Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Estimate we are now twenty-six kilometers inside,” reported the replacement navigator DiFalco.

“The devices reach equidistant orbits in fifteen minutes . . . mark!” said Chekov.

The Ilia-probe continued to stay at Decker’s side, puzzling him as much as the rest of them. It had become totally uncommunicative. Kirk had kept his eye on the bridge viewer, hoping for some helpful clue as they passed through Vejur’s inner chambers. But although their passage had provided some awesome spectacles, most of it continued to represent technology and knowledge so advanced that they could make little sense of what they saw.

“Vejur feels incomplete,” mused Decker, “but without knowing in what way . . . ”

“Does it really matter?” asked McCoy. “Whatever is missing can be supplied by its Creator.”

Kirk indicated the probe. “It mentioned that Vejur wants to join with the Creator.”

“A highly logical way to obtain whatever it needs,” said Spock.

“If it can find its Creator,” added Kirk. “And if not?”

“It will not survive,” answered Spock. “Nor will we.”

“Captain . . . forward motion slowing,” said Sulu from the helm.

The main viewer showed them an enormous circular chamber, a great hemisphere.

“How lovely!” exclaimed Uhura.

It was a strikingly beautiful panorama, bathed in a faint golden glow. At the precise center of the huge hemisphere was a glittering nucleus. At this distance, it seemed a tiny, floating, jeweled toy.

“The tractor beam is taking us on an exact heading for that object,” reported DiFalco.

Kirk squinted at the viewscreen—although the great hemisphere had seemed empty as they were drawn into it, he seemed to see a delicate filigree of flickering energy all through it.

“Vejur’s brain,” said Spock. He, too, had seen the almost ghostly energy patterns flickering all around them.

“Possibly similar in function to our own brain neurons,” guessed McCoy.

Kirk turned to his intercom. “Engineering . . . what is your status, Mr. Scott?”

“We’re ready, sir,” came back Scott’s somber reply.

“Thank you, Scotty. Stand by.”

“Tractor beam is bringing us to a slow stop,” reported Sulu.

The island nucleus of Vejur’s brain hemisphere was looming larger. An unusual pillar of blindingly bright light rose up from its center. Unlike much of Vejur, this brain nucleus appeared to be entirely solid, composed of intricate geometrical designs formed out of some unusual glowing substance.

Uhura spun toward Kirk, excited. “Sir, the source of Vejur’s radio signal is directly ahead!”

“Then it called its Creator from there,” said Spock.

Every bridge crew member had turned to the viewscreen, peering at the lovely hemisphere nucleus now only about a dozen ship lengths away. Enterprise’s forward motion appeared to have stopped, and for once even the efficient Sulu had forgotten to call off a change in helm status.

Decker became aware that the Ilia-mechanism was moving away from him and toward the turbolift elevator landing. Then Kirk turned toward him with an old, grim expression and spoke softly.

“Your opinion, Will? If I give the order to Scott now, it may surprise Vejur.”

Decker understood perfectly what Kirk meant. “Its interest in finding the Creator could be distracting it, sir—at this moment, anyway.”

“Bridge to engineering,” called Kirk, still quietly.

“Yes, sir? I’m ready, if that’s what you’re wondering,” answered Scott’s voice.

“Well . . . ”

Kirk hesitated. Vejur was ready to take them to its very brain core. Was it possible that there could be anything to learn there that would justify the risk of waiting too long? Kirk looked up and called to the Ilia-mechanism.

“Wait. I said we would disclose the information in Vejur’s presence. What . . . part of Vejur is over there?”

“Vejur’s beginning.”

Spock was on his feet, his curiosity almost catlike. “Fascinating, Captain. It said that almost . . . reverently.”

“Jim, lad . . . ’tis a terrible thing you’re doing to me.” It was Scott’s voice from the intercom. Kirk whirled guiltily—he had completely forgotten leaving Scott there in mid-command.

“Stand by, Mr. Scott,” he said lamely. “I think we’ll just stay with the timing I gave you.”

“I’ve half a mind to push the damned button on you,” came Scott’s reply. “But I’ll wait. Engineer, out.”

The Ilia-probe had taken Kirk and the others by turbolift to a dimly lit maintenance shaft. It was obvious that Vejur knew every detail of the Enterprise as its probe then led them unerringly to a small maintenance lift and motioned them to step onto it. There was hardly room for all five of them as the inspection lift then began traveling upward—an access hatch slid aside over their heads and suddenly the lift was carrying them out in the open. It came to a stop and they found themselves standing without spacesuits on the surface of the saucer hull of the Enterprise!

Kirk heard a surprised gasp from Decker and realized that he had very nearly done the same. The sweep and symmetry of their starship was bathed in the golden glow—it looked almost impossibly lovely.

“We are in an atmosphere and gravity envelope, just as promised,” announced Spock. “Fascinating.”

McCoy gave the probe a quick look, as if suspecting some trickery. Out here, their lungs should have ruptured and their frozen bodies should now be floating about weightlessly.

The Ilia-probe was already walking out toward the front edge of the saucer section. It was only as Kirk turned to follow her that he realized that Decker’s gasp of astonishment had little to do with the look of Enterprise from here. Even in Kirk’s eyes, the starship seemed to shrink in size as he took in the awesome reality surrounding them. A fleet of starships could have maneuvered in the vastness of Vejur’s brain hemisphere; yet, according to Spock, this great hemisphere was far from being mere empty space—it was actually a great complex of electromagnetic wave-particles which carried Vejur’s conscious thoughts just as the nerves and neurons in Kirk’s brain did the same for him. And Kirk’s mind reeled as he realized that the sheer immensity of all this was linked also to the equally incredible storage capacity of the memory crystals described by Spock.

They were led to the edge of their ship’s saucer section. Here, the Ilia-mechanism stopped and stood looking out toward the brain hemisphere nucleus which they had examined earlier on the bridge viewer.

“Undoubtedly our destination,” said Spock quietly. “We’ve begun to move in that direction.”

Spock was right, no doubt of it. The glittering nucleus was looming much larger. To Kirk it began to resemble more a floating jeweled island than the central part of a living brain.

“Vejur’s beginning,” said the probe. It was pointing toward the nucleus.

“Vejur’s beginning?” asked Kirk. “What does that mean?”

The probe continued to ignore him.

“Ilia, help us. At least explain to us what’s happening.” It was Decker, trying again, but the probe gave no sign of hearing him.

The brain center was much closer and the bright pillar of light at its center was more pronounced, glaring almost blindingly bright. They had come to only a dozen ship lengths away from it. Its finely detailed structural patterns were so unlike anything in Kirk’s experience that he could not even guess at their function. But at least it appeared to be solid matter of some kind—they would be able to find footholds to move about on if that was indeed where the probe was taking them.

Kirk’s mind raced. They were only moments away and he had no illusions but that he would be expected to provide Vejur with its Creator. He might conceivably get by with even a convincing description—certainly that had satisfied humans for enough centuries. But how could he even guess at what would satisfy Vejur?

Vejur’s beginning. Think! Spock saw a machine planet. But it was located on the other side of our galaxy, far beyond the range of our starships. What could possibly make something from there believe that its Creator is here?

Kirk came out of his thoughts suddenly, realizing that something unexpected had just happened. Of course! The starship’s motion had stopped, but they were a ship length or more away from the nucleus.

“Jim!”

“Captain!”

Exclamations from McCoy and Decker as a pattern of tumbling shapes came rushing toward them at alarming speed. They appeared to be great translucent rectangles of light which were somehow solidifying into matter as they came. Then the shapes made a sweeping pirouette and settled in gently between them and the hemisphere’s “island” nucleus.

Kirk literally disbelieved his own eyes for a moment. The shapes had formed themselves into a floating pathway across to whatever awaited them over there.

The starship nudged up with a gentle bump against the pathway pattern, and then the Ilia-probe stepped out onto the first floating shape. Like a glowing ice floe, it supported the probe as it stepped to another, then another. McCoy started to throw a frowning “I refuse to do that” look, but Kirk followed the probe immediately, with Spock and Decker stepping onto a floating shape behind him. McCoy was left with no option but to follow. He was surprised and immensely relieved to find that caution was unnecessary—the glowing shapes seemed almost intelligently anxious to accommodate each footstep with perfect traction and balance.

“Ten minutes, Captain,” said Spock. The Vulcan had his tricorder out, scanning and examining with each step of the way.

Kirk had a sick feeling that they had run out of time. There was nothing that could be seen or said which could solve anything in that short a time. The gigantic machine must not have any suspicion that he had no answer about the Creator. Vejur would no more hesitate destroying carbon-based life on that planet than McCoy would hesitate over destroying cancer cells if he ever ran across them.

As they reached the complex, their eyes could pierce the light glare enough to see that its center area sloped upward from all directions like a giant inverted bowl. The slightly convex sides steepened at the top where the shining pillar of light beamed out of a wide opening. There was no doubt now where they were being led.

“This nucleus area,” said Spock, checking his tricorder, “is older than the rest of Vejur. Although it is still well beyond our understanding, none of it appears as advanced as the rest of Vejur.”

“Which fits an idea I’ve been forming,” said McCoy. “From an anatomical point of view, I would describe this as the nucleus of the hemisphere brain all around us.”

Spock was suddenly very interested. “Are you thinking primal brain, Doctor?”

McCoy nodded, turning to Kirk. “I don’t know how much this will help, but I’d guess that this place here connects what Vejur is now with what Vejur used to be.”

They were climbing up a steepening incline, only a dozen steps from the brilliant light beam. They could see that the opening out of which it rose was as wide as an amphitheater. Kirk found himself hurrying, feeling rising excitement. Great pillars surrounded it. If a machine could have conceived Stonehenge, this was such a place. Shielding their eyes from the light glare, they clambered to the edge of the opening and looked down into it—and came to a shuffling, shocked halt.

There was stunned surprise on every face, except that of the probe. It simply indicated and said: “Vejur.”

The wide concave area below them was actually not unlike a small amphitheater—the pillar of light somehow carried the feeling of a sacred flame, as if marking something immeasurably sacred to Vejur. That object was pitted and damage-scarred, but still undeniably a twentieth-century space probe from planet Earth.

“I doubt that Vejur will believe the truth,” murmured Spock.

“You can be damned certain it won’t,” said McCoy.