Chapter Twenty-Six

Decker sat on the bridge waiting for Kirk. The probe stood at his side, unmoving and silent. There was nothing of Ilia in it now. He had no idea why it continued to attach itself to him this way, and he had been embarrassed at the looks this had drawn from some crew members.

Kirk’s inventive use of their locator beacon had worked—they had been in contact with Starfleet for the last half-hour. All logs and reports had been transmitted to Nogura—and had been acknowledged without comment. The commanding admiral was a practical man. Having heard that there was nothing the Enterprise could do, he would hardly bother with superfluous orders and questions.

“Vejur is now entering Earth orbit, Exec,” reported Uhura.

Decker nodded his acknowledgment. Inwardly, he groaned. In addition to all that was happening, Decker felt like hell and it was affecting his outlook on everything. If he lived another twenty-four hours (which he considered unlikely), the physical discomfort would probably be gone, but that was nothing compared to the real agony he felt.

Ilia had come alive! It had been only for a moment, and it had happened just after McCoy and Chapel had left him alone with the probe in Ilia’s cabin. Now she was irretrievably gone. There was no doubt but that the probe had become Ilia. As he had started to make love to it consciousness exchange began, and he had felt Ilia’s living consciousness enter his mind! He had felt her sick horror at finding herself imprisoned in a mechanical body—he had felt her beginning to free herself from Vejur’s control over that mechanical form—and then Decker had known horror as he felt her struggling to stay free as Vejur himself took control of the probe’s mechanical body again and, Ilia’s consciousness had faded until it was gone.

When Decker had first called the probe “Ilia,” he had intended only to make use of a mechanical thing’s programming. When it first began acting like her, he had believed it to be caused by recorded memory patterns in a marvelously intricate mechanism. He told himself that the real Ilia was irretrievably gone and that his loyalty belonged to the living.

He had decided to make love to the android replica if it became necessary. . . . No, that was untrue. He began to hope that it would become necessary. It was a perfect replica—its subliminal pheromone excitants were probably chemically identical to Ilia’s, and it appeared likely that its body would feel just as real. In fact, if the probe reacted like a Deltan female, it was a very sensible way of taking control of it. Although Kirk had been certain Starfleet loyalty would be the most useful memory to encourage, the captain obviously knew little about the sensuality of an aroused Deltan female.

Decker had begun love play . . . and had been impressed with how “naturally” the probe responded. It seemed so perfect a replica that he began to believe that it might actually be capable of some mind-sharing capacity during sexual union, and thus some kind of contact with Vejur . . . the whole point of this. He had not been prepared to make contact with the living consciousness of the woman he loved.

“How is Mr. Spock?” It was Uhura’s voice, but directed to whom? Then Decker realized that Kirk had come onto the bridge.

“Getting stronger,” announced Kirk. “McCoy should have him up here shortly.”

Decker slid out of the center seat, making room for Kirk. As he moved off, the probe stayed with him and he could feel Kirk’s eyes watching. Why did it stay with him like this? Had this mechanical probe liked what he had done with it? Or perhaps Vejur had liked it? Decker shuddered at the thought.

“Captain,” said Uhura, “Vejur is in Earth orbit now. I think I can pick up a relay signal showing what it looks like from Lunar Four.”

Kirk nodded and Uhura busied herself at the communications panel for a moment, then touched a control and looked up at the bridge viewer.

It was an incredible image that came onto the main viewer. A relay signal, it showed the colossal alien machine as it came into sight over a lunar horizon. Its energy-field cloud had dissipated when it decelerated and it left Vejur looking even more alien and deadly.

The elevators opened to admit Spock and McCoy. Spock was shaky, but he managed a nod to the murmured greetings.

The image on the viewscreen suddenly broke up . . . distorted, jagged black lines running across it. Spock hurried to his station as McCoy watched anxiously. Uhura was monitoring what sounded like a series of high-pitched code signals. She turned, surprised. “That interference is come from here, sir—from inside Vejur!”

Spock was nodding agreement. “Fascinating. It seems to be a simple binary code signal.”

“Vejur signals the Creator.” It was the Ilia-probe speaking.

“Saying what?” McCoy asked. “ ‘Here I am’?”

McCoy was astonished to see the Ilia-mechanism nodding to this. “I have arrived. I have learned all that is learnable.”

Vejur’s binary code signals died away. The viewer cleared again to show Vejur’s gigantic image rising higher over the Lunar landscape. Then the static distortion clouded the viewer as the binary code signal began again.

“It’s repeating the signal,” Uhura announced. “The same code.”

“Jim,” Decker said, “it wants an answer.”

“An answer?” repeated Kirk. “I don’t even know the question!”

Kirk had felt a moment’s annoyance at the nine sets of eyes that had turned to him as if he had some magical insight. Then, the code signal died away again—the main viewer showed Vejur’s image once more.

“The Creator has not responded.” It was the Ilia-probe, its voice still mechanical and harsh.

Uhura’s sharp eyes caught movement on the viewer. “Captain, a large object has been released by the Intruder.”

Kirk whirled to the viewer, snapping, “High magnification!”

Sulu magnified the relay signal until the object appeared close—and frighteningly familiar. It was an enormous mass of the green plasma-energy which destroyed the Klingons and Epsilon Nine—and very nearly Enterprise, too.

Sulu turned from his board. “They’ve released another one. No, two more . . . ”

They watched as the viewscreen showed a third, then a fourth, mass of writhing energy being released. They could all see that each of those green masses was hundreds of times the size of the bolts that had come at them.

Kirk whirled to the probe. “What are these for?”

“It will destroy the planet’s infestation,” said the probe.

“Oh, my God,” said McCoy. Every face on the bridge was expressing something similar. No one had forgotten that the probe had called the Enterprise crew a carbon-unit infestation.

On the viewer, the ugly green plasma-energy shapes were now speeding off in different directions from the Intruder vessel image. Uhura had received a signal and was turning to Kirk.

“Sir, Lunar Four computes device trajectories proceeding toward equidistant positions orbiting the planet.”

Spock had been making quick computations and was turning to Kirk, too. “Captain, final positioning will occur in twenty-nine minutes. The detonation will blanket the entire planet.”

Kirk vaulted from his command chair and strode to the rail to confront the Ilia-probe.

“Why?!”

Decker waited for the probe’s answer, then realized that it had turned and was looking at him. Why? Kirk had noticed it, too. But there was no Ilia there, not the slightest hint of warmth, nor any softening of the mechanical voice tone.

“Tell it to answer me,” said Kirk:

“Answer him,” said Decker. He was surprised to see the probe obediently turning back to Kirk.

“The carbon-unit infestation is to be removed from the Creator’s planet.”

“Why?!” demanded Kirk. The probe looked at Decker.

“Tell him why.”

“The Creator has not responded.”

“The carbon units are not responsible for that,” said Kirk.

“You infest Enterprise. You interfere with the Creator in the same manner.”

“Captain . . . ” It was Chekov at the weapons station, his face taut and white. “Captain . . . all Earth defenses have just gone inoperative!”

Chekov’s words seemed to echo around the bridge and Kirk felt a stab of cold in his stomach.

“Confirm,” said Uhura, her voice shaking. “I’m monitoring reports of forcefield power loss, computers shutting themselves down . . . ”

Until now, there had been at least the hope that the sheer weight of Earth and lunar firepower and powerful forcefield protection might give Nogura bargaining power or at least some delay in which a better understanding could be worked out.

“Captain,” said Uhura, “even Starfleet’s transceiver singals are fading.”

Kirk was sick with fear over what was about to happen down there. He was frustrated at his own failure to provide any answer—but, most of all, he was angry with this enormous machine thing.

“Vejur,” he shouted, “the carbon units are not an infestation! They are a natural function of that planet down there! They are living things!”

“They are not true life forms.” The probe’s voice and tone were unchanged. “Only the Creator and other similar life forms are true.” The probe continued looking directly at Kirk—or was it Vejur looking at him?

“Similar life forms?” McCoy suddenly understood. “Jim, Vejur’s saying the Creator is a machine! We should have guessed that. We all create God in our own image!”

Kirk turned to the probe again.

“Vejur! The only life forms down there . . . are carbon-based units. . . .”

The starship began shuddering. Sulu scanned outside and the viewer picked up a gigantic powerfield which had erupted close by the vessel. Slowly, it died away.

“Careful, Jim . . . ” said Spock quietly.

“What do you suggest, Spock? Polite conversation?”

Spock shook his head. “Think of it as a child, Captain.”

“A child?”

“Yes, a child; learning, searching, needing . . . ”

Decker cut in. “Needing what, Mr. Spock?”

“Like many of us,” Spock said gravely, “it does not know what. It only knows that it is incomplete.”

“Vejur’s devices reach equidistance orbital positions in twenty-two minutes . . . mark,” said Chekov.

“Thank you, Mr. Chekov. Mr. Spock, do you believe they’ll detonate at that moment?”

“Affirmative, Captain,” said Spock.

“Will they?!” Decker demanded of the probe.

It nodded. “The Creator still has not answered.”

Kirk realized in that instant that there was only one choice left to him. For this moment, at least, he had some contact with the great machine through its probe—and he had to make use of it before that was gone, too. Even diminished odds had become better than none at all.

“Vejur,” said Kirk directly to the probe, “we know why the Creator has not answered!”

“Jim!” McCoy was shocked at the gamble Kirk was taking.

But Decker was nodding to Kirk and then to the probe, too. “What he says is true. We are Vejur’s only way to find the Creator.”

The probe studied Decker a long moment before accepting the statement. Then it turned back to Kirk, its voice demanding and hard. “You will disclose the information!”

The probe’s voice held menace now—and Kirk knew that Spock was right. They were dealing with a child—one that could easily strike out and destroy in its frustration.

“Disclose the information!”

“No,” said Kirk flatly. He turned to the bridge crew. “Secure all stations! Clear the bridge!”

Everyone looked at him, startled. The starship was shaken hard by an enormous power eruption nearby.

Decker was already backing his captain, speaking into the command intercom. “Bridge to all decks. Secure from your stations.”

A fury of power eruptions struck all around the vessel—it shuddered more violently. The bridge crew had to grab for support.

“Your child is having a temper tantrum, Spock!” said McCoy nervously.

“Clear the bridge, Captain?” said Sulu, checking.

“That was an order, Mr. Sulu,” Kirk snapped. “Clear this bridge immediately.”

The bridge crew began quickly securing their stations and moving out as the gigantic power display rocked the ship violently. Everyone was grabbing for support to stay on his feet, but continuing to obey Kirk’s order.

“It is illogical to withhold required information,” said the probe.

Kirk did not answer. Were the power explosions outside receding in violence? Only Decker, McCoy, and Spock were still with Kirk—he saw Uhura’s tense expression from the elevator as its door closed. The bridge lighting dimmed and Spock was nodding approvingly.

Silence came on them so suddenly that even the Vulcan seemed startled. The ship rocked gently once or twice from the last power eruptions—the bridge viewer showed they were completely gone now.

“Why do you not disclose the information?” asked the probe in something nearer its own voice.

“I can comply only if Vejur withdraws its orbiting devices,” answered Kirk.

“The orbiting devices cannot be withdrawn until the information is disclosed,” answered the probe.

Kirk had the feeling of having miscounted the cards, and seeing his opponent play an unsuspected ace.

“This child learns very fast,” said McCoy.

“Spock . . . ” said Kirk. It was a plea for help, for time to think.

“I understand, Captain,” said Spock. “It would seem to me that your disclosure requires a closer contact with Vejur, does it not? I received an impression during mine that there is a central brain complex somewhere. . . .”

“And the orbiting devices would be controlled from such a place . . . ?”

“Exactly.”

Kirk turned back to the probe. “Information regarding the Creator cannot be disclosed through a probe . . . only to Vejur directly.”

They all felt a slight lurch, and McCoy called Kirk’s attention to the main viewer. The starship was moving—and ahead of them an opening was appearing, as if inviting them farther into the great living machine.

“Mr. Decker,” said Kirk, “all decks can resume duty stations.”

“Aye, sir. And we have twenty-one minutes until the devices reach position. Shall I get Mr. Soott on the horn for you?”

Kirk saw an appreciative gleam in Spock’s eyes. Decker was a hell of a fine captain; he had deserved a ship of his own. It was a pity about him, and the Deltan woman, too.

Scott looked up. “Aye? What can I do for you, Captain?”

“Mr. Scott, you can get prepared to execute Starfleet order two-zero-zero-five,” said Kirk’s intercom voice.

The young woman working nearby, Assistant Engineer Quarton, whirled toward Scott in surprised shock. Scott saw, but he could only ignore her and respond to the intercom.

“When, Captain?”

“In precisely nineteen minutes . . . mark!”

“Aye, sir. Nineteen minutes, counting from then.” Scott set in the time on his board. Assistant Quarton was still looking at the chief engineer as if desperately hoping she was wrong.

“Sir, was the captain just ordering self-destruct?”

“Aye, he was. I’d guess he hopes to take this Vejur thing with us.”

“Will we?”

Scott was glad she was able to keep her voice from shaking. He nodded. “When that much matter and anti-matter are brought together? Aye, lass. You can be sure of that.”