gray humidity.
"The Senites must have transporter rooms,
computers, and central controls," he said, "and I have
a feeling this may be a base or something. Let's
find that seminary Billiwog was talking about. First,
we have to answer the usual question-which way?"
"Captain," said Spock, "last night
Zicree walked into the forest rather than transported.
I believe we should look for the path it took."
They retraced their footprints in the moist sand and
found their way back to the hut, where they gathered up
whatever they thought they might need in the way of
clothing. Their only other possessions were their useless
communicators. Kirk tried to contact the
Enterprise on each of the communicators in
turn, but they remained inoperative. Someday they would
find a way to make them work again, he vowed to himself,
sticking his communications device into his most
secure pocket.
At the edge of the forest, the fog broke up enough to show
the ghostly shapes of mammoth bladder plants,
covered with parasitic vines and muted flowers. The
constant rainfall and warming currents of Khyming had
apparently created giant plant life that far
out103 shone anything on the larger island. From the
forest echoed a variety of calls and shrieks from the
lower forms of animal life, and Kirk saw an
occasional bladder tree tremble as something moved within
its thick branches. He forced himself to look along
the ground, where Spock had said they should find the
beginnings of a trail. It was McCoy who finally
motioned excitedly for them to join him.
What the doctor had found was little more than a faint
trail, and Spock surmised that it might be a path
frequented by the small mammals they had seen in the
survivalists' camp. But it was all they had, so
they followed it, ducking under overhanging moss and
vines. The deeper they progressed into the jungle,
the more the fog seemed to retreat but the less there was
to see, except for higher and higher bladder
trees with denser things clinging to them.
They nearly ran head-on into a solid wall of
rock before they realized they were in a valley. Along
the cliffs, they found a pond fed by a small
waterfall, which tumbled from such a height that its
origin was obscured by fog. The gurgling water
tempted them to take long drinks and spend a few
moments in contemplation of the majestic forest and its
cacophony of sounds.
That was when they heard voices from deeper in the
jungle. Kirk put his fingers to his lips and
motioned Spock and McCoy to spread out. He was
expecting to meet more Senites, and was pleasantly
surprised when two young women stepped into the clearing.
The women were clearly not Senites, not in the
simple white shifts they were wearing and the unadorned
long hair that flowed around their shoulders. Their
reactions, however, to seeing three male strangers were
entirely different The fair-haired one smiled
amiably, and the dark-haired one bolted for the forest.
104 "Wait," said Kirk, holding out his hands,
"we mean you no harm."
"I appreciate that," said the fair-haired
woman.
"I don't expect anyone to do me
harm on Khyming. Renna!" she called.
"These gentlemen say they are harmless."
Cautiously, a lovely young brunette stepped
from the mist that clung to the swollen bladder plants.
She could be no older than twenty-five Earth
years, thought Kirk, but she had a hard wariness about
her black eyes that made her seem much older.
She also had a clean bandage across her forehead and
another on her knee.
"You have no weapons?" she asked.
"None," said Kirk.
Spockadded, "Even if we had weapons, they
would not function."
"You'll have to excuse my friend," the fair-haired
lady replied, "but she only arrived on
Sanctuary a few days ago, and she isn't quite
acclimated.
It's okay, Renna," she insisted, "Khyming
is closely monitored. These men couldn't be
dangerous."
"Permit me to introduce myself," said McCoy
with all the southern charm he could muster.
"I'm McCoy, this is Jim, and that's
Spock. We're new on this island, too-we
sailed over from Dohama last night."
"Oh, Dohama," said the fair one
distastefully. She took a step away from them.
"We didn't like it there either," Kirk assured
them.
"We have a friend among the Senites on this island
by the name of Zicree."
"I know Zicree," replied the dark woman.
She turned and looked reproachfully at her friend.
"Where are you going, Kellen? Now it's your turn
to be rude, and you have lived here for many years."
Kellen lowered her head sheepishly.
"Renna is correct. I shouldn't judge you because
you came from 105 Dohama, but some of the stories we
hear about that place ... never mind.
You have seen more of the world than I have, that is
certain."
Kirk smiled.
"We haven't seen anything of Khyming but the beach
and a small hut. Can you show us to the village?"
"Is it permitted?" Renna asked her friend.
"I suppose so," Kellen said reluctantly.
"But you and I were going to look all around the island
today."
Renna glanced at Kirk, then touched the bandage
on her forehead.
"Let's return to the village," she declared.
"I want to see how my father is doing." With that,
the slim brunette turned and marched back into the
forest, and everyone hurried to fall into line behind her on
the narrow path.
Kirk found himself walking behind the lithe Kellen.
"What did she mean about her father?" he asked.
"Her father was tortured before they escaped and came
here," explained Kellen.
"They were both badly injured, and her father remains
in grave condition. She was only released
yesterday."
"You have a hospital here?" asked McCoy,
having overheard.
"Yes." Kellen shrugged, as if the question were
stupid.
Kirk jogged up the path in an attempt to catch
the fleet Renna.
"Wait a minute!" he called.
She slowed her pace slightly.
"I am sorry. I haven't made many friends
here, except for Kellen," she explained, "and this
is all a little strange for me. If my father
recovers, I'll be a lot happier."
"You are political refugees?"
asked Kirk.
Renna nodded and dabbed at her eye for a moment.
"It was terrible. People can be beasts, you know. All
because we opposed the dictator of our country. Many
people sacrificed to help us escape, but in the end, this
was our only refuge."
"What planet did you come from?" asked Kirk.
"Alloseng," answered Renna.
"Alloseng?" Kirk pondered.
"I've never heard of it. And you seem to be
human, like McCoy and L" "I suppose you've
been to every planet in the galaxy?" scoffed the young
lady.
"No," Kirk said, smiling, "but a fair
number."
"Then maybe you won't mind if I query you,"
said Renna.
"Where are you from?"
Kirk debated whether to lie to this fellow
newcomer or tell the truth.
The only advantage to lying was to avoid
repulsing her with the knowledge that they were persecutors, somehow
related to the beasts who had tortured her father and
pursued them to this forgotten garden. Telling her the
truth, on the other hand, might allow him
to enlist her aid in their predicament.
"You hesitate," observed Renna.
"That probably means you are about to tell me a
lie. Save it for someone else."
"No," answered Kirk, "I've decided
to tell you the truth. My friends and I are
persecutors."
Renna jerked her head, startled, then began
walking faster. Kirk struggled to catch up, as some
kind of creature in the trees mocked him with cawing
laughter.
"We're not political persecutors," Kirk
insisted, "and we know now we shouldn't have come here. But
we made a mistake. We were chasing a criminal,
someone who had plundered innocent trading vessels,
leaving them crippled in space."
"A murderer?" asked Renna.
"No, not really," the captain admitted.
"A pirate."
"Perhaps they only took what they needed," Renna
suggested.
Kirk shook his head and lowered his voice
to reply, "What brought us here isn't important.
What's important is that we're trying to find a
way off this 107 planet. Have you seen
any sign of the space vessels confiscated by the
Senites? A transporter? Anything that might
help someone escape?"
Renna slowed her pace again and couldn't disguise the
interest in her voice.
"Kellen would be horrified if she heard you
talking like that. So would the Senites. To them, everything
about Sanctuary is perfect. Why would anyone
want to leave?"
"You've only seen this one island," answered
Kirk.
"Believe me, some other parts of Sanctuary are
far from perfect. In the mountains, there are people living like
animals, barely surviving. But they prefer that
to Dohama, and I don't blame them."
They heard light footsteps running up the path
behind them.
"We'll talk about this later," whispered the
dark-haired fugitive.
"Renna!" called Kellen, passing Kirk and
taking her friend's arm.
"If we take this other path, I can at least show
you the wind turbines. They harness the wind's energy and
make electricity for us."
Renna smiled politely.
"Maybe some other time. I really must see how
my father is doing. I have the rest of my life for you
to show me around."
"That's right!" Kellen giggled.
The women walked arm-in-arm down the widening
path, and Kirk turned to meet Spock and
McCoy.
"I want to see that hospital," said McCoy.
"We'll have to move cautiously," answered the
captain.
"But I told Renna who we are and that we want
off Sanctuary."
Spock raised an eyebrow and asked, "Was that
wise, Captain? The Senites might consider that
unacceptable behavior."
"We haven't got any choice," answered
Kirk.
"We need help. And I don't think Renna
wants to live here the rest of her life either."
"On the other hand," said McCoy, "Kellen
told me she was practically born on
Sanctuary. She came here with her parents, and this
is all she knows."
"Just like the Senites," remarked Kirk, frowning.
He motioned with his head, and the three
explorers jogged up the path after the women.
The trail began a steady ascent, and the fog
lifted to the point where they could just make out the
silhouette of a huge mountain that dominated the
island. Near the base of the mountain, they glimpsed a
ghostly stand of white propellers twirling in the
wind. Kirk assumed that the sleek windmills must
be many times larger than they appeared at this distance, and
he wondered if the Senites had also harnessed the
rivers and waterfalls. The peak of the mountain was
invisible in the sunken cloud cover, but he imagined
it to be a delicate spire, like the mountains to the
north.
Their first glimpse of the village of Khyrning was
of a white pavilion mounted among the bladder trees
on the side of a cliff. The expansive open-air
deck was obviously positioned to afford a congenial
view of the jungle-as much as the fog would allow. There
came the tinkling sounds of conversation and silverware
dancing on plates, and Kirk could see vague
figures moving about on the high pavilion.
"If you are hungry," said Renna, "you should get
something to eat. Kellen and I are going to the clinic."
"May I come along?" asked McCoy.
"I promise not to get in the way, and
I'll leave if you ask me to. I'm a
doctor. At least, I was before I came here."
"I have no objection," said Renna.
"I'm afraid we won't get to see him for very
long."
McCoy glanced hopefully at his captain.
"I promise not to be gone long, Jim, and
I'll come right back here."
"What are you worried about?" scoffed Kellen.
"No harm can befall you on Khyming. This is the
most blessed island on Sanctuary. Only the best
people live here."
Kirk cleared his throat and said, "I can imagine
that. We'll wait for you here, Bones. Keep your
eyes open."
"See you later." Renna smiled, then turned and
walked off so briskly that Kellen and McCoy had
to run to catch up.
That left Kirk and Spock alone to confront the
gleaming pavilion. The wind had changed slightly,
and the spicy smell of fresh pastries came wafting
through the fog. Kirk spotted a spiral staircase
that dropped down through the floor of the giant
treehouse, and he motioned Spock to follow him.
They emerged into what could only be called
an elegant outdoor cafe.
Aproned Senites bustled back and forth between
sedate tables filled with politely chattering
diners. No one was dressed as shabbily as the two
new arrivals, but no one seemed to pay them much
attention as they stood gaping at the plates of food
that whizzed by. There were baked bladder plants stuffed
with seafood, various greens and tuber like vegetables,
some yellow grain that smelled delicious, and
loaves of dark bread piled high at every table.
Looking past the food, the view from the pavilion
was indeed magnificent-a blossoming jungle bathed
in wisps of fog. Above them stretched the poles and
superstructure of an immense awning, which could
apparently be rolled out in an instant in case of
rain. At the rear of the pavilion, a phalanx of
doors opened into what smelled like a flavorful
kitchen. Small shops and Senite vendors dotted
the walkway that led from the cafe to other parts of the
whitewashed village.
"Two for lunch?" asked a Senite, breaking
Kirk's reverie. "Please," the captain
answered.
"Does lunch require payment?"
"No, sir," answered the Senite,
looking quite shocked.
Spock replied, That is convenient."
"A table, with a view," Kirk added.
"Certainly, sir."
They followed the Senite to a small round table
on a balcony overlooking the sumptuous foliage
of the jungle. Having spent the last few hours down
there, Kirk swiveled in his chair to survey instead
the village of Khyming and its denizens. Simple
white houses built along the cliff side were
connected to similar shops and bungalows perched in the
bladder trees by swaying rope bridges. The
bridges were linked by intermediate pagodas and
pavilions, rising like mushrooms from the floor of the
canyon. Creatures of various races strolled the
spidery bridges, oblivious to the depths beneath them.
Every building in Khyming was painted an unrelenting
white, which gave the town a strangely sterile and
bland appearance, despite its remarkable design.
"Those bridges look flimsy," he said
to Spock, "but they make travel between one level and
another very convenient."
"They are adequate in a town where the only
mode of transportation is walking," Spock
pointed out.
"The population appears to be in good physical
condition, due, I would say, to constant walking and a
healthy diet."
"Healthier than Dohama," Kirk agreed.
He shook his head in puzzlement.
"Why feed two towns entirely different food?
This whole place makes no sense."
Spock cocked his head.
"I would disagree, Captain. I think it makes
considerable sense from a logistical point of view.
In Dohama, the Senites have a large and
potentially dangerous population to feed and ill
placate. Ate and fatty food seem
to accomplish that task. On Khyming, the aim is
apparently to keep the population healthy, which stands
to reason if the Senites themselves live here."
Kirk glanced around at the wide variety of
humanoid species calmly eating lunch. He
saw blue skin, green skin, brown skin, and one
creature with black on half of its face and white
on the other half, perhaps a native of Cheron who'd
fled during the racial wars that decimated that
planet.
The ratio of females to males was probably
two to one, which meant that the popular wisdom
of Dohama was correct-the women got sent
to Khyming. That was probably for the Senites'
benefit, too, thought Kirk, because it prevented
fights over women in Dohama. Nobody dining in
the outdoor cafe seemed to be in any sort of
hurry, and many conversations lingered after the dishes had
been carted off.
At that moment, two Senites hovered over them,
one setting the table and another pouring glasses of
water. A third one headed their way with a tray of
bread and steaming bowls of food. Kirk wanted
to make conversation with them, but he could see that they were
busy and had several tables to service. The food
looked and smelled delicious, reminding him of
Earth delicacies like eggplant and tabouli.
"Fascinating," said Spock, after the efficient
servants had padded away.
"I
have never seen such conformity among non-Vulcans."
"Being all of one sex must help," Kirk
grumbled.
"All I want to do is get back to my ship.
If we could just find a weakness in their security
system. ."
Spock motioned about the thriving outdoor
cafe and replied, "If the Senites have been
functioning in this manner for hundreds of years, with this
degree of 112 efficiency, it will be difficult
to find a weakness in their security system."
"We can try," Kirk insisted under his breath.
"I think this island is the place to look."
"That may be," answered the Vulcan, "but the
Senites are accustomed to dealing with strangers. We
have been told we are on probation, and we are
probably under surveillance as well. We are
surely on our own, with no prospect of intervention
from the Enterprise. Plus, no one has any
recollection of anyone ever leaving the planet."
Kirk shook his head and muttered, "There must be
something in our favor."
"We are alive," Spock replied, holding
an aromatic spoonful of black vegetables under his
nose, "and the Senites are good cooks."
RENNA, KEUEN, AND McCoy made their
way across a long rope bridge that spanned the
distance between the base of the cliff and a nondescript
two-story building perched among the trees. The
women led the way with the doctor following uncertainly
behind. The doctor was frowning; he was getting seasick
with all the blasted swaying.
Kellen stopped and mildly reproached him,
"What's the matter, McCoy? Afraid of
heights?"
"Not on your life," snapped McCoy.
"I'm afraid of falling. And I like bridges
that stand still when I walk on them."
"These bridges are quite well maintained,"
replied the longtime resident.
"I think they're beautiful."
"Will you two hurry!" Renna said impatiently,
gripping the rope handrails and climbing determinedly
toward the white building. She was so far ahead that
McCoy was in no danger 114 of catching up, not
at the rate he was moving.
"Is her father badly injured?" he asked
Kellen.
"The Senites are doing all they can," she
answered.
"If they can't save him, no one can."
They caught up with the dark-haired woman at the
door to the clinic. On the door was a blue star, which
apparently marked it as a medical facility. A
burly young Senite stood guarding the entrance.
"Admittance is impossible at the moment," the
Senite told Renna in a high-pitched
voice.
"Please," she begged.
"You wouldn't let me in this morning either. I must
know how my father is doing."
"One moment," said the guard, pushing open the door
and disappearing inside.
Renna was clearly distressed, and McCoy's
heart went out to her.
"Maybe he's resting," suggested the doctor.
"I felt better when I was inside there with him,"
she said, frowning.
The Senite returned a few seconds later.
"You may come in for a brief period," it said,
holding the door open for them.
They entered a waiting room that was conspicuously
empty, suggesting to McCoy that the population of
Khyming was fairly healthy and well adjusted.
Another Senite, this one older and more distinguished
looking stood waiting beside a pair of double doors.
Upon its white robe, noticed McCoy, were
various stains and smears of blood.
The older Senite nodded in greeting.
"We operated on him again this morning," it
explained, "but his internal injuries are very severe.
He is sedated, but if you wish to see him
for a moment.. .
"I do," Renna insisted.
Kellen shivered.
"I'll wait here."
McCoy said nothing, not wanting to offend the 115
Senites and ruin his chance of seeing their facility.
The Senite doctor, as McCoy assumed it
was, held open the double doors.
McCoy followed Renna into a large and well
equipped recovery room with six beds, each
surrounded by monitoring devices that were the equal of
those in McCoy's own sickbay, if not better.
Through thick glass panels, he could see two
operating rooms beyond, and they looked every bit as
impressive.
Only two of the beds in the recovery room were
occupied, but there were six Senites in attendance.
Renna walked directly past the first patient, who
appeared to be an elderly Senite, and made her
way to the other bed, where a frail, white-bearded
man lay sleeping. Suspended from the ceiling over the
bed was a silver canopy that bathed the patient in a
warm orange glow. Renna stood beside the bed, gazing
at the thin man and wringing her hands.
"He is in stasis," said the Senite
doctor.
"Stasis?" replied McCoy with concern. "is his
blood pressure that low?"
The Senite gave McCoy a curious glance.
"He was dead when he was brought here. We
resuscitated him, but his internal organs are
crushed, and his hip and both legs are broken. We
have not replaced his hip, feeling that it is pointless
unless we can stabilize his circulation. He needs
heart, liver, and kidney transplants at the very
minimum. He has also suffered brain damage."
"if he was tortured that badly," asked
McCoy, "how could he even live to get here?"
The Senite raised an eyebrow and replied in
its furry voice, "That is a very good question."
Renna was oblivious to their conversation.
"Father?" she asked urgently.
"Father, can you hear me?"
"He cannot hear you," the Senite doctor said.
"if he were conscious, the pain would be unbearable, no
matter what we gave him."
Again, she seemed not to hear them.
"Father, father .. ." she breathed, her voice
choking.
McCoy lowered his voice.
"He's not going to make it, is he?"
The Senite doctor shrugged.
"We can keep him alive, of course, but that is
not our way. Quality of life is more important
than simply life."
"What about artificial organs?" asked
McCoy.
"We gave him an artificial heart this
morning," answered the Senite, "but arterial
damage is extensive. He is more comfortable now, but
his prognosis remains unchanged."
Renna began to sob, and McCoy gently took
her arm.
"Let's go," he whispered.
She didn't fight McCoy as he led her
back into the waiting room. Seeing their crestfallen
faces, Kellen turned away and rubbed her eyes.
Somberly, the three of them stepped out into the hazy
sun of the mountain village.
"Well," said McCoy with forced cheerfulness, "the
doctor said he's hanging in there."
"That's not what he said," muttered Renna
darkly.
"If you were his doctor, what would you tell me?"
"To be brave."
"Brave!" she spat contemptuously.
"All my life I've been brave-done things
no young girl ever ought to do. That man is all I've
ever known my entire life. I have followed him, and
he has been there to teach me.
I've never been alone."
"Don't you have a mother, or other family?" asked
McCoy.
Renna shot him a glare.
"Not on Sanctuary, I don't."
"You're not alone," said Kellen brightly,
"I'll be 117 your friend. Let's not talk about
depressing things. Come on, there's still time to see the
wind turbines!"
The blond woman took Renna's arm and led her
toward one of the three bridges that stretched from the
clinic.
"Are you coming, McCoy?" she called.
"No, thanks," he answered.
"I'm going to find my friends."
Renna looked back plaintively, as if she
didn't want to go look at wind turbines with her
overly cheerful escort. Then she bowed her head and
dutifully followed Kellen down the swaying
bridge.
"I tell you, Jim," said McCoy over a
glass of very tasty olive-colored wine, "that man
could not have gotten those injuries from being tortured.
Well, he could have, but he wouldn't have lived to get
into a spaceship and come here. They're more like the kinds
of injuries you would get in an accident-or a
crash."
Spock raised an eyebrow and asked, "Are they
the kinds of injuries one might sustain in an
escape pod that ejected too close to the ground?"
"Yes." McCoy nodded.
"That's exactly the kind of injuries they are."
Captain Kirk stroked his chin and looked over the
balcony at the alien terrain of the lush island,
stretching beneath him into the misty distance.
All afternoon he had spent sitting in an outdoor
cafe, drinking, eating, and talking. That might be a
good life for a gigolo on Rigel IV, but it was
not the kind of life he had grown accustomed to as a
starship captain. He ached to do something to escape from
this plush prison, but what?
"Okay," he answered, "maybe that dying man
is Auk-rex and Renna is what's left of his
crew. What good does it do us? We can't get
ourselves off this planet, let alone a
prisoner." 118 McCoy looked chastened.
"You told me to keep my eyes open. I thought
you might be interested."
Kirk smiled and patted his friend's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Bones. Of course I'm
interested in what you've found out. I would just be more
interested in getting back to the ship."
The doctor shrugged.
"Can't help you there. But I do think Renna,
whoever she is, feels the same way we do."
"What about her friend?" asked Spock.
"Surely Kellen must know her way around this
island as well as anyone. She has lived here almost
her entire life."
"Hmm," said Kirk thoughtfully.
"Maybe we should try to be extra nice
to Kellen. Let's go find those two. I can't stand
to sit here any longer."
He rose decisively to his feet.
"Wait a minute," protested McCoy,
"I'm not done with my wine."
"Don't get too relaxed," warned Kirk.
"We're not staying here forever."
They strolled the rope bridges and narrow
catwalks of the whitewashed village,
glancing into the occasional shop or inspecting the wares
of a Senite street vendor. In many respects,
Kirk decided, Khyming was a high-class variation
of Dohama. The food was healthier, but it was still
prepared and served exclusively by the Senites,
making everyone dependent upon them. There were sedate
cafes instead of rowdy bars, but the populace still
spent much of the day sitting and drinking.
If one desired new clothes, jewelry, or
toilet articles, one simply walked into a store
and took them, just like in Dohama. Instead of tattoo
and gaming parlors, Khyming had hair salons and
tea rooms Instead of rouged and wigged Senites,
Khyming had the real thing-women-and several of them
smiled flirtatiously at Kirk as he passed
them on the narrow walkways. Now and then, a
family passed by with children in tow.
A young woman with yellow skin and a pattern of
bumps on her forehead brazenly held out her hand and
stopped Kirk. With wide purple eyes, she
looked appraisingly from him to Spock to McCoy.
"You three are new here," she remarked, smiling.
"I know every man in Khyming. Here is my card.
If you would like a wife, or even something less
long-term, please stop by my salon. I
perform an introduction service for many eligible and
desirable females, of all races. Many of them
are quite willing to share a husband."
Kirk fingered the paper card, which bore an
address they had passed earlier.
"We'll think about it," he said, smiling back.
"You could have your pick," she added, purple eyes
twinkling.
After she sauntered away, Spock raised an
eyebrow.
"Fascinating," he observed.
"Here they have the opposite problem they have in
Dohama-not enough men."
"She's like Billiwog," remarked McCoy.
"She doesn't have to work, but she's still trying to do
something useful."
"That's just it," said Kirk with exasperation.
"What kind of life is this, if everything is just
handed to you?"
McCoy shrugged.
"Some would think that isn't so bad."
"Some isn't me," said Kirk. He glanced
around the cliff side retreat, noticing that darkness
was starting to filter through the fog.
"We had better find a place to stay
for the night."
The doctor cleared his throat.
"Maybe if we asked that lady who gave you the
card .. "You'll end up married," Kirk warned
him.
"With three or four wives," McCoy agreed,
grinning.
A Senite passed by, scooping bits of
litter into a trash receptacle at the end of a long
handle.
"Excuse me," Kirk asked the androgynous
being, "where do new arrivals spend the night?"
"The guesthouse," answered the Senite, pointing
to a sprawling structure at the base of the cliff.
Unlike the glorified treehouses, this building
looked like a ranch house from Earth's Midwest,
thought Kirk, and he eagerly led the way. They
trod across a rope bridge to a small
pavilion, then wound their way down a spiral
staircase to the ground.
McCoy sighed.
"Feels good to be on solid ground again."
"Captain," said Spock, pointing in the
direction from which they had just come, "I believe that may
be the seminary we were told about."
Kirk and McCoy followed the line of his
outstretched hand and saw a magnificent white
building, perched on the highest visible ledge of the
mountain and partially hidden by twisted spires of rock.
The encroaching fog made the place look ethereal,
like a palace from a childhood fairy tale. From the
village itself it would be impossible to see the
structure, and Kirk wondered how people got to it.
He could see no bridges connecting the palace with the
rest of Khyming.
"We've got to get in there," Kirk vowed.
"There you are!" called a familiar voice.
They turned to see the lissome Kellen striding
toward them from the guesthouse.
"You've got to help Renna," she said.
"I can't seem to do anything to cheer her up. If
her father dies, I don't know what will happen
to her."
Captain Kirk bestowed his most charming smile upon
the young woman.
"We were just looking for you. Tell me, what is that
building up there?"
"The seminary. It's where the Senites live."
"What a magnificent building," he mused.
"Can you take us to it?"
"Only Senites can do that," she said with confusion.
"Why go there? The Senites live very simply, and
there's not much to see."
"We are very interested in architecture," replied
Spock.
"Not now," insisted Kellen, grabbing Kirk's
arm and dragging him toward the guesthouse.
"Please, try to cheer her up. I want her to like
it here."
"Why is that so important?" asked Kirk.
The question stopped Kellen in her tracks, and she
gave him a quizzical stare.
"Because this is where she has to live, and the Senites
built all of this for our happiness."
Kirk looked pointedly at Spock and
McCoy and said, "Why don't the two of you go
ahead and arrange rooms for us. And see if you can
find Renna."
His comrades nodded and moved quickly toward the
sprawling white house, while Kirk took
Kellen's hand in his. He chose his next words
carefully, not wanting to offend an ally they
desperately needed.
"Kellen," he began, motioning to the dusky sky,
"there is a great deal out there that you don't
know about. Renna has seen other worlds, other
cities, and she probably has family and friends in
places far away from here. Even if her father were not so
badly injured, this would be a difficult adjustment for
her, coming to Sanctuary. It's been difficult for
all of us. Can you understand that a person might not be
happy here?"
She bit her lip.
"Maybe not right away, but in time .. ."
"If you want Renna to be happy, you should think
about the possibility of helping her-and us-leave
Sanctuary."
"That's impossible!" exclaimed the blond
woman, clearly shocked by the idea.
"I don't think it's impossible," answered
Kirk.
"I know the Senites have transporters, and they
must have impounded thousands of spaceships over the
years. I'm not asking you to betray anyone-I just
want you to think about what I've said," The young
woman nodded, as if she would try to keep an open
mind. She didn't pull her hand away, but instead
gave his a tiny squeeze.
"You are strange, Jim," she said, puzzled.
"I don't have the feeling that you have been
persecuted, as my parents and so many others have been.
If you'd been persecuted, you might understand what
Sanctuary is all about."
"I understand its purpose," Kirk replied.
"But I also think people can make a mistake in coming
here. This life, as beautiful and simple as it is,
is not for everyone."
"No," Kellen answered sadly, "I have seen
a few who were unhappy."
"What happens to them?"
She shrugged.
"They go away."
The captain didn't press for details, but he
doubted they had "gone away" into the stars. Instead,
he gripped Kellen's hand warmly and began to walk
with her among the profusion of orange-crested bladder
plants.
"Let's just walk for a while," he said, smiling,
"and you can tell me about your life here."
Even inside, Khyming's guesthouse bore a
marked resemblance to a ranch, thought Dr.
McCoy. Warm wood paneling and rustic
furnishings graced its bright and airy rooms, and
Spock and McCoy had no difficulty securing
a sumptuous suite with a bedroom, 123
a sitting room, and four large beds. The
tight-lipped Senites who ran the place would not
tell them who else was staying there, but they had seen a
large party of dark-skinned humanoids, numbering
about a dozen, in the dining room. They huddled together as
if still under attack by some unseen force, and McCoy
was tempted to tell them they didn't have anything
to fear-except perhaps their Senite hosts. There was no
sign of Renna, and the doctor assumed she must be in
her room.
He sat in a plush chair on a wide veranda
at the rear of the house, sipping a glass of
olive-colored wine and watching darkness and fog
consume the towering jungle. Spock was not exactly
pacing, but he stood stiffly, watching the doorway
to the dining room.
"Relax, Spock," urged the doctor.
"Watching that door won't make anybody come
through it."
Spock stiffened to attention and replied, "The
captain said we should not relax too much."
"No"-McCoy yawned--but relaxing too much
is not something you have to worry about. You could at least
sit down."
The Vulcan considered the idea for a
moment, then took a seat in one of the plush chairs
scattered about the veranda. He still didn't look
relaxed.
"I wonder what they're doing on the
Enterprise?" mused McCoy.
"They're probably having a helluva time
explaining all this to Starfleet. And Starfleet is
probably having a helluva time making do without the
Enterprise. All because we wanted to catch one
lousy pirate, who is either dead or stuck here like
we are." He craned his neck to peer into the gloomy
sky.
"Do you think they're still up there, Spock?"
"Unknown," answered the Vulcan.
"It would be logical for them to remain in orbit
for a period of 124 time, but it has been five
days. Starfleet regulations require a search
period of forty-eight hours for a missing landing party,
and we have exceeded that time."
"Yeah," muttered the doctor, "and they couldn't
search for us even if they wanted to. It doesn't
look good."
The Vulcan nodded in agreement.
"Our situation would seem to be rather untenable."
A grim silence followed as darkness
descended completely upon the whitewashed house at the
edge of the jungle. Salmon-colored lights
flickered on, giving the veranda a strange glow that
matched the sky, which was lit from behind by Sanctuary's
first moon. They heard the footsteps of a solitary
figure approaching from the side of the house and turned
with relief to see who it was.
"Hello," said Renna, slumping into one of the
chairs. She glanced around.
"Where's the third musketeer?"
"I don't know," McCoy lied.
"What have you been doing?. was "Looking around." The
slim brunette shrugged.
"Interesting what stuff you can find in this
village."
"You referred to The Three Musketeers, was
Spock observed.
"Are you familiar with Earth fiction?"
"Uh, well," stammered Renna, shifting
uneasily in her chair, "it's just a phrase I
picked up somewhere."
McCoy suggested knowingly, "From Federation
computers, maybe?"
"Look," she said angrily, "as far as I can
tell, we're all in the same fix.
None of us wanted to be on Sanctuary, but here we
are. You people don't represent anybody now, so
stop pretending you do."
McCoy lowered his voice to ask, "Are you still
interested in leaving this planet?"
"Not while my father's in the clinic," answered
Renna. Then she sat forward conspiratorially.
"If he were well, and we had the right plan . his
The door from the dining room opened, and Kellen and
Kirk strolled onto the veranda. Upon seeing
Renna, they let go of each other's hands.
Renna smiled archly at Kellen.
"I see the welcoming committee is working
overtime."
"Well, you haven't been much fun," the blond
woman answered defensively.
"At least Jim is interested in learning about our
lives here. Khyming isn't really so bad."
"I bet he's interested, all right," said
Renna, gazing pointedly at the captain.
He returned her gaze for a moment, then pulled
up a chair.
"So tell me," he asked cheerfully, "what do
people do for amusement in the evenings?"
"We have tea dances!" Kellen said
excitedly. Then she looked downcast.
"But there's not one tonight. We also have a library where
you can take out books. Mainly, we have dinner and
talk." She smiled at Kirk.
"And take walks."
Renna stood up and stretched her arms.
"I think I'll take a walk-to the clinic
to see my father."
"There is no need for that," came a lilting
voice.
Everyone turned in unison to see a white-robed
figure standing in the doorway of the guesthouse. It was
Zicree.
"What do you mean by that?" Renna asked warily.
The Senite stepped onto the veranda, its hands
folded politely in its long white sleeves and a
look of care upon its ageless face.
"Your father is dead, my dear. We are sorry."
"Dead!" she shrieked, stunned.
"But you said you could keep him alive!"
"A decision was reached not to do so." 126
"What!" she shrieked again.
"Nobody consulted me about that."
The slim Senite said nothing. It simply
turned and padded back into the rambling
guesthouse.
Kellen moved to comfort her friend.
"The Senites wouldn't have done it unless it was for the
best," she assured her earnestly.
"Oh, shut up, you little twerp!" snapped
Renna, shoving the woman away.
Fighting tears, she stormed into the house. Kellen
looked pained and confused for a moment, then ran after her
new friend.
"Hmm," said McCoy, "now there's somebody who
likes the Senites even less than we do."
The three reluctant fugitives stood
quietly on the veranda of Khyming's guesthouse,
waiting to see if Renna, Kellen, or Zicree
would return. When no one appeared, the captain
finally motioned Spock and McCoy to follow him to the
edge of the jungle and gather close.
Kirk whispered, "It took a lot of small
talk for me to get it out of her, but Kellen told
me that the Senites do indeed have a transporter
room inside their seminary. She said the entrance to the
place is through a cave and is heavily guarded, and
there's no other way to get up to the ridge.
But she says that people from the village are occasionally
taken there for religious training. She went
there often as a child."
"Yes," said McCoy, "but will she take us
there?"
"I'm not sure," answered Kirk.
"She's very loyal to the Senites."
"Did she go by herseIP" asked Spock.
"Or was she always accompanied by a Senite?"
Kirk replied glumly, "I gather she was always
accompanied by a Senite."
The Vulcan concluded, "It will be very difficult
to convince a Senite to help us."
"Maybe you don't need that," whispered a fourth
voice.
With alarm, they swiveled in the direction of the
voice and saw Renna crouching in the shadows of a
bladder tree. She stood and made her way
quietly toward them.
"How long have you been listening?" asked Kirk.
"Long enough," she answered.
"Don't worry-I ditched Kellen. I made
a discovery of my own today. I found a closet in this
very building where a few Senite robes are stored.
I suppose they have extras in case they get theirs
dirty. None of you could pass as Senites, but I
might be able to."
"I'm sorry about your father," said McCoy.
Renna turned away and dabbed at her eyes.
"As far as I'm concerned, they killed him. You
may not have noticed, but there aren't any people in
wheelchairs around here. Nobody disabled or mentally
diseased. I think the Senites like to keep things a little
too perfect in Khyming. I bet if my father had
been in your sickbay, McCoy, you would've
managed to save him."
"That's kind of you to say," replied the doctor.
"I certainly wouldn't have pulled the plug after
only a few days."
"Renna," said Kirk in a businesslike tone,
"you know who we are. And I think we know who you are.
Why are you willing to help us?"
"It's not to help you," she answered.
"I said I'm from Alloseng, and that's true. In
fact, I'm a wealthy woman there, with an estate
that makes their seminary look like a dump. As far as
you knowing who I am, you don't really know, and it's
going to stay that way. If we help each other
escape, you have to pledge to me that you will let me go
free. I will pledge to you that I will, uh, lead a
simpler life than I used to.
You came here looking for a pirate named
Auk-rex, and 128 you can safely put in your
records that Auk-rex is dead."
"Agreed." Kirk nodded.
"Captain," Spock interrupted, "regulation
2477.3 prohibits us from-was "Damn
regulations!" McCoy cursed under his breath.
"Regulations won't do anything to get us off this
planet."
"Auk-rex is dead," Kirk told his first
officer.
"Let's leave it at that." The turned to Renna.
"About this plan?"
"We no,-d more information from Kellen," she
replied, gazing at Kirk with intense black
eyes.
"You seem to be on better terms with her than I
am, so I'll leave that to you. We need to know the
hours and the types of classes they have in the seminary,
so that if I come up there leading you three, it won't
look suspicious. And we need to know where the
transporter room is."
"All right," agreed the captain.
"What about you?"
"I won't steal a robe until we're ready
to go," she whispered.
"They may count them. Don't worry about me-I
have some experience in these matters."
Kirk smiled.
"I'm glad you're on our side."
Renna shrugged.
"Strange bedfellows, as they say. We can't do
anything more tonight, so I'm going to bed. Good night."
"Good night," the men muttered in unison, and
Renna marched swiftly back into the house.
"A remarkable woman," observed Spock.
"That she is," agreed Kirk.
"I hope we can trust her."
Chapter Nine
ScoTty STOOD at the science station on the
bridge of the Enterprise, thinking about Mr.
Spock, who usually stood there. He tried to keep
his attention on the tilde ensor readings that pranced
across the screen, changing constantly with subtle
shifts in wave patterns emanating from the planet,
but thoughts of his missing comrades kept intruding. If
Mr. Spock were here now, would he know what to do? The
Scotsman was fresh out of ideas on how to respond
to this predicament with any sort of reasonable action.
He now viewed the loss of the captain, first officer,
and doctor as a tragedy, perhaps
irreversible. He could not guess what they were facing
below, or how to help them.
Starfleet had understood the predicament and, for
once, there seemed to be no immediate crises in star
systems closer to home. The maneuvers would go on
without them, and Starfleet had dispatched another ship
to Sanctuary, the USS Neptune oceanic
research ship. Starfleet had decided to follow a
backdoor policy to see if the gates
to Sanctuary could be opened by an offer to exchange
information on aquatic life and oceans. Scotty
didn't want to dissuade them from this notion, although he
doubted they would make much headway with the single minded
Senites. He was glad the Neptune was coming, because
it would help to corroborate his reports, but the
engineer also knew the smaller ship might be coming
to keep vigil after the Enterprise was inevitably
called away.
He turned to look at the planet on the
viewscreen, filled with aqua seas and strafed
by gleaming white clouds. It was strangely compelling,
he had to admit, and he could see why there was an almost
daily influx of new arrivals. But did they
realize what they were giving up? There was no way of
knowing what they were getting in exchange for their
freedom.
He heard Uhura speaking into her mouthpiece.
She was so skilled that she could conduct her business
without interrupting anyone else on the bridge, but
Scotty was attuned to everything that happened around him.
In fact, so little had happened in the endless hours of
waiting that he'd turned into an eavesdropper, and
he was waiting for Uhura when she looked up.
"I don't suppose the Senites have called?"
he asked with forced cheerfulness.
"No." She shook her head forlornly.
"But Captain Garvak of the Klingon vessel
wishes to speak with you. He says he only has a
moment."
"Put him on the screen." Scotty strode to the
captain's chair.
"Greetings," said the gray-haired Klingon.
He was dressed incongruously in a formal green
uniform plastered with insignias and decorations, instead
of his usual short-sleeved leather tunic. "I come
to bid you farewell." I "Indeed?" Scotty
smiled broadly, knowing this was an occasion for rejoicing,
for several reasons.
"Yes." The Klingon nodded smugly.
"It seems my superiors finally read
my dispatches. They have reached a conclusion I reached
years ago Sanctuary is the most effective
prison in the galaxy. No one who goes there is
ever seen or heard from again. Why in Kronos should we
try to stop our enemies from reaching that pest hole He
shrugged.
"I am sorry if that appraisal does not sit
well with you, but my days of futility are over.
Henceforth, there will be no imperial Klingon vessel
stationed at Sanctuary. We are well rid of most
of those who flee there."
With a quick salute, he added, "Good-bye, Commander
Scott. I hope we never meet under conditions of
war, but I know that is possible."
"Perhaps not forever," answered Scotty.
"I have included in my dispatches a full
report of all the aid and advice ye've given
me. I wish I could've proven your assessment
wrong, but ye've been correct and straightforward in
every regard."
"Experience is a harsh teacher," declared Garvak.
"I will die before I come back here. Farewell."
The image of the hardened warrior was replaced
by another view of the glimmering planet.
"I'll put the Klingon ship on the
viewscreen," offered Sulu.
The bridge personnel of the Enterprise watched
with a mixture of sadness and envy as the sleek
Klingon warship eased out of orbit. As if in
salute, it tilted a gull-like wing at them for a
moment, then achieved warp speed with a flash of light,
and was gone. At least someone had escaped
Sanctuary, thought Scolty.
Hand in hand, the attractive fair-haired
couple strolled among the shops and vendors of the
picturesque cliff side village. People smiled
as they passed them, because everyone knew Kellen, and
her new beau seemed quite presentable, especially in
the new clothes she had picked out for him that morning.
Captain Kirk nodded pleasantly in
response, even at the Senites. He looked like
he was having a grand time, when all he could think of was
how to steer the conversation in the direction he needed it
to go. A light drizzle began to fall, and they
ducked into a tearoom.
"So," he said, shaking raindrops off the sleeve
of his new beige jacket, "tell me more about what
it was like to grow up here. What kinds of classes do
the Senites teach?"
"Philosophy, mainly," answered
Kellen.
"They are a very ancient order, and their teachings
explain much of what they are doing for everyone in this part
of the galaxy."
"If I wanted to take a class," asked
Kirk, "what would I ask for?"
Kellen frowned in thought.
"I suppose you could take a class in beginning
philosophy."
"Is that class taught every day?"
"I don't know. I could find out."
"Would you please?" Kirk smiled at her.
Kellen nodded and walked to the back of the small
restaurant to consult the Senite proprietor.
Kirk peered out the window at the falling rain,
wondering what time of day it was and how he could
extricate himself from Kellen without making her
upset, or suspicious.
She returned with a smile on her face.
"Jancree says there is a beginning class this
afternoon. But you must consult your adviser-that would be
Zicree."
"Of course," said Kirk.
"Shall we have a seat?"
Kellen beamed with delight, and Kirk
steered her to a table by the window, far away from the
Senite's station in the rear of the room. He waited
until the white-robed figure had served them steaming
helpings of tea and biscuits to continue his
interrogation.
"You know," he remarked, "it seems odd to me that
you have never seen any more of Sanctuary than this
island. Having done it myself, I wouldn't advise you
to take a boat between here and the mainland, but you could
transport over. The Senites would let you use
their transporter, wouldn't they?"
Kellen looked shocked at the idea.
"I don't think so," she replied.
"I know they transport people when they first arrive
on Sanctuary, but none of the refugees use it after
that. No, I don't think the Senites would let us
use their transporter."
"But I would like to explore this planet with you," said
Kirk, reaching across the table to take her hand.
"There's so much we could see and do.
Then again, maybe the Senites' transporter
isn't advanced enough to send us anywhere we want to go."
"Oh, I certainly think it is," she
protested.
"I've seen their transporter room
inside the seminary-it's huge, large enough to send an
army somewhere."
"I'd love to see it," Kirk declared.
"Once you reach the seminary, it's right inside?"
"No, you have to go up to the second floor,"
answered Kellen.
"The door is marked by a red circle. But you had
better ask Zicree about all this."
"Oh, I plan to," he assured her, stroking
her hand gently.
"I want to team the Senite way of doing things."
Renna, Spock, and McCoy sat as
patiently as they could on the veranda of Khyming's
guesthouse, waiting for the return of Captain
Kirk. Renna rose to her feet and strolled with
forced nonchalance into the warmly paneled library.
She began scanning through the miscellaneous
volumes available on the reading 134 terminal.
She had already determined that it was a stand-alone computer
that contained nothing but stored texts, albeit of a very
eclectic nature.
As she scanned various topics, she began
to think that she and the Senites had much in common, because they
were both robbers of technological information. If this
small sample was any indication of the
sorts of data they had gathered over the centuries,
then they were in a league far above hers. Of course,
there was a measure of sadism in the fact that space
travel and the application of most of the knowledge in the data
bank were forever denied to the inhabitants of
Sanctuary.
At least, that's the way the Senites wanted
to make it appear. Renna had her doubts, because she
couldn't imagine that the Senites, or any race,
could figure out every angle. They had missed something in
their vaunted defense strategy, and she was pleased with
her choice of cohorts to help her find it.
True, Kirk and company had been her enemies
until a few days ago, but she and they were natural
allies at this stage, because they'd all jumped into the
same dark pool with their eyes closed. Having been
a thief and a pirate all her young life, Renna was
quite certain that she recognized fellow travelers in
the sterile Senites. They were bent, to use an old
Earth phrase, in more ways than one.
Of course, she and her father were originally from Earth,
and she didn't care anymore whether the Three
Musketeers knew it or not. They had other
problems, and she enjoyed seeing their discomfort at
having been trapped in an even bigger web
than the one they had spun for her. Renna had always
known that she and her father would be caught one day, but she
couldn't have foreseen the strange form of her punishment.
Sanctuary had just enough freedom to be tempting, but
she couldn't stand the fact that all her 135 years of
work-and her father's-had gone for nothing. If retirement
was to be the fate of Auk-rex, let it at least be
in the midst of the spoils.
But her father was gone, and she was alone. In the last
few years, she had been the captain of their tiny but
effective enterprise. He was the computer genius
who had figured out how to tap, via microwaves,
into almost any computer before its owners knew what was
happening, often during negotiations. Once a
ship's shields came down, the computer was theirs for the
picking; they simply located the most valuable
cargo and transported it to their own hold. Then it was
good-bye, Charlie.
There had been imitators, of course, and the
legend of Auk-rex had grown by leaps and bounds.
That rigorous life was now over, and he was gone. The
ending had come with a fierceness that made her feel like they
were being punished. Well, the loss of her father, best
friend, and partner was a hard enough blow, and Renna was
determined to salvage what she could of the
business.
She heard Kirk enter before his men heard him, and
she watched him stride past the open doorway. He
stopped, considering whether he should speak to her, but he
finally kept marching through the dining room and out onto the
veranda. She turned off the computer terminal and wandered
after him. He fascinated her, but she was going to keep
her hands off for the time being.
She wanted to keep her wits about her, and she
suspected Kirk did, too.
Renna knew he was expending his energy on
Kellen, and she was relieved that the woman had a
new hobby.
Yes, she thought, these were good co-conspirators.
They were honest and she wasn't, which gave her the
advantage. It also made them predictable, which was
what she wanted. Of course, the captain could
renege on his promise to let her go comandthe
Vulcan certainly 136 wouldn't mind-but she
didn't think he would. If they ever got off this
confounded planet, they would all be too grateful
to complain.
She spotted her associates in their usual
place, huddled at the edge of the patio, next to the
looming bladder trees. They looked like
conspirators, but she didn't care-boldness was their
only weapon. No one expected them to escape from
Sanctuary, so they had to try.
Upon joining the group, she whispered to Kirk, "So
what did you find out?"
"There's a beginner's philosophy class this
afternoon," he answered.
"I
told Kellen I was going to find Zicree
to enroll in it. More important, the transporter
room is on the second floor, and the door is
marked with a red circle."
"Very good," approved Renna.
It was Spock's turn to report.
"Dr. McCoy and I have located the entrance to the
cave. There was one Senite guard on duty."
"Is there any reason why we should wait?" asked
the captain.
"None," answered Renna.
"There are two Senites in the guesthouse-the
three of you do something to distract them, while I steal
a robe. Let's meet at the first pavilion at
the top of the spiral stairs."
"All right," said Kirk with a bemused smile.
"If you need my advice in any of this
planning, please ask."
"I will," she said casually, "but it's very simple.
You have done your part, Captain Kirk, by getting the
information, and I will do mine by getting us inside.
Spock and McCoy will do their parts by figuring out the
transporter controls. It's called teamwork, and
if you can think of a better way .. ."
"Not at all," protested Kirk.
"I only wonder if there's something we might have
overlooked."
"I agree with Renna's plan," said Spock.
"The 137 element of surprise is crucial.
We can overpower the guard, if need be."
"That's what I like about you, Spock," remarked the
slim brunette, "you're practical. You know
we'll get one chance at this, and that's it."
Grumbled McCoy, "The worst they can do to us is
make us take another boat ride."
Kirk nodded, then bellowed, "Wine! Can't we
get a bottle of wine out here?"
Renna winked at them and scurried off around the
side of the rambling house.
Kirk could see that both Senites who were in
attendance that day were hovering around the large party in the
dining room, so he turned to McCoy and
screamed at the top of his lungs, "How dare you
call me that!"
"But that's exactly what you are!" yelled
McCoy.
"And I'll call you that any time I like!"
"Oh, yeah!" thundered Kirk.
"I'll make you eat those words!"
By now, the Senites had come running, and several
of the new arrivals were peering out the curtained windows
at the loudmouths on the veranda.
"Now, now," said Spock with reasoned assurance,
41 anger never solved a problem. Let us order
some wine and have a toast."
461 can't drink with him, snarled Kirk, pointing
a finger at McCoy.
"Did you hear what he called me?"
"No, I did not," Spock answered
truthfully.
"He called me a ... what was it?"
"A pompous windbag," the doctor replied.
"That was it!" shouted Kirk.
"Those are fighting words."
"We can bring you some wine," one of the Senites
offered.
"Very well," muttered the captain.
"Do so at once!" 138 He winked at
McCoy as the two Senites, scrambled to do his
bidding. Kirk motioned with his head, and the three
troublemakers followed the Senites into the dining room.
Kirk and McCoy continued to glare at each other,
as one Senite returned to the large party and the other
padded into the kitchen.
Kirk couldn't see Renna, but then he didn't
know the location of the closet she was raiding. As long
as the Senites were kept busy, that was all that
mattered for the moment. When the Senite returned with a
bottle of hazel wine, McCoy promptly
spilled it.
"You're clumsy, too!" growled Kirk.
"I'm not going to drink with a pompous windbag,"
countered comThe doctor.
"I'm leaving!"
McCoy marched out, and Kirk motioned
imperiously.
"Forget the wine. We'll get something in the
village."
The Sertite sighed with exasperation.
"As you wish."
"We are sorry for the commotion," Spock assured
him.
Kirk and Spock made their way slowly out the
front door of the guesthouse, seeing nothing of either
Renna or McCoy, Finally, they spied the
doctor loitering near the bottom of the spiral
staircase; it led up to a small white gazebo that
connected several rope bridges to various parts of the
village. He started to climb as Kirk and
Spock meandered toward the small structure.
At the top, they found Renna and McCoy already
occupied. The doctor held a white robe in one
hand and was helping Renna strip off her jacket and
pants with the other. She stood shivering in the drizzle
in her unisex Senite underwear.
"Here!" she whispered, tossing a dish towel
to Kirk.
"Wrap this around my breasts. Got to strap them
down if I want to look like a Senite."
He blinked in surprise for a moment, then drew
the towel around her shivering torso. He pulled her
roughly to him as he tied the towel in a strong knot.
She paid him scant attention as she adjusted the
towel to camouflage her feminine attributes.
"McCoy," she said, "here's some string. Tie
my hair back. I have to wear the hood, but that will
look normal in this rain."
Efficiently, they transformed the lithe young woman
into a lithe young Senite. She looked too pretty
to be a Senite, thought Kirk, until she began
to practice a bland expression that would make the most
blissedout street sweeper proud.
He chuckled under his breath.
"You know, Renna, in Dohama they do just the
opposite-some of the Senites dress like women."
"I don't doubt it," replied Renna.
"They make my skin crawl. But listen, while
I'm a Senite, call me Rencree."
"Rencree," repeated Kirk, stepping back
to admire their handiwork. She was small for a Senite,
but she had selected a small robe. He thought he
could still detect her breasts, but then again, he knew
to look.
"I must talk like this," she said in a furry,
nondescript voice.
"Spock, lead the way to that cave."
The Vulcan nodded and strode onto a rope
bridge that stretched upward two levels into the
hierarchy of Khyming. Renna pulled her hood down
over her face and folded her hands into the ample
sleeves of her robe, looking every bit like one of the
ubiquitous caretakers of Sanctuary.
Kirk and McCoy fell in behind them and stepped
carefully across the wet slats of the bridge. The
rain made the swaying seem all the more treacherous, and
they pulled on the handrails to climb the last few
meters.
They found themselves standing in a honeycomb of apartments
carved into the cliff side Or maybe they were
caves. thought Kirk. The Senites might have begun
their struggle on this planet in caves, hidden from the
original persecutors, and now they refused to leave
their hive like domain. His idle theory was
corroborated a few minutes later when they stood
at the entrance to what appeared to be a labyrinth of
cave tunnels. Most led to apartment entrances, but
one stretched away into the distance, where a white robed
figure could be seen seated at a desk.
"Permit me," said Renna in her Senite
voice, stepping in front of Spock and leading the
way down the tunnel. Kirk, Spock, and
McCoy fell in behind her, trying to look more
curious than nervous. They were on their way to class
to learn about their new world, Kirk reminded himself, and
he planted an eager smile on his face.
Renna, or Rencree, stopped at the desk, where
her counterpart looked up lazily.
"Greetings," it said.
"Greetings," she replied, still waiting. Kirk
admired her act-she wasn't going to volunteer
any more information than was needed.
The Senite guard peered at her. It was one of
those young, burly Senites who appeared to be used
often for such duty.
"You are not a resident here," it concluded.
"What is the purpose of your visit with these
fugitives?"
"Beginning philosophy class," she replied in
a lilting but low-pitched voice.
"Ah, yes," said the guard, consulting a schedule
frozen under plastic on its desk.
"But that is not for one hour yet. Why are you so
early?"
"Testing," the ersatz Senite replied.
"Testing?" The guard smiled, looking Kirk,
Spock, and McCoy over. More and more, Kirk was
beginning to feel like tilde a prisoner. "You
may pass." The Senite slid its hand over a
colored panel in a peculiar fashion. The
metal door behind the Senite's desk slid open and
allowed them passage to a turbolift.
Renna swallowed hard, trying not to look
at Kirk and the others. When the door clanged shut
and nothing happened, she said hoarsely, "Second
floor."
"Thank you," responded a metallic voice.
With a barely discernible movement, the turbolift
journeyed upward for several seconds before opening
onto what looked like a vast bunker carved from a
cave. Lines of various colors stretched along the
floors and walls; Kirk decided they were
indicators, and marched down the redlined corridor.
His bold decision was rewarded a few moments later
when they spied a double door with a melon-sized red
circle painted in its center.
The captain could hardly believe the ease of their
entry, but this was no time to stop or reconsider. He
scanned every corner and corridor about them while
Renna pushed the door open and slipped inside.
Spock and McCoy swiftly followed, but the
captain waited to assure himself that no one had seen
them enter before going inside.
It looked like a cargo transporter room, with
huge chambers dozens of meters in height and
width, gigantic lenses suspended from the ceiling,
and rows and rows of controls and sensors. McCoy
didn't know where to start, but Spock strode
to the nearest control panel and began to study it.
Motorized carts stood empty in a neat row, and
cargo doors lined the farthest wall. This
transporter looked capable of sending them all the
way back to Earth, thought Kirk.
He rushed to Spock's side.
"Can you locate the Enterprise?"
"Unknown, Captain," answered the Vulcan.
"This transporter room is designed to be run
by a team of technicians. It is sufficiently
complicated that I will need time to study it before I know
its operations in detail."
"You haven't got any time," Kirk replied,
more to himself than to Spock.
Nervously, he prowled the row of alien computers
and scanners, wondering which one would find the
Enterprise and get them home.
McCoy hovered over what looked like a steering
panel for the robot carts, but he was hesitant
to touch any of the strange levers and dials. Renna
started for the door to see if she could lock it, but she
was a moment too late-the door swung open, and
Zicree entered, followed by a triumphant
Kellen.
"Do you see?" sneered the blond
woman.
"I told you we'd find them in the transporter
room. Kirk did everything but ask for a map to this
place."
The Senite shook its head with disappointment and
drew a weapon that looked like a silver piccolo.
"What are you doing here?"
"Isn't it obvious what they are doing?"
Kellen asked.
"They are trying to return to the persecutors! You
were right to have me watch them. None of these fugitives
can be trusted."
While Kirk glared at the young woman, Spock
edged closer to Zicree.
"Why not let us go home?" asked McCoy.
"It won't affect anything you're trying
to accomplish."
"It is forbidden!" snapped Kellen.
"That is what the persecutors want, to be able
to come and go from Sanctuary."
"I gave you a second chance to redeem yourselves,"
said Zicree, "and you have repaid me with deceit. This
is a very grave offense."
Kirk ducked behind the row of controls, distracting
Zicree for a moment.
That was all Spock needed to 143 leap forward and
apply a Vulcan nerve pinch to Zicree's
neck, making the Senite slump to the ground in a
white-robed heap. Kellen made a dash for the
door, but Renna was all over her, wrestling the
bigger woman back into the room. Captain Kirk
slammed the door shut and threw a desk in front
of it. Then a piercing alarm sounded so loudly that it
seemed to vibrate the cave and everything in it.
Spock rushed to Renna's side and applied a
nerve pinch to the blond woman, who slumped into a
stupor.
Kirk shouted over the wrenching alarm, "Spock!
You've got to get that transporter working!"
"I believe," responded the Vulcan, "that I
can beam us to the transporter's last setting. Without
more time, I cannot beam us to the Enterprise or the
destination of our choice."
"Where is the last setting?" asked Kirk.
"Unknown," answered Spock.
A ngry fists pounded and shouts sounded behind the double
doors, and a Senite tried to push his way in.
Kirk threw himself against the door, smashing the
Senite's arm and eliciting a howl of pain.
McCoy piled a chair and more furniture
against the doors, and both men leaned into the barricade
to keep the Senites out.
"Get it working!" yelled Kirk.
Sp9ck immediately began to manipulate one of
several sets of controls.
Lights danced in sequence between the lenses in the
ceiling and the illuminated pads upon the floor, as he
mastered the rudiments of the system.
"Everyone to the activated pads!" he called.
He didn't have to yell twice as Renna,
McCoy, and Captain Kirk leaped upon the glowing
transporter pads, and Spock eased the levers
forward.
Their molecules sparkled in columns of
phosphorescent light before gradually fading away.
With the doors deserted, the Senites smashed through the
makeshift barricade. They came streaming into the
room just as Spock dashed from behind the controls and
onto the pad. A Senite fired a weapon that
missed him by centimeters and bored a hole in the
wall of the cave.
A second later, Spock was gone in the
transporter beam, and the pack of Senites stood
dumbfounded.
As THE SEN ME transporter
scrambled his molecules, Captain Kirk had no
idea where he was headed, but he didn't expect
to end up where he had already been. Nevertheless, he,
McCoy, and Renna materialized on a main
thoroughfare in the rowdy seaside village of
Doharna. It was the middle of the afternoon, but there was not a
single creature in sight in this town that two days
earlier had been teeming with undesirables from all
over the galaxy. The wind, which had so recently
carried laughter and the smells of ale and grilled
meat, was silent except for the dirty awnings it
flapped. Dohama was completely deserted.
Before Kirk had time to mouth the obvious question,
Spock materialized beside him.
"We should run," suggested the Vulcan.
"I tried to reset the transporter, but the
Senites may find these coordinates and come after
us."
Kirk nodded, and the small party set off at a
determined jog down the center of the abandoned 146
street. Without people to enliven them, the empty
storefronts and gambling parlors looked
fraudulent, like the scenery for a play that was over.
"This is Dohama, isn't it?" asked the
captain, mystified.
"Yeah," answered McCoy.
"That jewelry stand was where a Senite wanted
to pierce my ears."
"Where did everyone go?" Kirk wondered aloud.
"Unknown," muttered Spock.
Kirk glanced over his shoulder, then led the
runners around a corner. As soon as he felt they
were out of the line of sight of the transporter
coordinates, he slowed to a brisk walk.
"This is most peculiar," admitted the
Vulcan, peering into a deserted tattoo parlor.
"Two days ago, the residents seemed to have
nowhere else to go."
McCoy pointed to a three-story building with
several quaint balconies.
"That's where the Senites were hanging out-the ones
dressed as women.
Where are they all?"
"I don't know." Kirk twisted around, trying
to make sense out of it, when he discovered that someone
else was missing.
"Where's Renna?"
Like whirling dervishes, Kirk, Spock, and
McCoy turned in every direction, trying to find the
woman who had so recently joined their
desperate quest. But they were back to three-Renna
was gone, too.
McCoy stumbled into Kirk and muttered,
"What's happening, Jim?"
"Calm yourself, Doctor," said Spock.
"It is quite possible that Renna chose to desert us.
Although not a very loyal decision, it could be considered a
logical one. Disguised as a Senite, she may be
safer traveling alone."
"Renna!" Kirk shouted angrily.
"Renna!"
"Be quiet, you damn fools!" cursed another
voice over their heads. They looked up to see the
hulking, hirsute figure of Billiwog leaning
over one of the railings of the Senite pleasure
palace.
"Get your big mouths up here," he whispered,
"so you can see what's happening."
They quickly obeyed, entering the narrow three story
building and climbing the velvet-lined staircase to the
top floor. There they found the shipbuilder waiting
for them. He put his finger to his lips and motioned them
toward a window with lacy curtains.
"Look out there," he whispered, "and you'll see
what the Senites are up to. But don't
let them see you."
Surreptitiously, Kirk, Spock, and
McCoy took turns peering from the upper window, which
commanded a view all the way to the beach, the one they had
crawled up from when first arriving at Dohama. Although
the town was deserted, the beach was not. A horde of
Senites was busy piling what appeared to be
bodies into several large conveyances. The motorized
wagons had various gated compartments, each large enough
to contain a sleeping, or dead, humanoid. The
Senites were filling the slots as rapidly as they
could, because a hundred more fugitives lay waiting,
stretched out like dead fish along the sand.
"Good God!" breathed McCoy.
"What are they doing?"
"Harvesting," said Billiwog.
"I've been through several of these. You fellows were
lucky you got out when you did."
"Fascinating," remarked Spock.
"What is the purpose of this harvest?"
Billiwog shrugged.
"I'll be damned if I know. It happens
maybe once a year, as soon as the village
fills up to the rafters with fugitives. The
Senites must put something into the food and
drink, because people start passing out in droves."
"How did you escape it?" Kirk asked
suspiciously. The burly humanoid winked.
"Remember the other day-you asked me why I was
cooking my own food? As soon as I see the
village getting crowded, I start eating nothing but
fish I catch myself. I'm sure the Senites know
I know what they're up to, but I'm careful not
to tell anyone and start a panic. I do what I can
by telling people to get out of here, and I give them boats
to do it."
"Why do you stay in this place?" asked McCoy
with a shiver.
"I could ask you the same thing," Billiwog
replied.
"Why did you come back?"
The captain sighed.
"That's a long story. There was a woman with us.
Actually, she was dressed like a Senite. Did
you see her?"
The humanoid scratched his beard and answered,
"I didn't see any of you until you started
bellowing." Then it dawned on him.
"You brought a woman back with you?"
"Well, we thought we did." Kirk
peered out the window again.
"What's going to happen to all those people?"
Billiwog shook his furry head.
"Can't say. But they don't ever come back, and
Dohama is a lot more peaceful without them. Now,
about this woman.
You can have your pick of my boats-in fact, you can
have all my boats-was He was interrupted by a noise
downstairs, like a door slamming shut.
"Ssshh!" hissed the big man, motioning the others
to be quiet.
"Somebody's coming!"
Whoever they were they made no secret of their
approach, as determined footsteps clamored up the
staircase. Billiwog made for the open window,
tried to climb out, and got stuck, preventing anyone
else's escape. Kirk shoved a chest of drawers
against the door, and Spock grabbed one end of the bed and
began to drag it toward the door. McCoy made a
futile attempt to free the giant from the window
frame. Then he saw how pointless it was-another
squad of Senites; was gathering in the street below.
The door and the bureau suddenly glowed with a blinding
light and vaporized, as Kirk and Spock
scrambled to get out of the way. There was nowhere
to hide in the gaudy bedroom, and Billiwog
plugged the only escape route. All they could do was
stand their ground and glare defiantly at the Senites
who streamed through the blackened doorway. Each
Senite stared grimly and leveled a silver weapon
at them.
"Hey! Hey!" came a muffled shout from
Billiwog, as he finally extricated himself from the
window.
"I'm your friend, Billiwog!"
He was instantly zapped by a blue beam, and his
huge body spun in agony before it crashed to the
floor, shaking the entire room. McCoy leaned
over the body, preparing to check its pulse, but he
was cut down before he could even reach it. Two more
Senites aimed weapons at Kirk and Spock and
discharged their beams.
Just before ajolt charged up his spine and blackness
overtook his mind, Kirk had a horrible feeling
he was going to find out what it meant to be harvested.
Renna was not sure why she had deserted her
newfound comrades so quickly after reaching the strange,
empty town. But her instinct for survival had
seldom failed her, and their mad dash down the
vacant street had given her ample
opportunity to duck out of sight into an abandoned
bar. She wasn't a moment too soon, as it
turned out, because a squad of Senites quickly
materialized on the same spot they'd arrived at
moments earlier and started to search for the escapees.
Figuring the Senites would have portable sensors,
Renna ran from the back of the bar and dashed across the
empty street into another empty building. She
kept going from one hiding place to another, always in a
straight line, putting as much distance between herself and the
white-robed troopers as she could. If they had
portable sensors, as she figured, they would
probably go after three life-forms instead of one.
She felt a pang of guilt about saving her own
skin, but she told herself that it was Spock's fault
for sending them to a hideout in a ghost town.
After fleeing from the last row of buildings, Renna
ducked into a small guard post beside an archway in a
wall. She gulped several mouthfuls of air and
tried to compose herself and her disguise. As she
leveled her breasts with the towel, she heard far-off
voices and the cawing of what sounded like a bird of some
sort, and she made her way cautiously to a tiny
window in the wall.
It was then that she saw something that terrified
her into near panic, something so awful it was beyond anything
she'd expected to see on Sanctuary a whole
army of Senites dragging bodies across the beach and
tossing them into narrow cages on huge wagons.
Her mouth felt as dry as the sand the bodies were lying
on.
Among the carcasses were creatures of every
description, of races she'd never known existed,
all of them male, as far as she could tell.
Occasionally, the Senites checked the bodies,
holding meters to their mouths or jabbing them with hypos.
They must be alive, she thought-most of them, at
least-and the Senites seemed intent upon keeping them in
a comatose state.
Suddenly, four more carcasses were dumped upon the
beach in the sparkling aurora of a transporter beam.
Renna swallowed hard, recognizing the young
captain, the doctor, and the Vulcan, but she'd never
seen the great hairy being who accompanied them. She
took no pleasure in the fact that she had
evidently done the right thing by deserting them, and she
shivered under the knowledge that she would have to save them from whatever
fate the Senites had in mind. By now, Renna found
herself thinking of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy as her
men, her crew. Though they would be
horrified to hear that, they weren't in any position
to contradict her, she thought grimly.
Unfortunately, she couldn't walk into the midst
of the Senites, sling three grown men over her
shoulders, and carry them off. She would have to stick with
her men until they woke up, helping to rouse them,
if possible. In her favor, there were at least
sixty or seventy Senites, working in a
disorganized fashion to drag bodies to the
conveyances. More Senites were coming and going, and more than
a few had their hoods up to protect their bald
pates from the sun. Without giving it a great deal of
thought, Renna drew her hood over her head, making
sure her hair was hidden, and stepped out of the
guardhouse. Folding her hands into the sleeves of her
robe, she strode briskly across the sand and into the
midst of the Senite work party.
They paid her scant attention, and Renna saw a
Senite of about her size struggling with the hairy
creature who'd been beamed over with Kirk,
Spock, and McCoy. She proceeded to grab a
leg and begin hauling. In that way, without speaking a
single word, she made one friend and kept close enough
to make sure that her men were handled with reasonable care.
After the wagons were loaded, she gathered in
a single file with the other Senites and began to march
behind the automated body carts. She had no idea
where they were going, except away from the beach and
deserted 152 town and toward the impressive
mountain range to the north.
Scotty got up from the captain's chair and
stretched his arms, suppressing a yawn. Tedium and
waiting made him more tired than the most demanding
crisis, and he almost longed to be flat on his back
in the fusion reactor, nothing but a wrench between him and the
destruction of the ship. If that were the case, at least
Captain Kirk would be on the bridge, barking
orders and impossible timetables. Spock would be beside
him, completely unruffled although the ship was going
to explode in thirty seconds, and Dr. McCoy
would be glowering and pacing. That was the way Mr,
Scott wanted things, back to what passed for
normal aboard the USS Enterprise.
The ship was in fine fettle-after all, the crew
had nothing to do but the equivalent of swabbing the deck
four times a day. Their ship wasn't the only one that
had benefited from all the free time, thought Scotty;
the Gezary was also in better shape than it had been
in years. That thought reminded him of the bounty
huntress, Pilenna, and the fact that he
had an open invitation for some rest and recreation
aboard the Gezary.
Probably more recreation than rest, he thought with a
smile. But he couldn't enjoy it, not knowing what was
happening below to his captain and mates.
Blast that bloody planet, he cursed to himself,
staring at the inscrutable turquoise sphere on his
viewscreen. What was it, a haven or a trap?
were the Senites the greatest humanitarians of the
galaxy, or misguided jailers? More
important, were his friends alive and well and enjoying
the creature comforts the Senites talked about, or were
they sick and injured, perhaps even dead? Scott
knew the risks of transporting to the planet
now-knew them all too well-but the temptation was
almost overwhelming to march into the transporter room,
beam down there, and find them. Damn the consequences!
At least he would know if they were alive and safe.
If only there were some sort of lifeline he could
hold on to, a way to be dragged back to the
Enterprise. Without such a lifeline, he was not going
to the surface of Sanctuary, and neither was anybody
else. Failing that, if only there were some way to get
the Senites' attention, some way to twist their arms a
little bit.
"Commander Scott?" said Uhura, breaking into his
angry reverie.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"The Neptune is close enough for ship-to-ship
communications," answered Uhura, "and Captain
Mora wishes to speak with you."
"Ahead of schedule, aren't they?" observed
Scotty.
"Put Captain Mora on the screen."
He was not surprised to see the wizened features
of Donald Mora, one of the oldest captains in
Starfleet. He was also one of the Federation's foremost
experts on oceanography, and the two careers had
dovetailed nicely with his assignment to the
Neptune. He was a good choice to send on this
mission, decided Scotty, because his maturity might
give him patience. And he would need plenty of
patience to deal with the Senites.
"Hello, Commander Scott," Mora greeted
him with a smile.
"Good to see you again. It's been many years."
Scotty couldn't help his own scowl.
"I wish it were under better circumstances."
"I've been reading your reports," said
Captain Mora with concern, "and I can
appreciate your frustration. Is it really your
assessment that the Senites will refuse all contact
with the Federation?" "You may be able to contact them,"
replied Scotty.
"I was, but only through the graces of another
ship in orbit. As far as communicating with them, their
entire society is based on one directive
Come to Sanctuary if you want, but expect a
one-way trip."
Donald Mora frowned.
"That attitude doesn't seem possible from a
race that sounds so advanced."
"They're advanced enough," said Scotty.
"They have a shield around that planet that withstood a
full-scale Klingon attack. It cuts off
communications, sensors, everything that's within thirty
kilometers of the surface. And they have long-range
deflectors to protect incoming fugitives, as
they call them. I must admit, their refusal to let
anyone leave the planet is the only thing that
discourages a pack of bounty hunters from going down
there."
"Let me think about all this," said Captain
Mora.
"At warp six, I should be there in about
four hours."
"Captain," added Scotty, mustering a smile,
"if you can find a way to get through to the Senites,
I'll buy you a fish dinner," "I don't eat
fish," replied Captain Mora, "too many of them
are my friends. But I'll think about your problem.
Ou."
When the gleaming curve of the planet reclaimed the
viewscreen, Scotty turned away. Looking at
it only made him feel sad and helpless.
The motorized body carts rumbled up a mountain
pass, followed by a single line of Senites that
stretched for a hundred meters behind them. No one
spoke to Renna during the long march into the
mountains-in fact, no one spoke at all, even
during the brief periods when they stopped to attend
to bodily functions and sip a bitter tea like
substance. Occasionally, there would be a groan or shout
from one of the wagons, and a Senite would shoot a blue
beam into the cage to silence the prisoner. Darkness was
falling swiftly, casting eerie shadows from the
spindly peaks, and Renna wondered if they would march
all night.
She tried to console herself with the thought that, even if
she couldn't rescue Kirk and his men, she
might reach another transporter room or
otherwise learn how to circumvent the Senites'
security shield. But where could she go without them? she
wondered. Her whole plan for escape depended upon
that big ship of theirs riding in orbit. No, she
decided, she had to find a way to save them, no
matter what the risk. The only alternatives were
to continue impersonating a Senite, which was doubtful for
any length of time, or to escape into the mountains and
live like an animal, as Kirk had said people were doing.
Both prospects were equally unattractive.
As she watched the Senites marching stoically all
around her, Renna decided they were pathologically
insane. They had extensive transporter
technology, yet they marched all night through
treacherous mountains instead of using the transporter.
At least the sedated prisoners got to ride
to wherever they were going. Even considering the amount of
energy that would be required to move hundreds of people,
such sacrifice bordered on masochism.
Of course, she thought, the Senites reveled in
their sexlessness, conformity, and sacrifice. They even
found a way to impose it upon their guests by separating
the sexes into villages like Khym+ and Dohama.
They professed sympathy for the
fugitives, yet treated them like recalcitrant
children, spying on them and monitoring their actions. They
also raised snakes like Kellen. And what kind of
beings coddled their guests one day, then knocked them out
and threw them into cages the next?
Crazy beings, that's what kind.
Renna was so lost in psychoanalysis and trying not
to trip that she wasn't aware of the searchlight beaming
through the thick fog ahead of them. Finally, she lifted
her head and saw it, and she picked up her painful
feet and walked a little more quickly, as did every Senite
in the meandering line. Finally, they rounded a bend in the
trail, and she saw the source of the light--a gaping
passageway in the base of the highest peak. It
loomed before them like a sheer tower of light, large enough
to pass a hundred wagons, bearing a million
sedated fugitives.
Renna gulped, fearful and relieved at the same
time.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she heard someone
whisper.
She tunied to see her small friend, the one she'd
helped in carrying the hairy giant to the wagon.
"Yes," she whispered in agreement.
"The Reboming is so beautiful," the
small Senite added.
"Yes," Renna agreed, staring ahead at the
column of light. She guessed she would soon find
out what a Reborning was.
The gigantic doorway swallowed the wagons
one by one, and the Senites marched reverently after them.
Renna craned her neck to get a better look at
what appeared to be an immense cavern, but the
golden lights that rimmed the doorway were all but
blinding. She had to close her eyes as she passed
under them, and she felt a queer tingling and warming
sensation. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck
twitched unpleasantly, and she hurried under the
lights as fast as she could without bumping into the Senite
ahead of her. Renna had read enough medical journals
stolen from various ships to guess that the lights were some
sort of sterilizing or antibiotic precaution.
She could well imagine how dirty the marchers were from
their long trek, but why did they need to be sterile?
Renna began to fear that they would be required
to strip and change into clean robes, but that minor fear
was erased as soon as her eyes cleared and she got
a 157 good look at her surroundings. The cavern
was as mammoth as she had imagined from the outside, with a
ceiling that was a dozen stories high.
She could count at least that many levels of tiny
rooms, or cells, lining the walls of the cavern.
On the main floor of the cavern, she saw
hundreds of shining metal beds in row upon uniform
row. But they weren't just beds, she noted-they were
operating tables!
Around each table was a compact cluster of
monitors, life-support equipment, and what
appeared to be laser operating instruments. She
shivered, and the hairs on her neck stood by themselves this
time. Only the most disastrous war could demand this sort
of massive medical facility, assumed Renna.
Before she could give it any more thought, the other
Senites began to unlock the wagons and remove the
comatose prisoners, and she quickly followed their
lead.
Kirk, Spock, and McCoy were in the last
wagon to arrive, and the other wagons were unloaded
first. Renna marveled at the way the Senites, who
must have been as tired as she was after their grueling
hike, pitched in without complaint. A bit more
carefully this time, they hauled the strange collection
of humanoids to the operating tables and strapped each
one down. It was loathsome work, but Renna had
to assist. The straps were of a dark, spongy
material that felt like it had the tensile strength of
steel. Doctors, or at least Senites who were
carrying monitoring devices and whose white robes were
spotless, inspected each unconscious patient in
turn.
"This one's dead," said a furry-voiced
doctor, hovering over a Klingon.
It motioned to the others to take him away, and the
Klingon's bed was quickly cleared for a living
specimen.
Another doctor peered curiously at a
homely alien with red skin and arms that dangled from the
operating table to the floor. The creature barely had
any neck.
"Not humanoid enough," pronounced the doctor.
"Durup him somewhere out in the mountains."
Hmm, thought Renna, there were times when it paid not
to be too humanoid.
This scenario was repeated several times, as dead
bodies were discovered among the living and several of the
stranger races were reprieved. Renna kept her
eye on Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, because it was
obvious that the operating tables were going to be filled
before their wagon was unloaded.
She longed to ask someone what all the
preparation was about, but she didn't dare. were they going
to be revived, then imprisoned? If so, what was the
point of the operating tables?
Finally, Kirk's wagon was unloaded, and he and
his men were carried to turbolifts and taken to the cells
that overlooked the immense operating arena. Renna was
about to follow them up when a voice sounded on a
loudspeaker. It echoed throughout the vast cavern
"We thank you all for your participation in the
Reborning," intoned the voice.
"This is a glorious day for those assembled here.
Each of you was reborn in the same hallowed manner
that has been employed by our order for centuries.
We regret that you have no memory of this unique
experience, and so we will take a few moments
to review the Six Holy Steps of Reborning
"First, the ritual washing and shaving of the
initiates. Second, the brain operation, in which
harmful past memories are erased. Third, the
sexual organs are removed forever. Fourth,
hormone treatments to remove any residual
trace of gender. Fifth, electrolysis and
cosmetic surgery are used to ensure a uniformly
pleasing appearance. Sixth, recovery and training.
In approximately seventy days, the
initiates will return to our community as loyal
members of the order, devoted to the mission of
Sanctuary."
There was a murmur of appreciation, and the speaker
continued, "We realize how weary you must be, and you
are not required to perform any further services. But
if you wish to take part in the ritual washing and
shaving, please report to level three for clean
robes. The rest of you are relieved of duty and
may report to the transporter room on level
two.
Praise be to the holy order of Senites."
"Praise be," echoed dozens of lilting
voices.
Renna felt herself reeling, as if she was about
to faint, and it took a major effort of will to stay on
her feet. Her friend caught her by the elbow and smiled
beatifically at her.
"You are weary," said the Senite.
"I am staying for the ritual, but I will escort you
to the transporter."
Renna shook her head and composed herself.
"I am staying, too," she answered in a firm
voice.
"It is my duty."
The small Senite nodded appreciatively and
joined an exodus of fellow Senites to the
turbolift. Renna followed them, wishing she could
take a torch to this whole lousy planet. Maybe
she couldn't do that, but she would do everything in her power
to see that Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and
Mr. Spock were spared from being lobotomized and
castrated.
ScoTty PERSONALLY operated the transporter
controls that brought Captain Donald Mora
aboard the Enterprise. He was a trim man with
energy that belied his eighty-some years, although his face
looked every minute of it, thanks to a good portion of a
life spent working outdoors and underwater.
"Hello, Commander Scott." He beamed,
stepping down from the transporter platform and shaking
Scotty's hand.
He managed a smile.
"Good to see you, Captain Mora. I trust ye
had no difficulty with the other ships in orbit?"
"My, no," he answered.
"In fact, they're a friendly lot. As I was
coming out of warp, an Orion contacted me to see if
I wanted to trade any criminals for slave
girls."
"Aye," replied Scotty, "salt o' the
earth. Ye missed meeting the Klingon who was in
orbit. He was finally
recalled after his superiors decided that
Sanctuary was the most effective prison in the
galaxy."
Mora nodded glumly.
"From your reports, I gather they are not far from
wrong. May I speak frankly, Mr.
Scott?"
Scotty motioned around the empty transporter
room.
"We are alone here."
"Very well," began Captain Mora.
"You are no doubt aware that we have been sent here
to replace you. The Enierprise, I mean."
"Aye. It was not likely we'd be left here
indefinitely."
"But you'd like to stay indefinitely?" asked
Mora.
"Indefinitely, no," answered Scotty, "just
until we rescue the captain, Mr. Spock, and
Dr. McCoy."
"But there's the problem. You see, you have no real
plan to rescue them, and Starfleet knows
that."
"May I speak frankly, too?"
The captain nodded.
"Please do. This is a private conversation."
Scotty paced as he spoke.
"Starfleet doesna know those three men as I know
them. Although there is little we can do at the moment, I
feel-somehow they will be able to make an escape
attempt. I don't know how. I don't know when.
But I know we must be ready to help them when that time
comes."
"Spoken as a loyal friend," Captain Mora
said sympathetically.
"But without a concrete plan, Starfleet will not
let the Enterprise be tied up here. If I could just
report to them the slightest bit of progress, the
beginning of a plan .. ."
Scotty grinned slyly.
"Ludeed, Captain, I have the beginning of a
plan.
I think we ought to invade the planet."
"Invade the planet?" Captain Mora
frowned.
"I thought you said it was dangerous to go down there."
"Not necessarily dangerous," replied
Scotty, "simply one-way. I'm sure you or
I could beam down there safely this very moment.
Inorganic matter by itself is destroyed-we've already
seen that with the numerous probes we've tried to send
down. But organic creatures are accepted without
reservation. If we could assemble the correct
invasion force, one that could intimidate the Senites
without firing a shot, they might be forced to negotiate
with us."
Now it was Donald Mora's turn to smile.
"You're a very devious man, Commander Scott."
"I am," he replied grimly, "when the lives
of my shipmates are at stake."
Quite on purpose, Renna stood at the end of a
long line, waiting to receive a fresh robe. From the
third floor of the mammoth cave , she looked down
upon the hundreds of creatures strapped to gleaming
metal tables and tried to imagine the horror of what
was about to happen. To be stripped of one's identity and
memories-and sex-it was too much to fathom. Maybe
most of them weren't the best specimens of whatever
stock they came from, but they didn't deserve to end
up as Senites.
Her mind somersaulted over every possibility and
escape route. Each of the dozen or so
levels that ringed the operating arena seemed to consist of a
catwalk and a combination of cells, offices,
recovery rooms, and the like. On level three, she
had passed a small theater and had seen a group of
Senites sitting there, as if waiting for a show to begin.
She well imagined there were many observers and
specialists who wouldn't be called on until
later in the process. The Reboming, as loathsome as
it was, was a major medical achievement; it was
mass-production surgery on perhaps a thousand
patients at once.
The specialists, doctors, whatever they were,
all appeared to be older Senites, as if it took
many Rebornings to learn the job fully. They
prowled every level of the cave, inspecting patients in
the private cells above and on the production
floor below. After the drudge work of shaving and
cleaning, thought Renna, the brain surgeons would go
next. If she didn't rescue Kirk and his men
by then, it would be too late. But how could she escape
having to clean and shave the unfortunates below? The
only answer was to kick herself up a notch and become
one of the doctors.
Renna's surreptitious inspection ended when she
found herself at the front of the line, eyeing a
bulky Senite behind a counter. What had it been in
its previous life, she couldn't help but wonder,
an Elysian or a Saurian? Now it was a
Senite in charge of robe distribution in the Cave
of the Reborning.
"May I have two robes?" she found herself
asking. She quickly added, "My friend is sleeping, and
I will take one to X."
The round-faced Senite studied her closely with a
rather stupid gaze, and Renna fought the temptation
to squirm under her hood. Finally, it scolded,
"Sleeping is prohibited. Your friend should come itself"
"It is weary," added Renna, "but it does not wish
to miss the ritual."
"If it wishes to sleep, send it home,"
replied the Senite.
"What sizes?"
"Small for me," answered Renna, "and large for
my friend."
Renna grabbed the robes, trying to suppress a
sense of triumph-she now had three robes, counting
the dirty one she wore. That was one robe short, but
a plan was percolating in her mind. From close up,
none of her three comrades would pass muster as a
Senite, but they might from a distance. First,
she had to confront the hurdle of changing into her clean
garment, and she peered along the catwalk to see where the
other Senites were disrobing. To Renna's relief,
they were as modest as sexed beings-one by one, they entered
the tiny cells that stretched along the Curved
corridor, drawing the curtains behind them.
Most of the cells she passed were occupied, which
stood to reason considering that she had been among the
last in line. Finally, a curtain parted in front of
her, and she waited for its occupant to emerge. She
and the gangly Senite smiled benignly at one
another before she ducked inside and closed the white
curtain behind her. It was a small but presentable
hospital room for a single patient, with gleaming
equipment that looked capable of sustaining life forever.
There was a fountain in which to wash her face and hands, and
she proceeded to do so. And then her eyes lit upon
something else-another robe wadded up in the corner.
Renna removed her own soiled garment, much
relieved that she could do so in privacy, and finished
cleaning up. She rearranged her clothing, wondering
grimly if the Senites ever practiced their
conversions on women. She didn't see why they
couldn't, but there were apparently so few women on the
planet-most of them congregated in one
place-that she didn't imagine they would be considered
plentiful enough. She gulped when she remembered that
the Senites thought they were doing the initiates a
tremendous favor.
After tidying herself, Renna was stuck with the problem of
hiding three large robes under her small one. She
stole the sheets from the bed, wrapped them around the
robes, and tied the bundle to her stomach.
It made her into a rather portly Senite, but not
all the Senites were slim, especially the older
ones, likely a side effect of the loss or
testosterone. Renna peered into the mirror and shaped
her paunch for several moments before noticing that her
face still looked too young. She needed makeup and
some kind of instrument to carry that would make her look
like a member of the medical team.
As quietly as possible, Renna began to root
through the drawers and equipment in the little room.
She found some brownish powder that she combined with tier
own saliva to create makeup. Luckily, she was
getting more worry lines by the moment, and she applied
the dark substance to the burgeoning lines in her face
and turned them into age lines, she hoped. Renna
knew she would have to be careful to avoid letting
anybody gaze into her face for more than a
second or two. By this time, the voice and
mannerisms were the easy part.
No hand-held instruments were lying around, and she
rifled through the drawers in a desperate search.
Finally, she took a deep breath, stood, and gazed
calmly around the cramped room. She would have to make
an instrument, she decided-and then her eyes alighted
on the silver handles of the water fountain. The
faucet handles had the same sort of
unsymmetrical kidney shape as the Senites'
hand weapons. If they were waved around real fast,
thought Renna, they might look like medical
instruments.
She grabbed the closest handle, discovered which way
it was supposed to turn, and twisted it the opposite
way. Brute strength enabled the young woman to loosen
the handle, as water started spouting into the air like a
plumber's nightmare. Renna thanked the stars that she
hadn't put on her clean robe yet as she spun
the handle and fought the spraying water. One handle would
be all she could get, and it would have to do.
Freeing the handle, she looked around for something
to stuff into the geyser, then decided the raging leak
might make a nice diversion. Renna adjusted her
paunch and her makeup one more time, then
slipped into a robe that fit tightly but still covered
her fake stomach. Taking a deep breath, she
plunged into the corridor and joined a steady exodus
of Senites toward the turbolift.
As she walked, she stole a peek over the
railing to see what was happening below. Several
Senites were rapidly stripping the fugitives of
their filthy clothing, while a handful had begun to bathe
and shave them in a ritualistic fashion that started
at their toes and worked its way up. She couldn't
worry about those poor creatures now, Renna
decided, and she tried to put them out of her mind.
The ersatz Senite hid her ersatz instrument in
the sleeve of her robe and wondered how long it would
take before somebody noticed a flood of water
spewing onto the catwalk. She didn't have long
to wait; shouts sounded almost immediately, and several
Senites ahead of her stopped and turned.
Renna, however, bolted through the packed crowd and
entered the first empty turbolift she could find.
Unfortunately, a younger Senite stepped in after
her.
"Level six!" she blurted to the computer.
Renna looked up and found the younger Senite, who
was quite handsome for an androgynous being, staring at
her. It quickly looked away and muttered, "Level
one."
"Is this the first Reborning you have seen?" she asked
in a fatherly way.
"Yes," admitted the Senite, looking
embarrassed.
"Is it so obvious?"
"Tell me," whispered Renna in her huskiest
voice, "do you ever have dreams of a previous life?"
"Yes," breathed the young Senite.
"What does that mean?"
"It means they didn't get everything," Renna
replied as the door snapped open. She stepped out
on level six, and the door closed behind her on the
stunned expression of the young Senite. For the first time
since reaching this horrid place, Renna had a chance
to catch a normal breath. Level six was
exactly what she wanted-a place where not much was
going on. She strode along a catwalk that was about
halfway up the beehive shape of the great cavern,
and she could see considerably more activity on another
t1oor higher up, The strange complex was not even
close to its maximum capacity, and she didn't
want to think about what that meant.
She continued down the empty corridor,
which was lined with darkened rooms. From a level above
came an inhuman howl, and it froze her in mid
breath The wretched creature yelped again but stopped
abruptly, and she heard voices for a moment. All
this action occurred about two floors above her,
Renna estimated, and she wondered if that was where they
had taken the other prisoners. She turned around and
made her way back toward the turbolift.
On level eight, Renna was forced to keep her
head down, because Senites were all around, dashing between
various cells and sedating prisoners as they
awoke. The initiates were strapped down in their
beds, not as tightly as those on the operating floor,
but not free to move. One would start groaning or
tossing, and a medic would rush to sedate him. They
used hypos exclusively, and Renna assumed it
was because a number of stun blasts in a short period
of time would probably prove dangerous, if not
fatal. She gripped her faucet handle as if it
was a hypo and started rushing from cell to cell, staying
only long enough to see who was in each one.
Her determined checking of each patient in every
cell was only slightly more frantic than wh at
most of the other Senites were doing, and it finally paid
off. In one cell, she spied the
taciturn face of the Vulcan-his complexion more
sallow than usual and his eyes closed serenely.
Damn it, thought Renna, if only she 168 had a
real instrument that could revive him. She bent over his
inert form to make sure he was still alive.
With heart throbbing quickness, his hand shot up and
gripped her around her neck. She couldn't even
struggle, because his grip was immobilizing.
"Spock," she croaked, "it's me-Renna!"
His hand loosened and fell limply to his side.
His eyes were still closed serenely, but he spoke as
Renna leaned over him.
"I am sorry I did not recognize you, but
feared you were a Senite. I have lain awake for some
time. I am very relieved to see you under these
circumstances."
"You don't know how relieved you should be," she
whispered, pretending to examine him. Other medics
continued to pass by outside the cell, and there were no
curtains to shut. These were holding tanks.
"Where are we?"
"It's a Senite factory," she murmured.
"They're lobotornizing and castrating people from that
village in order to turn them into Senites."
"A somewhat radical method of
reproduction," answered Spock.
"Do you have an escape plan?"
"First," said Renna, "we've got to get you
into one of these robes I brought." She lifted her
robe, removed a wad of fabric from the bundle,
and laid it on the Vulcan's chest.
"I think that's the clean one."
"Go to the door," said Spock, "and distract their
attention from the cell.
I will be out in a moment."
Renna nodded and slipped outside onto the
catwalk. A Senite was walking toward her,
alertly peering into each cell it passed. Renna
walked toward the specialist and pointed downward.
"What has happened?" she asked urgently,
peering across the great chasm at cells and rooms on
the other side, farther down. Because of the curvature
of the cavern walls, she was able to find the minor
commotion caused by the geyser she had set loose in the
169 changing room. She pointed it out to the
approaching Senite.
"There, do you see?"
Another Senite approached from behind them and paused
to see what the fuss was about. Had this Senite turned
to look behind it, it would have seen Spock
slipping the robe over his Senite-issue shirt and
pants. The Vulcan pulled the hood over his
distinctive ears and stepped into the corridor to join the
onlookers.
He caught Renna's eye, and she rocked back
on her heels in relief.
"It's under control," she announced, before
scurrying down the corridor. A tall, thin
Senite followed her, while the others were still trying
to figure out what was going on.
Renna and Spock couldn't stop to search the
adjoining cells, as they would have liked-they had to put
some distance between themselves and the crowd Renna had
attracted.
"The captain?" Spock asked.
"And Dr. McCoy?"
"They must be in some of these cells," she whispered.
"None of you were taken down there, thank your
gods."
"We shall need some way to revive them," said
Spock, "because they don't have my metabolism."
He spotted another Senite making the rounds a
few meters ahead of them, and tapped Renna's
shoulder.
She nodded, and they slowed to allow the
Senite to walk ahead of them, until it entered one
of the cells. Then they sped up.
"Praise be to the holy order," intoned Renna
as she and Spock entered the tiny chamber.
The Senite blinked at her with surprise, which
gave Spock ample time to reach out and grip its
neck. The Senite dropped into a well of
unconsciousness. Renna caught the falling figure
and helped Spock lay it on the bed, next to an
unconscious fugitive with scaly, checkered skin.
"That nerve pinch thing is a handy talent,"
re170 marked Renna as she aided Spock in
searching the body.
"Can you teach it to me?"
"No," the Vulcan answered. He took a
small medikit from the billows of the Senite's
sleeve and opened the silver case. There was a single
hypo and perhaps twenty colored vials for it, most of
them blue and a handful red.
Several of the blue ones had evidently been
used.
"I surmise," said Spock, "that the blue
vials are a sedative and the red ones, of which there are
fewer, are a couateractive stimulant. Let us
hope that these hypo sprays are not encoded
to the Senites like their weapons. I suspect the
reason we cannot operate their weapons is that the
Senites may have implants and transmitters
inserted into their bodies during the surgery."
"If you say so." Renna shivered.
"There are a lot worse parts to the surgery than
that."
The scaly fugitive on the bed began to twitch
slightly, and Spock quickly loaded a red vial
into the hypo and delivered it into the alien's arm. The
Vulcan motioned Renna to step back, while he
loosened the fugitive's bonds and took a
position behind the bed. Groggily, the scaly being
came to his senses and sat up. He looked first
at the unconscious Senite beside him, then gazed at
Renna; it didn't take long before he growled
angrily and lurched toward the woman. Luckily,
Spock was behind him and applied the nerve pinch with such
strength and precision that the fugitive toppled back
into unconsciousness.
"Whew!" breathed Renna as she helped Spock
return him to the bed.
"At least we know it revives them."
"Yes," said Spock, "we can revive the
captain and the doctor when we find them, but
how do we escape?"
"There are transporters," offered Renna, "but
we may be faced with the same problem we had before not enough
time to learn how to control them."
"I feel confident I can disable the
transporters," answered the Vulcan.
"Then we could escape by other means without being
followed."
"The door is wide open," said Renna,
indicating the blaze of golden lights around the
entrance to the vast cavern.
"Very well," said Spock, loading another red
vial into the Senite hypo.
"Let us search the cells closest to where you found
me."
Activity was still intense on the catwalk of
level eight, with numerous Senite doctors rushing
to and fro, keeping the waiting fugitives sedated.
A strange sort of chanting issued from below, as the
young Senites ritualistically bathed and shaved the
comatose initiates. Renna tried to ignore what
was happening down there as she followed Spock from
cell to cell.
The Vulcan had adopted a stooped posture and
slow manner of walking that made him look
ancient, but that was preferable to revealing his unshaven
chin. There was too much activity and too many
Senites on urgent missions for them to pay much
attention to the odd pair, and it wasn't long before they
found a cell where a handsome young human lay strapped
to the bed.
"Watch the door," Spock ordered.
Renna did just that as the Vulcan bent over the
sleeping figure and injected him. He left
Kirk's bindings fastened for the moment, even when the
captain began to awaken and strain against them.
"Jim," cautioned Spock, "be still. Renna and
I have come to free you, but we are in grave danger.
This is a place where fugitives are surgically
altered to become Senites. You cannot simply jump
out of bed, do you understand?"
"Yes," muttered thecaptain, ceasing his movements
and closing his eyes once more.
"Where's McCoy?"
"We have not located him yet, but we will return
when we find him. I am loosening the straps, but you
must appear unconscious or you will be sedated again."
"Understood," breathed Kirk.
Another Senite walked by the door and peered
inside, and Spock pretended to reinject
Kirk.
"Is everything under control?" asked the Senite.
"Yes," answered Renna, turning away and
leaning over Kirk, so that all the Senite had
to address were the backs of two white robes.
"Sadly," remarked the Senite, "two
initiates have died, and we have two tables open below.
Is this initiate healthy?"
"No," Renna answered immediately, "he is having
trouble breathing."
"Make him comfortable," replied the Senite
doctor. It turned and addressed someone in the
adjacent cell.
"Take that one below."
When the Senite moved to direct operations in the
other cell, Renna poked her head out and saw-to
her shock-two white-robed figures carrying the
unconscious body of Dr. McCoy to the
turbolift. The Senite who was apparently in
charge followed them.
She rushed back to Spock and Kirk.
"It's McCoy!" she gasped.
"They're taking him down to the operating table."
Kirk snapped off his restraints, swung his
legs over the side of the bed, and leaped
to his feet.
"Let's get him."
Renna yanked the pair of dirty robes from around
her waist and tossed one to Kirk.
"At least put this on," she insisted.
He complied, quickly pulling the robe over his
clothes and covering his head with the hood. Then he 173
stepped into the corridor and followed the retreating
Senites with their limp cargo. By moving swiftly,
the trio was able to catch up with the three real Senites
just as they carried McCoy into a turbolift. Staring
at the floor, they took up uneasy positions in
the crowded conveyance.
The door shut, and the Senite in charge ordered,
"Level one." He then peered curiously at
Kirk and asked, "Why aren't you wearing a clean
robe?"
Kirk lowered his head farther and tried to ignore the
query, hoping the turbolift would come to a quick stop.
But his inquisitor persisted, "I asked you a question.
Look at me!"
The Senite gripped Kirk's chin and gazed
into his face-wishing immediately it hadn't.
"You-you're not of the order!" it sputtered.
"Guards!"
The captain smashed the Senite in the face with his
fist, sending the being careening into another Senite, who
dropped McCoy to the floor. As the third
Senite lunged for the captain, Spock intercepted
him and slammed him against the wall.
Ren na kicked another in its kneecap, then
delivered an uppercut that sent it tumbling
into Kirk. In the tight quarters of the turbolift,
it was sickening thuds, elbows smashing into mid
sections heads butting heads, and a wild
free-for-all that rocked the turbolift on its
descent. A Senite tried to draw a weapon, and
Spock wrestled it from its hand and applied a nerve
pinch. Soon the floor was littered with white-robed
bodies, and Kirk and Spock bent to extricate
the unconscious McCoy from the pile.
"Correction!" Renna gasped to the turbolift
computer.
"Level six!"
The turbolift, which was already shaking from the
turbulent battle, reversed itself with a groan and
ascended to level six. Fortunately, that level was
still 174 quiet, and Kirk, Spock, and Renna were
able to carry the four unconscious figures off the
lift before it was summoned elsewhere. Renna
located a darkened classroom, and they dragged the
Senites and McCoy inside. While Renna
stripped a robe off one of the Senites for
McCoy, Spock deftly operated the
hypospray. First he injected a red vial of
stimulant into McCoy, then blue vials of
sedative into the three Senites.
"Bones," said Kirk, leaning over his friend.
"Bones, can you bear me?"
The doctor was gradually coming to.
"Oh, my head," he moaned, struggling to sit
up.
"What's going on? Where the hell are we?"
Kirk grinned.
"We just saved you from becoming a Senite."
"Good," moaned McCoy, "I don't look
good in white."
"We have inadvertently learned how the Senites
perpetuate their species," said Spock.
"By castrating and lobotomizing a large number of
fugitives."
"Ugh!" gulped McCoy.
"You're not out of here yet," warned Renna, handing
McCoy the robe she'd just pilfered.
"You might all still become eunuchs if
we don't figure out how to escape. They're not
likely to let anyone go from this place
voluntarily, to spread the word."
"My suggestion," said Spock, "is that we disable
their transporters, so they cannot immediately come after us, as
they did last time."
"Where are the transporters?" asked Kirk.
"Are they at all secluded?"
"They're on level two," answered Renna,
"and behind curtains. But Senites are coming and going
constantly. Spock would get only a few
seconds, and he might need a diversion for that. The
only entrance 175 to this place I know of is not
guarded, but it's in plain sight."
Kirk opened his mouth to say something, but a scream
erupted over their heads and a muffled explosion
sounded. They rushed out of the classroom to peer over the
railing, along with hundreds of other white-robed
figures on other levels, and saw a fugitive
wildly thrashing a Senite two floors over their
heads. Several Senites on the main floor were
aiming weapons, but they were reluctant to shoot for
fear of hitting their fellow Senite. Plus, an
errant shot had apparently caused a small
explosion in a room behind the escapee.
Spock could make out checkered skin on the rampaging
fugitive.
"That's the first one we injected," he told
Renna.
"Your nerve pinch didn't last too long," she
answered.
"Must've been the stimulant."
The Senite's howls increased as the fugitive
picked him up over his head and tossed him over the
rail and eight stories down onto a row of
monitors that clattered with a racket that echoed throughout
the cavern.
Senites started to converge on the renegade with
hypos, but he pummeled them one by one in the narrow
corridor and sent two more hurtling to their deaths. A
trigger-happy Senite on the bottom cut loose
with a brilliant blue laser beam, which crumpled a
piece of the catwalk and turned it into molten metal
but missed the maniac entirely.
"This is our chance," said Kirk.
"Renna, lead us to the transporter."
She nodded, knowing there was no point arguing over who
was giving the orders. They were a team, and it was time
to act like one. They moved swiftly toward the
turbolift and waited only seconds for
one to appear, as most of the Senites were preoccupied
with the ungrateful initiate on the eighth floor.
Renna gave 176 the destination as level two, and
everyone adjusted their hoods as they made the swift
descent.
Renna emerged first from the turbolift followed
by three extremely hunched Senites, who walked
a bit too much like aged monks for her taste.
Luckily, every Senite in the crowded corridor
was standing at the railing, craning its neck to view the
drama on deck eight.
"Look! There's another one!" yelled a
Senite, pointing upward.
Kirk paused briefly to look and saw a
hirsute humanoid crash into the railing with a
Senite under each arm. He dangled one of them over
the edge, screaming, and the other he gripped in a choke
hold and held in front of him as a shield. The
Senites on the production floor twitched their
weapons nervously but did not shoot.
"Don't fire at me!" he bellowed.
"You dirty blighters! I'll kill them!
I swear I will!"
"That's Billiwog!" whispered a startled
McCoy, gripping Kirk's arm.
"More of them are starting to wake up, and the Senites
aren't paying attention."
Reminded about paying attention, the captain looked
around but couldn't locate Renna and Spock.
Finally, he saw a slim Senite waving to him from a
bank of red curtains at the rear of the anteroom.
She disappeared as soon as she got his attention. The
captain tapped the doctor's arm, hunched his
shoulders, and strode toward the spot. McCoy
trailed behind, but they could still hear Billiwog
ranting "Free them! Free them! You dirty
blighters!"
They slipped behind the thick curtains and found a
second cavern with an immense array of
transporter pads spread across the floor and
giant crystal coils hanging from the ceiling. Lining
the walls was a bewildering collection of instruments and
replicators. 177 Spock stood working at one
of the many consoles, and Renna was bent over an
unconscious Senite, rifling through the folds of its
robe.
She held up a medikit and remarked to Kirk,
"This is all the creeps ever carry."
The captain managed a tight smile but didn't
stay to chat. He still felt confused and
disoriented by coming to in this elaborate cave, strapped
to a bed, surrounded by creatures who wanted to alter
his mind and body.
But there wasn't time to analyze the situation, or
to decide whether the Senites were more deserving of
hatred or pity. After all, each of them had been a
victim strapped to the same metal table. All he
knew was that escape from Sanctuary was more urgent
than ever.
He strode to Spock's side.
"How is it going?"
"As well as can be expected," answered the
Vulcan.
"I will need more time to operate the scanners, but I
have located the emergency override that shuts down
power to the transporter. There will be a lengthy delay
before they can use it again."
"What about finding the Enterprise?"
"Given enough time-was And just then, time got shorter, as
a squad of armed Senites began to materialize
on the transporter platform. As the half dozen
Senites solidified on the platform, one took
aim at Kirk and looked like it was about to squeeze
off a laser shot, but Spock's slim fingers danced
on the controls. Instantly, the Senites
began to de materialize once again. Their confused
images wavered in and out for a few seconds, then
finally vanished.
"Where did you send them?" asked Kirk.
"Back to wherever they came from," replied the
Vulcan.
"I believe now would be a good time to disable the
transporter."
"Do it," said Kirk.
A pulsating siren suddenly pierced the
relative quiet of the transporter room, and there
were renewed shouts outside. Renna glanced at
McCoy, and the two of them dragged the unconscious
Senite out of sight. A second later, the glowing
energy coils went dark, the machines blinked off,
and the transporter room was immersed in darkness.
THE SCREAMING SireNS from the main cavern
and the cool darkness of the transporter room seemed
at odds, but they combined to give Kirk, Spock,
McCoy, and Renna enough time to duck behind equipment and
squirm into corners . By the time a Senite pulled
open the curtain, sending a streak of light lunging
across the floor, the transporter room looked to be
useless and deserted.
Another Senite appeared in the
doorway, making two silhouettes.
"Who shut this down?" it shouted over the siren.
"Must have been the overseer," answered the first.
"At least none of them can escape this way. We
don't need a guard here, but let's get some
guards to the main door."
The curtain shut, and the streak of light retreated
across the floor.
Still huddling in the darkness, Kirk called out,
"Renna! How else can we get out of here?"
"The main door is all I know about," she
answered.
"But I was thinking-there are the wagons that brought you
here. They're parked just inside the door."
"Captain," Spock interjected, "some Senite
equipment we can operate, and some we cannot, such as their
weapons. I believe the Senites implant
transmitters during their surgery, and this enables them
to encode certain equipment against unauthorized
use."
"So the trucks may or may not work," concluded
the captain.
"Has anyone else got a better idea?"
There was no response. Kirk stood and pulled
his hood around his face.
"Lead the way, Renna."
The four fugitives stepped through the red curtains
into sheer bedlam.
Senites were running in every direction, most of them
fumbling with weapons. There were screams and piercing
sirens, and a full scale uprising was in progress
on level eight as more fugitives regained
consciousness.
Several unfortunates strapped onto tables on
the operating floor were also howling in confusion,
especially whenever a Senite was tossed over the
railing to come crashing down amongst them.
Renna. led her small party to the turbolifts,
but there were already dozens of Senites waiting to board,
even pushing and shoving against those who were trying to get
off. She turned to the hooded figure of Kirk.
"We're only on the second floor," she
explained.
"We can jump."
"We'll follow you," said the captain
decisively.
They bolted through the chaos, away from the
turbolifts, past the transporter room, and around
the curvature of the catwalk, making their way
steadily toward the aurora of golden
lights at the exit. Kirk could see where the
natural archway opened on the floor beneath them, and the
idea that they were so close to freedom made him run
all the harder. But Renna was slowing down, taking time
to peer over the railing at the anarchy below.
She stopped Kirk and pointed down.
"There it is-one of the trucks."
He followed her eyes to a contraption parked
directly beneath them. The thing looked like a flatbed
railroad car full of coffin-sized cages. It
didn't look like much of a drop, but Kirk couldn't
tell how sturdy the wooden slats were that covered the
top of the crude vehicle. He could see Senites
taking up positions around it, and he knew there
wasn't time for drawn-out thought processes. The
sirens blared urgently, and a major brawl was
taking place outside the turbolifts on level
eight. The armed Senites didn't know who to shoot.
He gathered Spock and McCoy around them.
"We're jumping down onto that wagon below us and
driving it out the door. Spock, you and Renna find
the controls-she's seen this thing operating. We're
liable to attract some attention, and McCoy and I
will keep them at bay. Ready?"
"Lead on," declared Renna, grinning.
Kirk gripped the railing and swung himself over,
landing with a loud crash on top of the wagon. One of the
Senites looked up, and Kirk rolled out of
sight. Several shouts distracted the Senite guard,
and Renna and Spock leaped upon the roof and rolled in
the same direction as Kirk. The Senite started
to climb up the wagon to investigate at the same
moment that McCoy got enough courage to leap.
"What are you doing?" it shouted at the startled
doctor as he landed.
Spock and Kirk reached over the side of the
wagon, grabbed the Senite under its arms, and hauled
it to the roof. Kirk covered its mouth while Spock
delivered a 182 nerve pinch that silenced its
struggles. They looked around, expecting an
onslaught of Senites, but each of the white-robed
guards had its attention directed to noisier
scenes. Had they glanced at the truck, they might
have seen what looked like two Senites pulling a
third one aboard.
Crouching low on the rickety slats, Kirk
nodded to Spock and Renna, and they crawled toward the
robotic cab, where the directional equipment was
housed. As they got closer, they saw they weren't the
only ones with that idea Two Senites were
climbing from the other direction.
Renna kept her head down and moved faster, and
she swung into the narrow cab before Spock got there.
She began to study the instruments, having used plenty
of equipment without the benefit of a manual. She
heard angry voices, and the Vulcan swung down
beside her, leaving the two Senites to Kirk and
McCoy, who were converging quickly. She and Spock
eyed different sections of the machinery as a thumping
fistfight commenced over their heads. She hoped
Kirk and McCoy were winning, because if they weren't,
it was too bad-she and Spock were pulling out of here.
Renna flipped a switch, the vehicle shuddered,
and instruments lit up inside the cabin. Spock
nodded approvingly.
"We have power. I can see no steering mechanism,
so I presume the vehicle has photoelectric
sensors and an automatic guidance system. But which
control is forward?"
"Take a guess," offered Renna, "like I
did."
They heard a scream overhead that continued down the
side of the truck, and they knew somebody had fallen
off. A laser blast jarred the roof over their heads,
shearing off several centimeters of wood and
metal, and there wasn't time for more than a guess.
183 Spock waved his hand over a prominent
sensor panel, and the vehicle lurched backward,
knocking both of them off their feet. The Vulcan
tried to brace himself, while helping Renna get her
footing.
Above, Kirk and McCoy had no sooner
ducked from the laser blast than they were surprised by the
sudden movement. They ignored the remaining Senite
to grab anything they could to keep from falling. McCoy
slipped off the roof of the wagon and clung
precariously to the iron grating of one of the cages,
while Kirk smashed his fist through the wooden slats
in an attempt to grab the metal frame underneath.
The Senite floundered for a few seconds, then got
his arms around a post that separated two sections of
cages. He might have hung on all day had
Kirk not belted him in the face with the heel of his
boot. The Senite flopped off the vehicle as it
thundered toward the cave wall, and McCoy closed his
eyes and cringed, anticipating the crash. But the
wagon sensed the impending obstruction, reversed
course, and rumbled toward the glowing lights of the
entrance.
They were the center of attention now, and both
the anxious Senites and the crazed fugitives
converged upon them. From nowhere, a hairy figure
swung from the tattered remains of a curtain,
swooped to a spread-eagle position over their
heads, and dropped with a banshee yell. The roof
didn't begin to hold him, and he ended up trapped
in the mangled wreckage of several cages,
bellowing like a moose.
There was nothing, in fact, that Kirk and McCoy
could do to prevent picking up passengers as the giant
body cart rumbled toward the gleaming lights of the
exit. They had all they could handle just to hang on,
and it didn't help that Senite laser blasts were
tearing holes in the vehicle, reducing it to a
twisted skeleton. Kirk's skin felt oddly
warm and prickly as the 184 golden lights washed
over him, and that was followed by the cool sensation of
night air, a welcome taste of freedom from a very
unpleasant place.
The bumpy ride and sudden darkness were disorienting,
and Kirk wasn't sure what to do next, except
hang on. The jarring reminded him of hay rides
he had taken as a kid, when somebody had kicked the
tractor into high gear.
"Help! You filthy blighters! I'll
kill you! Help me!" yelled their loudest
passenger.
"Quiet, Billiwog!" ordered Kirk.
"We can't free you now. We're all along for the
ride. Everyone-don't make any false moves.
McCoy, are you all right?"
"I can't move!" yelled the doctor.
"I'm barely hanging on!"
"I'll try to locate you all," promised
Kirk. Before he could move, he was startled by a hand
that alighted firmly on his shoulder. It was Spock.
"Good timing," breathed Kirk.
"Can you see how many people we're carrying?"
Despite the jarring ride, the Vulcan used his
uncommon sense of balance to get on his hands and
knees and crawl along the twisted spine of the
wagon. Kirk heard him assuring their unseen
passengers that he wasn't a Senite and that they would
be stopping soon.
"We damn well better!" growled a voice that
could only be Billiwog's.
Kirk peered into the hazy darkness off the rear of the
wagon and could make out nothing but the faintest glow of
golden lights. Within a few seconds, even that
weak glimmer was gone, leaving the captain with
no sign as to their direction or whereabouts. Spock was
creeping back over the top of the wagon.
"There are seven in total," he reported.
"The four of us, Billiwog, and two other
fugitives. Nobody seems to be following us from
the Senite complex."
"They're probably running for the
transporters," said Kirk with satisfaction.
"I still can't believe what was going or, in that
place."
"What was going on," said Spock, "was
procreation without sex. Very illogical."
"I'm glad you think so." The truck bounced on
a deep furrow and sent Kirk's jaw pounding against
the roof.
"Ouch!" he cried.
"Are we going to let this thing run rampant all
night?"
"We can stop it to rearrange our seating," said
Spock.
"However, since we cannot survey the terrain in
darkness, I suggest we continue to put distance between
ourselves and the Senites."
"Just stop it for a moment," Kirk ordered.
The Vulcan maneuvered deftly along
the blackened roof and disappeared down a narrow hatch.
A few moments later, the conveyance lurched and
shuddered to a stop. With McCoy leading the way, the
bedraggled passengers let go of their hazardous
perches and dropped to the ground. Kirk stopped
to grab a hairy wrist and help Billiwog
extricate himself from the mangled cages before he
leaped to the ground. When he did, he found
McCoy, a blue skinned Andorian, and a
snout-nosed Tellarite, all rubbing aching arms and
shoulders. Renna and Spock remained in the tiny
cab, evidently studying the controls.
"What an escape!" exclaimed the
Tellarite, shaking his fist triumphantly.
"We owe you our lives."
"Yes," said the tall Andorian, bowing regally.
"How can we repay you?"
"Well," said McCoy, "we've been looking
for our shuttlecraft .. ."
The Andorian cocked his antennae thoughtfully.
"I believe I may be able to help you."
"Really?" Kirk turned sharply toward the
alien. "What do you mean?" "There is a place
comnorth of here, I would figure called the
Graveyard of Lost Ships. It's where the
Senites store all the spaceships and other
debris they don't need."
"I think I've heard of it," mused
Billiwog.
"Have you really been there?"
"I lived there for two years," answered the
Andorian.
"I'm not much of a tinkerer, not like most of those people, but
I shall be glad to go back there. Believe me, I will
never go in search of a free meal again."
"Do they ever manage to get any vessels
flying?" asked Kirk.
Perhaps it was th e darkness, but the Andorian's face
did not look encouraging.
"Sometimes," he muttered.
"Look, I will be happy to take you there,
considering we can ride most of the way on this strange
craft.
What we should do is set our course due north
and look for a river I know."
"All right," said Kirk, climbing back up the
side of the wagon, "we'll trust you to lead us there.
We can't stay here very long, so don't anybody
wander off. And keep a lookout to the rear-the
Senites might still come after us."
"The Graveyard of Lost Ships," muttered
McCoy to no one in particular.
Scotty stood on the main deck of the
Neptune, staring into a two-hundred-liter fish
tank. The greenish water was teeming with a million
tiny yellow larvae, each about three centimeters
long. They twisted and curled over each other like
worms in hot ash, both repelling and mesmerizing the
visiting engineer. All of the other tanks were empty,
awaiting the hoped-for wealth of aquatic life-forms
from the seas of Sanctuary, life-forms that Scotty
doubted were ever going to arrive. His doubts were verified
a few moments later when a dour Captain Mora
joined him in the aquarium section.
"Well," he said glumly, "I tried again
to contact the Senites. I've tried on every channel
with a request that was entirely scientific and
nonthreatening. No response whatsoever. No
acknowledgment of our presence.
What kind of society won't even acknowledge
a scientific vessel that is orbiting its
planet?"
"That's the Senites," remarked Scotty.
"We can orbit all we want, but that's all we
can do."
Mora shook his gray-cropped head.
"I did something else," he said.
"I
contacted Starfleet about our invasion plans."
"Very good." Scotty beamed.
"And who-or what comd we intend to send down there
to get their attention?"
"You were looking at them a second ago,"
answered Captain Mora, staring past him at the
teeming larvae in the green tank.
"What?" The Scotsman followed his gaze.
"Aren't they a tad small to make much of an
impact?"
"They're small now," explained the captain,
"but those tiny larvae will grow into one million
Regulan locusts, each about as long as your index
finger."
He gazed fondly at the mad activity in the
tank.
"We keep a huge supply of them for food.
Small animals can eat the larvae or the eggs, and
larger creatures find the locusts themselves quite tasty."
"A plague of locusts," remarked Scotty with
an approving glint in his eye.
"That seems appropriate for the
Senites." Then he cautioned, "But we can't do
anything that would actually damage their ecology."
"I've thought of that," answered Captain Mora,
"and this batch has already been irradiated comthey're
sterile. If we time it correctly, in a couple
of days we can transport the entire tank down just
as they're about to emerge from the larval state
into adulthood. 188 A few will get eaten by fish
or whatever's down there, but the rest will become a
swarm that is bound to make life miserable for whoever
they encounter." He glanced at Scotty and added,
"That is, if you can guarantee they will pass through the
Senites' shield."
"Aye, they will," answered the engineer.
"Their shield must have some sort of filter that
detects living matter and allows it to pass through.
Our sensors dunna work within their shield, but
we've located a few population centers with our
telescopes. And we'll make damn sure ta
let the Senites know it was us who sent them this little
plague."
Captain Mora smiled.
"The locusts will be gone entirely in a week
to ten days, but I doubt if they'll be forgotten."
Scotty surveyed the writhing
life-forms with new respect.
"Aye, ye're wee buggers," he told them,
"but you have a big job to do. Ye've got to get those
bloody Senites mad enough to give us back our
captain and officers."
"They'll be mad," Donald Mora assured
him.
"Anybody who's ever been attacked by a swarm
of Regulan locusts remembers it."
It was almost noon on Sanctuary before the morning
sun finally climbed over the immense mountain range
that surrounded the narrow canyon. The flying
creatures that swooped from the crevices and the odd
fish that strolled from pond to pond all kept their
distance from the noisy machine that rumbled up the pass.
Seven weary souls clung to the twisted metal
carcass as it rolled deeper into the wilderness.
Captain Kirk was beginning to have his doubts that the
tall Andorian knew what he was talking about. This
land looked wilder than the place where they had first
landed, as if no one had ever set foot here, not even
crazy survivalists. It was depressing to think they
were back where they had started, lost in the rugged
mountains of Sanctuary.
Only now they were worse off, because they were
fleeing for their lives.
Into what? The captain tried not to think too hard
about it.
At least, he thought grumpily as he tried
to fashion a seat amid the mangled bars of one of the
cages, they were making good time. The Andorian had led
them to a river, but that was hardly unusual in a land
where it rained at least part of every day. Following his
instructions, they had found a shallow place that
allowed them to ford the river with little difficulty. But
again, what did that prove? Since then, they had
proceeded due north into a canyon that was growing
progressively narrower and more difficult
to navigate.
The giant conveyance ran on solar power and
apparently stored enough energy during the day to keep it
going all night, but it couldn't keep climbing up a
steep grade full of boulders and rutted streams
forever.
Already, the treads were spinning on the loose
gravel, and Spock had taken over manual steering
because the automatic guidance system had refused
to allow the wagon to go any farther.
Water was no problem, but the captain was getting
hungry, as he assumed everyone was.
To their credit, none of them-Spock, McCoy,
Renna, Billiwog, the chubby Tellarite, the
well-mannered Andorian-had complained about hunger.
But Kirk couldn't see how they could keep up this
pace without stopping to hunt for food. Only fear
of the Senites kept them moving, but the memory of those
gleaming rows of operating tables was a powerful
incentive. The captain finally decided they could go
on for several more hours before getting desperate enough
to stop.
The decision was suddenly made for them. With deadly
accuracy, a fusillade of rocks came crashing
down from the canyon walls, striking the cab where
Spock and Renna were ensconced. The wagon careened
oil' the streambed and up the slope of the arroyo. There
were screams and shouts from almost everyone on board, and
they scrambled across the top of the wagon to keep from being
crushed. Another wave of boulders came thundering
down, and Kirk saw the Tellarite get struck
by one and vanish under the gnashing treads. McCoy
lost his handhold in the mad scramble and tumbled off the
rear of the vehicle.
"Bones!" shouted Kirk. He reached
instinctively for his friend. but he was too late.
"You scummy blighters!" yelled
Billiwog, shaking a fist at the unseen
attackers.
"Show yourselves!" He never stopped shouting as the
vehicle teetered up the embankment.
Kirk saw Renna trying to claw her way out of the
cab, and He crept forward to help her. She
looked at him in sheer terror and barely managed
to duck out of sight before another hall of stones
pummeled the bouncing wagon. Kirk covered his head
and felt the thunderous vibrations all around him.
Abruptly, the truck came to a complete stop,
and its treads spun uselessly on bare rock. Its
momentum gone, the giant vehicle listed like a
sinking ship and began a slow collapse. With a
frightening roar, it flopped onto its side and spewed
a cloud of dust many meters into the air. Kirk
hung on with all his might, but he was still flung from the
vehicle into the dry riverbed. He tucked into a
ball and rolled until he could regain his feet,
then dashed for the safety of the boulders on the other
side of the arroyo.
The captain wanted desperately to help his
comrades, but as long as the rock attack continued,
he was helpless.
WHEN McCoy was tossed off the back
of the runaway wagon, he grazed the canyon wall
and rolled several meters down an incline until
he sprawled face forward in a rain-soaked rut of
mud. He groaned and felt himself lapsing
into unconsciousness. What brought him back to his
senses was a monstrous grinding sound, followed by a
crash that shook the ground and spewed gravel onto his
head. He coughed and spit out dirt, then looked up
to see the giant vehicle lying on its side, like
some kind of fallen prehistoric beast.
When nothing moved after a few seconds, there
came a strange trilling sound from on high, like a
dozen youthful voices shrieking an off-key
la-la-la. The eerie cry, echoing through the canyon,
was frightening enough to make McCoy want to run for
cover. Then he thought better of it, knowing that he was still
within range of their deadly missiles. He waited
and watched, wondering if the assault would continue.
But all he heard was the strange victory sound.
Their attackers were apparently content at the moment
to have stopped the advance of the wagon, so McCoy
rose stiffly to his feet and brushed himself off. It
was then that he saw the body lying in the bladder
plants a few meters away.
Inside the dusty cab, Spock shifted
under Renna's weight. The woman was dazed but not
unconscious, despite the warm trickle of
blood coming from above her left ear. Upon losing
control of the vehicle, Spock had braced himself
inside the cramped cabin, anticipating the
inevitable crash, and he had suffered no ill
effects. He had also managed to catch Renna before
she could be seriously injured.
"Oh," she groaned, "are we still ali ve?"
"Quiet, please," answered the Vulcan. He
was listening to the victory trilling from atop the
bluff, and he wondered what sort of creatures
had attacked them. Knowing what he knew about the
Senites, he could hardly blame anyone for
attacking one of their body carts, and he hoped the
victorious attackers could be reasoned with. As
suddenly as it began, the strange cry stopped.
Spock then heard shuffling outside the vehicle.
"Yo, in there. You all right?" called a gruff
voice. It was Billiwog.
"Relatively speaking, yes," answered
Spock.
"Can you see who attacked us?"
"No," snapped the big humanoid, "but if I
do, I'll wring their necks!"
"Help us out," said Renna, reaching for the big
man's hirsute arms.
Spock moved her gently across his chest and over his
head, until Billiwog could grip her under the arms
and pull her out. Then the Vulcan crawled out after
her.
The hairy humanoid stood admiring the petite
white-robed figure.
"Is this the woman you brought back for me?" he
asked, grinning.
"I am grateful."
"Hardly," spat Renna.
"You should be grateful without me, you'd be on your
way to becoming a Senite. Although it might've taken
them a week to shave you."
Billiwog snarled, "The dirty blighters!"
He craned his neck and surveyed the ridge.
"Speaking of dirty blighters, where are they? Why
don't they finish us or" "Unknown," answered
Spock. He looked down the arroyo to see a
slight figure jogging toward them.
"Dr. McCoy," Spock hailed him.
"Have you seen the captain?"
"No." McCoy scowled.
"But I've seen the Tellarite, and
he's dead. Crushed under the wheels."
McCoy started to examine Renna's head wound,
but she brushed his hand away.
"I'm all right. Where's the captain and the
Andorian?"
They didn't have to look far for Captain Kirk,
who came jogging toward them from the other side of the
wrecked vehicle.
"The Andorian took off at a dead run," he
panted, "and I chased him for a while.... So much for
our guide. Let's get to those rocks on the other
side of the canyon."
As soon as they were well away from the deadly
ridge, they stopped and took stock of their situation.
"The Senites could be after us," Kirk said. He
pointed to the far ridge.
"Or whoever attacked us."
"Then we'll make our last stand right here,"
McCoy replied.
"It's as good a place as any."
Spock cocked an eyebrow and remarked, "We
cannot be certain, but it would seem that the Senites could have
found us by now, if they were so inclined. And whoever
attacked us from the ridge was apparently content to stop
the Senite wagon, and our advance."
Kirk slumped down onto the dirt and sighed.
"Yeah, I guess we sort of made a mess
of the Senites' operation. They must be busy cleaning
up. So everyone's accounted for, though the Tellarite
is dead and the Andorian has run off."
"Who cares about them?" growled Billiwog.
"We're alive, and I'm hungry.
Anybody want to help me look for food?"
That night, the odd party of two human males,
one human female, a Vulcan, and a giant of
indeterminate species dined quite sumptuously on a
large number of ambulatory fish, a herd of which was
located by Billiwog. The brawny humanoid also
knew which rocks could be struck to start a fire and which
vines were fibrous enough to burn. They roasted the fish
on spits over an open flame and ate their fill
of the oily but tasty flesh.
Once the shadows started to race across the canyon,
darkness was not far behind, and they were soon joined
by Sanctuary's two moons-the small pink one and the
giant white one. Due to the mysterious attack,
Kirk insisted upon posting a guard for the entire
night. He also insisted upon taking the first watch.
While the others slept peacefully for the first time in
days, Kirk watched the parade of stars and
moons across the narrow swath of sky that was visible between
the towering peaks. All was still as the hours passed, and
Kirk gradually relaxed-until something touched his
shoulder from behind. Kirk gasped and leaped to his
feet, snatching up a length of vine to use as a
club.
"It's only me," breathed Renna. Her head was
wrapped in a makeshift bandage made from the hem of
her white garment. "Sorry," he sighed, sitting
back down on the ground.
"You're supposed to be sleeping."
"I know, but I've been sleeping for hours already,
and McCoy will never know. Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all." Kirk smiled at her.
"You would be welcome company at any time."
"Oh," she said, alighting beside him, "that's not
entirely true. If I were really the pirate you
thought I was, you certainly wouldn't introduce me
to Starfleet High Command. Or to your mother."
Kirk grinned.
"I would introduce you to my mother. But I wouldn't
tell her what you did for a living."
Renna watched the young captain as the merriment
faded from his lips and his eyes drifted back to the
gleaming beltway of stars. They watched the
stars together for a long time.
"Do you think we'll ever get back up there?" she
asked, swallowing hard.
"Yes," Kirk said solemnly, "I do.
Don't ask me how. I just know that I'll never
stop trying to get back."
Renna took the bandage off, freeing her lustrous
black hair, and smiled wi/lly.
"Space was my playground, even when I was a
baby. My father and I have houses and property, but
they aren't really home. They never were."
She pointed upward.
"That's home. And now it's gone."
Kirk's voice was hoarse when he replied,
"To be separated from the things you used to take for
granted comisn't that the real definition of a
prison?"
Renna tried to say something, but her voice caught
in a sob. Kirk moved closer to her and put his arm
around her trembling shoulders. They gazed fondly,
affectionately-not at each other, but at a million
sparkling diamonds scattered through the black web
called space. In the morning, they all gnawed on
a few leftover fish and doused the smoldering embers
of their fire. The Andorian had not
returned during the night, and Kirk was growing
increasingly skeptical. Was there such a thing as the
Graveyard of Lost Ships? Or was it just a myth
that the inmates of Sanctuary took some small comfort
in telling one another?
Unfortunately, there were only two courses
available in the deep canyon
back to the Senite stronghold, or straight
ahead into the unknown.
Kirk chose the unknown, but he also chose not to go
unprotected. They stripped a few metal
plates off the wrecked wagon and wrapped vines
around them for handholds. Armed with these lightweight
rectangular shields, they prepared to march
northward up the narrow wash.
"All right," said Kirk, "spread out-at least
ten paces apart, so we don't make too good a
target. And keep your eyes on the top of the
ridge. At the first sign of rocks, shields
up."
McCoy hefted the piece of sheet metal in his
hands and muttered, "I wish they were real shields."
"They are real shields, Doctor," said
Spock.
"Unfortunately, they're from the wrong
millennium. They would have been considered quite
adequate in your Bronze Age."
McCoy shrugged.
"I guess they fit in with rocks as weapons."
Captain Kirk took the lead and motioned everyone
to follow him.
"Let's go. Keep your eyes open."
Despite Kirk's admonition about traveling
ten paces apart, Renna walked directly behind
Kirk, and McCoy bumped into Billiwog a few
times. Spock brought up the rear, keeping his shield
at chest level. They had traveled a few
kilometers, climbing into ever more rugged terrain, when
the first rock came 197 sailing off the ('edge above
them. Kirk jumped back, and it landed at his feet.
"Shields up!" he called.
Everyone lifted their sheets of metal and waited
for the onslaught. It came quickly as dozens of
melon sized and fist-sized rocks came arcing over
the cliff a hundred meters above them. There were
thundering sounds when the rocks hit the shields, and
dull thuds when they struck the ground. Renna took
a direct hit and dropped to her knees, and Kirk
rushed to protect her.
"Form a phalanx!" he ordered,
motioning to the others to draw closer.
The party of five pressed together and lifted their
shields to make an armored canopy. This gave their
unseen attackers a better target, but it also
allowed them to bolster each other and absorb harder
blows. Billiwog stood like a tree trunk in the
middle of the group, purposely warding off the biggest
rocks.
"The sneaky blighters can't stop us!" he
growled.
"Let's keep going."
They did exactly that and were soon stumbling forward
through the assault like a ten-legged turtle. But they
made progress, and the ferocity of the attack began
to lessen.
"They are running out of ammunition," Spock
observed.
He was right, thought Kirk, as the attack
trickled off to an occasional dirt clod. A few
moments later, they were walking as before, completely
unmolested, but with shields held at the ready.
Ahead of them, the creek bed narrowed to a small
fissure in a rock wall. This was probably the
source of the stream when it was running, thought the
captain, but they would have to climb ten meters
or so to reach it. That would leave them vulnerable
to attack. Past that hole in the wall was-who
knew what? They had come to the end of the trail, such as
it was. The Andorian who had led them here was gone,
and they couldn't turn back. Kirk stopped and handed
his shield to Billiwog.
"Cover me," he said.
"I'm climbing up there to see what there is
to see."
"No!" cried Renna.
"It's too dangerous. They could pick you off with
one well-thrown rock."
Spock nodded.
"I would have to agree, Captain. Our attackers
could be waiting in ambush."
"What do you want us to do?" asked Kirk.
"Stay here the rest of our lives? Besides, I'm
willing to bet that we 've made faster progress
than they have we been walking on relatively
level ground, and they've had to scamper along that
ridge. Besides, anybody can throw a rock. Pick
some up and cover me. 11
Billiwog grabbed a rock that was as big as a
watermelon.
"Go, Kirk," he said.
"I'll bash the dirty scum."
"Thanks." The captain smiled.
"But keep your eyes open, too
Kirk pulled up the sleeves of his jacket,
dug his fingers into the porous stone, and began to climb.
Where there weren't toeholds and handholds, he dug
them, and he was soon scaling the rock wall like a
gecko. All eyes scanned the horizon for
signs of attack, but none came. The sky was a
peaceful if overcast gray Grunting the last
meter, Kirk finally threw his arm into the fissure and
lifted himself up to see what lay beyond. Through the hole
in the rock, he could see thick greenery and a path so
wide it looked like a road. He pulled himself up
until his stomach pushed against the ledge and he leaned
forward to hoist himself up-then suddenly a claw
gripped his arm, and a fearsome gargoyle with red eyes,
wild hair, and sharp teeth loomed in his face.
Kirk recoiled, almost screaming, and he struggled
to keep from falling.
The snarling visage snapped at him and lifted a
claw to rake his face.
He teetered there, helpless, trying to maintain his
balance. Then a missile whistled over his shoulder and
struck the creature in the center of its
frightful face. The thing howled and stumbled backward,
and Kirk quickly lifted himself through the hole.
Kirk scrambled to his feet, prepared to fight,
when he saw that his assailant was less than half
his height, and almost childlike. It scampered
away, making a few trilling sounds.
Kirk hastily surveyed the outcrop of rocks
and determined that he had been attacked by a lone
specimen of whatever it was. He called back through
the hole, "Come on! Hurry!"
One by one, the rest of the party climbed the rock
wall, using the toeholds and handholds Kirk had
chiseled in the soft stone. Before the last one,
Billiwog, started to climb, he passed up the
metal shields.
Kirk and the others struggled to pull the giant
humanoid through the crevice, and he barely
squeezed through.
"Who threw that rock?" asked Kirk.
"That was a great throw," "it was Ieasd Spock,
"although several of us threw at the same time."
"A lucky shot." McCoy scowled.
"Lucky for me." Kirk glanced around.
"I don't know exactly what that creature
was, but it seemed childlike."
Billiwog shrugged his hairy shoulders.
"There are lots of creatures who grew up in
these mountains. They crash-landed or were abandoned
by adults worried about survival. They are no
better than animals." 200
SANCTUARY
"I don't know," said McCoy, "they put up
a pretty spirited defense of this mountain pass. They
obviously consider it to be theirs."
Renna shivered, but not from the cold.
"What would any of us be like, if we'd lived all
our lives in this place? Can't we go on?"
"Yes," agreed Kirk. He turned to survey
the plateau they had reached.
Unlike the rain-carved gully they had traversed
below, the plateau opened into a rolling valley full
of bladder trees, dense vines, and hanging moss.
The cliffs were far enough away that ambush was out of the
question, and beneath their feet lay a well-worn
footpath. Kirk really couldn't blame the
creatures for fighting to keep strangers out of their
lush valley.
"Let's go," he said, "and show them we are only
passing through."
Once again, the ragged party embarked on
a journey into the unknown. As they walked, Kirk
pulled his beat-up communicator from his back
pocket.
"Kirk to Enterprise, "he said plaintively.
"Come in, Enterprise. was Renna smiled.
"You are a dreamer, Kirk."
"You never know." He repeated his request, then
listened for several seconds. But there was no
response, and Kirk snapped the communicator
shut.
"But not today."
McCoy glanced up at the sky, where there was
nothing but thick gray clouds that threatened rain.
"I wonder what the heck they're doing to get
hold of us?"
"Unknown," said Spock.
"They have probably exhausted all of the logical
courses of action. They may be resorting to somewhat
desperate measures by now."
"Or they've given up," suggested McCoy,
frowning.
Kirk shook his head.
"If I know Scotty and the rest of our crew,
I don't think that's likely."
There was an ominous crack of thunder, and the
clouds dribbled raindrops upon them that felt as big
as the stones thrown by their unseen attackers. One
by one, they lifted their sheet-metal umbrellas and
trudged forward in silence.
Some distance away, it was sunny on the island of
Khyming. At the rear of the magnificent seminary,
there was a special outdoor cafe reserved for high
ranking Senites and trusted refugees. It was there
that the slim Senite Zicree was enjoying a
leisurely lunch of healthful salad with his
companion, Kellen. Zicree had just returned from
an emergency on the mainland, but the Senite didn't
want to burden the young woman with details, except
to say that the same gang of persecutors had been
causing trouble again. It took comfort from the familiar
mist swirling around the central mountain, the white
bungalows clinging to the cliffs, and the swaying network of
rope bridges.
Kellen's pretty face sported a pout.
"I can't believe that persecutors would actually
come to Sanctuary to pursue their hateful goals.
It's bad enough that they hunt innocent refugees-why
can't they stay where they belong?"
The Senite shook its head and replied, "I
misjudged them. Even though I knew they
were persecutors, I thought they had the intelligence
to adapt and learn to live in peace."
"What did they do now?" asked Kellen.
Zicree narrowed its eyes at the thought of the
havoc they had caused in the Reboming facility, but
it didn't say anything to the impressionable young
woman. The pampered refugees of Khyming were
ignorant of the Reborning, as well they should be.
Recent events had proven again the need for
secrecy.
"I don't wish to speak of their crimes," said
Zicree.
"We can only hope that we are rid of them."
The Senite was about to take a bite from its salad
when something fell into the bowl. Zicree jerked back
in revulsion as its salad began to twitch with a life
of its own. Something long and green, with numerous
crooked legs and flapping wings, struggled
to extricate itself from the sticky salad dressing.
On a planet where insects were mostly
microscopic, such a thing was unheard of. The
Senite stared in awe at the hideous creature.
"What is this?" it shrieked.
An ominous humming sounded. Another flying thing
struck Zicree's cheek, and soon the
Senite was bombarded by buzzing, whirring beasts.
Kellen leaped to her feet with a mass of giant
locusts clinging to her chest and her hair.
Her screams of horror rent the air, as did a
horde of winged invertebrates.
The swarm of Regulan locusts engulfed the
outdoor cafe, sending both servants and patrons
fleeing in panic.
Waving its arms frantically, blinded by a
million wings and deafened by the buzzing, Zicree
staggered into the building. A Senite tried to hold the
door shut against the horrible attack, but other
screaming patrons forced it open, seeking refuge.
Locusts poured into the seminary, and everywhere there was
bedlam. Outside, Kellen lay curled in a
ball beside her table, sobbing, although no harm had
befallen her. The swarm lurched from one part of the
village to another, causing terror and panic, but
no real damage.
Zicree swatted a few remaining insects off
its clothes and demanded of no one in particular,
"What is the cause of this?"
To its surprise, someone answered, "The
persecutors! The new ones in orbit.
They have sent word that they are
responsible."
That chilled the slim Senite to the very core of its
altered body. The persecutors! It hardly needed
to be told which ones. The recent arrivals had
caused more problems in the few days since they had
appeared than all the other persecutors and
scavengers had caused in three centuries! For a
split second, Zicree almost wished that it had
returned the three strangers to their mother ship. But
no! That would be appeasing the persecutors-the one thing
no Senite would ever do.
Through clenched teeth, Zicree vowed, "I will
speak with them."
"That is forbidden," the other Senite cautioned.
Zicree grabbed its associate by the robe and
forced it to look out the door at the havoc caused by the
locust attack.
"Do you wish to let this continue?" asked Zicree.
"Do you wish to invite them to do worse? The
programming of the shield will not stop living creatures
from entering our atmosphere. We must force them
to stop!"
"But how?"
Zicree considered for a moment, then let go of the
Senite's robe.
"Get me the Observation Unit."
Commander Scott and Captain Mora stood
expectantly on the bridge of the Enterprise,
waiting to see if their little messengers to Sanctuary
would be acknowledged. Scotty had spent several
hours reading scientific texts on the sterilization
process, assuring himself that no damage could occur
to Sanctuary's environment from releasing the locusts.
At this point, Scotty hated the Senites, but that
wouldn't allow him to disobey the Prime
Directive. If they wanted to behave like
pigheaded heathen savages, that was their right-as long as
they understood they had to return his captain,
doctor, and first officer.
Uhura swiveled around in her chair.
"We are being hailed from the planet," she
announced. Sulu and Chekov glanced over their
shoulders at the acting captain. Scotty stiffened
to attention. Then he turned to the officer beside him.
"Captain Mora," he asked, "do you wish
to conduct this negotiation ?"
"No, Commander," he said, "you're doing just fine.
Good luck."
Scotty nodded.
"Put it on the screen,
Lieutenant."
"Aye, s1r," Uhura answered.
A second later, the ageless face of Zicree
appeared on the viewscreen. The Senite's
normally bland expression was contorted with anger.
"We wish to protest this unprovoked attack.
This is biological warfare of the worst sort!"
"What attack?" said Scotty benevolently.
"As my esteemed colleague Captain Mora
said when he tried to contact you, we wish to exchange
information on various species. We have sent you a
few Regulan locusts for you to study.
By the way, we have millions more, when those run
out."
"That will not be necessary," the Senite replied.
"We consider this a most barbaric act."
Scotty continued, more grimly, "in return,
we wish you to send us Captain James T.
Kirk, First Officer Spock, and Dr.
McCoy. We have repeatedly sent you visual
likenesses of these men, and we can do so again, if need
be."
Zicree managed a tight-lipped smile.
"There is no need for that-we know quite well what they
look like. Apparently, you do not believe us
when we say that your crew members-who came here of
their own free will-are living lives of peace and
contentment. To prove to you that such is the case, we are
furnishing a visual record that was taken only a
few hours ago. I direct your attention to your
viewscreen."
The Senite's face blinked off, to be replaced
by a perfectly tranquil scene in a pleasant
outdoor cafe. There was no audio, but the image
on the screen was stunning in its clarity Sitting at
a table, apparently enjoying a hearty meal, were the
captain, Spock, and McCoy! Everyone on the
bridge leaned forward to stare at the screen, and they
watched with amazement as a white-robed waiter came
by to serve the trio more delicious-looking food.
"Blimey," Scotty murmured.
"Uhura, close the audio."
"Audio closed," she said, troubled.
"We can talk freely."
"Those are the missing men, aren't they?" asked
Captain Mora.
"Or their spittin' images," answered
Scotty, stepping closer to the tranquil scene.
"Chekov, run a scan of that visual. Make
sure it's not computer-generated, or they're
not imposters9' "They don't look like they're
suffering," said Uhura.
Chekov shook his head and reported, "Computer
positeevely identifies that as the keptin, Mr.
Spock, and Dr. McCoy. It is an un
retouched visual record." His face was puzzled
as he looked up at the unmistakable likenesses
on the screen.
"Could they have been brainwashed?"
"Just because they're eating doesn't mean they like it
there," suggested Sulu. But no matter how hard they
stared at the civilized setting, it was hard to find
anything about it that a person would not like.
The visual faded away, to be replaced by the
Senite, who looked much calmer. At Scotty's
command, Uhura restored audio.
"So you have seen with your own eyes," said Zicree,
"that your former officers are well treated, happy, and
fulfilled."
"If that's the case," replied Scotty, "can
we talk to them?"
"I'm afraid not," said the Senite.
"Because no one ever leaves Sanctuary, all of
our refugees must become 206 acclimated to their
new lives. For them to talk to you now would
only be upsetting and unproductive- for both of
you. Why don't you admit that your attempts
to'rescue'them are misguided? We would all be
better off if you would simply accept what cannot be
changed."
Scotty slammed his fist into his palm, because
words eluded him.
"Please," admonished the Senite, smiling for the
first time, "no more childish pranks. They are beneath you.
We recognize the Federation as a great power that is
usually a force for good in the galaxy. We ask that you
recognize our sovereignty and our mission. That
is all."
The scrbbtilde en went blank, as black and
final as the expression on Scotty's face.
"At least we know they're alive," said Uhura
softly.
Captain Mora shrugged and walked toward the
turbolift.
"I must return to my ship," he said.
"I'm afraid, Commander Scott, I must also
put this in my report to Starfleet."
"Aye," Scotty acknowledged, "as will I.the
door swished open, and the officer left the bridge.
"This doesn't look good, does it?"
asked Sulu.
Scotty slumped into the captain's chair.
"Do ye mean," he sighed, "do I think we'll
ever see those three again? In person, and not on some
flippin' video? I don't know. But I won't
give up till they tell me with their own lips that
they want to stay on that blasted planet. And I
dunna believe that mealymouthed Senite for a single
minute."
For several moments after Scotty's declaration,
there was no part of space as silent as the bridge of the
USS Enterprise.
LoNG sHadows were stretching across the valley,
which was arguably the prettiest part of Sanctuary that
they had yet seen in their reluctant travels,
thought Kirk. Fed by numerous streams, ponds, and
underground rivers, the bladder trees grew as high as
those on the island of Khyming and sprouted orange
flowers as large as a man's head. Lush moss
several centimeters thick covered the ground, and
thick vines snaked everywhere like a network of veins
on a human heart.
The party of five had seen impressive herds of
both the lungfish, as they'd dubbed them, and scrawny
rodent like mammals, and neither species
showed much fear of the intruders. The sky was dotted with a
flock of batlike creatures that swooped from one
cliff to another, chasing the herds of fish. Even a
constant drizzle could not dampen the beauty of this
wild place.
Kirk and Renna found themselves walking together,
swiveling their heads in unison at each new
sight. They often glanced at one another, and Kirk
felt uncomfortably like the male half of Adam and
Eve.
"There are uglier places to live," said Renna
offhandedly.
"I suppose so." Kirk shrugged.
"You wouldn't have to worry about the neighbors getting
on your nerves."
"It's going to be dark in another hour," Renna
remarked.
"We should keep our eyes open for a place
to camp."
"Food and water are no problem," added Kirk,
feeling like he was making small talk.
"If we have to stay here .. ." Renna began. But
she didn't finish.
"Yeah." Kirk nodded, managing a smile.
"If we have kids, Spock can be our
babysitter."
"Pardon me, Captain?" asked the Vulcan,
who was striding along a few meters away.
"Nothing," answered the captain.
"We were just admiring the view."
"Captain," said the Vulcan, "I cannot be
certain, but I believe we are being followed."
Kirk turned to look behind him, but he didn't
stop walking.
"How do you know?"
"That flock of flying creatures was startled
by something about eighty meters behind us," answered
Spock.
"We cannot see them, but the animals know they are
there."
Kirk stroked his chin thoughtfully and said, "The big
group that attacked us before has had time to catch up.
They can't ambush us, but they could certainly rush us.
What do you think we should do?"
The captain's hushed voice attracted the
attention of Billiwog and McCoy.
"What's going on, Jim?" the doctor asked.
"Spock thinks our attackers are following us."
Billiwog whirled around with hairy fists
clenched.
"Where are the blighters? Bring "em on!"
"Not so fast," said Kirk.
"Just keep walking. Judging by the number of
rocks they hurled at us, there could be thirty or
forty of them."
"Well," said McCoy, "maybe they're just
following us to make sure we get out of their
territory."
"What is their territory?" asked Spock.
"And how will we know when we have left it?"
"I don't know," muttered McCoy.
"Why don't you go back and ask them?"
Spock raised an eyebrow.
"Doctor, either you are being facetious, or you are
not very concerned about my welfare.
"More likely," said Renna, "they're going
to wait until we fall asleep, then jump us."
Billiwog smashed his fist into his palm and
growled, "I say we hit them before they hit us."
The captain's jaw clenched with the weight of
decision making.
"We can't allow them to follow us," he said
firmly, "and we have to find out for sure if they're
there. So McCoy is right-let's ask them."
Kirk stopped suddenly, turned, and
shouted, "Is anybody back there? Are you following
us?"
"Show yourselves!" bellowed Billiwog.
Slowly, like the cry of a flying creature coasting
toward them, a strange trilling sound began with one
voice, was joined by others, and increased in volume
until it was a chilling clamor. Then, like a horde
of apes, a huge pack of creatures broke from the
underbrush and loped toward them, screaming their frightful
war cry.
"Do you have any more ideas, Doctor?" asked
Spock.
"Yes," shrieked McCoy, "run!"
This was a popular notion, even with Billiwog,
and the five some took off at a full dash. Kirk
figured they had a lead of about fifty meters, but the
horrible cries made it seem more like fifty
centimeters. They still clutched their sheet-metal
shields, but those only served to slow them down.
Kirk and Spock soon outdistanced the others, with
Renna in the middle and McCoy and Billiwog
falling behind. The lumbering giant was in real danger
of being overtaken by at least forty smaller and swifter
pursuers, and Kirk realized that only he and
Spock stood any chance of outrunning them.
Kirk stopped and yelled, "Form ranks! Use
your shields!"
He and Spock planted their feet and formed the first
line of defense, and Renna and McCoy darted behind
them. Huffing and puffing, Billiwog staggered into their
midst with several of the scrawny gargoyles clutching
at his heels. Kirk waded into them, swinging his
shield like a club and bashing them onto their
haunches. Spock did likewise, and McCoy
and Renna tried to protect their flanks.
From the corner of his eye, Kirk saw
Billiwog recover and hurl his shield like a discus
into the oncoming throng, cutting several of them down in
a gruesome pile. Then the humanoid charged the
attackers, bellowing like an elephant and pummeling
them with his fists. Despite the number he left
crippled, they were soon clawing all over him, like
dogs attacking a bear.
Kirk and Spock tried to drive off
Billiwog's attackers, which left Renna and
McCoy alone, fighting their own battles.
Renna's screams joined the horrible sounds, and
Kirk whirled around to see her tackled by two howling
savages. A creature leaped onto McCoy's
shield, while three more wrestled him to the
ground. The captain ran to help Renna, kicking
one of the creatures in the midsection and sending it
flying. 211 Spock fought his way to the doctor and
gripped two attackers by their necks, dropping them
into unconsciousness. Despite their heroics,
Kirk realized they were fighting a defensive
battle against overwhelming odds.
Three snarling gargoyles jumped on him, and he
tumbled to the ground with one creature in each hand and
another at his throat.
Like a lightning bolt hurled by Zeus, a
terrific explosion shattered the air and rocked the
ground. Another explosion thundered even closer, and the
fierce child-sized creatures scrambled off the
captain. Kirk sat up as a third explosion
shook the ground, and he was relieved to see that the
strange beings were in full flight, dragging their wounded
with them.
He and Spock staggered to their feet and went
to help Renna and McCoy, both of whom were dazed
and battered. Billiwog remained on his knees, his
thick fur red with blood. Nevertheless, they all
turned to look northward, in the direction they'd
been heading before the attack. On the darkening
horizon, they saw the silhouettes of a
new band of creatures, who appeared to be headed
toward them.
"Now what?" panted McCoy.
"Unknown, Doctor," answered Spock.
"If these are savages, they are armed with
explosives."
"Senites?" asked Kirk with alarm.
"They're the only ones who have weapons."
"We will know soon," Spock concluded.
Despite their injuries and weariness, McCoy,
Renna, and Billiwog all managed to stagger to their
feet to greet the new arrivals. There was no run
and very little fight left in them, but they would not meet the
unknown lying down.
"Ho, Kirk!" a voice called to them.
Spock glanced at the captain and raised an
eyebrow. Kirk grinned in amazement and began
to lead his bedraggled band toward the strangers. As they
got closer, they saw the tall Andorian in the
lead, his antennae standing at attention and his blue
face beaming. He was followed by a motley
collection of aliens, humanoids, and
near-humans-a typical crowd for the planet of
Sanctuary. Unlike the denizens of Dohama or
Khyming, however, this group was distinguished by the
fact that they carried crude weapons, binoculars,
and hand-held sensors.
Kirk and his party nearly ran the last few
meters, despite their exhaustion.
"Are we glad to see you!" exclaimed Kirk.
"We thought you'd deserted us!"
The Andorian looked slightly hurt.
"Never," he said solemnly.
"When the rocks hit the wagon, I knew that we
had been attacked by the Lost Ones, and that we would
need help. So I ran ahead while they were
occupied with you.
Unfortunately, we were farther from the Graveyard
than I remembered, and it has taken me some time
to return."
"That's okay," declared McCoy, beaming.
"We're delighted to see you!"
"Your timing was quite excellent," said Spock.
He studied a tubular weapon that was strapped to the
back of one of the rescuers.
"May I ask how you produced those timely
explosions?"
"This old thing?" asked an albino humanoid,
tapping the pipe.
"It operates on a very simple
mixture of potassium nitrate, sulfur, and
charcoal."
"Gunpowder." Spock nodded.
McCoy glanced at the tube and its folding stand
and said, "On Earth, they would call that weapon a
mortar."
"Crude but effective," commented the albino.
"It works very well against the Lost Ones. We could
eliminate them, I suppose, but we like to keep them
on this perimeter. They act as a deterrent
to Senites and others who get too curious."
"We have a million 213 questions, but most of all
we want to see this Graveyard of Lost Ships."
"We are many hours away," the Andorian
replied.
"We made a forced march to get here, and you look
as if you could use some rest, too. Perhaps we would be
better off to make camp here and proceed in the
morning."
"I agree," put in McCoy.
"I want to take a look at some of these cuts
and bruises. You don't happen to have a first-aid
kit, do you?"
"Of course." The Andorian took a pouch off his
shoulder.
"At the Graveyard, we have something else that
might interest you."
"What's that?" asked Kirk.
A snaggletoothed female stepped forward and
peered at them.
"Is your shuttlecraft called the Ericksen?"
she asked.
Kirk nodded eagerly.
"Yes!"
She smiled a truly gruesome smile.
"Then we have it."
Kirk was awake before dawn, anxious to get
to his shuttlecraft. He felt like they had been
away from the Enterprise for a year, when it had
actually been less than two weeks, about as long
as a good overhaul in space dock
Intellectually, he reasoned that it would not be such a
simple matter as firing up the Ericksen and flying
back to the Enterprise, but the fact that they were so
close brought back all the old optimism. He
was quite relieved when his own party and the dozen or so
residents of the Graveyard gradually arose and
started to break camp.
On the brisk walk to the north end of the valley,
Kirk, Spock, and McCoy got to know
several of their rescuers, and they soon knew why the
Andorian had referred to them as "tinkerers." They
loved gadgets and technology. The old
snaggletoothed woman, Sherfa, knew their
shuttlecraft nearly as well as they did, and she
described the controls, the engine, and the fuel
capacity and made good guesses as to its range and
speed.
"Will you help us get it flying again?" asked
McCoy good-naturedly.
At that remark, the old woman's face darkened.
"I don't know about that."
She scowled.
"As you'll find out, it's not entirely intact.
The Senites are a peculiar variety of sadists.
They dump all this stuff in our Graveyard, but they
always remove a few crucial parts. High-end
weaponry is always missing, and I doubt if the
Ericksen has its stabilizers or fuel.
Despite that, we occasionally cobble something together that will
fly. In fact, you're just in time to see the latest
flight-it's due tomorrow."
"Can they take three more passengers?" asked
Kirk, quite seriously.
The woman frowned.
"I think you'll be better off watching."
Her attitude reminded Kirk of the Andorian's
response when he had first suggested they could get their
shuttlecraft flying. What was it they were afraid
of?
Billiwog spent his time on the long walk
relating the horrors of the Senite Reboming
factory, as well as their extraordinary
escape-with himself cast as the hero. Then he regaled
them with stories of Dohama, such as monumental
drinking tournaments and fistfights. But he was quick
to add that he would never frequent that hell-trap again,
a vow with which the Andorian heartily agreed.
Renna described to them the genteel island of
Khyming and their dramatic escape from that place.
By the time the noonday sun was overhead, it was
apparent that all five of them would be warmly
welcomed into this new community. But Kirk preferred
to think of the Graveyard of Lost Ships as a way
station enroute to their real destination-the Enterprise.
At the end of the valley, they climbed crudely
cut steps in a rock wall to yet another
plateau. This one sloped downward to the center of what
appeared to be a very large and very dead volcano that had
been filled over centuries with fertile
soil. Belkot, the albino, climbed to the top of the
ridge, removed his broad rimmed straw hat, and
swept it across the panoramic view.
"Welcome to the Graveyard!" he crowed.
The entire crater was choked with lush shrubs and
undergrowth, and speckled among the trees at
intervals of thirty meters or so were the hulks of
countless spaceships. Some of them were as large as
houses and were, in fact, serving as houses, with children
playing out front and clothes strung on lines.
Others were junkyard wrecks, rusting and picked
apart, reduced to technological carrion. A few
were escape pods and other vehicles too small
to become anything but shiny and peculiar works of art.
The majority were shuttlecraft of one sort or
another, and they sat interspersed among the trees like
the camping vehicles Kirk had observed in
pictures of old campgrounds on Earth. He
felt like running into the valley and grabbing the first thing
that would fly.
"Spock," he said with awe, "it's all there,
all the accumulated spacecraft of centuries.
We can get out of here!"
"Captain," Spock replied, "the fact that they
are still here would indicate that most or more
likely all are unable to fly."
"Yeah." Kirk frowned with dawning realization.
He turned to Sherfa.
"Can you take us to our shuttlecraft?"
The older female nodded glumly.
"I can, but you must be realistic, Kirk. The
Ericksen is now your home on Sanctuary, nothing
more. Our evaluation is that it cannot fly."
Kirk jutted his chin defiantly.
"We'll see. I have great faith in Mr.
Spock and Dr. McCoy."
"Don't put your faith in me," grumped
McCoy.
"I can fix people, but not machines. I do understand,
though, that some of their medical equipment is working, and
they have geothermal electricity. So if you don't
mind, Captain, I'll go and investigate that while
you and Mr. Spock tune up the shuttlecraft."
Billiwog and some members of the rescue party were
waving good-bye and starting down the hill.
"They're taking me home for a meal," called
Billiwog.
"I'm going to talk to them about building sailing
ships. Catch you at high tide!"
Sherfa stayed with the newcomers, along with
Errico, the Andorian, and the albino, Belkot.
Renna was unusually quiet as she stood on the lip
of the crater, staring into the green valley dotted with
silver spacecraft.
The captain turned to the subdued dark-haired
woman and asked, "What are you going to do, Renna?"
"Make a home, make a life." She
shrugged.
"I'm going to follow Sherfa's advice. I'm
going to be realistic."
"Let me take the young one with me," said Sherfa,
wrapping a withered arm around Renna's shoulders.
"Errico can show you to your shuttlecraft."
"I would be honored," the Andorian said, and bowed.
"And I will take Dr. McCoy to the
infirmary," said Belkot, tipping his large hat.
The Andorian held up a long blue finger.
"Do not forget, the launch of the Lujexer is tomorrow
at sunrise. I expect you will all be very
interested, as I am. This is the best opportunity
yet for someone to 217 escape the atmosphere. We
have the shields operating on that one, don't we,
Sherfa?"
She said disgruntledly, "We'll see. I
think they're damn fools myself."
"Are you sure there's no room?" asked Kirk.
"You come and watch the launch," she advised,
smiling malevolently.
"Maybe you'll learn something."
McCoy and Belkot jogged down the hill, and the
doctor called back to say, "I'll find you-as
soon as I check out the infirmary!"
"Don't be too long," Kirk called after him.
He bowed stiffly to Renna.
"I guess we'll see you later."
"I imagine you will," she answered with a bemused
smile.
"It doesn't look like a very big town."
Renna waved briefly as she accompanied the
older woman down into the vast crater. Errico set
off in a slightly different direction, and Kirk and
Spock followed.
"Fascinating," said Spock as the trio strolled
among the space hulks and the families who lived
inside them.
"You realize, Captain, that the Senites cannot
fail to know about this community. Therefore, we must consider
that they approve of it, as they do Dohama,
Khyming, the survivalists" camp, and perhaps
hundreds of diverse communities."
"A place to put the techies," remarked
Kirk, glancing around.
"Errico, have you ever had a "harvesting" here, like
they had in Dohama?"
"Never," said the Andorian.
"Generations have lived here without problems. In
fact, there are some members of the community who wish
to strengthen our ties with the Senites. We shall be more
cautious of them, however, now that we know how the
Senites reproduce themselves."
"How do the spacecraft get here?" asked
Spock.
Errico shrugged his bony shoulders.
"They just 218 appear-transported from wherever they
land. Large ships are sometimes sent in pieces, which
we put back together. Tinkerers study every vessel
to see what the Senites have removed and what they have
left. If the bona fide owners ever show up, as you
have, they are granted ownership. Otherwise, the town
council grants ownership to the neediest domestic
unit."
"Logical," commented Spock.
The Andorian continued, "For the immediate future, the
three of you are considered a domestic unit. I
hope that is acceptable?"
"Most of the time," Kirk said with a grin.
They were startled by an eruption of water a few
meters behind them, and they whirled to see a geyser
shooting twenty meters into the air. Kirk and
Spock approached the natural fountain, until
they reached a clearing that had been roped off. From the
ground around the geyser issued a number of coils and
pipes that led to a small turbine, which powered a
simple generator, from which wires snaked into the
trees and supplied electricity to about a dozen
households. The geyser roared for a few seconds
more, then sputtered to a stop, but the generator kept
clattering softly.
"That is the pride of the community," said Errico,
"one of about fifty steam turbines that produce
geothermal energy."
"Are there any dilithium crystals?" asked
Kirk.
The Andorian shook his head.
"Forget about dilithium or any complex fuel.
We have been left some machinery and tools, but
all energy sources must be indigenous."
Spock cocked an eyebrow.
"With such pressure and heat in the magma, how can
you be sure that the volcano is not
potentially active?"
"We can't be sure," answered Errico.
"But the geologists among us say it has been
at least a thousand years since the last eruption, and
they monitor it closely. We try to control the
seepage of water into the magma, so there isn't a
buildup of steam. Besides, this is where the Senites
put the ships, so this is where we are. Come, your
shuttlecraft is near."
They passed what looked like the remains of a
Romulan warbird, picked over like the giant
skeleton of some real avian species. Only
twisted chunks of metal and infrastructure
remained, and there were gaping holes where viewscreens
and instrument panels had been plucked out. They
passed a family of albino children playing in the yard
of a troop transport, and saw parachutes that had
been converted into greenhouses. All in all, the
Graveyard of Lost Ships was a testament to the
ingenuity, spirit, and cooperation of intelligent
species from all over the galaxy. It also had its
eerie quality, thought Kirk, like a junkyard or a
failed amusement park, which the denizens of the
Graveyard seemed reluctant to disturb.
The captain saw the streamlined
bread-loaf shape of the Ericksen before Errico even
had time to point it out. He jogged toward it,
closely followed by Spock. They ducked through the
open doorway and walked reverently through the small
craft, stunned by the feeling of recognition and
familiarity. Kirk thought Spock would go to the
instrument panel, but instead the Vulcan rushed
to check the ship's stores and rummage through the
cabinets.
"They have left us a tricorder," he announced.
"And our emergency provisions appear to be
intact."
Kirk ran to the radio and flipped it on.
"Kirk to Enterprise, was he called.
"Come in, Enterprise!"
The tall Andorian stood crouched in the
doorway.
"I am sorry," he said, "but your ship has
been drained of power and fuel. That is typical,
I'm afraid."
Kirk flipped every switch on the console, but no
lights or sweet little chirps responded. It was a
dead ship, as dead as the skeleton ship a few
doors down. 220 "We can arrange
electricity," said Errico.
"In fact, I will go do that now, if I may be
allowed to take my leave."
Captain Kirk turned to the regal Andorian,
slightly ashamed that he hadn't been more grateful for
their remarkable deliverance.
"Errico, I never properly thanked you for saving
our lives. You have been a true comrade."
Errico's blue skin turned slightly
purplish.
"It has been my honor." He bowed.
"After all, it was you who saved me from that terrible
Senite stronghold."
"Actually, it was Renna who did that." Kirk
frowned.
"She's another one I haven't thanked
properly. But I will."
"Thank you, Errico," put in Spock.
"An electrical hookup in the range of nine
to fifteen volts would be quite satisfactory."
"I will attend to it," said the Andorian, and he
bowed himself out of the doorway.
Spock turned on the tricorder and lifted an
eyebrow appreciatively at the comforting beep and
display of lighted indicators.
"Captain," he said, "apparently the
force field which the Senites use to disable alien
technology does not extend to this location. We will
no longer be operating in the dark. Even with no
instruments on the conn working, I can give you a
detailed report on the status of this vessel."
"Do it," said Kirk, a feeling of dread
creeping up his spine.
For a few seconds, the Vulcan's slim fingers
deftly twisted dials and punched in commands. Then
he began his report "Impulse engines intact
but drained; thrusters drained; fuel tanks empty;
storage cells missing;
phasers missing; stabilizers missing-was "That's
enough," said Kirk, holding up his hand. He heaved
a sigh of disappointment and paced around the cramped
enclosure.
"Anything that could generate enough power to get this thing off
the ground is gone. The Graveyard people are right,
aren't they? It's not going to fly."
"Not in its present condition," answered Spock.
"Nothing is damaged, but the Senites are very
thorough. Without fuel or stabilizers, this
shuttlecraft will not move."
"Unless we put it on wheels and strap a
horse to it," muttered Kirk. He pounded
his fist in frustration.
"We were so close!"
"Captain," said Spock, "the tinkerers must be
capable of developing their own rocket fuel, or
they would not be capable of the launch they plan tomorrow."
Kirk took a deep breath and tried to think
positively. Through the open doorway, he could see
long shadows stretching across the network of paths. He
had learned that, on Sanctuary, nightfall strode
swiftly behind those long shadows.
"Yes." He yawned.
"We don't want to miss that launch tomorrow.
Maybe getting some food and a little rest wouldn't be
such a bad idea."
"Precisely," agreed Spock, searching through a
plastic carton of food rations.
The infirmary was one of the few buildings that had
been constructed of thatch, pumice, and other native
materials, not cobbled together from old spaceships.
McCoy arrived in time to see a young boy have his
broken arm set by a skilled doctor with seven
fingers on one hand and eight on his dominant hand.
Dr. Muta claimed to practice holistic
medicine, both as a personal preference and because what
drugs had been scavenged from the ships had
to be closel y rationed. Two nurses assisted the
doctor, and they all prescribed from the stock of
homemade sulfa, quinine, and various herbal
medications. Several homes in the community
apparently had sickbays that could be used for
emergencies, but the infirmary was more roomy and
comfortable. McCoy could understand how patients might like
the rambling building after living in grounded
spaceships most of the time. He was certain that Muta
could set a broken bone, deliver a baby, or
tie a tourniquet as well as anyone, which was a
great relief to McCoy. If the thriving community
had not had a good doctor, he might have been
tempted to stay there to lend a hand. But they had one, and
McCoy could focus his energies on returning to a
community that didn't have a chief surgeon at the
moment-the Enterprise.
He bade good-bye to Dr. Muta and the staff of the
infirmary, and found himself standing outside in the center
of a maze of dark paths. The only landmarks were the
silhouettes of strange spacecraft looming over
the trees and the occasional porch light swinging in the
breeze. Then McCoy noticed another beacon
good-natured laughter-and he followed the pleasant
sound.
He soon found himself at a yard party, in front
of a copper-colored shuttlecraft; its living
space had been doubled by the ingenious use of
reflective tarpaulins and tent poles. A
diverse collection of mostly two legged
creatures stood limb to limb with one another,
holding every manner of beverage receptacle aloft,
as a young bearded humanoid addressed them.
He held his glass higher than anyone's.
"To all my friends," he said, "keepers of the
Graveyard! Juuxa and I will be leaving you tomorrow, but
don't grieve for us. We must see if the
Lujexer can fly, after these many years of work on her.
Thanks to Sherfa"-he nodded to the older woman, who
tearfully hid her face-"the shields are forty
percent of what they once were."
The young pilot swallowed hard.
"No matter what happens, if we break the
Senite shield, or bounty hunters get us, or
we become a star in the dawn sky, we will remember
all of you fondly. The Graveyard is not a
perfect place to live, but we know from the stories
of the newcomers that there are far worse places on
Sanctuary. We have been privileged to live here
among you, and we treasure your friendship and
collaboration."
The young humanoid looked as if he wanted
to continue talking, but he was too choked with tears. A
female of his own species rushed to the tree stump
and hugged him, while the others applauded. Most of
them were laughing, crying, or a little of both. Someone
grabbed McCoy's arm and stuck a hollow geode
in his hand. The rock goblet was brimming with dark and
pungent-smelling ale that glittered within the
blood-red crystal lining.
Belkot smiled at McCoy through deeply
reddened eyes and cheeks that were glistening with tears.
"It is the way of the tinkerer and inventor," he
said, "to build, then to claim the right to test. Do not
judge us too harshly."
"I don't judge you at all," said McCoy.
He took a deep sip of the amber liquid.
"You want off this planet, and you know there is a
way. I hope you find it. We're looking for it,
too." He took an even deeper gulp.
"Gosh, this stuff is good. If your fuel is
half as potent as this, those kids will make it!"
"I hope so," answered Belkot.
"Please, come join us. Renna is here, and there
are others you know."
The night was bright from the second moon by the time they
walked Dr.
McCoy home. That meant it was very late, and
Kirk and Spock were awakened in their hammocks.
McCoy was guided through the door by two residents,
who swiftly said good-night and left. "Bones?"
asked Kirk, leaning out of his hammock.
"I would ask you where you've been, but you're over
twenty-one."
"I've been to a going-away party," drawled
McCoy, sitting in the pilot's chair.
"I'm a little tipsy, though."
"Evidently," observed Spock.
"Who is going away, may I ask."
"Nice young couple. Going up in that spaceship
tomorrow." McCoy looked bleary-eyed at his captain
and rasped, "Jim, they're going to die. And everyone
knows it."
Kirk swung his legs over the edge of his
hammock but remained seated.
"Yeah," he said, "Spock and I were beginning
to reach the same conclusion."
"What about this thing?" asked McCoy, motioning
around the shuttlecraft.
"Can we get it up?"
"There are a lot of things missing," the captain
replied curtly.
"Like stabilizers, fuel, and storage cells."
"However," Spock added, "we have a small
gift from the Senites-a working tricorder."
"A tricorder," murmured the doctor.
"I don't see how that will get us very far."
"We shall see," replied the Vulcan.
"By my calculations, sunrise will occur in one
hundred fifty-seven point two minutes, so I
suggest that we continue sleeping."
"Wake me up for the sacrifice," groaned
McCoy. He stretched out in the pilot's chair,
crossed his arms, and began to snore.
The friendly face of Captain Mora appeared on
the Enterprise's viewscreen. He tried to look
tough, but concern and sadness were etched on his
sun-browned wrinkles.
"Commander Scott," he reported, "we are
leaving 225 immediately. You will soon be receiving orders
from Starfleet by subspace.
I'm afraid I already know what those orders are,
and I deeply regret that more time cannot be extended to the
rescue mission. There is, however, profound
relief at the highest levels that
Captain Kirk and the others are still alive. I have
suggested that a station be docked in deep orbit, perhaps
around the large moon, to observe and maintain contact
with Sanctuary. But that is not a job for the
Enterprise. Good-bye, Commander Scott."
"Good-bye, Captain Mora," Scotty
replied stiffly.
The solemn face blinked off, to be replaced
by a long-range view of various ships in orbit
around the turquoise sphere. Scotty had guessed
that the Neptune would be leaving soon, because she had
shifted to a roomier section of the orbital belt,
three thousand kilometers from the Enterprise.
Slowly, one of the blips pulled out of line and
disappeared, and she was gone.
Scotty let the breath out of his lungs and
dropped the shoulders he had been holding so stiffly.
He strolled behind Chekov and Sulu and slumped
into the captain's chair. Maybe they weren't beaten
yet, but they were surely on the ropes.
Uhura swiveled in her chair, and her voice was
barely audible.
"Commander Scott," she said, "I have just received a
message from Starfleet. It's very short."
Scotty nodded.
"Short and to the point. Let's have it,
Lieutenant."
"We are to report to Starbase 64 in
forty-eight hours."
Everyone on the bridge held their collective
breath, waiting for the acting captain to give the orders
that would take them away from Sanctuary, and Cap
tain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy.
Perhaps forever.
Scotty cocked his head thoughtfully and scratched
his chin.
"That is a short message," he agreed.
"The question is, do they want us to be at Starbase
64 in forty-eight hours? Or do they want us
to leave in forty-eight hours?"
"I would say," offered Chekov, "they want us
to leave in forty-eight hours."
"It's certainly open to interpretation," agreed
Sulu.
Uhura smiled.
"I will acknowledge the message."
"When you're done with that," said Scotty, "hail
Captain Pilenna on the Gezary.
"Aye, sir," answered Uhura.
Scotty let the green-skinned
Orion's fingers probe the tense muscles of his
shoulders. He hadn't come over to the Gezary for a
back rub, but it seemed to relax Pilenna as much
as himself. The exotic scent of her perfume, her
lustrous red hair brushing his cheek, her strong
fingers-they were all welcome distractions. He was in
her private quarters, seated in the chair at her
vanity table, and she leaned seductively over him.
Luckily, she had been wearing clothes upon greeting
him this time, or he wasn't sure what he would have
done.
"Feeling better?" asked the bounty huntress.
"Aye," sighed the Scotsman, letting his head
loll back.
"You wouldna consider a commission in Starfleet, would
you? We've got a therapeutic masseur, but
he's not half as skilled as you."
Pilenna spun his chair around and slipped into his
lap.
"And you don't even know half my skills," she
purred, stroking his dark bangs back from his forehead.
"Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing.
I'm tired of running this ship all by myself, and now
227 that you've gotten it all fixed up, I thought
you might like to join up."
Scotty chuckled.
"And be a bounty hunter? That may be what we're
doing here, but that's not our normal line of work."
The former slave shrugged.
"We could do anything you want, Scotty. Carry
passengers, run dilithium crystals-you name it.
Lately, bounty hunting hasn't been paying all
that well. This damn planet is putting us all out
of business."
"I'd like to put it out of business." The engineer
scowled.
"But I've only got forty-eight hours."
"Then let's make the most of it," breathed
Pilenna. She melted into him, her radiant hair
caressing his cheeks a millisecond before her
luscious mouth found his. Scotty responded with a
zeal that surprised both of them, and they were locked in
a passionate kiss when the comm panel on her
vanity table intruded with an irritating buzz.
"Damn," she said, reaching over to slap the
panel.
"What is it?"
"Incoming ship," said a voice from the Gezary's
bridge.
"From the gamma ray activity, it must be
a big one."
Pilenna frowned.
"I'll be right there." Very reluctantly, she
extricated herself from Scotty's arms.
"Business calls, my sweet. But, please,
stay here and wait for me."
"I can't," said Scotty hoarsely. He stood
and straightened his uniform.
"We've only got forty- eight hours to find
them. Pilenna, if you get a sign of a ship leaving
the planet's surface, will you let me know?"
She patted his shoulder fondly.
"Of course, my dear. You'll be the first to know.
If you're leaving, go now, because we're pulling out of
orbit to see what this is." He took her hand and
kissed it like the old-world 228 gentleman he was.
"I'll consider your offer," he said, smiling,
"when I leave Starfleet."
She winked.
"Get out of here before I throw you in irons."
As the bounty huntress rushed out of the room,
Scotty took out his communicator with a sigh.
"Transporter room, beam me over."
Captain Kirk STOOD waiting at the launch
site with a sparse number of early birds,
it being far from sunrise. Despite Spock's
suggestion, he hadn't been able to go back to sleep
after McCoy's belated arrival. No sooner had
he wandered out of their shuttle home than he had
hooked up with a crowd of early risers who were headed
to the site. They talked reverently, in whispers, of the
upcoming flight, assessing the merits of the liquid
hydrogen fuel, the resurrection of the ship's
shield, and the overall design of the Lujexer.
In the bright moonlight, Kirk followed them to a
level expanse of sheer rock that had been scorched
black by various earlier attempts to escape.
The scaffolding held a slim, needle-nosed
craft that looked hardly big enough for one person,
let alone two. How much fuel could it possibly
hold? How far could they go? wondered Kirk. The
answers that came to mind weren't encouraging.
"Hello, stranger," said a voice.
Kirk turned to see a smiling Renna, looking
freshly scrubbed and dressed in a frayed but
form-hugging flight suit.
"I'm glad you found your way here," she
remarked.
"Where are McCoy and Spock?"
"I hope McCoy is sleeping," said
the captain with a chuckle.
"Someone introduced him to the local intoxicant
last night."
"Well, I gather that was a rather special party,"
answered Renna thoughtfully. She turned her
attention to the scaffolding that held the rocketship.
"We are here because we love spaceships. You,
at least, got yours back. I wish I had my
ship back."
"What ship was that?" Kirk asked innocently.
Renna grinned.
"Just some old piece of tin I smashed up some
time ago.
You know, Kirk, you might as well plan on
staying here and making the best of it. I've been told
this is all going to end rather badly."
"I heard they got the shields working on this
ship," said Kirk cockily.
"And I've always believed that if there's a will,
there's a way."
"The shields, they were saying last night, are forty
percent or so," pointed out Renna.
"Even if that's enough to break through, what are they going
to do about the bounty hunters?"
"Nobody said it would be easy," Kirk
replied stoically.
"It's cold," breathed Renna, snuggling into his
chest. Kirk's arms wrapped around her
instinctively.
"You know," she went on, "we've gotten to know this
part of the planet pretty well, but there's still lots
to discover. What's out there on some of those islands?
What's to the west of here? Don't you want to find
out?"
"Yes, I do," the captain murmured into her
ear. "And I'll be able to find that out when I get
back to the Enterprise. was Renna twisted out of his
grasp.
"What about defeating the Senites," she demanded,
"and taking over this jewel of a planet? It could be
done."
Kirk chuckled.
"Yes, I believe you probably could do it if
you put your mind to it. But not me. I don't want
one world-I want hundreds and thousands of worlds."
"I know." Renna nodded sadly, settling back
into his arms.
"That's why we were all condemned here."
Simultaneously, it seemed to Kirk, the area
filled with the first rays of salmon-colored
sun and a diverse selection of people. Kirk saw
McCoy and Spock standing discreetly on the other
side of the blackened launch pad and he realized he
still had his arms tightly around Renna.
They were unable to talk about any of the issues that
burdened their minds, but they were able to hold each other;
and Kirk wasn't anxious to let go. He saw
Spock fiddling with his tricorder, and he knew he
would receive a detailed analysis of what they were about
to witness. The whole crowd was strangely quiet and
expectant, as if this were a solemn religious
occasion rather than the launch of a homemade rocket.
The pilots finally made their entrance,
accompanied by well-wishers and explosive
applause. The young male and female who were making
the flight seemed an excellent choice to Kirk,
and he realized that the whole community must have
sacrificed and collaborated to make their dream come
true. It had to have been a huge team effort
to assemble the raw materials, scrap, and skill
needed to transform one of these crippled hulks into a
worthwhile spacecraft again. Kirk also felt the
melancholy of the occasion, as if a terrible knowledge was not
being spoken. Although hope was rampant in the
assembled throng, so were fear, fatalism,
and a sort of morbid curiosity.
The best they could see was two people triumphing over
impossible odds, but the least they would see was two people
dying.
Those two people strapped on pressure suits and
helmets and waved to their friends as they climbed a
rope ladder to the cockpit of the needle-nosed
craft. Kirk wondered if it had once been an
unmanned probe, it was so sleek and streamlined. The
male wriggled in first, followed by the female,
until they lay end to end, completely invisible
except for the woman's arms. She snapped the
canopy shut.
"What do you think?" asked Belkot, sidling up
to Kirk and Renna.
"Ask me when it's over," Renna said, and
shivered.
Kirk wondered, "How many flights like these have you
had?"
"Too many." The albino frowned.
"But we're hoping this one will be different. We have
the shield partly working."
"Is Sherfa here?" asked Renna, craning her
neck to look around.
Belkot shook his head.
"No. She never comes to one of these, although she has
done more work than anyone."
A few meters away, an impossibly
gangly creature with several arms was talking on a
crude walkie talkie
"All systems check," he said, his limbs
gesturing around like a spider's.
"Begin countdown." The being waved a long
appendage at someone closer to the ship and shouted,
"Clear launch pad
"Clear launch pad rang out several voices,
and the crowd began to push back from the scaffolding.
"Prepare for launch!"
"One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight,
ninety seven ." someone began counting down. Other
voices took up the chant.
Kirk could feel Renna's compact body tensing
in his arms, and his own fingers dug deeper into her
flesh. They were standing well back and were soon
surrounded by observers, pressed limb to limb.
Thrusters sputtered on the rocket's undercarriage,
and it began to shake perceptibly on the rickety
launcher.
As the air filled with heat, smoke, and noise,
people pressed forward as if to feel the power of the
burning fuel. The countdown was drowned out, but everyone
could tell when zero was reached. The nozzles roared with
an inferno of flame, filling the area with choking
smoke. It hardly mattered, because nobody was
breathing.
They held their breath until the rocket began
to rise, shaking off the feeble ropes and belts that
held it. The cheering mounted with every meter that the ship
lifted into the air and rose into a crescendo that sounded
louder than the engines. People were shrieking and laughing and
pounding each other on the back as the rocket made a
swift ascent, rising until it became little more than
a spark in the rose-hued sky.
Many observers had binoculars, small
telescopes, and handheld instruments such as
Spock's tricorder. As the blip got smaller,
they shouted reports like, "There she is!"
"Still climbing!"
"Looks good!"
But suddenly, it didn't look so good.
Suddenly, the shining light disappeared.
"She's gone," someone said with shock, "Where is
it?" a woman wailed.
"Where is it?"
"That's about where they always go," muttered a
veteran.
"The Senites got her."
"Lujexer, come in!" the gangly creature
shouted into his radio.
"Lujexer!
Come in! Come in!"
But there was nothing on the other end.
Kirk felt Renna turn her head and look
away, but there hadn't been any terrible explosion
or flaming debris-just nothing. That almost made it
worse on the crowd, because the sobs and shocked
expressions came slower, leavened by disbelief and
denial.
"Usual place," someone agreed.
"Their shield didn't hold."
Belkot P tilde Ltted Kirk on the
shoulder.
"Do you see why we tell you to accept it?" he
asked.
"But you don't accept it," Kirk argued.
"You keep trying."
"We're fools," the albino said bitterly.
He bowed his head and walked down the hill.
Renna pried herself away from Kirk's arms and
turned to face him.
"You only get one try," she cautioned.
"I'd give it a lot of thought, if I were you."
The young woman joined the sorrowful exodus from the
launch pad leaving only Kirk, Spock,
McCoy, and a handful of others too curious or
stunned to move.
"Commander Scott!" called Sulu from the operations
console.
"I have just detected an explosion in the
atmosphere over the planet." He turned around
to look intently at the acting captain.
"From my estimates, I would say the craft was
trying to escape the atmosphere."
Scotty leaned forward in the captain's chair.
"Are ye sure it wasn't a ship going in,
maybe an unmanned probe or torpedo?"
"No," answered Sulu, "this was definitely a
missile firedftom the planet.
It vanished approximately thirty
kilometers above the surface, exactly where our
sensors stop functioning and our own probes
disappear." "Sir," Chekov interrupted, "whatev er
it was, it did 235 not go unnoticed by the other
ships in orbit. The Orion ship and the Gezary
both changed course to intercept. Now they
are returning to their orbits."
"Hirim," mused Scotty.
"Maybe the inmates do try to escape from the
asylum every now and then."
"I hope that wasn't the captain," said Sulu.
"That ship is gone vaporized."
"Maybe it was unmanned," suggested Uhura,
"like a test flight." Scotty nodded decisively
and strode to Sulu's station.
"Lieutenant, I want you to ignore the rest
of the planet and track that missile back to its
point of origin. I know you canna tell exactly
without sensors, but maybe you can use telescopes and
photographs to get an idea where the launch pad
is. Change our orbit if you have to."
"Aye, sir," answered Sulu.
"Keep your eyes open," Scotty told
everyone.
"I swear, Spock, you are absolutely
ghoulish," said McCoy on the walk back to their
shuttle home
"You're the only one who enjoyed that tragedy
back there. You're still replaying it on your
tricorder."
"Precisely, Doctor," Spock
agreed, without looking up from his handheld instrument.
"I have simulated the launch several times, and the
result is always a successful flight. However, the
flight we witnessed was not successful."
McCoy turned with exasperation to Kirk.
"How can you argue with logic like that?"
"Maybe there's method to his madness," said
Kirk.
"What are you looking for, Spock?"
The Vulcan answered, "There can be no mistake
the flight was progressing successfully until it
reached an altitude of thirty kilometers. At
that point, it destructed without apparent reason. A
failure for no reason is illogical; therefore,
we can conclude that the 236 Senite shield is found
at thirty kilometers and is programmed to repel
driven flight."
"And what does that mean?" asked McCoy.
Spock turned off his tricorder and put it
back into its case.
"It means, Doctor, that we could not escape from
the planet in the shuttlecraft, even if we had
fuel and stabilizers."
"What you're saying," said the captain, scowling,
"is that there is no escape for us? No
point in trying?"
"Not necessarily," said the Vulcan.
"I said the shield repels driven flight. It
may not repel all types of aircraft. I have
an experiment to perform."
With that, the Vulcan charged down the path, and
Kirk and McCoy had to run to keep up with him.
He dashed into the shuttlecraft and stayed there for
several moments, while Kirk and McCoy stared at
one another.
"Do you know what that devious Vulcan mind is
up to?" asked the doctor.
"Not a clue," admitted Kirk.
"But we could use some devious thinking at this
point."
Spock emerged holding an expandable weather
balloon and a small canister of helium, both of
which were standard issue in the shuttle's survival
kit. He began to fill the balloon.
"Oh, great," muttered McCoy, "we're going
to find out what the weather is."
"Actually," said Spock, "we are going to learn
very little about the weather, because I have removed most of the
sensors. I have, however, left the transmitter and
altimeter intact. Gentlemen, will you
please help to hold the balloon-I am filling it
to its maximum pressure."
Kirk and McCoy struggled with the attached line as
Spock filled the balloon with helium until it
was four meters in diameter and as large as the three
of them put together. Their feet were beginning to lift off
the ground by the time Spock tied off the balloon's
nozzle. He pulled out his tricorder and pressed
some buttons.
"Release it, please," he ordered.
It was with great relief that Kirk and McCoy
did so, and the giant balloon launched into the sky like
a bubble blasting out of the ocean.
Spock followed its course on the tricorder,
but the balloon was visible to the naked eye for a
considerable length of time, and a curious crowd gathered
to see what the second launch of the day was about.
"What do you three think you're up to?" asked the
old woman Sherfa.
"I'm not sure," answered Kirk.
"Spock is trying an experiment."
"I'll ask him later," Sherfa decided.
"He looks too preoccupied to talk at the
moment. You don't mind if I watch, do you?"
"Of course not," said Kirk.
"I'm sorry about what happened at the launch this
morning."
She sighed.
"They were like children to me. I'm getting too old for
that sort of thing. I may not help the next bunch of
idiots who are fool enough to try that."
"Meaning us?" asked McCoy.
"I don't know." The woman shrugged.
"What you are doing here looks quite different."
The weather balloon was now out of sight, although
several people continued to follow it with binoculars and
telescopes, and Spock never took his eyes off
his tricorder. After a while, Sherfa and some of the
others looked more than merely curious.
"How high is it?" asked the old woman.
"Thirty-five kilometers and rising," answered
Spock.
"Wait a minute," said Sherfa excitedly, "that
means it's past the shield!"
"By my calculations, yes," Spock replied.
"At about 238 fifty kilometers, it will
probably start to lose altitude, but it is past
the Senite shield."
"Wait a minute," said Kirk, reaching into his
back pocket and pulling out his beat-up
communicator.
"If we ride a balloon thirty-five
kilometers into the stratosphere, will we be able
to contact the Enterprise? Will they be able to beam us
off?"
"Those are matters of conjecture," said Spock,
"but I see no reason why not. All of this confirms
what I noticed when we first entered the atmosphere
in the shuttlecraft-the instruments stopped working at
about thirty kilometers. Then today, the rocket
vanished at thirty kilometers.
That is where the Senite shield is the strongest.
The shield is obviously programmed to stop
driven flight trying to escape the stratosphere, but
not gases drifting leisurely upward."
McCoy peered into the sky and remarked, "We
finally know how high the walls of this prison are."
"Are you sure there's still somebody up there
to rescue you?" asked a doubting voice. They
turned to see Renna elbowing her way closer through
what was now a considerable crowd.
"Because if there's not, you're either going to suffocate
in the thin air, or fall fifty kilometers to your
deaths. Or the bounty hunters will get you," she added
with a mocking grin.
"In fact, I can think of a few people who would pay
dearly for James T. Kirk delivered in
chains."
The captain smiled.
"You have some valid points, but all of this is
purely conjecture. I presume, Spock, we
haven't got a balloon in the shuttlecraft that's
big enough to carry the three of us aloft?"
"No, Captain," answered the Vulcan.
"Nor do we have enough helium."
McCoy waved his hands and proclaimed, "We
don't need helium-we can use hot air! I've
flown hot-air balloons before. It's easy."
"No, no," said Sherfa, "if Spock is right, the
large burners you would need to heat the air would set
off the Senite shield. And hot-air balloons
are huge. The craft you want would have to be
low-mass, almost entirely gas.
And you would have to wear pressurized suits."
"That was my thinking," Spock agreed.
"The only electronic device we could risk
carrying would be one communicator."
"Okay," said McCoy, "how much helium do you
have?"
"About as much as you do," answered Sherfa.
"Helium does not occur naturally around here, but
we have a great deal of hydrogen. Free hydrogen
is a natural component of the gases we collect
from deep in the volcano, and we can also extract it
from water. That's why we use it for our rocket
fuel. After all, hydrogen is the most abundant
element in the universe."
"And one of the most flammable." Renna appealed
to Kirk and McCoy "Why don't you just set
yourselves on fire right now? If you know anything about
Earth history, you must remember the Hindenburg. was
"The famous zeppelin." McCoy nodded
reverently.
"It struck a tower in the United States and
blew up. That was the end of the great dirigibles of the
1930's."
Spock cocked an eyebrow and said, "I am
impressed, Doctor. I should have known you would be an
expert on early-twentieth-century
transportation."
McCoy squinted at the Vulcan, not sure if
that was a compliment or not. By this time, the discussion had
spread, and everyone within earshot was debating the merits
of helium, hydrogen, and hot air. Many of them were
computing how large the balloon would have to be
to lift the trio thirty-five kilometers, and
whether it should be super-pressurized or zero240
pressurized. Dr. McCoy was actively
contributing his opinions.
"I think you started something," Kirk whispered
to Spock.
"Can we really do this?"
"We can," said the Vulcan, "if we have the
materials to build the basket and the balloon, the
gas to fill it, and three pressure suits.
However, all of the reservations brought forth by Renna are
still valid."
"I know," muttered Kirk. He turned to look
for the pert, dark-haired woman, but she had
disappeared.
"I don't suppose we could take her with us?"
"No, Captain," Spock replied.
"In all probability, she is Auk-rex, but
Starfleet regulation 927.9 prohibits
willfully endangering a prisoner's life."
"But it's okay to willfully endanger our own
lives?"
"In this case," said Spock, "we must endanger
our lives. I see no other possibility for
escape. We must also act as soon as
possible, because every second's delay increases the
probability that the Enterprise will be summoned
elsewhere."
"Yes." The captain frowned.
"We're supposing that Scotty has found a
way to stay up there for two weeks, despite those
ships he mentioned before we lost contact, and
starfleet."
"I believe, Captain," said Spock, "that
unless Commander Scott has relinquished command, the
Enter PrI se is still in orbit."
"A leap of faith, Spock?"
Spock cocked his head.
"A prediction based upon observation of past
behavior. Of course, if my prediction is
wrong, there will be disastrous consequences."
"We either take your balloon ride," summed
up the captain, "or we accept the fact that we have
to spend the rest of our lives here."
"That is the decision," agreed the Vulcan.
"How high up is thirty kilometers?" 241
"High enough to be interesting," replied Spock.
"On Earth, which has a similar atmosphere, the
record for a manned balloon flight is
thirty-four point seven kilometers, and
there have been several flights in the thirty-kilometer
range. Of course, we have an advantage in that
we do not have to design the craft to return to the
ground."
"Yeah, some advantage. How much gas would we
need? What kind of pressure?"
Spock held up his hand.
"I suggest we answer one question first Are we
going to do this?"
"Yes," Kirk answered decisively. He
wondered if he had just joined the Graveyard
suicide club.
After the freewheeling discussions had died down,
Kirk, Spock, and McCoy met privately with
Sherfa, Belkot, Errico, and several other
leaders of the Graveyard of Lost Ships. They met
in the community's courthouse, a large freighter with a
blackened hull, the result of a none-too-careful
entry into Sanctuary's atmosphere. Nevertheless,
its hold offered a spacious private room with a
white board, upon which the participants freely drew
diagrams and flowcharts to illustrate their points.
Belkot had just drawn what looked
uncomfortably like a giant coffin, suspended from a
small, spherical balloon by a cord that
was, in scale, perhaps sixty meters long. The
entire contraption was longer than the freighter in which the
meeting was taking place. He pounded the diagram
with a pale finger.
"The long rigging," explained Belkot, "looks
dangerous but will give the balloon more stability,
especially on takeoff. This won't be a
leisurely ride-that much hydrogen will make you
ballistic when you take off. And I don't know if
you can carry enough ballast to make a difference. But if
we install some vents at the top of the balloon, and
run lines into the cabin, you can control your ascent, and
even return to the ground."
Dr. McCoy squinted at the diagram.
"I don't mind all that hydrogen being as far
away from me as possible," he remarked, "but how
big is that cabin? Is it going to be
pressurized?"
"That all depends on time," answered Sherfa.
"How soon do you want to go?"
Every eye in the empty hold turned to Captain
Kirk.
"Tomorrow," he snapped.
There were murmurs and comments about how it couldn't be
done. Sherfa only smiled in her gap
toothed way.
"We have known you a short time, Captain," she
said, "but we recognize a headstrong man of
action. We've had many in our midst like you-some are
gone, of course. If you can be persuaded to take your
time with this endeavor, I believe your chances of
success will be greater."
Kirk leaned forward across the table and stared every man,
woman, and creature in the optical organ.
"This escape has no chance of success if our
ship is not up there. Let me remind you again-we
only need to go one way. All the talk of vents and
lifelines and escape hatches is beside the point.
The balloon only has to go up, with us strapped
to it."
He straightened up and smiled sheepishly.
"I don't mean to lecture you, but if I were
back on my ship, I'm sure I could rig this
experiment in twenty-four hours. I don't have the
resources here, so I have to depend upon you. And I
don't think we need a fancy cabin lightweight
pressure suits like that couple wore this morning would
be fine. If we have to hang around up there at fifty
kilometers for a few days-well, something's gone
wrong. All we need from you is a big
balloon and enough hydrogen to fill it up."
Sherfa turned to Belkot and said, "If the
Harrakas can do without their new greenhouse, I think
they 243 have enough tri polymer sheeting to make the
balloon. We can also use the insulation from the
Paragran, and we have plenty of molecular bonding
material."
"If I may make a suggestion," said
Spock.
"We should use a balloon that is
zero-pressurized as opposed
to super-pressurized." The Vulcan turned to his
captain to explain.
"A super-pressurized balloon has greater
pressure inside than the outside air-it would
lift quickly but continue to expand as it ascended. If
we use a balloon that has less pressure than
the outside air and only enough hydrogen to gain the
desired altitude, it would expand in the thinning air
until it and the air were at equal, or zero,
pressure. Its ascent would stabilize for at least
a few hours at that altitude. Zero pressure
will not tax the seams of the balloon as much either."
Belkot nodded.
"Ideally, you'd level off at about
thirty-five kilometers, but we'd have to make
sure you had enough hydrogen to get that far."
"I have made some preliminary calculations," said
Spock.
"Perhaps you would care to check my figures."
"This is great," proclaimed Kirk eagerly.
"So you're going to help us?"
"Yes," grumbled Sherfa.
"We suffer fools gladly." She rose to her
feet and looked at everyone around her.
"Spock and I will head up the committee to make
the balloon and rigging. Belkot, you can collect the
hydrogen. Hole number four gives off the most
free hydrogen, and you can also check how much we have
left in the Mathulsa's fuel tanks. Mr.
Spock, what do you think a good preliminary
estimate would be?"
The Vulcan cocked his head and replied, "I
would estimate two thousand cubic meters."
"Sounds about right," Belkot agreed.
The woman turned to Kirk and McCoy.
"Gentlemen, I will leave it up to you to design
your own 244 basket. Or whatever you choose
to hang yourselves from. Remember, low-mass, no
metal."
"I have an idea about that," said McCoy,
grinning.
"Errico," Sherfa said to the tall Andorian, "you
beg, borrow, or steal three pressure suits.
Ask politely, but check everyone's locker."
The regal blue-skinned being nodded solemnly.
"I will not rest until my mission is
accomplished."
"There's just one more thing," said the old woman,
looking squarely at Captain Kirk.
"I want you to send us a sign, shoot a
rocket or something, if you are rescued. If we
ever get anyone off this rock, we want to know about
it."
"Agreed." Kirk smiled warmly.
"Just keep watching the sky."
WHILE SpocKnowledge sET about organizing the
balloon construction team, Kirk and McCoy
returned to their shuttle home The doctor
promptly took down their nylon net hammocks
and measured them. He found three more hammocks in the
survival gear, a sewing kit, and some scissors;
gathering them up, he began to work.
Kirk watched the seamster for several moments before
he finally had to ask, "What are you doing,
Bones? I'm not sure I want to sleep with you in
one giant hammock."
"I doubt if we'll be getting very much sleep,"
answered McCoy.
"We're going to be hanging from the balloon in this
hammock."
"What?" exclaimed Kirk.
"We're gonna hang in a hammock
thirty-five kilometers in the air? Will it hold
us?"
"These hammocks hold us all right now," argued
McCoy. "There is a misconception that you are
buffeted about in a balloon. Even at high speed
in high winds, a balloon ride is very smooth,
because you are traveling the same speed and direction as
the wind. I'll make the hammock stronger and bigger
than it needs to be, in case we have to carry some
ballast."
"I don't know," Kirk muttered doubtfully.
"It's low-mass and nonmetallic, too,"
replied McCoy.
"As Spock says, I know a thing or two about
twentieth-century transportation."
"All right." Kirk shrugged.
"I'm going to test my communicator
to make sure it's still working after all this time. They
set us up with electricity, and you should be able to receive
my signal at the instrument panel. If you hear
me, answer."
"Okay," said McCoy, not skipping a beat in
his sewing.
The captain stepped outside and walked about
twenty meters from the shuttlecraft. Two green
skinned children stopped their play to watch him.
Smiling at them, Kirk flipped open his
communicator and heard the welcoming chirps.
"Kirk to shuttlecraft," he said.
"Come in, shuttlecraft."
"McCoy here," came the reply.
"It's working fine. Let's hope Scotty
hears it as clearly."
"That's a relief after carrying this thing around with me
over all those rivers, mountains, and oceans. When
we get the pressure suits, I'll mount the
communicator inside my helmet and leave it
operational."
"Good idea," replied the doctor.
"I've got to get back to work on this
hammock."
"Make it strong, Bones. I'll see
how they're doing with the balloon and the hydrogen. Ou."
Kirk folded up the communicator, put it in his
pocket, and turned to see someone else watching him
in addition to the children. Renna was wearing an
attractive dress that flowed from her creamy
shoulders, over a revealing neckline, and down her
slim 247 hips and legs. The brightly flowered
pattern made her lustrous black hair look like
night over the neon lights of Dohama. He
swallowed dryly, wishing there were some way he could
take her with him.
"You look lovely," he said with all honesty.
"Thank you," Renna replied with a charming
curtsy.
"Actually, this dress is all there was left after
they took every stitch of clothing available to make your
balloon."
"Speaking of which," Kirk said quickly, "I'd like
to see how they're doing.
Do you know where Spock and Sherfa are?"
"Yes." Renna took his arm.
"I'll walk you there."
She felt warm and natural striding beside him, and
Kirk found himself pulling her closer, despite his
best intentio ns. He could not imagine any
woman in the galaxy more suited to him in daring and
determination than this young woman. At the moment, he
couldn't imagine any woman more desirable either. But
he was about to leave her, perhaps only to die. The
nearness of her youthful body made Kirk wonder
briefly whether escape was worth the risk of death
but of course, that was precisely Renna's intention.
"I'm going to miss you, Kirk," she said
simply.
"But I guess you don't have that same problem with
me. tilde 9 "I'm usually partial to beautiful
women who save my life," he joked. Then he
grew serious.
"But I can't take you with me."
She stepped angrily in front of him and gave
his chest a push.
"I don't want to go with you," she snapped.
"I want you to stay here, you damned idiot!
I'm trying to save your life again. Let Spock
and McCoy go up there, if they want. You have more
to live for-you have me."
"That's very tempting," he admitted.
"You're very tempting. But even if I stayed, you
would never have 248 me. What I am is up there, in
a ship that's been crippled and close
to falling apart more times than I care to think about it.
But that's where I am, even now. 91 Renna bowed
her head, her dark eyes filling with tears, and
Kirk wrapped his arms around her. They held each
other in silent desperation for several seconds,
until finally she looked up, forcing a smile through
her tears.
"You can't leave me," she whispered.
"I'm the reason you came down here.
I'm Auk-rex."
"I know," Kirk said.
"But even if you were the greatest mass murderer in
history, Spock has informed me that we couldn't
risk your life. And I don't think you're going
to plunder many Federation ships with Sanctuary as a
base."
"No," she sighed, "I suppose not. But you
don't mind if I overthrow those pompous Senites
and take over this planet, do you?"
The captain cleared his throat and looked
slightly uncomfortable.
"Oh, I forgot," Renna said, smiling, "the
Prime Directive. Well, who knows what
laws I might break, if left here all by myself?
You might have to come back someday and arrest
me."
"With pleasure," answered Kirk.
She threw her arms around him and kissed him with an
intensity and exuberance that took him by surprise.
He had no sooner responded than she pulled
away, wiping her eyes.
"I can't watch any of this preparation, or watch
you take off," she said hoarsely.
"Just keep on this path, and you'll find Sherfa and
her crew.
Please, don't die, Kirk."
"I won't," he promised with more certainty than
he felt.
"Goodbye."
Renna turned and walked swiftly away, a
youthful 249 vision in a summer dress and the
pirate scourge of the galaxy. For a brief moment,
Kirk weakened and nearly ran after her; but then he
reminded himself of the things he had told her. God,
he hoped he was making the right decision.
The balloon construction crew was working at the
blackened launch site, the only clearing in the
overgrown crater that was large enough to accommodate
giant sheets of clear material stretched end
to end.
Kirk stood at the edge of the forest, watching with
admiration as Sherfa directed the careful measuring and
cutting of large ovoid strips. Spock hovered
near her, holding a blueprint and furnishing
advice that she passed on to her workers. Farther
away, the gangly creature with several arms was
measuring lengths of plastic cable for the rigging.
A fragile-looking older man was testing various
molecular bonding compounds on the cast-off
trimmings. He had just glued two pieces of
material together and was trying to see if he could pull
them apart, but he couldn't give it much of a test.
Suddenly, a great hairy being strode toward him.
"Let me see that," growled Billiwog.
"I'll tell you if it'll hold or not."
The giant humanoid grabbed a wad in each hand
and pulled for all he was worth. Even grunting and
straining, he was unable to loosen the bond.
"Well done!" Billiwog grinned, slapping the
worker on the back and nearly knocking him over.
"If you made it any stronger, it might carry
me!"
"Billiwog!" called Kirk.
"How are you?"
"Hello there, Captain," the
humanoid cried, waving back. lie was at
Kirk's side in a couple of strides and leaned
down to whisper in his ear, "Hey, you aren't really
going up in this thing, are you? It's just 250 sort of
an experiment to keep these folks busy, right?
Make "em forget what happened this morning."
"Well, it is sort of an experiment," Kirk
agreed.
"But, yes, we are going up in it. Tomorrow, by the
looks of it."
Billiwog shook his furry head.
"You're crazy, Kirk. Sanctuary isn't that
bad that you've got to kill yourself was "Killing ourselves
is not part of the plan. It's just something we have to do, like
you have to build boats."
"Yeah," grumbled Billiwog, looking
downcast.
"I guess those days are over if I decide
to stay here. Not too many oceans around."
"But wait," said Kirk, grinning, "you've got
a new ocean-the sky! Watch what they're doing here
and learn how to build balloons. You can sail the
air currents anywhere you want on this planet."
"Yeah," said the humanoid, his whole hairy
face brightening.
"I could explore mountains and deserts comg
anywhere."
"Talk to McCoy," Kirk suggested.
"He knows all about hot-air ballooning, and
that's all you'd need. You don't need this
high-altitude stuff we're doing."
"Thanks." Billiwog nodded.
"I hope you make it, Captain." The giant
patted him gently on the back and strode away.
Kirk thought about talking to Spock, but he
decided that he should no more interrupt the first officer
than he would interrupt Scotty in the middle of an
urgent repair. Sherfa glanced at him, then quickly
turned back to her busy crew. Never look at the
condemned man, Kirk thought ruefully. He hoped
she was wrong, but he welcomed the dedication and
professionalism she brought to the task, even if her
heart wasn't in it. He decided to leave rather than
interrupt anyone's work. The captain stopped someone
and asked directions to the ship called the Mathulsa,
where he knew Belkot was storing the hydrogen. It
was a surprisingly small planet-jumper, but
Belkot explained to him that its roomy fuel
tanks had the most easily adaptable ducts for
transferring gases from other vessels and
sources. Plus, it was already half-full of
hydrogen left over from the fuel for the late lamented
Lujexer.
"Don't worry," Belkot assured him,
"we're only about three hundred cubic meters
short of the two thousand we need. The stuff we're
getting out of hole number four is not pure, but it
should get you up there. We've got mobile tanks
we can transfer it to, when the time comes."
"I have every faith in you," said Kirk.
"And I in you," answered the albino, tipping his
straw hat to the captain.
"Before you came, we didn't have a clue how
to get beyond that terrible shield. But now we do. We
may never send anyone else up there again, but it's
nice to know we can."
Captain Kirk bade Belkot and his crew
good-bye and left them to their work. There was really nothing
for him to do, which was beginning to make him nervous. Once
they were launched, there wouldn't be anything at all for
him to do, except hang under a balloon filled with
highly combustible gas and try to contact the
Enterprise. This balloon flight was beginning
to remind him of tales he had read about the first
manned spaceflights on Earth, when the
astronauts and cosmonauts were little more than
laboratory animals strapped inside giant
Roman candles.
Kirk took a long walk through the Graveyard,
and more than once he thought about Renna. He wandered
among the rusting hulks of spaceships that would never
fly again and thought about his life.
It grew dark in the Graveyard before Kirk
resolved his doubts in his mind. He took some
solace from thinking about those early astronauts and
cosmonauts, not to mention pioneering aviators and
sailors who'd journeyed blithely into the unknown with
much less going for them technologically than he had.
Plus, he had his companions, Spock and
McCoy and Scotty, Sulu, Chekov,
Uhura, and the rest of the crew. Kirk stood in the
center of the serene crater, gazing up at the night
sky, with only a few dim lights to disturb his
view of the stars. Somehow he knew they were still up there.
He was betting his life on it.
Later, as he headed in what he hoped was the
direction of the shuttlecraft, Kirk heard
uproarious laughter, followed by off-key singing. His
pace quickened, and he arrived at the Ericksen to find
a party going full blast, with well-wishers
spilling into the surrounding paths.
"Jim!" McCoy called to him jovially.
"We were about to send out a search party for ya!"
"Hey, Captain!" Billiwog waved.
"Come and drink some of this rocket fuel.
You won't get nothin" but cold gas tomorrow!"
Before Kirk could step into their midst, he was accosted
by Errico, who held a lightweight blue
pressure suit in front of him.
"That should fit well," said the Andorian, "and we
can adjust the pressure for a human.
I'm sorry to trouble you, Captain; enjoy your
party."
"Thanks, Errico," Kirk replied.
"Is it always like this before a launch?"
"Always," answered the dour blue-skinned being, as
if the purpose of such festivities eluded him.
McCoy came over to Kirk and handed him a
geode cup, this one filled with sparkling yellow
gems that made the ale look like molten gold.
Kirk stared into the cup for an instant, thinking how
beautiful life was, then looked up to see a
smiling but very emotional Dr. McCoy. "What do
you think, Jim?" he asked, grinning.
"Are they up there?"
The captain nodded.
"I think so. But I want you to understand, Bones,
that this escape attempt is strictly voluntary.
I won't m ind at all if you show some good sense and
choose to stay here."
"And miss the greatest balloon ride of my
life?" scoffed McCoy.
"You know, it's possible that we could survive this
flight tomorrow even if there's no Enterprise. God
knows where we would end up."
"I would say survival is possible," offered a
third voice, "but not probable." Spock joined
Kirk and McCoy and made a slight gesture with a
glass goblet that contained water.
"If we drift far, the chances are excellent that
we will come down in the ocean, where we would likely be
consumed by aquatic creatures."
"That's just like you, Spock," grumbled McCoy,
"always looking on the bright side."
"I am merely stating the fact that we will have
absolutely no control over this craft,"
responded Spock.
"If we are not transported off by the
Enterprise comor someone else-we will drift for
several days without food or water, then
probably come down in the ocean. On this planet,
our probability of landing in the ocean is perhaps
twenty-five to one."
McCoy snapped his fingers.
"I think I've figured out what our ballast
is going to be."
"What's that?" asked Kirk.
"Food and water! If, just if, we come down on
land, we might need the food and water. Let me go
talk to Belkot and line up some packaged food,
roast loins, jugs of water, anything that's heavy."
The doctor scurried away, and Kirk said
to his first officer, "I told Bones, and I'm
telling you-this attempt is voluntary. If you would
rather stay here, we'll do what we can to rescue you at
a later date."
"Thank you, Captain," Spock said, "but I have
little doubt of our ability to reach the proper
altitude. Therefore, the risk lies entirely in
whether the Enterprise is still within transporter
range.
As you said, I suppose it is an act of
faith, but I place faith in my shipmates every
day. Is it illogical for me to do so now?"
"No, not at all." Kirk smiled and
lifted his glass.
"To your health."
Spock did the same.
"Live long and prosper."
THE PARTY BROKE up EARLY, even before the
second moon had appeared over the twisted spires
of Sanctuary. Captain Kirk didn't deliver
a speech, because what could he say to a community he
had known for only a few hours? These were strangers,
but strangers committed to the same goal comrecapturing
the technology that was their heritage. There was no other
explanation for the fervor they threw themselves into the next
morning. Sherfa was everywhere, pulling everything together, from
mounting McCoy's net to the rigging to driving pylons
into the ground to secure the balloon, which would soon be
straining at its leashes.
To check for leaks and to test the pumping and duct
systems, Spock asked Belkot to inflate the
balloon to its maximum pressure. They used
ninety percent forced air and ten percent hydrogen
to give it a bit of buoyancy.
The balloon topped out at a bit over
twenty-four hundred cubic meters and showed no
256 signs of leaks in its molecular bonds.
Barely bobbing off the ground, the
transparent balloon looked like a giant soap
bubble trapped in spiderwebs.
The rigging seemed haphazard to Kirk, but the
ropes had been laid in crisscross patterns
on purpose. There would be two giant nets-one
around the balloon and another one around the
balloonists. Between them would stretch sixty meters
of the toughest tri polymer rope that could be scrounged
in the Graveyard.
Kirk stood at the edge of the launch pad trying
to recall Belkot's diagram, but he couldn't
imagine the contraption stretched to its entire length.
"Did you ever read The Wizard of Oz"...asked
McCoy, standing beside him.
"No," answered Kirk, "but I saw the
visual. Is this going to be more like the wizard taking
off at the end, or the tornado picking up the
house?"
"At first, maybe a little like the tornado," said the
doctor.
"Then there won't be any sensation at all. Just like
you were lying in a hammock."
"Well, don't let me go to sleep," Kirk
joked.
"I've got to contact the Enterprise.
was "I'd better go finish my job," said
McCoy.
"I've got Errico and Billiwog scavenging
for food. Heavy food comno crepes suzette on
this trip. We'll just hope we don't land on some
godforsaken island and need it."
"Billiwog should be able to root out the food," the
captain agreed.
After Dr. McCoy left, Kirk once again
felt superfluous. But, he reminded himself, he was
the captain of this strange vessel as well as of the
Enterprise. He had given the order that had started
all this frenzied activity, and now, as usual, it was
up to him to stand back and let others do their jobs.
There was nothing he had to learn, no skills he had
to master in order to pilot this craft. They would be
slaves of the wind.
Kirk had one task to accomplish. He took his
257 communicator, opened it so that it lay flat,
and affixed it with bonding material to the inside of his
high impact helmet, the one that came with the
pressure suit scrounged by Errico. Then he
tried on the helmet to make sure it fit
properly, and was relieved to find that the device was
completely unnoticeable. Kirk set the
communicator to voice activation, so that all he had
to do before they took off was turn it on. Responses
were likely to be quite loud, but he wouldn't mind hearing
Uhura's voice loud and clear.
Spock approached him to say, "I am adjusting
the air bladders in our suits to better protect
our internal organs. I believe we should have a
fitting in about an hour. We launch in late afternoon,
an hour before sunset, when the air currents are the
most stable."
Kirk nodded.
"Will everything be ready?"
""Ready' is a relative word," answered the
Vulcan.
"It is difficult to say when an experimental
craft that has never flown before is ready."
"I guess the answer is, we're going
anyway."
"Exactly." Spock nodded.
"I will bring the pressure suits here when they are
ready for fitting."
"I'll be here," said Kirk.
The captain remained at the launch site throughout
the day, a conspicuous presence on the periphery,
available for brief discussions and to offer
opinions, but mostly watching. The tensest moment of the
day occurred when the real hydrogen mixture was
pumped into the balloon. First, ropes were thrown around
a large hoop that secured the passenger net to the
rigging, and then the ropes were tied to impressive
steel pylons. These moorings had to last until
lift-off, and Sherfa made sure they were done
correctly. Then the balloon itself was lashed to the
ground by moorings that would be released as soon as it was
partially filled. Sherfa made certain those ropes were
both driven into the ground and gripped by two or more
258 volunteers, because they would be the first to feel the
strain.
To avoid having a spark set off the hydrogen,
the mobile gas pump and fuel tanks were stationed as
far away as the length of hose would allow.
In a short time, the balloon began to blossom
with hydrogen, straining at its bindings. Kirk came
closer, certain that another hand would be needed somewhere.
Suddenly, one of the ropes slipped off its pylon
and dragged two volunteers along the ground, as the
amorphous half-filled balloon tried to ooze like
a jellyfish out the opening it created. Kirk dove
for the rope as it slithered by and wrapped it around his
waist, digging in his heels. This held the
line for the seconds needed for more workers to pile on and
capture it. They unwrapped Kirk and lashed the
rope to a pylon, while the balloon
reluctantly resumed a globular shape.
The next tense moment came when they let the
balloon go, after filling it with eighteen hundred
cubic meters of hydrogen. The only thing they
needed on the ground was the passenger net, so there was
no reason not to let the balloon fly sernifree.
Despite its undulating, blob like appearance, the
balloon shot into the clouds like a ballistic
missile as soon as the ropes were released. Now it
was up to the second set of moorings to do their job.
Some of them started to slip, but each rope had half
a dozen volunteers hanging on it and a crew
to repair the damage.
There were no errant ropes this time.
Slowly, as the magnificent balloon unfurled
sixty meters in the air, a cheer went up from the
collected throng. It was echoed in the forest and on every
front porch in the Graveyard, as all eyes
watched the sphere and its thin rigging sticking straight
up in the air. It looked more like some fantastic tower
than a lighter than-air craft. A lump caught
in Kirk's throat as he looked at the
magnificent sight. In all his years of flying,
he had never thought he would fly in a conveyance that was so
primitive yet so fanciful. The amount of work it
represented was staggering, even if the physics
involved had been well known for eight hundred
years.
The rest of the afternoon passed almost in a daze. They
tried on the pressure suits and swelled them up
to their full pressure, which offered maximum
protection for internal organs as well as ample
breathing air.
Kirk's fit so well that he took off the
helmet and deflated the suit, but kept wearing it.
Under McCoy's watchful eye, they loaded the
netting with two cases of suspect packaged
food, a large frozen chunk of edible herbivore,
three sacks of beans, and several nonmetallic
jugs of water. The netting dragged on the ground, but
the weight didn't seem to affect the balloon at
all. The sinking sun was touching the rim of the crater,
and the familiar long shadows sprawled across the
Graveyard.
It was time, thought Kirk, and everyone else seemed
to sense it at the same moment. People stopped what they
were doing, which was mainly nervous pacing, and
stared at the three newcomers. They hadn't spent very
much time in this community, but they had fit in and been
made welcome .
And they were getting a royal sen doff.
Among the crowd, Kirk saw Sherfa and, standing
beside her, Renna. Both were trying to smile. He
saw Billiwog manning one of the ropes, and
Errico and Belkot on another; they were grinning,
even the Andorian. Kirk looked at his comrades,
Spock and McCoy, and a silent order went out
Inflate your pressure suits-we're going.
Kirk reached into his helmet and powered on the
communicator. Before he put it on, he turned
to 260 Sherfa and shouted, "Watch the sky! I'll
give you a signal."
The old woman waved back, and the young,
darkhaired woman gave him a mock salute. That
was one prisoner he might come back for, thought
Kirk, as he pulled the helmet over his head.
Eager helpers adjusted their pressure suits
until the oxygen was flowing and they were as safe as if
they were in their mothers' arms.
McCoy went first into the large net and settled
himself on the frozen carcass. Spock took a seat
on the packaged goods, and Kirk sat on
the sacks of beans. They were shoulder to shoulder in the
constrictive net, but their pressure suits
maintained a little cocoon around each of them, so it
didn't seem so constrictive. Because the suits had
been scrounged from different crafts and races, there
was no way for them to communicate, except to look
each other in the eyes. Since their heads nearly
abutted, that wasn't difficult.
Belkot and some of the others checked the netting and as
much of the rigging as they could reach. It all appeared
secure-almost too secure, thought Kirk with a
gulp, as there was no way to separate them from the
balloon. They were sure as hell going wherever it
went. He looked into McCoy's eyes and saw
excitement blended uneasily with stark fear; in
contrast, Spock looked like he was about to take a
nap.
Kirk lifted his hand in a definitive wave.
At once, a pre rehearsed ritual began, as the
teams began to untie their respective lines. On
each rope, a handful of volunteers tensed their
bodies to catch the pull of 1,800 cubic meters
of hydrogen. By watching each other and working in
unison, the crews were able to fling their lines into the
wind at the same time.
Then, like puppets being yanked offstage by the
puppeteer, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy were
hoisted into the air.
They felt a collective wrenching in their
stomachs as they became airborne, but the pressure
suits quickly compensated until the only feeling was
a mild lightheadedness. Kirk looked over the edge
of the net to see the ground swirling away beneath him, and
he quickly screwed his eyes shut.
The strangest sensation was no sensation. To know that he
was traveling upward through free air at a speed of
hundreds of kilometers an hour, yet feeling
nothing, gave Kirk a dreamlike sensation, as if
this weren't really happening. The balloon overhead was
almost invisible, and the thick strand of connecting lines
seemed to stretch into infinity, like Jack's beanstalk.
His only contact with reality was looking down, but that
made him (tizzy.
Still, Kirk forced himself to look down to try to get
some sort of bearing.
He also saw McCoy desperately looking
around.
Then they passed through a bank of clouds that
obliterated their vision entirely. For an unknown
distance, they inhabited a world of gray
smoke in which they couldn't see their own hands in front
of their helmets. This was the dreamiest part of the trip,
and Kirk had to remind himself that he was awake and
traveling unabated into the thin air of Sanctuary's
stratosphere.
Finally, they broke from the high cloud bank, and
Kirk could see Spock leaning down and studying the
clouds intently. He soon figured out that the
Vulcan was trying to gauge their speed, knowing that the
slower they were going, the closer they were getting to their
destination, as the hydrogen and the thin air equalized in
density. Kirk looked up at the balloon and
noticed that it had lost much of its flabbiness and had
filled out into a respectable globe. They were still going
up- that much was evident-which meant that they weren't at
thirty-five kilometers yet.
Spock reached into the cartons he was sitting upon
262 and began to toss packaged goods over the top
of the netting. The boxes plummeted like tiny bombs,
piercing the clouds and disappearing. The Vulcan
wasn't concerned about the boxes doing any damage,
since the odds of them landing in wilderness or ocean on
this planet were overwhelming. When McCoy started
to get off his slab of meat, Spock motioned him
to remain seated.
For the time being, sacrificing the boxes would suffice
to give them a little more speed.
A couple hundred kilometers overhead, on the
bridge of the Enterprise, a voice sounded loudly
over the intercom "Photo imaging to Commander
Scott."
"Scott here," answered the acting captain.
"Have you got something?"
"Yes, sir," came the voice.
"You know that crater you asked us to monitor?
Long-range telephoto lenses reveal what
looks like a balloon rising rapidly over that
area."
"A balloon?" asked Scotty.
"You mean, another weather balloon?"
"Oh, bigger than that," came the reply.
"Big enough to be a manned flight, and a
high-altitude one at that."
"It's still out of sensor range," responded
Sulu, "but I can take us directly over the
crater."
"Yes," said Scotty, "get us close." There
was a momentary drone as the impulse engines worked
to adjust their orbit.
"Thank you, Ensign," Scotty told
the imaging technician, "keep us posted."
"Yes, sir."
Chekov bolted upright in his seat and announced,
"Sir, both the Gezary and the Orion ship are
changing course to match ours. They are approaching
at full impulse."
Scotty peered at the viewscreen, where two
tiny blips were swiftly converging upon them. Those
blips would be warships in a matter of moments.
"Yellow alert," said Scotty.
"Do not take your eyes off "em, Ensign."
"Yes, sir," answered Chekov.
The bounty hunters came to a stop a respectable
distance from the Enterprise, although less than fifty
kilometers away. The Gezary was a sleek
vessel with three nacelles in close proximity,
like a trimaran sailing ship. The Orion ship was
bulky, greenish brown and pitted with odd
designs; it reminded Scotty of a World War
II hand grenade he had once seen in a
museum. That they were working in tandem was painfully
obvious.
"Shields up," said Scotty.
"Yes, sir," Chekov answered with obvious
agreement.
"Hail the Gezary, was said the Scotsman,
striding to the captain's seat.
"Make it voice only, because I want to keep
their ships on the screen."
A few seconds later, Uhura responded,
"Captain Pilenna on audio."
Scotty flicked a switch on the arm of his
chair and said sternly, "Captain Pilenna, this is
Commander Scott. I have reason to believe that our people
are trying to make an escape from the planet in a
balloon. I ask you and the Orion ship to withdraw,
so that we may rescue them."
"Darling," responded a husky voice, "that's
not how we operate around here. You have no proof it's
your people on that balloon. You can't just tell us to go
away and forfeit whatever bounty there might be.
Something is floating our way, and nobody knows what
it is."
"I warn you," said Scotty, "our friendship
wilma last if you hamper our rescue operations."
The voice that responded was suddenly cold and
264 unfrly.
"You wouldn't join forces with me. I owe you
nothing." There was an audible pop.
"They've broken off contact," said
Uhura.
Scotty muttered, "They've broken off more than
that." He flicked the switch again and declared,
"Transporter room, stand by."
Captain Kirk strained to lift the frozen loin
over his head, unable to get a good footing in the
spidery net. Spock finally reached up a hand and
helped him hoist it over. The chunk of meat
hurtled into the clouds beneath them, and Kirk could
imagine McCoy making some kind of wisecrack.
He glanced over at the doctor, who was grinning
like a damn fool. He was actually enjoying this
flight.
Kirk had no sensation at all of where they were,
or at what altitude. He knew there would be no
sirens or bells when they passed through the Senite
shield they wanted to be treated like just another ball
of gas-but Spock was concerned enough about their slowing speed
to start tossing out the ballast. From what little He could
see, the balloon looked puffed to capacity, so
Kirk had to assume they were getting close.
"Kirk to Enterprise!" he said into the hollowness
of his helmet, knowing the communicator would activate
automatically.
"Kirk to Enterprise. Kirk
to Enterprise. Kirk to Enterprise. was It became
a chant that he never stopped for an instant as they
rose into the stratosphere.
Uhura nearly jumped out of her seat, and she
shrieked, "It's the captain!" She quickly
recovered enough to say, "Enterprise here! I read you,
sir! We'll, beam you tip."
"Gezary firing phasers!" Chekov proclaimed
as the 265 viewscreen erupted in waves of energy
beams that engulfed the Enterprise and jarred the
bridge, knocking people off their feet.
Uhura shouted to be heard "Transmitting
coordinates to transporter room!
Stand by. Commander Scott, they're on that
balloon, but we have to beam them off."
"Orion ship firing disrupters!" announced
Chekov.
"Gezary firing phasers!"
Scotty gripped the arms of the captain's chair
as the ship was rocked again and again, but he managed
to punch his communicator switch and call out,
"Transporter room! Have ye got those
coordinates?"
"Yes, sir, we're locked on. We're
waiting for you to lower the shields."
The pummeling from the two ships off the bow continued
unabated, and the Enterprise rocked like a
punch-drunk fighter.
"Shields at forty percent," called Sulu,
"but holding. We can't drop them now!"
"We've got to!" growled Scotty.
"They're only doing this to make us keep our
shields up." As the ship rocked again, he
sprawled across his chair and hit the communicator
switch.
"Transporter room, don't wait for my
command. When I drop the shields, energize!"
"Acknowledged!" barked the voice, as the ship
rattled and sparks burst from the science station.
"They're firing toward the planet!" shouted
Sulu.
"That does it," snarled Scotty.
"Chekov, give 'em a brace of torpedoes.
Scatter pattern."
"Yes, sir!" declared the Russian with a grin.
He let the computer launch seven photon
torpedoes, but picked the last setting himself.
The scatter pattern was intended to blind and disorient
the enemy, and the Enterprise crew watched as a chain
of explosions sizzled across the bows of the
attacking ships. Chekov's missile, slipping in
behind the others, struck the Gezary full-on in the
engine compartment. The ship sputtered greenish flames
from its wound and began to slip out of orbit toward the
planet. The Orion vessel continued to fire.
The balloonists were blissfully ignorant of the
battle taking place over their heads, until a
phaser beam from the Orion ship struck their
balloon.
At once, Kirk's excitement turned to utter
terror. The hydrogen explosion was like a
supernova, turning the sky above into a flaming
ball. Fingers of fire raced toward them across the thin
air and would have consumed them, but they were already falling
faster than the flames could travel.
Kirk tumbled as if he were weightless, in total
free-fall. He saw two bodies spinning on
either side of him, one of them wrapped in the shredded
hammock. All that was left of their magnificent
balloon was a glowing ember that floated far overhead
like an iridescent butterfly. It had happened so
quickly that it took him another moment to realize that if
they dropped beneath the Senites" shield, they would just
keep on dropping.
Kirk screamed, "Uhura! We're
falling! Beam us up! his
"They're failing!" gasped Uhura.
Mr. Scott gulped but stuck calmly to the
only chain of events that would work.
"Lock phasers onto that Orion," he
ordered.
"Phasers ready," called Chekov.
"Drop shields," said Scotty.
"Fire phasers!"
Two blinding beams of phaser fire swarmed across
the bow of the Orion vessel, lighting it like an
incandescent bulb. The bow swelled with bluish light
and 267 exploded like a blood vessel. The rest
of the ship glowed white-hot for a moment before it
sputtered and cooled to a dead khaki color.
Lieutenant Kyle watched as three figures
in alien pressure suits materialized in the
transporter chamber. All of them floundered on the
platform for a moment before they realized where they were.
Then Kirk and McCoy leaped to their feet, tore
off their helmets, and screamed with joy at their
deliverance.
Spock strode to Kyle at the transporter
controls and requested calmly, "Would you please
inform the bridge that the landing party has
returned."
"Yes, sir!" said Kyle, grinning broadly.
"Transporter room to bridge-the landing party
has returned!"
There was quiet jubilation on the bridge, but
Scotty was busy trying to ascertain how much fight
was left in his adversaries. After a few seconds,
some lights appeared to sputter on in the Orion
ship.
"The Orion captain wishes to break off
hostilities," Uhura reported.
"He says it was a misunderstanding19 "Not on my
part," muttered Scotty.
"But the captain, Dr. McCoy, and Mr.
Spock are safe, and that's all that matters.
Therefore, I'm in a forgivin' mood. Tell the
Orion he can withdraw. But put our shields back
up."
Seconds later, Uhura reported,
"Captain Pilenna of the Gezary wishes to speak with
you. On screen."
Scotty stiffened to attention and nodded.
"On screen it is."
The voluptuous redhead appeared on the
viewscreen with most of her beauty intact,
but little of her confidence. Behind her, her normally
reserved crew rushed around frantically.
"Commander Scott," she said, "I beseech you!
Our 268 orbit is decaying, and we are headed
toward the planet. We haven't got any engine
power at all. Will you beam us aboard your ship?"
"It's not my ship anymore," Scotty
replied coolly.
"We have our captain back. I believe your
ship will survive entry into the atmosphere, and the
Senites will no doubt transport you off before there
is any danger.
Therefore, all I can say is, good luck on
Sanctuary. was "You can't do that to us!" Pilenna
shrieked.
"What if they find out who we are? Listen, we
only wanted to give you a little competition for whoever was
in that balloon. We didn't know it was your
captain! Won't you please save us from going down
there?"
For a moment, Scotty almost relented. He was
considering whether to beam them aboard when the image of the
green-skinned woman suddenly grew faint.
"Transmission breaking up," said Uhura.
Pilenna's plaintive face and
figure were rasterized into a million pieces, and
her voice became low and unintelligible. Before the
intent eyes of Scotty, Uhura, Chekov, and
Sulu, the bounty huntress and her crew vanished
from the bridge of the decaying vessel, just before it
vanished from the Enterprise's screen.
"The Senites got them," said Sulu with
finality.
Scotty smiled wi/lly.
"Aye, and they got a handfal51 The
turbolift door opened and three familiar-if
bearded-figures strode onto the bridge. They just
stood staring around at the bridge crew for a moment,
their broad grins doing all of the talking.
"Welcome back, Captain!" Scotty finally
sputtered.
Kirk said, "Mr. Scott, I'm glad you're
still here."
"Well," stammered Scotty, "Starfleet did
request our presence elsewhere, but their orders were,
uh, very confusing."
"Wery confusing," confirmed Chekov, grinning.
"We know the sidewalk cafes are nice," put
in Uhura, "but what else do they have down there?
What's it like?"
"Fascinating," answered Spock.
"The marine life is quite diverse, and the giant
mollusks are especially interesting."
McCoy remarked, "The Senites have some quaint
customs, too."
"Quiet," said Kirk, waving everyone to silence
and heading to the captain's chair.
"Over a long dinner, we'll tell you aJI
about it. Right now, Uhura, I want you to contact a
Senite named Zicree on the planet."
"Captain," she replied, "we haven't had much
luck communicating with the Senites."
"Tell him it's me. He-it-should respond."
They waited expectantly for Uhura to relay
the request. Finally, she looked up from her console,
clearly impressed, and reported, "Zicree will
speak with you, Captain."
"He'd better," said Kirk grimly.
The slim Senite appeared on the screen, no
longer looking ageless and aloof, but shaken and tired.
"Captain Kirk," he began, "I wish
to protest this breach of our security system, as
well as the blatant discharge of weapons in our-was
"Shut up," snapped Kirk, "and listen to me.
Our laws forbid me from coming down there and
teaching you a lesson, but the other residents of
Sanctuary may not feel any such restraint, now
that they know what you do with fugitives."
"Captain," Zicree implored, "I plead for
your understanding. We Senites have no other way
to reproduce ourselves except for the Reborning. We
take only the riffraff from Dohama, and they are
better off-was
"Have you asked them that?" interrupted Kirk.
"Maybe some of them would agree to the Reboming if
270 you asked them. As it is now, it's nothing but
forced torture and mutilation. There's not a damn thing
I can do about it directly, but I can crank up the
Universal Translator and make sure that every
space-traveling culture in this sector knows what
you're doing down there."
"Please, Captain," protested the Senite,
"we are proud of our reputation as the last refuge
of the persecuted." Kirk vowed, "You'll have a new
reputation when I'm done. You've got several
thriving communities down there, yet you choose
to treat most of the fugitives like animals or children.
Or worse, as fodder for your torture mill. The
secret is out, Zicree. Nobody will wander
unsuspectingly into Dohama again." The
Senite sighed and slumped perceptibly in its
chair. After a moment, it said slowly, "What you
say is true. There is much resistance in our
ranks, but we will have to change. Your escape and knowledge
of the Reborning means that we will have to change-even if
it could mean the death of our species."
"You are not a species," Kirk argued.
"You are hundreds of species, most of which have
been cosmetically altered. That's what Sanctuary
is-hundreds of species, working together to build a
new life. If you would just look around, you would see
that you have something marvelous there, a fantastic
opportunity."
"Yes." Zicree nodded.
"I
understand. I will try to convince the others. I may
even succeed."
"Try," Kirk urged.
"Good-bye, Captain Kirk," Zicree said
with a faint smile.
"Your visit has been most illuminating." The
Senite's image faded away, leaving the captain
to stare at the sparkling curve of the aquamarine
planet and wonder how much impact they had really
had. Would Starfleet ever be able to come back
here 271 John Vornholt and pay a normal
visit to Khyming, Dohama, or the Graveyard of
Lost Ships? Or would Sanctuary shrink deeper
into isolationism? The captain stood and stretched his
arms.
"Where are you supposed to take us, Scotty?"
he asked, yawning.
"Starbase 64," answered the engineer.
"But if ye don't mind, sir, I'd like to check
on the engine room.
Beaming you aboard was not quite as easy as it may have
seemed."
"I
can take the bridge, Captain," Spock
offered.
"I feel strangely exhilarated. I found the
balloon ride fascinating, and look forward
to repeating the experience at a later date ."
"You do that," said the captain, starting for the
turbolift.
"I'm going to take a nap."
"Just a second," put in McCoy.
"You're going to get a physical first.
You lost a bet to me."
"What?" bellowed Kirk.
"What bet?" The doctor smiled smugly.
"If you didn't capture Auk-rex, you said you
would let me give you a physical. I don't
see her here."
"Wait a minute," Kirk protested.
"You've just seen me rowing, climbing, hiking,
swimming, and fighting for two weeks straight, and you
don't know if I'm in shape or not?"
"You look a little haggard," McCoy said
sympathetically.
"Besides, I need to check all of us for strange
bugs we might've picked up down there. Might as
well start with you."
"All right." Kirk sighed. He paused at the
turbolift and turned back.
"One moment. Ensign Chekov, I would like you
to shoot a photon torpedo in the direction we
came from, but ignite it thirty-five kilometers
over the surface."
"Captain?" queried the helmsman.
"Torpedo ready, but may I ask why?" 272
SANCTUARY "Something some of the people down there will see,"
said Kirk, "and understand. Fire when ready."
"Torpedo away," said the confused helmsman.
To Captain Kirk, the exploding torpedo
looked like the merest blip over the endless horizon of
Sanctuary. But he knew that in the Graveyard of
Lost Ships, it was a shooting star in the night sky,
a perfect omen for making wishes come true.