Chapter Twenty-Eight

Kirk stepped up to the gold-surfaced plaque on the old probe. Most of the inscription was still legible:

V  GER 6

NASA

 

Between the V and G was a torn, gaping hole, mute record of some encounter with space hazard. “V-GER . . . Vejur!” said Kirk. He traced a finger where the letters had been obliterated. “V-O-Y-A-G-E-R . . . Voyager Six!”

This particular space capsule was well known to the four Starfleet officers. Its history was studied by every Starfleet cadet, Voyager Six having been the first human-made object to enter a time continuum, although the reason for its sudden disappearance had not been understood at the time.

“I shot an arrow into the air . . . ” said McCoy.

Kirk nodded, looking at the NASA symbol. What would they have thought of the way this arrow fell back to Earth?

“It re-entered normal space on the far side of the galaxy,” said Kirk to Spock, “and must have wandered into the gravitational field of the planet you saw. The great machines there repaired it. . . .”

“More than that,” said Spock. “They discovered its programming—and, being machines themselves, they obeyed.”

“The Creator commands . . . ” nodded McCoy. “Its twentieth-century programming would have been very simple,” said Decker. “Collect all possible data; transmit those findings.”

Kirk nodded. “Learn all that is learnable; return that information to the Creator.”

“And the machines obeyed literally,” said Spock. “They equipped Voyager with scanning and measuring devices from their own advanced technology, and also gave it the power needed to return to Earth as commanded.”

It was difficult not to feel awed over Vejur’s magnificent odyssey.

“And on the long journey back, it gathered so much knowledge that it achieved consciousness,” said Decker.

“You will now disclose the information,” demanded the Ilia-probe.

“We now have seven minutes, Jim,” said Spock quietly. Kirk gave the Vulcan a nod. Even with all this, there was something comforting in hearing Spock use his first name again.

“Well, at least we know what its answer is,” said McCoy. “But if I were Vejur, I certainly wouldn’t believe us.”

“Unless we can prove we’re right,” said Decker, “and I think we can! The binary code signal that Vejur sent out was part of the Voyager design—a signal meaning that it had data to transmit. And NASA was then supposed to send a signal back, instructing it to transmit that data!”

“Kirk-unit, why has the Creator not answered?” The Ilia-probe’s tone was harsh.

“Captain to Enterprise,” said Kirk into his communicator.

Uhura’s voice came back immediately: “Enterprise.”

“Kirk-unit, you will supply the information now! Why has the Creator not . . . ”

Kirk interrupted: “The Creator will explain that itself. Vejur will have its answer in a few . . . ”

“There will be no further delay. You will describe the Creator immediately!”

“Vejur! If your probe keeps interfering, the Creator will never answer!”

Kirk turned his back on the probe, lifting his communicator again, speaking quickly: “We need this fast, Uhura. Order up ship’s library records on late twentieth-century NASA probe, Voyager Six; specifically, get us the old NASA code signal and frequency ordering Voyager to transmit data collected.”

“Aye, sir.” From his communicator, Kirk could hear his own voice coming from the bridge speakers as Uhura relayed his actual command in the most efficient way possible.

Spock was using his tricorder to examine the way in which the base of the Voyager capsule seemed to merge into and become part of Vejur’s brain nucleus design. It was also Kirk’s first moment in which to glance around, and his eyes were drawn underfoot, where he could see faint light glows which indicated that the NASA capsule was still functioning and was interconnected with the greater Vejur all around them.

Then Kirk’s eyes were drawn to the Ilia-probe. It looked different somehow. McCoy and Decker were looking at it in astonishment, and McCoy was motioning to him.

“Vejur seems to have taken your threat literally. . . . It’s released control of the probe.”

“Ilia,” said Decker, “tell the captain what’s happened.”

“I . . . I’ve been here, in here. It was like I was dreaming it . . . and then Will was . . . helping me wake up!” The probe turned toward Decker. “I wanted to help you, but Vejur knew it and took control of . . . of this body I’m in . . . ”

“She’s alive,” said Decker to Kirk. “Somehow Vejur was able to put the living person in there. . . .”

“It is Ilia, Jim,” said McCoy. “You can even see it!”

Bones was right—there was life in her eyes, a living expression on her face. Seized with a sudden idea, Kirk indicated Voyager Six. “Ilia, do you remember this from Academy history?”

“Ilia” looked, nodded immediately. “Yes, of course, it . . . it . . . Misinformation is forbidden, Kirk-unit!” It was suddenly the probe again—cold, mechanical.

“No! No, damn it . . . !” shouted Decker. His voice was drowned in deafening thunder-sounds—above them, the great pillar of light seemed to explode into fragments as the brain nucleus “island” trembled beneath their feet.

“Enterprise, come in!” called Kirk into his communicator.

Uhura was answering before he finished. “We’ve just received the response code, sir.

“Broadcast it!” interrupted Kirk. Then he whirled to the Ilia-probe. “Vejur, the Creator will answer you now!”

Spock had come hurrying back to them from the Voyager capsule. Decker still retained enough presence of mind to take Spock’s tricorder and set in the radio frequency just given by Uhura. The ominous flashes and thundering sounds began to subside. From the tricorder in Decker’s hand, they could hear the thin, high-pitched code signal begin.

In the same instant, there was the faint sound of a short-circuit arc from the direction of Voyager Six. Spock’s acute hearing picked it up—he turned in time to see a faint curl of smoke briefly visible at the capsule’s maintenance hatch. Meanwhile, the code signal could still be heard coming from the tricorder as Uhura completed transmitting it.

“Signal has been sent, Captain,” said Uhura’s voice. “Shall we repeat?”

“Jim, she’s back,” said Decker.

“What?” Kirk could not imagine what Decker was talking about until he saw that he had taken the probe’s hand. Why in the hell was Decker doing that at a time like this?

Kirk stepped in, confronting the probe as before: “Vejur! The Creator has responded!”

“Yes, sir?” said Ilia’s voice.

“Captain, over here, please.” It was Spock, calling urgently from the Voyager Six capsule. He was opening the cover to the small maintenance hatch there.

The Vulcan stepped aside, indicating into the hatch. “You will notice, Captain, that the transceiver antenna connection has been burned through.”

Kirk looked inside—a small, dark burn mark could be seen where the wiring had parted. He made the mistake of reaching in to explore it with his finger . . . and yanked his hand back in surprise.

“What the hell?! It’s still hot!”

“Exactly, Captain, Vejur did that just as the signal began.”

“It can’t have done that, Spock! Vejur is desperate to hear from its Creator!”

“It is desperate to unite with its Creator, Captain. The probe told us that, but we did not understand.”

McCoy nodded. “Vejur’s purpose is to survive . . . to unite with the Creator. But I thought the probe meant that metaphorically. . . .”

“Vejur speaks and interprets everything literally,” said Spock as he looked around at the amphitheater design. “It no doubt plans to unite physically with the Creator here.”

“Do you mean what I think you’re saying, Spock?” asked McCoy. “Vejur is planning to capture God?”

“It is the perfectly logical thing for Vejur to do,” said Spock. “Vejur knows itself to be incomplete, but has no way of learning what it needs . . . or whether the Creator would even agree to provide it.” Spock pointed to the severed antenna connection. “Ergo! For the Creator to obtain Vejur’s knowledge, it must bring the signal here in person.”

It was a stunning revelation. Kirk realized that Spock must be right; it was the most certain answer that Vejur could have. By its very nature, a Creator has and is every answer to everything.

“Where is Decker?” Kirk was realizing the exec and the Ilia-mechanism had been missing through most of this. McCoy indicated past Voyager Six where the two were talking together quietly, hands joined. Kirk did not have the heart to summon him—even if the rest of them somehow survived, there was no way to know what would happen to Ilia’s living consciousness.

“We now have four minutes,” said Spock.

“Three,” corrected Kirk. “I ordered Scott to go two-zero-zero-five a minute earlier.”

“Well?” asked McCoy. “We can’t very well deliver the people who actually built Voyager . . . ”

“Spock, we need an answer,” said Kirk. “Will it accept us?”

Spock was eyeing the twentieth-century capsule and the nucleus design around it. “As Dr. McCoy said, we all create God in our image. Vejur still expects a machine . . . it probably plans something similar to what occurs in our ship’s transporter chamber, except that two forms will be reduced to energy . . . ”

“ . . . and combined both of them together into a new form.” It was Decker’s voice—he and Ilia were standing at this side of the Voyager capsule, with Spock’s tricorder still in Decker’s hand.

“Request permission to proceed; Captain.” Decker was making an adjustment on the tricorder.

“Wait,” said Kirk. “We’ll discuss who does it only after we’re certain of what . . . ”

“Jim, it’s got to be done—with or without your permission.”

As Decker’s eyes turned to the open access hatch, Kirk moved in, grabbing for the exec’s arm, but the Ilia-mechanism lifted Kirk away as though he were a child, sending him sprawling at Spock and McCoy’s feet. As he started to his feet again, he felt a hand restraining him.

“Let it happen, Captain,” said Spock’s voice. “I suspect he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

Decker nodded. “I do know.” From the tricorder in his hand they could hear the high, thin sound of the code signal beginning—a pulsating light glow was appearing all around the base of Voyager Six.

“I want this!” called Decker. “Just as you wanted the Enterprise!” At the same time,

Decker placed the tricorder into the Voyager’s open hatch, pushing it into contact with the space capsule’s transceiver.

Something was happening to the great pillar of white light thrusting up around them. It was . . . trembling like a live thing—a lovely thing in which spiraling brilliant colors began to appear; the colors began fanning out over their heads like great unfolding blossoms.

Even Spock’s eyes were widening—there was breathtaking beauty in what was happening. It was becoming all beauty, driving out any feeling of fear they might have had. McCoy was standing transfixed. Kirk became aware that they were also hearing beauty—and feeling it, too.

At the center of the cascading colors, Decker’s body was beginning to glow with the same brilliance and there was a look of serenity on his face—the same look was on Ilia’s face as she stepped into the spiraling colors with him.

“Jim . . . this is transcendence!” It was Spock, indicating around them where the entire concave amphitheater was beginning to glow—the brain nucleus material under their feet becoming transparent, and deep down inside it they could see a great whorl of spiraling color that was growing in size and brightness like some immense flower blossoming into life.

The doctor had almost a look of rapture on his face, and Kirk had to shake him to get his attention. “We’ve got to get back to the ship.”

The forms of Decker and Ilia were still expanding, perfect serenity on both their faces as the spiraling colors became part of them—and their gigantic shapes began becoming part of Vejur.

The three officers turned and hurried up the concave side of the amphitheater design. As they hurried over the top lip of it, they could see the entire brain nucleus “island” was aglow. They headed for Enterprise on a run—even the great brain hemisphere around them was shimmering into lovely patterns. Vejur was transcending—flowering—taking new form.

They ran out of air, or would have by human standards—Spock’s Vulcan lungs held out longest and he virtually carried them onto the starship’s saucer section, where spacesuited figures hurried them through the hatch and into the airlock.

 

On the bridge, they had a last look at the transcendence. It then became too lovely for them to comprehend, and so it was gone without ever really leaving.

When Kirk began to relate to the here and the now of the Enterprise bridge, he turned to Spock. “I wonder, did we just see the beginning of a new form of life out there?”

“Yes, Captain. We witnessed a birth—perhaps also a direction in which some of us may evolve.”

“Only some of us, Spock?”

“It would seem to me, Captain, that the dimensions of creation make our future choices almost limitless.”

“It’s been a long time since I helped deliver a baby,” said McCoy. “I hope we humans gave this one a good start.”

“I think we did,” Kirk answered. “The Decker part of us gives it the ability to want and to enjoy, to hope and to dare and pretend and laugh.” Kirk smiled at his next thought. “And the child will probably have some very interesting Deltan attributes, too. It should have an exciting future.”

McCoy gave a look toward Spock. “And our other emotions? Fear, greed, jealousy, hate . . . ?”

“Those things are the mis-use of emotion, Doctor,” said Spock.

Kirk found himself feeling very comfortable as he settled himself back into the center seat. He was realizing that there was a certain shrewd and sometimes ruthless commanding admiral down there, who right now would be unable to deny him anything—even permanent command of the Enterprise if Kirk demanded it. Well, that suited former Admiral James Tiberius Kirk fine. He did not intend to let Heihachiro Nogura get off this hook.

“Interrogative from Starfleet,” Uhura said. “They request damage and injury report and complete vessel status.”

“Vessel status operational. List Security Officer Phillips, Lieutenant Ilia, and Captain Decker . . . list them as missing.”

“Aye, sir, and Starfleet also requests that you and your department heads beam down immediately for debriefing.”

“Answer . . . request denied.”

“Sir?” Uhura was looking toward him, startled.

“Simply answer request denied. Isn’t that clear enough, Commander?”

Uhura understood, and she smiled. “Aye, sir. It should be clear to one and all.”

Kirk turned to see Chief Engineer Scott coming onto the bridge with Dr. Chapel. “Scotty, isn’t it about time we gave the Enterprise a proper shakedown?”

Scott was instantly pleased. “I would say it’s time for that, sir. Aye!” He turned to Spock. “We can have you back on Vulcan in four days, Mr. Spock.”

“Unnecessary, Mr. Scott. My task on Vulcan is completed.”

Kirk turned to the helm. “Take us out of orbit, Mr. Sulu.”

“Heading, sir?” DiFalco asked.

Kirk indicated generally ahead. “Out there. That away.”

“A most logical choice, Captain,” Spock said.

The main viewer switched to show the lovely blue-white sphere receding behind them. As Kirk watched it grow still smaller, he decided that Earth was a place that he would never want to live without—and yet he would not want to live there permanently, either. At least, not for a very long time.

“Viewer ahead; go to warp one.”

“Accelerating to warp one, sir,” said Sulu.

At first, there were the old familiar star patterns. And then the quantum shift happened; the star mass congealed in front of them and they were in hyperspace. He relaxed back and began thinking about where he would take her first.