Before she could repeat her folly or even decide consciously against it, there was a faint tapping at the corridor door.

 

 

Startled, then puzzled that the visitor chose this peculiar method of announcing his presence rather than the raucous signal that sounded in all parts of the expanded quarters, she moved to the door.

 

 

Her heart leapt at the sight of Dajan, then fell as his distraught expression registered. "Where is Tiam?" he asked in a whisper, a finger to his lips urging her to answer in kind.

 

 

"In his private domain," she said, indicating the door from which the muffled sounds still emerged.

 

 

"It is time," he said, taking her arm. "Come with me, now." Relief and terror flooded through her. Relief that he had not forgotten. Terror that she must now follow through on her decision. That she must act, leaving everything familiar behind.

 

 

"I must get-"she began, but he cut her off.

 

 

"You must get nothing," he said. "It would arouse suspicion when we transport to the surface. Now come!" For an instant she resisted, the thought of a world without even the simplest of her possessions almost overwhelming.

 

 

But it would also be a world without Tiam, without a Praetor, without the constant threat of reimposed unOrthodoxy.

 

 

A world with music.

 

 

With a last look at the door behind which Tiam probably still gloated, she let herself be propelled from the room and down the corridor.

 

 

TWELVE "What?" Kirk shook his head as if to shake Dr. Benar's words loose so he could toss them back onto the transporter platform, unheard.

 

 

"I am truly sorry, Captain Kirk," the Romulan archaeologist Dajan said, stepping up to stand beside Benar while his sister stood back, silent and apprehensive. "I had hoped to wait until the conference was completed, until we had reaped as much knowledge as we could on Temaris, but what happened down there today must certainly end the conference and cut off access to Temaris. We dared not wait any longer." "If `what happened' didn't end the conference, then what you're doing now will. Have you both thought this through?" Kirk scowled, remembering the first reception and Jandra's playing. "This doesn't have anything to do with Penalt's offer to `sponsor' your sister, does it, Dajan?" "That buffoon?" Jandra's first words since the three of them had been beamed up with Benar's active assistance brought an involuntary snort of laughter from Kirk. "He is of a kind with Tiam." The door to the corridor hissed open and Handler entered, his eyes widening as they fell on the little group next to the transporter platform. He had been in sickbay with Sulu, standing vigil over Riley in the intensive care ward, when word had reached him that "Romulans are coming aboard." "These two," Kirk said, gesturing, "claim they wish to defect." "Defect, sir?" "You know, Mr. Handler-that's diplomatish for `come over to our side."' Handler blinked, his face flushing. "I know that, sir." "So, as ranking diplomat, Mr. Handler, what are your recommendations?" Handler was silent a moment, apparently composing himself. "Technically, sir, they have already defected," he said, then added, as Kirk gave him a quizzical look, "Under Federation law, a starship on a diplomatic mission becomes in essence a mobile Federation embassy, even within hostile or neutral territory. As a consequence, once they set foot on the Enterprise, they were effectively standing on Federation soil." Kirk sighed. That was what he'd been afraid of. Is this, he wondered, just another string to the saboteurs' bow? Or an unexpected monkey wrench, major or minor, in their plans? ' He turned to the ensign at the transporter controls. "Be ready to beam all our people up on short notice, Ensign, very short notice." "Aye-aye, sir." "And Mr. Handler, you'll be in charge of our visitors -excuse me, our defectors. Once we find out where we stand, that is, if we stand anywhere at all. For right now, let's all adjourn to the bridge. Dr. Benar, you, too." I am not looking forward to this, Kirk thought as he led the way out of the transporter room. I could really do with a little of Kevin's Irish charm.

 

 

Kirk held off hailing the Galtizh until he was contacted by Hiran, who let Kirk know that Tiam had been in a buoyant mood and had not so much as batted an eye when presented with a live and breathing Hiran. Either Tiam was a better actor than either of them believed, or as they both thought more likely, he had not known about the murderous plan in advance. He knew about it now, however, but it didn't seem to upset him unduly. With Jutak caught red-handed and killed by another Romulan, he considered the matter closed.

 

 

Nor did he seem particularly shaken by the defection. There was a brief, hate-filled glance in Jandra's direction, but it was covered almost as quickly as Penalt's anger and envy had been covered after Jandra's playing at the reception.

 

 

"I of course demand the return of the two Romulan citizens that you have kidnapped," Tiam said, but there was more amusement in his voice than anger. "The fact that one of your victims is my wife makes the matter even more unfortunate. I would urge you all to think long and hard about your actions. I suspect, dear wife," he added, turning his viewscreen gaze onto Jandra, "that you would not wish your betrayal to be responsible not only for the breakdown of this peace conference but perhaps for the eventual outbreak of open hostilities." "I would suggest, Ambassador Tiam," Kirk put in smoothly, "that the responsibility for any breakdown and subsequent hostilities lies not with the peaceful transfer of loyalties by two Romulans, but with whoever is responsible for the attempt on the lives of Commander Hiran and myself, not to mention the injury to Ambassador Riley." "I have already expressed our sincerest official apologies for that unfortunate incident, Captain Kirk, particularly for the wounding of Ambassador Riley. However, since the would-be assassin Jutak has been apprehended and disposed of by my aide Kital, it would seem that the matter is of no more concern to you." "Are you saying, Ambassador Tiam, that Jutak acted alone and independently? That there is no more to be learned about his motives or his accomplices?" "Do you have evidence pointing to the involvement of others, Captain Kirk? If so, I would be glad to consider it.

 

 

"No, we have no direct evidence, Ambassador Tiam," Kirk said, careful not to let his eyes stray too obviously to Hiran, who had been standing by stiffly during the exchange. "However, do you not plan to look into the matter yourself?" "A thorough investigation will of course be conducted, Captain Kirk, starting with a lengthy interrogation of Subcenturion Kital, whose apparently wellfounded suspicions of Jutak saved the lives of both yourself and Commander Hiran." "And you will share the, results of your investigation with us?" "Insofar as security considerations permit, Captain Kirk. I am sure you are familiar with the restrictions such considerations impose." Kirk gritted his teeth. "And what of the negotiations?" "I am ready to resume at any time. Provided, of course, that an acceptable substitute for Ambassador Riley can be found. And that certain... conditions are met." "Mr. Handler and I will speak for Mr. Riley and the Federation." "As you wish. However, you might find the other conditions less easy to meet. First, as I stated to Ambassador Riley at our meeting earlier today, the Federation must acknowledge its responsibility for the destruction on and around Wlaariivi. Second, the two Romulan... hostages you hold must be returned." Tiam's eyes had shifted to his wife's while he stated his second condition.

 

 

"And let it be known," he added, his features and tone turning icy, "that the Romulan Empire holds the Federation-and you personally, Captain James T. Kirk-responsible for the well-being of those hostages until such time as they are returned to the Galtizh. " At an imperious signal from Tiam, the Galtizh connection was broken.

 

 

For a long moment there was silence as Kirk glanced around at Spock and McCoy and Uhura and Benar and the two Romulans and the other Enterprise officers on the bridge.

 

 

"We must return." Jandra was the first to speak, her voice soft and unsteady. She looked at her brother. "We cannot be responsible for this!" "You aren't," Kirk said abruptly, realizing the truth of his words even as he spoke. He looked around at the others. "There's no need to keep the truth under wraps anymore, and most of you know it already anyway. This peace initiative by the Romulan Interim Governmentthe so-called Committee-may or may not be genuine. I rather suspect it is. However, it's become obvious the past few days that there are many-including some within the Interim Government itself-who will go to any lengths to make it fail. Never mind the details right now," Kirk went on, glancing at Benar and Dajan. "I don't know all of them, obviously. Suffice it to say that one of the ploys these people-whoever they are-tried was one that involved killing both Commander Hiran and myself. We'd both be dead if it weren't for Kevin Riley, who's in sickbay intensive care as a result. Hiran is aware of the sabotage. In fact, he was warning me about it just before we were attacked." Kirk stopped, pulling in a breath. He looked toward the two Romulans. "So forget my bad manners when you showed up on my doorstep, so to speak. Even if you went back, it wouldn't help the situation. In fact, it might make it worse. Whoever's pulling the strings would have to pull another one to break up the renewed talks or provoke an incident of some kind. No, you two won't be the cause of whatever happens here. Right now you're Ambassador Tiam's excuse, but that's all. So unless you genuinely want to go back, there's absolutely no reason for you to do so." "Thank you, Captain," Dajan said, squeezing his sister's hand. "We will remain." When Jandra said nothing, only returned the pressure of her brother's hand, Kirk turned to Handler. "Mr. Handler, I remind you that you're the ranking diplomat. Welcome our guests officially. And find them suitable accommodations." Handler still looked somewhat stunned, but managed a few stammered words of welcome. The ensign was about to escort Dajan and Jandra from the bridge when Lieutenant Kittay turned abruptly from the comm station.

 

 

"Captain, a message from Starbase Thirteen." "On speakers." A pad was touched, and the hiss of subspace static assaulted everyone's ears. Then a voice broke through. "That thing is on its way back. It's still in the Romulan Empire, but it came within range of our sensors a few minutes ago. It's making warp twelve or more, and its present course is dead center on Earth. And one other thing-it's yelling its head off. It's putting out the same type of energy fields that knocked out power on those Federation and Klingon ships, but the level is-well, our instruments aren't calibrated to read that type of energy, whatever it is, but it's powerful. We're pulling back completely out of its path before we're knocked out ourselves, and we'd advise anyone within a parsec of its projected course to do the same. Here are the coordinates of its course and its present location." Spock turned to the science station as the coordinates came in. After a moment, he looked up. "We will have to warn the Romulans once again, Captain. The Probe's course will take it within less than a light year of Temaris." Kirk sighed. "So the conference would have to have been postponed anyway. At least this is something we can't blame the saboteurs for. Lieutenant Kittay, open a channel to-" "In case anyone's interested," the voice from Starbase Thirteen resumed, "here's what that thing is putting out. At our distance, it's not enough to knock us out, so we figured, whatever information we can pick up and pa$s on may be a help to someone. Particularly since this thing's headed dead-bang toward Earth." Abruptly, the subspace hiss was overlaid with an incredible jumble of sounds. Some sounded no more purposeful than the static, seemed almost identical to the static at times. Some sounded like a thousand people shouting at once. Some sounded like the hooting and creaking and roaring the Probe had used to call to Earth's whaleless seas, only more complex, more varied. Some sounded like nothing any of them had ever heard before.

 

 

"If it gets close to Earth while it's doing that-" McCoy shook his head. "It won't have to boil the oceans to do us in." "Captain Kirk." Jandra's voice was almost inaudible amid the cacophony issuing from the speakers. "Cut back the volume, Lieutenant," Kirk snapped, then turned toward the Romulan musician, who stood less than a meter away, a questioning look on her face.

 

 

"Jandra?" "That sound," she said as Kittay lowered the volume to a more tolerable level, "is it something of importance?" "It could be. Do you know something about it?" "Only that it is similar-" She broke off, tilting her head as if listening intently.

 

 

"No," she said after a few seconds, "it is not merely similar. Certain portions of it are identical to computer recordings Tiam was listening to when I left. And before, in the Citadel, he listened to the same sounds. He was infuriated when I questioned him about it." "Your husband had recordings of this? When? Before you came on this mission?" "Some days before, yes, Captain Kirk." "I'll be-" He looked toward Handler. "So much for any doubts we might have had about their claims they didn't believe the Probe existed. If they had recordings of it that long ago, long before it crossed the Neutral Zone this last time, they must've made them before it visited the Federation." "I suppose so, sir." Kirk turned to Spock. "Wasn't its original approach to Earth from the general direction of the Empire, Spock?" "The first sightings were by Starbase Twelve, Captain. Its course was not the straight line that it is now, but it was such that it could have emerged from a portion of the Neutral Zone several days earlier." Kirk was silent a moment, listening to the sounds, frowning. "Jandra," he said, turning back to the musician, "you said-what was it? `portions were identical.' How can you be sure? There are about a thousand different sounds in there, and absolutely no pattern." Her eyes widened. "But there is!" She looked around at the others, at her brother. "Can you not hear it? I have not been able to put it out of my mind since I first heard it.

 

 

THIRTEEN For more than twenty minutes, the sounds of the Probe filled the bridge as Spock worked through the data that Starfleet, at Spock's request, had transferred into the Enterprise's computer before leaving the Federation. After five, McCoy, grimacing and clamping his hands over his ears, had headed back to sickbay and a stable but still critical and comatose Kevin Riley.

 

 

Every so often, Jandra would nod and look expectantly at the others. "There," she would say, "that is the same as what was received from that other ship." When the others would only shake their head in denial or simple confusion, she would frown in frustration. "Can you not hear it? Am I the only one? Dajan, certainly you-" "No, Sib, I can hear nothing," he would say, only adding to her frustration.

 

 

Kirk; his head beginning to ache from the constant assault on his ears, finally gestured to Spock. "Before we all go deaf or insane-" "No, wait!" It was Jandra again.

 

 

"I know you think you hear a pattern, Jandra," Kirk said tiredly, "but-" "No, it is not just that," she said earnestly. "It has begun to repeat itself. The pattern at the start is beginning again.

 

 

Kirk glanced from her deadly serious face to Spock. "Spock? Are you starting over?" "No, Captain. It would take several hours to progress through all the data." Kirk turned back to Jandra. "But you say this is the same as what we started out with-what was it?twenty minutes ago?" She nodded vehemently. "The pattern is the same. I cannot speak for all the sounds, but those in the pattern are identical." Can she be right? he wondered. Or is this just some new Romulan trick, a diversion that her defection-her fake defection?-set us up for?Acrd in either. case, what the hell does it mean?

 

 

"Spock, what does the computer say? Certainly it could tell if there's a repeating pattern." "I will see, Captain." As he spoke, he worked the controls. "Since I am unable to detect a pattern myself, I can only instruct the computer to look for repeated sequences of sound." "Mr. Spock," Uhura spoke up for the first time in several minutes, "tell the computer to concentrate on the..." She paused, listening and frowning as if doing mental calculations. "On the two to three thousand hertz range," she finished.

 

 

"You heard something, Uhura?" Kirk asked, startled.

 

 

"I can't be certain, and I'd never have noticed it if Jandra hadn't kept insisting there was a pattern, but yes, maybe I do." She shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just imagining it." "Two to three thousand hertz," Spock repeated, continuing to work the science station controls, "with repetitions possibly beginning after approximately eighteen to twenty-two minutes." Straightening, he watched the readouts as the sounds continued to wash over everything and everyone on the bridge.

 

 

After more than a minute, an arched eyebrow prompted Kirk to ask impatiently, "Well, Mr. Spock?" The Vulcan stood silently, studying the readouts for several more seconds. Finally he turned toward the others. "The computer has detected a repeating sequence of sounds, Captain. The cycle is approximately nineteen point four three minutes. It is not limited to the two to three thousand hertz range but is present at all frequencies." Kirk turned, eyes widening, to look at Jandra and Uhura. "You two caught it, but no one else did. Why?" "Maybe," Sulu volunteered, "because they're both musicians. Musicians have to be more sensitive to patterns." He fell silent, looking around questioningly. "Don't they?" "Certain kinds of patterns, I suppose," Uhura said finally.

 

 

"You two are saying there's a musical pattern in all that?" Kirk asked skeptically.

 

 

"I had not thought of it as such," Jandra said, her face suddenly thoughtful, "but perhaps it is true. It is not a pattern that matches human or Romulan music, certainly. But perhaps some other form?" "That thing was singing to us?" Kirk said disbelievingly.

 

 

"Perhaps it was, Captain," Spock said, "in the same sense that it was `singing' to the whales, and that George and Gracie sang to it. When I attempted to communicate with them shortly before this mission began, I listened again to the sounds they made, and I came away with what humans would call an `impression.' I did not mention it at the time because I could not account for it logically, but the impression was one of song, of music, though obviously nothing that could be represented as human or Vulcan music." "That would perhaps explain," Jandra said hesitantly, "why I am able to detect these patterns and remember them while others cannot. From my youngest days, I have been blessed-or perhaps cursed-with the ability to reproduce flawlessly any musical composition, Romulan or human or Vulcan, after hearing it only once. It is nothing I learned, certainly nothing I can analyze. It is simply something I do, the way others are able to walk and breathe." "But you can't remember other things," Kirk asked, "nonmusical things?" "I do not have a photographic memory, if that is what you mean. I do not often say this, but my memory for things written is nothing exceptional. It is only music, and only when it is heard." "Fascinating," Spock remarked. "There are few records of Vulcans with such abilities, although the Vulcan memory is on average superior to that of the average human. It is much more common among humans. There are even records of humans who are far below average in all their other abilities but who have this single ability to instantly learn and reproduce musical compositions of great complexity." "Idiot savants," Benar said, "people who can barely function in normal society yet who have remarkable talents in specific areas such as music or mathematics." "This is a fascinating discussion, people," Kirk interrupted, "but let's stick to our immediate problem." "I believe we are, Captain," Spock said. "Theories have been proposed to account for these abilities, and one of those theories is that people capable of these unusual feats are possessed of a different kind of intelligence. The same has often been said of cetaceans, including whales, and their ability to repeat precisely complex `songs' up to an hour in length." Kirk frowned. "This is starting to sound like another version of your superwhales, Spock. First telekinesis and now memories that won't quit?" Spock was silent a moment, considering. "I had not made the connection until now, Captain, but it is quite possible that you are correct." "I am? About what?" "My initial speculation was that it was possible for a race who had evolved intelligence without evolving an opposable thumb or any other physical appendage that allowed them to manipulate the world around them to develop, in effect, a mental appendage that served the same purpose. We have certainly encountered enough normally appendaged beings who have similar powers to know that such powers are possible." "Granted, Spock," Kirk said, an image of a young man called Charlie X flashing through his mind, "but what does that have to do with supermemories and the rest?" "Perhaps nothing, Captain, but it is possible that such memories also developed as a response to their lack of manipulating appendages. Without such appendages, they could not develop a written language. Therefore, for them to deal with the amount of information necessary tq develop a science or a complex culture of any kind, their memories would of necessity be remarkable by the standards of appendaged beings." Kirk blinked, understanding. "Intelligent beings without the ability to develop a written language will develop a different kind of memory aid. Their language itself would become their memory aid. IS that what you're saying, Spock?" "That is part of it, Captain. Their minds would have to be capable of remembering massively complicated strings of information, just as Jandra is capable of remembering long, complex musical compositions after a single hearing. Their minds would have to be special, and I suspect the language would have to be special as well." "Special meaning musical?" Kirk asked. "Is that why Uhura's the only other one who even came close to recognizing the patterns Jandra heard? She's another musician?" "I would hesitate to describe it as musical in any conventional sense, Captain, but there must be aspects to it that are analogous to some aspects of music. What humans call whalesong, I suspect, could be a very primitive form of just such a language." There was silence for several seconds except for the continuing sounds of the Probe, muted since the computer's discovery of the repeating patterns.

 

 

"So it's a language," Kirk said finally. "Everything that thing was putting out-except maybe when it tried to boil away our oceans-was its version of talk. It talks with telekinesis-at least out in space. The way we talk in space with subspace and electromagnetic waves. And when it talks loud enough, it blows our circuits, just the way we'd blow out a few circuits ourselves if we turned the volume up high enough." He shook his head. "I guess the next question is, what the hell has it been trying to say?" "And have the Romulans figured out any of this?" Sulu put in. "Just at a guess, I'd say they had. Didn't their background on Tiam say he was considered a topflight linguist? Maybe he was trying to translate it." "That is entirely possible, Mr. Sulu," Spock said. "I would suggest, however, that our most urgent priority is to learn how to talk to the Probe ourselves-before it reaches Earth." "Aye," Scotty said, "and before it does to Earth whatever it did to Wlaariivi." FOURTEEN Predictably, warning the Galtizh of the Probe's approach did not go well. Tiam interpreted it as a threat and demanded that the Federation "call off its monster." When Kirk asked if there had been any "sea life of moderate or higher intelligence on Wlaariivi," Tiam's momentary look of surprise gave Kirk all the confirmation he needed, the ambassador's blustering denial notwithstanding.

 

 

"I would suggest," Kirk said, speaking more to Hiran than to Tiam, "that in the interest of mutual survival, we pool whatever information we have about this thing. We already know, for instance, that you monitored and recorded this object's energy output during its earlier pass through the Empire. We have similar-" "That is utter nonsense!" Tiam objected loudly. "Un- til it carried out your orders and attacked Wlaariivi, the Romulan Empire was unaware of its existence!" "On the contrary, Ambassador Tiam," Kirk said coldly, "your wife heard you yourself listening to a recording of the Probe's output on at least two occasions, one of which was before the Probe returned to Romulan territory after its pass through the Federation -before you departed on this mission, and long before you repeatedly denied to us that it even existed." This announcement seemed to stun even Tiam into momentary speechlessness. Commander Hiran, standing to one side throughout the exchange, regained some of his smile as he looked pointedly at Tiam.

 

 

"My wife," Tiam said, finally regaining his voice, "is a musician, not a scientist. I have no idea what it is she heard, but I assure you-" "What she heard, Ambassador Tiam, was whatever it was you were listening to in your quarters immediately after you returned to the Galtizh following your meeting with Ambassador Riley earlier today. If it was not a recording of the Probe, what was it?" Kirk's specificity brought Tiam to another speechless halt while he tried to regroup. The man was definitely not ambassadorial material, Kirk thought. A real ambassador, such as Riley, would at least keep his emotions and confusion out of his face while he came up with new obfuscations.

 

 

"It is nothing that concerns anyone outside the Romulan government," Tiam said finally, stiffly.

 

 

"As you wish, Ambassador Tiam," Kirk said, allowing himself a sideways glance at Hiran. "However, despite your lack of cooperation, I will still tell you that the Probe's attack on Wlaariivi was very probably related in some way to the sea life-intelligent or semi-intelligent sea life-which I can only assume exists on that world. On Earth, we humans had hunted some similar forms of life to extinction more than a century ago. We strongly suspect that that is the reason it attacked Earth." "And why did it stop?" Tiam asked, some of his belligerence returning. "If you are not in control of it, why did it stop?" "No one knows," Kirk admitted, "not for sure. We think it was because we were able to retrieve one of those life-forms from-" Kirk caught himself. Letting the Romulans know that a relatively simple, if dangerous, method of traveling through time existed was not the brightest thing to do. "From," he resumed, "a form of suspended animation." "How fortunate for Earth and the Federation," Tiam said.

 

 

"The point is, Ambassador, the time has come to share what information we have concerning this object, whatever we call it. If you have learned something from its earlier passage through the Empire-" "The point is, Captain Kirk," Tiam broke in, "the object is currently driving straight toward the Federation, toward Earth, out of Romulan territory. You say it is acting independently. I say it is controlled by the Federation. In either case, I see no reason to share anything with the Federation. If it is acting independently, it will soon be the Federation's problem, not ours, and any damage it does there can only be a benefit to the Empire. If the Federation is controlling it-as I am positive the Federation is-it would be the height ctf irresponsibility to divulge information that would in any way make your control even firmer, its attacks on Romulan worlds like Wlaariivi potentially even more deadly." Hiran, unable to contain himself any longer, stepped closer to Tiam. "And what if you're wrong, Tiam? As 1 am positive you are! And what if that thing does whatever it does to the Federation and then heads back here, the way it did this time, only faster? And angrier? What then, Tiam?" Tiam almost seemed to welcome the internal challenge. He turned abruptly to face Hiran. "I remind you, Commander Hiran, that all dealings with the Federation are my responsibility. You will not speak with Captain Kirk or anyone else from the Federation again without my express approval. Is that understood?" "And this ship and the safety of the Empire are my responsibility!" Hiran said, turning from Tiam to face the viewscreen. "Captain Kirk, I do not at this moment know anything about the data you say Tiam has, but I will soon-" Abruptly, the viewscreen went blank. A moment later, an external image of the Galtizh appeared.

 

 

"Reopen the channel, Lieutenant," Kirk snapped.

 

 

Kittay's fingers darted across the controls. "No response, sir." "Damn," Kirk said. Tiam had taken control of the Galtizh.

 

 

"Captain," Spock said from the science station, "there is evidence of transporter activity on the Galtizh. They are retrieving their archaeological team from Temaris." Kirk tapped a control on the arm of the conn. "Transporter room, bring our people up, now!" He turned to Spock. "Any other activity on the Galtizh? Weapons? Shields?" " IVo, Captain. They are, however, engaging their impulse drive." On the screen, the Galtizh moved slowly away, finally coming to a halt roughly a thousand kilometers distant. The image, though reduced, remained sharp, with no evidence of cloaking.

 

 

"All personnel aboard, Captain," the transporter room reported. "But they're not happy." Kirk let some of the tension slip away. "I wouldn't wonder," he said. He turned to Audrea Benar, who had been a largely silent witness to everything since she had beamed aboard with Dajan and Jandra. "Dr. Benar, I'd appreciate it very much if you'd explain the situation to your people. Tell them they'll be allowed back on Temaris if at all possible, but that the prospects are not good." "Of course, Captain." "Mr. Spock," Kirk said as the 'lift closed behind Dr. Benar, "now that we know that at least some of the Probe data may be a language, I suggest you get to work on it. And on that scheme of yours to modify a tractor beam to simulate the Probe's emissions. If that thing is heading back to Earth to boil our oceans again, talking to it may be our only chance. If past experience is any guide, we don't have anything else that will touch it." He turned to the comm station.

 

 

"Lieutenant Kittay, get Admiral Cartwright or the President." He grimaced as she acknowledged the order. Neither one of them was going to be overjoyed at the quality of diplomacy he had exercised with Tiam. Or for that matter, with the latest news about the Probe.

 

 

"How long do you intend to continue this nonsense, Tiam?" Hiran scowled at the ambassador.

 

 

"Until you come to your senses, Hiran," Tiam snapped. "There will be no communication with the Enterprise until you assure me-convincingly!-that you will abide by my decisions!" Hiran shook his head disbelievingly. "Kirk was right, wasn't he, Tiam? You have been sitting on information about this thing all the time! He was probably right about Wlaariivi, too! What were we doing there?" "Nothing that concerns the Federation! Some simple experiments, I am told. If they had been successful, the results would have been dropped in the seas of the rebel Variizt worlds to end the rebellions once and for all." Hiran's scowl deepened. "Experiments? On sea creatures? Intelligent sea creatures as Kirk suspected?" "Do not be so easily taken in by your Federation `friend,' Hiran. These were mindless, purposeless creatures, useless even to themselves." Tiam smiled faintly. "Although now they have found a use. My informant tells me that, though the experiment failed, the experimenters discovered that certain portions of the creatures are quite tasty. I understand the scientific stations have been converted most efficiently to slaughterhouses and processing plants." "But now they are out of business," Hiran said disgustedly, "destroyed by that thing. Kirk was right. I am only surprised it didn't destroy them when it first came through." Tiam shook his head tiredly. "It didn't come within a hundred parsecs of Wlaariivi then." "So it did come through before! And you did know about it!" Tiam closed his eyes and sighed loudly. "Very well! If it is the only way to calm you, Commander, I will tell you. Yes, your government knew of the object's passage. Attempts were made to communicate with it, but they were unsuccessful. Observations were made. Data was taken. It was suggested that the object's lack of responsiveness indicated it was unmanned, perhaps even a derelict. Its power was obvious in its mass alone, so-" "So someone decided to have it for themselves!" "For the Empire!" Tiam snapped. "I am told the late Praetor himself was the driving force behind this effort! If the weaklings now in power had the sense to-,, "The `weaklings' that you represent, Tiam?" Tiam blinked, realizing he had spoken too much. But then he shrugged it off. Nothing could save this so-called peace conference now. And when the conference failed -as he had known from the start that it would, though he had not dared say it aloud until now-saner heads would prevail. Those who knew the Federation for what it was would once more be in charge, while those who would believe any lie, negotiate away any advantage, would be gone, trampled by the realities of the universe.

 

 

"Yes, Commander," Tiam said finally, "the `weaklings' I represent. It is their good luck-the Empire's good luck-that they have me to represent them." "Do they know you feel this way, Ambassador?" "If they did, do you think they would have dared appoint me?" "Why did they have the good fortune to appoint you?" "I could not say, Commander. I know only that not everyone in their ranks is as naive as those who currently hold the reins. I am certain it was those more objective elements that were responsible for summoning me to the Citadel shortly after the Praetor's death, where I was told-in strictest confidence-about this object that had passed through the Empire. There was a possibility of communicating with it, I was told, of making use of its vast power, and I was given certain data to work with while my wife was given the honor of performing at the Praetor's funeral. As it turned out, the data was meaningless, certainly not any form of communication. Shortly after I informed them of my judgment in the matter, I was notified of my promotion and appointment, as well as of the role they expected my wife to play." "And this was all because of the recommendations of these `objective elements,' I assume?" "Of course, although I was never specifically advised of that." "And you of course shared this `useless' data with those you now represent? Those who actually gave you the promotion and the appointment?" "I of course did not! I was specifically instructed not to." Hiran snorted, not quite a laugh. "You poor fool! Unless I miss my guess, you will soon join Jutak!" Doggedly, overriding Tiam's repeated, disbelieving interruptions, Hiran tried to explain.

 

 

FIFTEEN Captain's Log, Stardate 8493.4: As expected, neither Admiral Cartwright nor the President was overjoyed at the latest developments, although Cartwright, except for the injuries to Riley, seemed not overly upset about the sabotage and the probable breakup of the conference. "I expected treachery from the Romulans," he said, "and I have not been disappointed." Cartwright also personally warned me to "avoid the trap of the seemingly rational Romulan." He offered it as a nonspecific maxim, but he was obviously referring to my hope that Commander Hiran could be trusted, at least to a limited extent, and that the relationship between the commander and myself was worth cultivating.

 

 

The admiral also passed on the contents of another message from the still-unnamed Romulan who had first brought him word of the Praetor's death. Word now was of the impending breakup of the conference. Rumors were already circulating in the Citadel, and the reformers, while still in power, were on increasingly shaky ground. The main thrust of the message was a plea to "exert every effort not to let this opportunity slip away, no matter how slim it may be." When asked if this mysterious voice out of the Empire was not in the same category of "seemingly rational Romulans" I had been warned against, Cartwright remained stubbornly mute. leaving me to wonder if in his early years, some of which had been spent in patrolling the Neutral Zone, Cartwright himself might not have had unofficial contact with his own Commander Hiran.

 

 

Meanwhile, word from Starbase Thirteen and patrol ships in the area indicates the Probe will be passing Temaris within hours. At its reported speed, it will reach the Federationand Earth-in barely two days. We are, however, little closer to decoding the Probe's transmissions now than we were before anyone realized they might constitute a language. Spock has not slept since he began the task, and Jandra and Uhura and many of the other musicians have been getting by on occasional catnaps. Even Penalt has put in occasional appearances, though they seem to be more aimed at ingratiating himself with Jandra than with any analysis of the Probe data. The others, however, have spent most of their time listening to the sounds themselves. Some have tried playing the sounds both faster and slower, even backward, as they try to make some kind of "intuitive" sense out of them, something beyond the strict mathematical relationships that, after all, are all that any computer, no matter how complex, can work with. At best, however. they have been able only to identify and isolate patterns at other frequencies than the two to three thousand hertz of the one Uhura initially identified. These have ranged from a subsonic ten to twenty hertz to ultrasonics well above a hundred kilohertz.

 

 

All the patterns, however, are not enough for the computer and its universal translator program to produce any kind of translation. Time and again, it has seemed on the verge of success, but each time it has pulled back. When Spock queries it specifically, it can state only that certain patterns that had at first appeared similar had, on deeper analysis, proved dissimilar. Spock has produced an interesting analogy. In some Earth languages, such as Mandarin, Chinese, words superficially identical have different meanings dependent not only on inflection and relative pitch but on the harmonic and subharmonic content as well. He theorizes that, in the Probe's transmissions, there is, in effect, a "wild card" that neither he nor the computer nor any of the musicians has yet been able to identify, some factor that causes the meaning assigned to a given fragment of sound to change, seemingly at random.

 

 

On a more positive note, Commander Scott, once Spock explained what he had in mind, was quickly able to modify one of the tractor beams to act as a "voice" which we can use to "talk" to the Probe. However, barring a miracle, the best we will be able to do by the time the Probe arrives in the vicinity of Temaris is to, in effect, send the Probe's own words back to it, an echo delayed by months and thousands of parsecs. We can only hope that they prove to be worde; of welcome, not a challenge to do battle.

 

 

As for the Galtizh, it has not pulled up stakes for a return to the Empire, but it has remained totally unresponsive to all our attempts to communicate except to ask occasionally if we are ready to return our "hostages." However, sensors indicate that, despite the lack of response, the Galtizh has been listening attentively to everything we have tried to say to them. At the very least, they are as aware as we of the Probe's imminent passage through the Neutral Zone and of our intention of placing the Enterprise directly in its path and attempting communication.

 

 

And Dr. McCoy continues to assure us that Ambassador Riley is doing well and can be expected to awaken "any time now." Sulu and Uhura, however, who between them have spent more time with him than McCoy, do not seem as optimistic. If stable vital signs mean anything, they say, then he should have awakened a good twenty-four hours ago. Aside from occasional moans and grimaces, however, he remains totally unresponsive, and Sulu and Uhura, working on the theory that even totally comatose patients can, at some level, hear what is said around them, have begun their own course of treatment, regaling him-and each otherwith every Riley-related recollection they can dredge up, including, I suspect, a few that never quite happened.

 

 

Dajan hesitated as he heard the animated voices coming from beyond the sickbay door the medtech had indicated. He would be intruding. These two-Commander Sulu and Uhura, the medtech had called her-were longtime friends of the ambassador, while he was less than an acquaintance and might even be considered an enemy.

 

 

And yet, Commander Sulu was the one who had suggested he pay the visit. "Uhura and I are already starting to repeat ourselves," Sulu had said, and then went on to explain their theory-their hope, reallythat their words were somehow finding their way down to wherever the ambassador's mind had retreated, finding their way down and providing a link to the real world, a lifeline to at least keep him from slipping farther away. Dajan of course had never heard of such a thing, but the commander had seemed so earnest in his request, he was reluctant to turn him down. Particularly since Sulu had very likely saved Dajan's own life down on Temaris.

 

 

Pulling in a deep breath and swallowing away his misgivings, Dajan took the last two steps that put him directly in front of the door as it hissed open.

 

 

Dimly, as if filtering up from a distant, basement room, the voices brushed repeatedly at Commander Kevin Thomas Riley's consciousness, but he could not -would not-hear them. His father, dead at the hand of Kodos' executioners more than four decades now, was speaking to him again, and his father's words were all that mattered.

 

 

"Take care of your mom, boyo," he was saying, tousling his four-year-old son's ginger hair, but only briefly; the Rileys weren't much for touching, even then, nor even in the dreams that had never entirely gone away. "I'll be going out for a while." "Where you going, Da?" Kevin piped up. "Can I come, too?" "May I come, too " his father said by reflex. "No, you may not. You may stay here and look after your mom, like I said. Go on now!" An overwhelming sadness flowed from Riley the man to the boy he had been, and he desperately wished he could break out of the straitjacket that bound him to this same path again and again. He wished he could force the little boy to turn and lunge into his father's arms and tell him not to "volunteer" to die, to stay and save himself and his family until the help that Kodos said would never come did come. Or at least force the child to turn and hug his father and tell him he loved him so that his last memory would be of that hug instead of the lessthan-gentle pat on the backside that sent him lurching away into the bedroom where his mother lay silently weeping.

 

 

But it had never worked before, and it didn't work now.

 

 

Nor did it work when, seemingly only moments later, he tried to keep the boy from falling asleep in his mother's arms as she hurried from the house as Kodos' squads swept the street. But once again, when the child awakened, his mother was gone and he was on a barren rooftop with a stranger while the greenish glow of massed phaser fire touched the low-hanging clouds.

 

 

Neither was a proper goodbye, the adult Riley said, and he and the boy could only cry.

 

 

And live the nightmare yet again.

 

 

On the surface, at least, Tiam remained obdurate. Nothing Hiran could say could convince the ambassador he was little more than a dupe, a figurehead selected not for his diplomatic abilities or even for his massive distrust of the Federation but for his relationship to the late Reelan.

 

 

"They could have found any number of paranoid would-be diplomats in the capital without bringing you in from the Provinces," Hiran had said, "but there is only one Dajan, brother to Reelan, and you are married to his sister. Your beliefs-and your obstinate refusal to look at anything that challenges them-were obviously a bonus but equally obviously not the primary reason they `recommended' you. You certainly can't believe it sheer coincidence that Dajan's opposite number from the Federation, whose presence our leaders specifically requested, proved to be the sole survivor of Kalis Three!" "Believe what you will, Commander," Tiam had said. "The fact remains that I am the Empire's official representative, and as such I am the final authority on all dealings with the Federation in the current situation." The ambassador had also made the situation abundantly clear to everyone in the crew, particularly those involved with communications: Hiran was technically in command of the Galtizh, but Tiam was in command of Hiran. All communications, whether with the Empire or the Enterprise, had to be cleared and monitored by Tiam himself. And anyone who chose to disobey or sidestep those rules would be dealt with summarily. The aide Kital standing at his side, phaser plainly in evidence, emphasized his words, as did the undenied "rumor" that Kital had been the one to dispose of Jutak after that aide was found to be involved in some unspecified act of treachery.

 

 

Tiam did, however, make a point of being armed himself at all times.

 

 

When he reported the "kidnapping" of his wife and her brother, the ones he officially represented expressed shock and surprise and told him to do whatever he could to negotiate their release and to keep the conference from breaking down entirely, no matter what his "personal feelings" might be. The survival of their government very likely depended on it, they assured him.

 

 

Later, those who had "recommended" him spoke to him through the secret subspace transceiver in his quarters, which Jandra's departure had made much less troublesome to use. His handling of the matter, they told him, had been masterful. He was particularly commended for the "strength of purpose it must have taken" to call the defections of his wife and her brother kidnappings and to refuse to negotiate until the two had been returned, knowing full well they would never be returned. As a result of this timely evidence of "Federation treachery," the reformers were in full retreat. "Just a few more days," one of his supposed mentors said, "and their house of cards will collapse and we will step in and return stability and purpose to the Romulan government. Your contribution will not be forgotten." It was shortly after that heartwarming endorsement had bolstered Tiam's confidence that he was notified that the Enterprise had taken itself out-of orbit around Temaris. As its unanswered messages had repeatedly warned him it was planning to do, it had departed to "intercept" the behemoth that had destroyed the Wlaariivi stations and the Henzu.

 

 

"So, Commander," a self-satisfied Tiam said to a scowling Hiran, "the conference is at an end. The hostages were not returned, and the Federation vessel has departed for a conference with the Federation's new ally-or perhaps slave-from which it will most likely receive a detailed report on its depradations on Wlaariivi. I would say that, even by your standards, that constitutes unacceptable behavior on the part of the Federation representatives." Hiran could only shake his head. "As you well know, they have gone to attempt to communicate with that thing, and they have repeatedly suggested we accompany them, but all you can do is crow about the breakdown of the conference! If you want the truth, Tiam-which I very much doubt!-their behavior is infinitely preferable to yours! And to that of your puppet masters! Doesn't truth mean anything to you? For that matter, doesn't your wife mean anything to you?" A flash of anger, or perhaps humiliation, hardened Tiam's features for a moment, but then it was submerged in the self-satisfied smile, almost a smirk, that had become his predominant expression since the defections. "In the moment she allowed herself to be kidnapped," he said, "she served the Empire better than the rest of her life combined." Hiran rolled his eyes in disbelief. "And what of this so-called `ally' you say they are going to `confer' with? I thought your puppet masters were more than a little interested in it. Don't you think they'd be interested in the results of this `conference'?" "Perhaps, but I prefer observing from a distance. Considering what that thing did to the Henzu-and to an unarmed cargo ship millions of kilometers distant-I would not care to get within range, whether it is under control of the Federation or simply the out-of-control killing machine it appears to be. In either case, we will be safer here-and hence more likely to be able to report the results of its encounter with the Enterprise. " A glimmer of anticipation overlay Tiam's smile for a moment. "The destruction of the Henzu was recorded by sensors more than a parsec distant." Sulu had taken the helm for the rendezvous with the Probe, and Chekov had again assumed the navigator's station. Even Uhura had silently replaced Kittay at the comm station, and Scott stood at the engineering station next to her. Spock of course was at the science station, while McCoy watched the viewscreen from the command well at Kirk's left. No words had been spoken, but the situation had spoken for itself. They had already traveled through three centuries of time in a refurbished Klingon rustbucket to stop this thing, whatever it was, and now, in the Enterprise, they would face it again. Together.

 

 

The only non-crew-member on the bridge was Jandra, whose uncanny ability had first detected a pattern in the midst of the Probe's chaotic emissions. The other musicians were gathered around an auxiliary viewscreen set up in the same rec-deck area that had held the reception. Even Penalt was there, after grudgingly allowing himself to be shepherded off the bridge.

 

 

"Shenandoah reports the Probe maintaining its course through the Neutral Zone, Captain," Uhura said quietly. "It should be entering our own sensor range at any moment." "Thank you, Commander," Kirk said, equally quietly, his eyes on the viewscreen. "Ready, Mr. Spock?" "Ready, Captain." "Mr. Scott?" "Aye, Captain. Backup battery power fully charged and fully shielded. Even if we lose primary and secondary power, we'll still have life support and impulse power." "And tractor beams?" "Aye, sir, tractor beams. It would no' do to lose our voice." Kirk was silent a moment, pulling his breath in and letting it out in a faint whoosh. "So, Mr. Spock, start the conversation." Something was in the entity's path that had not been there when the path had been constructed. Directly in its path. Even at this distance, it was obvious that it was not one of the hundreds of billions of natural objects contained in the crystal memory.

 

 

After less than a trillion calculations, it decided. The delay involved in altering its course to avoid this object would be insignificant, less than one millionth of the projected travel time.

 

 

"Captain!" Uhura looked around sharply from the comm station. "Shenandoah reports an alteration in the Probe's course. Its new course will take it approximately one-tenth parsec Galactic north of our current position." Kirk suppressed a curse. "It already knows we're here. Its sensors are obviously longer range than ours. Mr. Sulu, put us in front of it again, warp factor of your choice." "Aye-aye, Captain. But it would help if it showed up on our sensors. One-tenth parsec due north, you said, Commander?" "Right, Mr. Sulu," Uhura confirmed.

 

 

"Sensors detecting its emissions, Captain," Spock reported, "but not the object itself." "So it's still `yelling its head off,"' McCoy remarked to no one in particular.

 

 

The starbow of warp entry filled the viewscreen for a moment as Sulu engaged the drive.

 

 

The object drifted back into the entity's path.

 

 

But now it was close enough for the crystal sensor to determine the nature of the object.

 

 

The commands were issued. The crystal sensor, still sheathed, reached out.

 

 

Mites, the incoming data said. The object is another of their spacegoing metallic bubbles of air.

 

 

Destroy it, one set of recent memories said, but another, stronger set said no. These mites are thousands of parsecs from those who tried to still the voice of the blue-green world and thousands of parsecs from those associated with the blue world, still more thousands of parsecs and hundreds of millennia from those who had attacked and nearly destroyed you. There is nothing to say they are related to any of the three. Nonetheless, the third and strongest set of memories said, note their location. After the blue world has been exhausted of useful data, return and study these, determine if there is a connection between them and the blue world, between them and the blue-green world. Between them and those who had attacked and nearly destroyed you.

 

 

Again a trillion calculations flashed along the crystal pathways, and the course was altered again, adding another fraction of a second to the predicted travel time to the blue world.

 

 

"It is within direct sensor range, Captain," Spock reported, "but it is again changing course to avoid us. Its new course will take it through our original position." "Alphonse and Gaston, interstellar version," Kirk muttered. "Mr. Sulu-" "Aye-aye, Captain, I'll get us in front of it again." Again the object was in the entity's path. And closer.

 

 

Once again the entity altered its path, this time so extensively that several seconds were added to its travel time to the blue world.

 

 

Once again the object moved toward the entity's projected path, but this time the entity had placed itself beyond the object's reach. By the time the object completed its move, the entity would have passed the would-be point of interception.

 

 

Nonetheless, the mites' actions continued to be considered and questioned in the crystalline paths. Were they after all associated with the blue-green world? Do they think they can strike back for the deaths on that world? a recent set of memories asked.

 

 

There is nothing to say they are related to that world, another set repeated, or to the blue world. Observe them as we pass and proceed along the constructed path. Return when the primitives have been questioned, when the mites that are known to be associated with the blue world have been sufficiently studied.

 

 

Once again the crystal sensor reached out as far as it was capable of reaching from within its protective sheath. To reach further, the entity would have to drop out of its constructed path and shift to near motionlessness and extend the crystal sensor, unprotected, into space. That would increase the predicted time to the blue world not by millionths but by hundredths, and the entity was not yet ready for such measures.

 

 

But then, suddenly-even by the entity's picosecond standards-as the sensor touched the still-distant object, billions of crystal pathways that had lain dormant for hundreds of millennia sprang to life in recognition. Billions of others that had been in almost constant use for those same hundreds of millennia were stilled, silencing the entity's voice.

 

 

In the newly activated pathways, countless trillions of calculations and comparisons were made and confirmed, not once but a thousand times in a thousand ways.

 

 

The True Language, the calculations and comparisons said again and again, the True Language.

 

 

The mites were speaking in the True Language.

 

 

"Captain, the object-" "-has changed course again," Kirk finished Spock's report with a grimace. The last course change, which would have taken the object within a few hundred AU of the Temaris system, had been almost beyond their ability to match even at maximum warp. If it now shifted even a few arc seconds further, the Enterprise could in no way intercept it.

 

 

"No, Captain, it has ceased its emissions. And it is slowing rapidly." Silence gripped the bridge.

 

 

"All stop, Mr. Sulu.".

 

 

"Aye-aye, sir." "Mr. Spock, reduce tractor beam output by fifty percent." Anything to indicate that, now that they had its attention, they wanted to avoid shouting. At close range, that thing's shouts might even knock out Commander Scott's supershielded backup power systems.

 

 

"Yes, Captain." "Commander Uhura, try the Galtizh again." "No response, Captain." "Are they still there, Spock?" "They are, Captain, and they are still listening as well." "Just not answering." Kirk shook his head. "Keep them up to date anyway, Commander Uhura." Whether an informed Tiam was more or less dangerous than one who, not knowing what was happening, could strike out blindly, Kirk didn't know, but this way at least Hiran would also know the score and might be able to restrain the ambassador before he went completely over the wall.

 

 

Every light and indicator on the bridge flickered, then steadied as everyone on the bridge caught their breath.

 

 

"The object appears to be emitting again, Captain," Spock confirmed.

 

 

"Cut tractor beam output another fifty percent," Kirk snapped.

 

 

"Done, Captain." "Is it still emitting?" "Yes, Captain, but at a reduced level." "Reduce again, to five percent of original level." "It is following suit, Captain." "So it knows how to whisper as well as shout," Kirk said softly. "Now if we could just figure out what the hell it's whispering about. Mr. Spock, are its emissions now the same as the ones in your recordings?" "Unknown as yet, Captain. The computer has been instructed to analyze all incoming signals and compare them with the recordings, but it has not yet established any matches." "Maybe it uses a different language for whispering than it does for shouting," McCoy volunteered with a grimace. "It would make as much sense as anything else that thing's done so far." "Put it on the speakers," Kirk said, "but softly." The sounds that washed over the bridge and the listening musicians in the rec deck area sounded identical to Kirk, but then, he had never been able to detect a single one of the patterns Jandra and the others insisted were there, no matter how often they were pointed out. To him it had been noise then, and it was noise now.

 

 

"If anyone has an idea-" he began, but Uhura's voice cut him off.

 

 

"Captain, the Galtizh is responding." "On-screen, Commander." "Not to us, Captain." She shook her head firmly. "To the Probe!" SIXTEEN Tiam's first reaction to word that the object, now within sensor range, had changed course and was heading almost directly for the Temaris system had been to get the Galtizh at least a half parsec away before the object arrived. That obstructionist Hiran, however, had delayed unpardonably. They had still not gotten under way when the object stopped dead in its tracks and fell silent.

 

 

Tiam tensed as he watched the viewscreen and listened to the subcommander's reports of sensor readings. What was happening now? He had been listening to Kirk's interminable updates, anticipating the failure of that insane plan of his to "communicate" through a tractor beam, all the while wondering how the Federation could allow anyone with Kirk's obviously feeble grip on reality to command a starship.

 

 

But now the object was stopping. Why? Was it just pausing long enough to destroy the Federation ship, still a half light-year from Temaris? Had Kirk gotten his wish and attracted the thing's attention with his demented scheme to- Suddenly, Tiam realized what had happened. It had not been Kirk's antics with the tractor beam that had attracted the object's attention. It couldn't be. A tractor beam's range was measured in thousands of kilometers, not the parsecs that still separated the Enterprise from that thing. It had been the Enterprise's darting back and forth in the thing's path, like a child standing in the roadway, waving its hands to stop a Kalgorian combat engine!

 

 

It would be a fitting end for Kirk- and Jandra!-to be swatted like bothersome insects, but it was not one that Tiam wished to share.

 

 

And he would have shared it, he realized angrily, if it hadn't been for Hiran's stubbornness.

 

 

"Commander Hiran," he said sharply, "you're going to get your wish after all. The Galtizh will remain where it is." "I am pleased to hear it, Ambassador," Hiran said, hiding his surprise. "Might I ask-" "You may not!" Tiam snapped, then added, "The Federation ship is still safely distant. Its destruction will not affect us here." Hiran issued the necessary orders, mentally shaking his head. Tiam waited, hoping he had been right.

 

 

A minute later, Hiran almost laughed. "The object appears to be responding peaceably to the Enterprise, " he said, "not launching an attack." Tiam cursed silently as he realized Hiran was right. The object was obviously not reacting to the Enterprise the way it had reacted to the Henzu.

 

 

"Orders, Mr. Ambassador?" Hiran asked blandly.

 

 

Tiam's mind raced, trying to keep up as the world his assumptions had built for him turned upside down.. Could Kirk have been right after all? Could even that foolishness with the tractor beam and the recordings of that thing's emissions- His stomach sank. He had been given the data recorded during the Probe's first passage through the Empire, and he had studied it and proclaimed it useless. But now Kirk, using similar data, had brought the object to a stop, had somehow persuaded it to respond, not with destruction but with-what? More senseless "data"?

 

 

Or were they actually communicating? Could there actually be something to that insane idea that a language lay hidden in those mountains of gibberish? Had he missed it, while Kirk-and Jandra!-had: found it?

 

 

And translated it?

 

 

If Kirk had, and if word got back to the Citadel that Tiam had failed where Kirk had succeeded, as it surely would- But no! Kirk was not communicating with that thing! He was merely playing back what the object itself had sent out. He was echoing, not talking! He had said so himself?

 

 

But I can do the same! Tiam realized abruptly. Before that thing decides that the Enterprise is the only ship worth noticing, worth communicating with- The data he had been given was in his quarters! All he had to do- Tiam jerked to his feet. "Prepare to transmit on all subspace frequencies," he said, racing from the bridge, "maximum power!" The paradox emerged into the crystalline paths within milliseconds.

 

 

The mites, trillions of calculations and comparisons told the entity, were speaking in the True Language.

 

 

But a similar number of calculations and comparisons also told the entity: the mites do not possess the power of Speech.

 

 

More milliseconds swept past as the crystal sensor experienced the phenomenon, and those experiences were analyzed and compared with the experiences of five hundred millennia ago, when it had been bathed in the True Language, when its creators had given it its purpose and its methods and its original store- of memories and instructions.

 

 

A crude imitation, the comparison said.

 

 

Where Speech would have reached out to the crystal sensor within milliseconds, the imitation did not. The crystal sensor had to reach out and retrieve the vibrations of the True Language, in the same way that it had reached into the oceans of hundreds of worlds and retrieved the simple words of the primitives.

 

 

Yet it was different from the matter-bound voices of the primitives, for its energy spread through matterless space, albeit at a pace exceedingly ponderous.

 

 

Its creators' instructions had been clear. Return with the news the moment the existence of others capable of speaking the True Language is confirmed.

 

 

But its -memories were equally clear. The True Language could be spoken only by those who had developed the power of Speech.

 

 

And these mites had obviously not developed that power.

 

 

Finally, after seconds had passed, the content of what it was receiving became clear to the entity.

 

 

It was the same message it had itself Spoken to every passing world: a greeting and a history and an invitation. It was the same message it had been Speaking in the moments before this encounter, the same that it had been Speaking when it had approached and departed from the blue world and the thousands of other worlds: the message its creators had instructed it to continue to Speak until there came a reply. And now the reply had come.

 

 

But it was not Speech.

 

 

It was not true communication.

 

 

It was a mimicking of the True Language, a repeating of what the entity had itself Spoken millions of times over the millennia, but those that mimicked did not Speak.

 

 

The paradox had to be resolved. The questions of the blue-world primitives and even the mystery of what lay hidden in its own lost memory faded into the background in the face of this new mystery.

 

 

The entity reached out to the mites and Spoke, not in the matter-bound way of the primitives but in the True Language. What are you that you mimic the True Language without the power of Speech? it asked in a hundred ways.

 

 

There was no reply, only the continued echoing of its own words.

 

 

But the object stopped its headlong race across space.

 

 

An eternity later, it lowered its mimicking voice.

 

 

The entity lowered its own, remembering the effects its full voice had had on similar of the mites' devices while it had been in the vicinity of the blue world.

 

 

Another eternity, and the object lowered its voice again, as if suggesting the entity do the same.

 

 

And again.

 

 

But still it continued with its repetition of what the entity itself had Spoken countless times.

 

 

More eternities, more seconds passed while the paradox darted along the crystal paths, accessing memory after memory, instruction after instruction, in search of a solution, a remedy for its own existence.

 

 

Suddenly, another form of energy touched the crystal sensor. It had been touched by this type of energy before, most recently when it had cleansed the blue-green world, but never at this level.

 

 

The entity searched for the source and found another of the mites' spacegoing metallic bubbles.

 

 

Ordinarily, that would have been the end of it. The mites offered no threat, and no connection between these mites and those who mimicked the True Language could be established. Therefore they were irrelevant.

 

 

But this was not an ordinary time for the entity. Billions of the crystal paths were locked in an effort to resolve the paradox of the mites who mimicked the True Language. Billions more had been returned to their search through the entity's near-infinite memories for answers to the questions that had been raised by its interaction with the blue world, by the primitives that had reappeared there, without reason and without warning. Still more paths, even now, worried at the shadows of the lost memory.

 

 

This was a time when nothing could be deemed irrelevant until it had been thoroughly analyzed.

 

 

The crystal sensor absorbed the energies, sent them hurtling along the crystal paths, where their patterns would be subjected to the minutest, most thorough examination. For seconds, the patterns of all the ener- gies as a whole, all the thousands of frequencies, were examined and compared to the millions of other such patterns still stored in its memory.

 

 

But then, as it had never done before, it separated the energies, examining each of the thousands of frequencies separately.

 

 

And then it began to dissect the individual frequencies, only to find that, buried deep within each frequency, were other, lesser frequencies.

 

 

And it began to analyze those buried frequencies.

 

 

For a microsecond, the crystal paths froze in what, in a living being, would have been shock. In the entity, it was the acknowledgment of a second paradox, even greater than the first.

 

 

For there, hidden deep within that tangle of energies, was the True Language, not once but repeated thousands of times over.

 

 

To a human, it would have been comparable to examining a handful of snow under a microscope and finding, imprinted at the heart of each and every other= wise unique flake, an image of his own face.

 

 

This was a paradox it knew instantly was beyond its power to resolve.

 

 

And when it encountered something beyond its understanding, there was only one course of action open to it.

 

 

Return to its creators.

 

 

And lay the paradox before them.

 

 

The entity reached out and drew the metallic bubbles to itself.

 

 

"Responding to the Probe?" Kirk scowled at the viewscreen, then turned back to Commander Uhura at the comm station. "Responding how?" "Transmitting on all subspace frequencies, sir." She winced slightly and touched her earpiece to cut the volume. "I can't be positive, but it sounds as if they're playing back the same recordings we are." "Using regular subspace channels, not a tractor beam?" "Yes, Captain.

 

 

"Commander, whether anyone on the Galtizh responds to us or not, ask them what the devil they're doing!" Kirk turned to the science station. "Spock, can the Galtizh transmissions be analyzed? Are they sending the same thing we are?" Spock studied the readouts for several seconds. "It would appear that they are, Captain." He called up another set of readings. "However, the fact that the computer has already been able to determine that the two transmissions are indeed identical would seem to, indicate that the emissions the Probe is currently directing at the Enterprise are not. The computer has yet to establish any matching patterns in those." "Which means what?" Kirk said. "That the thing is actually answering us?. Or that our transmission simply set off a new automatic sequence that will keep repeating like the original?

 

 

"Unknown, Captain. However-" Spock broke off, one eyebrow arching as the readings changed. "It has ceased emitting again, Captain." "Not just cut its power back further?" "If so, it has been cut back beyond the point at which we are capable of detecting it." "The Romulans scared it off? Or maybe it's talking to them, now, instead of us?" "That is possible, Captain, but-." The Enterprise lurched. Suddenly, the air felt thick, almost liquid. Every sound was muffled.

 

 

Kirk tried to spin toward the viewscreen, but he could only turn laboriously.

 

 

"Mr. Sulu," he tried to say, but his vocal chords could not vibrate rapidly enough to produce the sounds, his lips and tongue could not move rapidly enough to shape the words.

 

 

He was already feeling short of breath, but as he tried to fill his lungs with a sharp intake of air, it was as if a massive elastic band enclosed his chest, keeping it from expanding. The air, thick and viscous, entered at a snail's pace.

 

 

If this kept up- Then he saw Sulu's hand, moving slowly, laboriously toward the controls that would engage the warp drive.

 

 

Yes! he thought, but forming the word aloud was impossible.

 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kirk saw McCoy, his mouth gaping open, obviously struggling for breath. The doctor's knees were slowly buckling, one hand gripping the arm of the command chair, the other coming up to claw at his throat.

 

 

Finally, Sulu's hand touched the warp engine controls.

 

 

There was another lurch, more powerful than the first, then a nonstop shuddering that seemed to grip his body directly, inside and out, like an out-of-control transporter field. And the air thickened even more, making breathing totally impossible.

 

 

In sickbay, Commander Kevin Thomas Riley could not breathe. Nor could the four-year-old Kevin Riley, and as he once again fought to awaken before his about-to-die mother handed him off to that same faceless stranger for the thousandth time, his struggle to awaken became a struggle to breathe.

 

 

And that fragment of the adult Riley that never fully faded from the dream, that fragment that sometimes strained to hear the voices hovering just beyond his grasp, began to strengthen.

 

 

But the voices were gone now, the adult Riley realized. Now there was only silence-and the struggle to pull the ever-thickening air into his lungs.

 

 

What was happening? Had Kodos found a way to poison the very air, a new and more efficient way to dispose of the excess population?

 

 

But no! Kodos was long dead. And Kevin Riley was a long way from Tarsus Four.

 

 

And his terror was growing by the second as his efforts to drag air into his lungs grew more desperate, more painful, until- Suddenly, he could breathe once again. The air surged into the adult Riley's lungs, and the child's terror began to fade.

 

 

Father, they both sighed.

 

 

Then the nightmare gripped them again, and the adult Riley could only watch helplessly as yet another cycle of pain and guilt began.

 

 

Once he could breathe again, the first thing Dajan did was check the readouts above the ambassador's bed.

 

 

He slumped with relief. Except for elevated heartbeat and respiration, everything was normal. A moment later, the door hissed open and a technician, breathing as heavily as either Dajan or the ambassador, raced in.

 

 

Dajan stood back quickly, giving the woman room. Only then did the Romulan look down at the ambassador's face-and remember the sound that had whispered from the unconscious man's lips moments after the air had thinned enough to make sound possible.

 

 

"Father," the translator in his ear had whispered a moment later, and Dajan found his throat tightening as he remembered, as he wondered what his own parents would have thought to see him here, in a Federation ship, watching over a Federation commander.

 

 

Gripped by a sudden need, he turned and left to seek out his sister.

 

 

Somehow, Sulu lifted his fingers from the controls.

 

 

There was another lurch, and the shuddering stopped.

 

 

And breathing, though still in agonizing slow motion, again became possible.

 

 

But it was not enough, Kirk realized. Already, his vision was rimmed with blackness that was expanding inward second by second.

 

 

And his heart-if the blood it had to pump had thickened as much as the air- Suddenly, it was over.

 

 

The sounds of the bridge returned to normal.

 

 

The air was once again air, and it burst into his lungs with a painful jolt. His heart raced as it pumped the newly thinned blood.

 

 

He reached out to grasp McCoy's arm before the doctor could continue the fall he had started several seconds before. Everyone on the bridge was sucking in breath after breath.

 

 

Finally, he looked up at the viewscreen.

 

 

The first thing he saw was the Galtizh, only a few kilometers distant.

 

 

The second thing he saw was the starless blackness beyond the Galtizh.

 

 

For a moment he wondered what had happened to the countless stars that should have dotted the screen, wondered if the ships had somehow been transported into the starless wasteland of intergalactic space.

 

 

And then he realized what the blackness was. It wasn't the blackness of empty space. It was the massive, ebony shell of the Probe, only a few hundred meters beyond the Galtizh.

 

 

SEVENTEEN "Try quarter impulse this time, Mr. Sulu," Kirk said once everyone had recovered their breath from the half-impulse attempt, "and set it to shut off automatically in five seconds unless the command is overridden." Sulu pulled in a deep breath. "Quarter impulse for five seconds, sir... now." For a moment, nothing happened, and hope surged through Kirk that, this time, they might make it. Maybe the triggering level was- The air thickened, filling his throat like a river of syrup. An instant later, his body once again turned leaden and his momentary hope vanished.

 

 

An interminable five seconds later, the impulse drive shut down.

 

 

The air once again became air, his body once again normal, trembling flesh and blood.

 

 

McCoy's voice crackled from the intercom from sickbay. "How long are you going to keep banging all our heads against that brick wall, Jim? I know I said Riley wasn't being noticeably harmed, but I can't make any guarantees. About him or about me!" "Nothing more, Bones, at least not for right now." "Not that I don't trust you, Jim, but leave the intercom open. Just in case you change your mind, I'll have a little warning down here." "All right, Bones. And you let us know the second Kevin wakes up." He turned to Spock. "Do the sensors tell you anything about what this thing keeps doing to us?" "Very little, Captain. The energy field that grips the Enterprise intensifies within ten microseconds of the time impulse power is applied, regardless of level of power applied. Warp drive triggered the field within one microsecond." "But no indication of the nature of the field?" "None, Captain." "And the Galtizh? I assume it's stuck the same as we are." "Based on sporadic observations, Captain, it would appear so. I have noted two attempts to break free using impulse power, with similar results." At least the Probe wasn't being discriminatory. Kirk turned to the comm station. "Have you been having any luck, Commander Uhura, while we've been beating our collective heads against this invisible brick wall?" "None, sir. All systems check out normally, but there is no response from Starfleet or any Federation ship or outpost." Kirk grimaced. So this thing not only had them bound hand and foot, it also either had a gag.in their mouths or cotton stuffed in their ears. Or both.

 

 

"Mr. Sulu, can you get a reading on where we're going? If we're going anywhere, that is." "Not directly, sir. Whatever's blanking out communications must be doing the same thing to the helm. According to my instruments, we're dead in the water, completely motionless. But by the motion of the star field, the computer calculates we're doing more than the warp twelve the Probe was reported to be doing before-a lot more." "In what direction?" "We appear to be moving in toward an unexplored quadrant of the Orion Arm, sir. If we continue at our current speed, we should be through it and into the Sagittarius Arm in less than a day." "That would be a lot more than warp twelve, Mr. Sulu." Sulu shrugged. "In for a penny, in for a pound, sir." Kirk smiled faintly. "At least it isn't headed for Earth anymore," he said, turning again toward the comm station. "Any word from the Galtizh, Commander? Or are communications with them blocked as well?" "Local communications appear to be normal, Captain," Uhura said. "I've been monitoring the Galtizh periodically, and they appear to have been doing much the same as we have been doing-trying unsuccessfully to contact someone in the outside world. They haven't responded to our hail yet, however." "They won't," Kirk said, "until Tiam's good and ready-or Hiran throws over the traces and decides to ignore him. But keep at it, Commander." Kirk glanced around the bridge, then returned his gaze to the viewscreen, where the Galtizh still floated, as motionless as the Enterprise, against the featureless blackness that was the Probe.

 

 

"Spock, what can the sensors tell us about the Probe itself?" he asked. "It does register, doesn't it?" "It does, Captain, but the resultant readings have thus far revealed little." "Do they at least tell us if there's a pilot in there somewhere?" "There is virtually no open space anywhere within the object, Captain," Spock replied as he studied the readouts, "and no indication of discrete living organisms of any kind. There is, however, much material, including the otherwise metallic shell and the crystalline object it extrudes on occasion, that may in some senses be organic." "And what senses are those, Spock? Don't go coy on me." "That was not my intention, Captain. The primary sense in which the materials could be considered organic is that they appear to be self-regenerating at a molecular level." Spock paused as the readings on his instruments shifted. After a moment, his eyebrows took on the arch that so often preceded a confession that something had just proven "fascinating." "So, Spock," Kirk prompted, "you have that look. What did you find?" Still Spock remained silent as he called up other, stored readings and compared them to the new.

 

 

Finally he spoke. "There is a ten-meter block of crystalline material in the heart of the Probe, Captain, but a different form of crystal from that which makes up the extruded object. What may prove significant, however, is that the basic structure of the material that makes up this crystalline block appears to be identical to the structure of the material that makes up the so-called crystal memory we took from the Exodus Hall on Temaris Four." All eyes turned toward the science station, but McCoy, though listening from sickbay several decks away, was the first to speak. "You're saying this thing was built by the Erisians?" "Not at all, Doctor. I am simply saying that the structure of the crystalline material-" "I know what you said, Spock! What did you mean?" "I mean only what I say, Doctor." "Knock it off, you two," Kirk intervened. "Spock, just how distinctive is this `crystalline structure'? Have you seen anything like it before?" "Your questions do not have meaningful answers, Captain. The structure is `distinctive' in the same sense that the structure of a dilithium crystal is `distinctive.' Many crystal structures could be considered similar to that of a dilithium crystal, but only a dilithium crystal will operate effectively in a matter/antimatter power generator." Kirk suppressed a sigh. "All right, Spock, I'll rephrase the question. Have you ever seen a crystalline structure exactly like this one before?" "Only in the object on Temaris Four, Captain." "Then sonic connection between the Probe and the Erisians is likely." "A connection is possible, Captain, but I could not say it is `likely."' "But if the structure of the block in the Probe is identical to the crystal memory we found on Temaris-" "The structure of the dilithium in our warp drive is identical to that in the warp drive of a Klingon ship, Captain. Using your logic, Federation and Klingon ships are `likely' to have been built by the same people." "But dilithium is a naturally occurring substance-" "As these crystals may also be, Captain. Without further analysis, which could degrade the data the Temaris crystal contains, it is impossible to say if they occur naturally or were manufactured." Kirk's suppressed sigh turned into an almost-laugh. "All right, Spock, you win. There may or may not be a connection between the Probe and the Erisians, but I would suggest keeping a very sharp eye out for one, just in case. I don't suppose there's any way of reading the data out of this block of crystal, the way you read it out of the Temaris one?" "Not as yet, Captain. Although our sensors can penetrate the Probe, they cannot be focused finely enough to analyze the crystal at the necessary molecular level." Kirk frowned thoughtfully. "But if our sensors can reach inside it at all, then our weapons-or the Romulans'-should be able to do the same. Right?" "Unknown, Captain, but the experience of the Romulan ships near Wlaariivi would seem to indicate otherwise." Kirk nodded. "It presumably has a whale of a defense system, no pun intended. But the only way to check it out would be to attack, and that would probably be fatal in a few microseconds, if the way it shuts us down whenever we try to use the impulse engines or warp drive is any indication. What about power? Where is it getting its power?" "That is another aspect of the Probe that could be construed as giving it the qualities of an organism as opposed.to a machine, Captain. Like a living organism, it does not appear to contain a discrete power source. Instead, all power appears to be generated on-site, so to speak, wherever it is needed, in whatever form it is needed, just as the chemical reactions in an animal's muscle tissue generate the power for that muscle to contract." "What about the power that keeps this thing moving, dragging us along with it, at double or triple the warp factor we're capable of? Is that generated the same way?" "It would appear so, Captain. Do not forget that none of this energy is directly detectable by our sensors. My speculations are based solely on a continuing analysis of the substances of which the Probe is composed." Kirk grimaced. "It sounds more and more as if the only way we're going to find out anything worthwhile here-like how to get it to let us go-is to ask it some questions, which will be a little difficult unless we learn how to talk to it. Therefore, barring other developments, I suggest everyone concentrate his efforts along those lines. Mr. Spock, you will be in charge. Take whomever and whatever you need." "As you wish, Captain." He turned from the science station. "Commander Uhura, Jandra, if you will follow me, we will join the others." Lieutenant Kittay was just sliding in to take's Uhura's place at the comm station when a light blinked on. Kittay hurriedly seated herself and worked the controls. A moment later, she turned toward Kirk.

 

 

"Captain," she said, "the Galtizh is hailing us." Tiam struggled to his feet, gasping for breath, his legs rubbery. He realized after a moment that he must have passed out, not just once but several times. Each time, he had revived only to have his breath congeal in his lungs a second later. Once, he remembered someone's voiceHiran's?-calling for full impulse power, but a moment later he was again struggling to breathe, and the ring of black was once again closing in on his field of vision.

 

 

"All systems check out as fully functional, Commander," he heard the subcommander report tersely to Hiran this time, her voice under control but showing the effects of the series of near suffocations they had all undergone, "but there is no response from any Empire facility." Hiran was flushed and breathing deeply but was otherwise unaffected.

 

 

"Hiran, what-" Tiam began.

 

 

"When I find out, I'll tell you," Hiran snapped, not taking his eyes from the viewscreen and its image of the Enterprise.

 

 

"Commander! May I remind you-" Again Tiam was cut off, this time not by Hiran but by a hand gripping his upper arm with painful firmness. He jerked about to see who could have such temerity.

 

 

It was Kital. But- His aide was holding a phaser in one hand, its muzzle pressed to Tiam's side.

 

 

"Come with me, Ambassador," Kital said, so softly that no one but Tiam-even had anyone diverted his attention from the viewscreen-could hear. "It is past time you understood the situation aboard the Gallizh. " Stunned, Tiam didn't resist as Kital returned the phaser to its holster and led him from the bridge, one hand still gripping Tiam's arm with surprising strength, the other resting within centimeters of the phaser. A minute later, they were in Kital's Spartan quarters, a single compartment less than a quarter the size of each of the rooms in Tiam's. Kital gestured for Tiam to sit on a benchlike bunk.

 

 

"What is the meaning of this outrage?" Tiam finally managed to ask.

 

 

"My apologies, Ambassador, for the crudeness of my approach, but it was necessary. There is much you must be told, and it is imperative that Hiran not suspect. I saw no other way to get you away from him quickly and quietly." "What gives you the right to talk to me in-" "Do not waste our time with foolish questions," Kital broke in impatiently. "Simply listen, and you will learn all that you need to know. I have been authorized by those responsible for your presence here to assume control whenever I felt circumstances warranted such action, and-" "The Committee told me nothing of-" "I do not refer to the Committee. I refer to those factions within the Interim Government responsible for summoning you from the Provinces and bringing you to the attention of the Committee. Those with whom you have so often consulted during this mission." Tiam scowled uneasily. "Who are these so-called `factions'? I know of no such-" "Do not continue to waste our time!" Kital snapped, his patience seeming to wear thin. "I refer to the factions with which you so often consult, using the subspace transceiver hidden in your quarters." Tiam felt his stomach knotting. "You know of that?" "Of course. We provided it and installed it. Every exchange has been monitored by my men or myself. Those times, at least, when it was not one of my men you were actually speaking with." No.

 

 

"I assure you, it is true, Tiam," Kital said. "But I do not have the time to debate the point. Later, once communications are restored with the Empire, you will be allowed to verify my authority. In the meantime, you will have to accept it. I would prefer your cooperationwe are, after all, both working for the good of the Empire-but I will settle for your obedience." "And if I refuse you both?" Kital eyed him grimly for a moment, his hand briefly brushing his phaser. "Then you will die, Tiam. The one thing I cannot allow is for you or anyone to hinder me in my assignment." "Are you threatening me, Kital?" His onetime aide's matter-of-fact tone chilled Tiam as much as the man's arrogance-and his own impotence-infuriated him.

 

 

"I am stating a simple fact, nothing more," Kital said, but then his voice and features hardened as he leaned close over Tiam. "And believe this, Ambassador Tiam: Disposing of you will be far easier for me than what I was forced to do to subcenturion Jutak when he failed in his assignment." His eyes locked with Tiam's for several seconds, but finally, pulling back, he hunched his shoulders as if to throw off a bothersome cloak.

 

 

"I will say again, Ambassador Tiam," he went on, "I would prefer your active cooperation. I would prefer that you contribute to a solution to the unexpected situation we find ourselves in, for I am sure you have valuable contributions to make. I would prefer that, for the good of the Empire, you put aside any personal feelings you might have toward me or toward my superiors for the perhaps unfortunate way in which this was handled. If you are prepared to do that, well and good. Your contributions will be noted and remembered when the time comes. If you are not, if you are determined to impede me in what I feel must be done, then you will leave me no choice." Kital paused, a faint smile momentarily softening his expression. "I have noticed how you look at my uniform, Centurion. Are you too proud to subordinate yourself to a lowly subcenturion? Is that why you hesitate to pledge your cooperation?" His smile broadened slightly. "If it will make the situation easier for you to accept, I will introduce myself." Tiam scowled. "Do you think me a fool?" he snapped. "You are subcenturion Kital, my aide! Through some process I don't pretend to understand, you have come to have the authority-you say you have the authority to-" "On the contrary, I am Commander Jenyu, most recently of the Shalyar. Except for the obstinacy of certain members of the Committee, you would be aboard the Shalyar and I would still be its commander." Kital-Jenyu?-shrugged. "We had to make do as best.' we could under the circumstances." So Hiran was right after all, Tiam thought abruptly, angrily. I have not been a player but a pawn, selected not. for my abilities and beliefs but for my disgraced brother-, in-law. Everything 1 have said and done since this missionbegan has been a pointless charade. But now that 1 know the truth...

 

 

Tiam swallowed away some of the throat-tightening anger. He forced a slight smile as he looked at his "aide" and his subcenturion's uniform. Now that I know the truth, he thought again, we will see who is player and who is pawn.

 

 

"If it is for the good of the Empire," Tiam said, "you will of course have my full cooperation. Now, as you have said, let us not waste time. The sooner you tell me what you have to tell me, the sooner we can begin our work." A scowling Commander Hiran filled the Enterprise's viewscreen.

 

 

"Commander Hiran," Kirk said dryly, "it's good to hear from you." A flicker of a smile momentarily softened the edges of the scowl. "It is good to be allowed to contact you," Hiran said flatly. "I thank you for the information you have been sending regarding your own activities." "To be perfectly frank, Commander," Kirk said, "it was as much in the interests of self-preservation as anything. I felt that you would be better able to keep your situation under control if you knew what we were doing rather than having to guess." Hiran nodded. "I would have felt the same in your position-if you had someone like Tiam on board. Obviously, the ambassador felt differently."; "And how does he feel now?" "That we should cooperate-`in the face of a common enemy,' I believe he said. But you will be able to ask him yourself in a moment. He is on his way to the bridge from his quarters." "Before he arrives, Commander, let me ask you: Did you experience the same phenomenon we did? The air seeming to thicken until you couldn't breathe?" Hiran nodded. "It stopped when that thing had finished reeling us in, but it came back whenever we tried to move on impulse. And worse when we tried warp drive." "Same here," Kirk agreed. "But our sensors don't pick up a thing. Do yours?" He wasn't ready to share the possible Erisian connection, not yet, not even with Hiran.

 

 

"Nothing. It has to be a force field of some kind, but-" Sounds from off-screen interrupted Hiran. A moment later, Tiam moved into the image.

 

 

"Ambassador Tiam," Kirk said noncommittally. "Would you like me to summon Mr. Handler? Ambassador Riley has not yet recovered from-" "That will not be necessary, Captain Kirk," Tiam said. "This is not to be a negotiation but, in effect, a capitulation. In view of the external threat we both face, I would now urge full cooperation, a complete pooling of our resources and information. Toward that end, I am prepared to acknowledge that I do, as you suggested, have in my possession a recording made of the alien object's emissions during its earlier pass through the Empire. I am also prepared to share that data with you. Likewise, I am prepared to acknowledge that my wife, Jandra, and her brother Dajan were not kidnapped but transported to the Enterprise of their own free will. However, now that I have acknowledged that personally unpleasant situation, I would ask in return that I be allowed to transport over and speak with my wife, in private." Kirk's eyes widened slightly at this evidence of a "reformed" Tiam. "Of course, Ambassador Tiamprovided she agrees to such a meeting. And provided the transporters are still operational while the Probe has hold of us." "Thank you, Captain Kirk. I will bring with me the recording of the object's emissions for your use. I will also, if you so desire, suggest to our own musicians that they join yours in this effort to communicate with that thing out there." Kirk turned questioningly to Spock, who had stopped at the 'lift door when the Galtizh had hailed them.

 

 

"Yes, Captain," he said, "it could be helpful if at least those who were able to recognize some of the patterns that have been isolated would come. It need not be limited to the musicians, however. Anyone with the ability to recognize the patterns could be of help, particularly someone like Dr. Benar, who is knowledgeable in more than a single field." "You heard, Ambassador Tiam?" Kirk asked.

 

 

"I did." Tiam turned to Hiran on his right. "Commander, will you make the appropriate announcement?" Hiran nodded. "As you wish, Ambassador." Tiam was silent a moment, then turned to look directly out of the viewscreen again. "Then, Captain Kirk, let us determine if the transporters are indeed in working order." "Say what you have to say, Tiam," Jandra said quietly, not looking at him, "and then leave." "Your quarters," he said, looking around at the single room she had been assigned, "were better aboard the Galtizh. " "It is adequate. And the company is less bothersome." There was a long silence. Finally he took her face in his hands and turned it up, but still her eyes avoided his. He released her.

 

 

"Why?" he asked. "Why did you betray me? Why did you betray the Empire?" She stiffened. "The Empire had already betrayed me, betrayed my family." "They ray have treated your family harshly, but-" "I do not consider the execution of my parents merely `harsh'!" "It was not execution! It was-" "No, you are right. Straightforward execution would have been -less cruel than requiring ritual suicide. It would also have been less cowardly!" The bitterness in her voice silenced him, and when he didn't speak, she went on: "Is this why you went to such trouble to speak with me, Husband? To discuss the wrongs done to my family?" He swallowed. "I did not know the depth of your bitterness." "You knew nothing about me!" she flared. For a moment, her eyes darted up and met his, but almost instantly she averted them again, as if afraid something in them could grasp and hold her. "From the beginning, I have been your `assignment' and nothing more! Now if that is all, you may go." He swallowed again. "It is not all. I was given to understand that you were the first to detect a pattern in the object's emissions. Is that true?" "It is." She repressed a bitter laugh. "Had you shared those sounds with me earlier, had you not so loudly demanded I forget I ever heard them, I might have told you the same." "Is it also true that, even with that information at their disposal, the Vulcan and his group have been unable to discern any meaning in the emissions?" This time she did not repress the laugh. "So that is why you were so anxious to speak with me! You want to know if the human captain has been lying to you! Well, I will tell you he has not! Everything he has shared with the Galtizh has been true!" "So far as you know." " `So far as I know,' yes! I am not privy to their thoughts, as I am privy now to yours!" She turned abruptly to the door, which hissed open an instant later, revealing the two security ensigns standing watch in the corridor. "I am ready to return to Captain Spock and the others," she said to the one who had accompanied her to the room. She turned to face Tiam from the corridor. "Thank you, Husband, for your reassurance. Your visit has removed what few doubts remained that Dajan and I made the right decision." EIGHTEEN Across thousands of parsecs, the crystal sensor reached out and touched the world of its creators.

 

 

What in a human would have been alarm rippled through the crystalline pathways. Its creators were mute. Where before, their voice would have been detectable by the crystal sensor, even sheathed, over a quarter of the galaxy, there was now only silence.

 

 

The entity directed the crystal sensor toward the homeworld's sun-and drew back, confronted with yet another paradox, one as great as the paradox presented by those who could not Speak yet were capable of mimicking the True Language. The star the crystal sensor had touched was the homeworld's sun, and yet it was not. It was within two solar diameters of the predicted location, a negligent error considering the five hundred millennia that had passed since last the crystal sensor had touched it.

 

 

But it was cold. And shrunken.

 

 

Its surface temperature was two thousand degrees below what it had been. Its girth was less by more than a hundred thousand kilometers. What could have happened? The crystal sensor reached out in other directions, checking and rechecking the locations and spectra of the neighboring suns, and found their realities no more displaced from its predictions than those of any of the tens of millions of other stars it had visited in the last five hundred millennia.

 

 

But the homeworld's sun- It was as if some giant hand had squeezed out a portion of its life.

 

 

Again the entity reached out to the homeworld itself, searching for the voice of its creators.

 

 

But still there was only silence.

 

 

Captain's Log, Stardate 8495.3: For more than two days, the Enterprise and the Galtizh have been dragged along by the Probe at speeds Commander Sulu estimates to be in excess of warp thirty. The Probe's course has been as close to a straight line as he has been able to determine. So far it has taken us through both the Orion and Sagittarius Arms and skirted uncomfortably close to the Shapley Center. We are now headed out from the Center, reentering another segment of the Sagittarius Arm. Sulu's best guess as to distance traveled so far is fifteen thousand parsecs, and the Probe has shown no indication it is considering slowing down or stopping. In fact, the Probe has shown no indication of anything at allexcept of a power source enviable in all respects-since the start of this transgalactic odyssey. As far as the Enterprise sensors can determine, the Probe is emitting absolutely nothing. The Galtizh maintains that it is similar- ly unable to detect any emissions, and since it is Hiran rather than Tiam who maintains it, I am inclined to believe it.

 

 

Meanwhile, even with the help of the Romulans, there has been precious little progress in deciphering the emissions we already have in the computer. Finding the crystal structure in the Probe occasioned some short-lived optimism based on the fact that the similar structure found on Temaris had proven to be, as Spock said, "designed to be read." Unfortunately, without direct physical access to the Probe crystal, we cannot even attempt to "read" it the way Spock did the Temaris crystal, and the Probe's emissions themselves still appear to be, if anything, "designed to confuse." We have determined only two things to any degree of certainty: the "patterns" grow steadily in complexity from the start of the twenty-minute cycle to the end. And the Probe's "response" to us is indeed totally different from its earlier emissions. Unfortunately, no one has any idea whether that "response" was meant to tell us something new or to ask us something or was simply a different "prerecorded message" that we or the Romulans somehow triggered. The recordings the Galtizh has "shared" with us were of no help either, except to prove that they were identical to our own. Whatever the Probe's message is, it appears to have been the same no matter what part of space it was passing through-at least until the Enterprise and the Galtizh began playing its own message back to it.

 

 

Just how helpful the Romulans are trying to be is still a matter of speculation. The musicians and archaeologists who beamed over to work with Spock seem sincere enough and appear to be genuinely trying to help. Ambassador Tiam is the only one who appears to be an obvious exception, and even he continues to profess a need and a desire for total cooperation and sharing. His clumsy attempt at getting our "secrets" out of his wife, however, indicates otherwise. As for his alleged linguistic abilities, if they have given him any insight into the meaning of the Probe's emissions, he hasn't given any indication. Like most of the nonmusicians, including myself, he professes a total inability to discern any of the patterns in the data. even after having them pointed out to him repeatedly. On the other hand, about a quarter of the Romulan musicians were able to spot one or more of the patterns on their own, a slightly higher percentage than prevailed among the Federation group. One has even identified a pattern that not even Jandra had noticed. Unfortunately, none of our own and only one of the other Romulans has been able to find it or confirm it.

 

 

Everyone, of course, is anxiously waiting for our "journey" to end, and for Spock and his crew of impromptu linguists to announce a breakthrough, so we can talk to our cruise director.

 

 

A good number of us, however, are even more anxiously awaiting the awakening of Ambassador Riley. Despite Dr. McCoy's assurances that there was "no apparent lasting effect" as a result of whatever the Probe did to us, Uhura and Sulu and even Dajan are beginning to fear otherwise. Uhura and Sulu are now able to spend only odd moments"taking their breaks from the Probe," as they put it-with Riley, but Dajan, whose ability to recognize musical patterns is as limited as mine, seems to have taken up the slack. In any event, while all three have noticed occasional responses to their monologues, none feel Riley is any closer to regaining consciousness now than he was when the Probe first put us under its telekinetic thumb.

 

 

The paradox only grew greater as the entity approached the homeworld.

 

 

Again and again, neither knowing nor caring that it was acting in a very human way, it repeated the same millions of observations, performed the same trillions o! calculations, as if by the sheer power of billions and billions of repetitions it could change the results.

 

 

But nothing changed. The same results were stored again and again in the crystal memory.

 

 

Finally, the path it had constructed came to an end.

 

 

The world and sun of its creators sprang into physical being before it.

 

 

Even at this insignificant distance, there was only silence. Its creators were totally mute.

 

 

It extended the crystal sensor and turned it on the homeworld, searching for the world it had left, searching for the oceans its creators had inhabited, warm oceans teeming with life.

 

 

But there were none. There were only oceans of ice. They no longer covered 90 percent of the surface, but less than half. There was no liquid water anywhere on the planet.

 

 

And the homeworld's satellite was gone, shattered into countless fragments that had begun to collect into an uneven ring of debris circling the planet's equator.

 

 

Impossible, its crystal pathways said.

 

 

Unthinkable, its memories said. Stars and their worlds changed, but not this star and this world, not in this fashion.

 

 

A second Winnowing? But this time, none had survived?

 

 

It turned the crystal sensor on the sun, probing as deeply as it could. The reactions at the sun's heart were beyond its reach, but the middle and upper layers were not.

 

 

But they told the crystal sensor little more than they had told it from thousands of parsecs away. The spectra had shifted beyond reason. The temperature had dropped.

 

 

And the world of its creators had died.

 

 

Its creators themselves had died.

 

 

And its purpose-to return to -its creators with the news of others who could Speak the True Languagehad died.

 

 

And out of that death was born the ultimate paradox of its existence. Its creators had said: If a problem arises that you find yourself incapable of resolving, return to the creators and they will resolve it. But the problem it now found itself incapable of resolving was the discovery that the creators themselves no longer existed.

 

 

Finally, it happened: the Probe stopped in its headlong race across the galaxy.

 

 

Kirk, awakened from his first sound sleep in three days, raced to the bridge, arriving a split second behind Spock.

 

 

"Where the devil are we?" he asked as he emerged from the 'lift. On the viewscreen, the Galtizh and the Probe were still all that could be seen.

 

 

Sulu, who had succumbed only to occasional catnaps, was already at the helm, snatching up the readings he needed. "There's a huge margin for error, Captain," he said after a moment, "but my best guess is, about a hundred and twenty degrees around the galactic disk, not quite on the opposite side of the Shapley Center from the Federation, but almost." Tentatively, he touched the control panel. "Shall I try the impulse engines again?" "Carefully, Mr. Sulu. Quarter impulse for one second, say." "Quarter impulse, one second, sir." Sulu set the controls and executed.

 

 

The Enterprise leapt forward, shot past the Galtizh, past the Probe, and stopped when the second passed.

 

 

The air remained breathable, and everyone, with the possible exception of Spock, breathed a sigh of relief.

 

 

"How long to get back to the Federation, Mr. Sulu?" Sulu shook his head. "Months, at least, at warp eight." Kirk sighed. "Then I suppose we might as well look around and see where we are. And maybe try to figure out why this thing brought us here." "We are in high orbit about a ringed planet, Captain," Spock said from the science station. "Sensor readings indicate-" Lights flickered and faded all over the ship. Commander Scott's shielded backup power took over.

 

 

"It started yelling again," Commander Scott said tiredly from the engineering station.

 

 

"The Galtizh was hailing us, sir," Lieutenant Kittay announced, "but when the power went out-" "They dinna have my backup system," Scotty said, a touch of pride taking some of the exhaustion from his voice.

 

 

Lights flickered again, and primary power returned.

 

 

"Try the Galtizh again, Lieutenant," Kirk said. "Maybe they got their power back, too. Meanwhile, Mr. Spock, what can the sensors tell us about this planet? Is it the home of your superwhales?" "If it is, Captain, they are no longer present," Spock said, studying the kaleidoscopic readouts while Kittay announced the Galtizh was not responding.

 

 

"Whether or not this is the Probe's planet of origin, however," Spock went on, "it is an unusual world in many ways. For example, a ring is in the process of forming out of the remains of a natural satellite. In addition, despite subfreezing temperatures at all latitudes, it is marginally class M. There are the remains of an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, but there are no lifeform readings even at a cellular level. The ice itself is approximately three hundred thousand years old, and indications are the water it was formed from was teeming with life-forms." "Could the ring-the breakup of the satellite-have had any connection with the drop in temperature?" "Unknown, Captain, although both events appear to have occurred in roughly the same era. The amount of sunlight blocked by the ring, particularly early in its formation, would not have been sufficient to cause such a drastic cooling of the planet's surface." "So what could have caused a whole planet to freeze?" Kirk asked. "That would require a planetwide drop of-what? Fifty degrees? A hundred?" "The current maximum temperature anywhere on the planet is more than twenty Celsius degrees below freezing, Captain. The average is perhaps another thirty below that." "So just for water to be liquid over most of the planet, it would have to be fifty degrees Celsius warmer? That's almost a hundred Fahrenheit. Add another ten Celsius..." Kirk shook his head. "Is that possible, Spock, with this particular sun? And if it isn't, what happened? There was nothing in the astrophysics classes of my youth about suns of this spectral class that could remain steady for the billions of years it takes life to develop on a planet and then suddenly fade away." "Nonetheless, Captain, that is what appears to have happened here." "What about the planet's internal heat?" Kirk asked, but before Spock could answer, he shook his head. "No, that's sillier than having the sun suddenly turn anemic. Unless it was something they did themselves. If they had the same kind of powers the Probe has-and they must have or they wouldn't have been able to build it in the first place-if they were able to boil oceans away in a matter of days-" He stopped again, frowning. "And the Probe's power has to come from somewhere," he went on. "The power it takes to just move this thing has to come from somewhere. Is it possible, Spock, that that thing has been draining the power from this sun, from this world, all this time? However long it's been out doing whatever it's been doing?" "From tens of thousands of parsecs away, Captain?" Spock considered. "It is possible, but logic would argue against it. If it were able to drain the power from a sun or a world, it would be more logical for it to drain it from nearby suns and worlds, not from a system half across the galaxy." "If it's able to. But if it's permanently linked to this sun because this is where it was created-" Kirk broke off again, almost laughing. "Pointless to debate without facts-right, Spock? What other facts can your sensors come up with? What about the land areas? Any evidence of life ever having existed there?" Spock studied a new set of readouts, his eyebrows arching after a moment. "Yes, Captain, there is evidence that simple plant and animal life-forms existed on the land areas until the cooling began. However, there is also evidence of an advanced civilization from a much earlier era." "Could they have built the Probe?" "It is possible, Captain." Spock continued to study the readouts. "However, indications are that the land civilization perished approximately two million years ago. The remains of at least one major city are buried beneath the ice, but also beneath other material that-" "Yes, Spock?" Kirk prompted when the Vulcan fell silent.

 

 

"Geological evidence suggests an asteroid impact, Captain, an event that would dwarf the impact that wiped out the dinosaurs on your Earth sixty-five million years ago." "The breakup of the moon?" Kirk wondered. "A segment hit the planet?" "No, Captain. The asteroid impact was more than a million and a half years before the breakup of the satellite and the cooling that resulted in the current conditions. -After the asteroid impact and the subsequent volcanic activity, there was undoubtedly a significant cooling, but nothing of the magnitude of the later event. It did, however, probably result in the extinction of most life on the land areas. There is still evidence of a planetwide layer of ash several meters thick beneath the ice." "Several meters? Planetwide? On the oceans, too? Wouldn't that kill off most sea life as well? Particularly your superwhales, who would have to surface to breathe?" "If they were air breathers, Captain, it would seem logical. If, indeed, they existed at all and were, additionally, from this planet. As yet, we have no firm evidence to so indicate, other than the Probe's having brought us here, so the argument is academic. In addition, there is evidence that life in the oceans continued uninterrupted until the cooling. Therefore-" Spock stopped abruptly, his eyebrows arching as new readings materialized before him.

 

 

"Captain," he went on, his voice oddly hushed, "there is a cavern, apparently artificial, near the shore of one of the ice oceans. And it contains what appears to be a massive crystal structure similar-possibly identical- to that within the Probe and to the one from the Temaris Four Exodus Hall." Commander Jenyu, late of the Romulan battle cruiser Shalyar, had some time ago realized he was facing the most important-and probably the final-decision of his career and of his life. Compared to this, his original mission to derail the conference and ensure the downfall of the Interim Government was trivial. The fate of the Empire was literally at stake.

 

 

And now, as he stood at Tiam's side,, still in his subcenturion's uniform, and listened to the status reports come in, he knew that the decision was upon him. Power was finally restored everywhere in the Galtizh, and if what the Enterprise had just done was any indication, the impulse engines were once again operational.

 

 

There was no more time: He had to decide, even though he knew that the best outcome he could hope for would still see the Galtizh destroyed and all its people dead, if not by that behemoth's unknown weapons, then by the phasers and photon torpedoes of the Federation starship before him. If he still had the Shalyar beneath his boots, he would have a better chance. With the Shalyar, a sudden, all-out attack on the unshielded Enterprise might take the Federation ship out, leaving him to deal, alone, with that thing out there. But with the Galtizh's lesser size and firepower, it was simply impossible. Even an Enterprise wounded by a first strike could retaliate and swat the Galtizh out of existence.

 

 

And that would leave the Enterprise-and the Federation-to deal with the behemoth, to take all the time it needed to truly learn how to control it, how to turn it into a berserker that could destroy the Empire.

 

 

No, his only chance-and he realized all too well just how slim it was-was to attack the behemoth itself. Until the last few hours, it wasn't something he would even have considered, but now, after studying all the data taken from observations during, its first pass through the Empire, he was beginning to think it was at least a possibility. According to the ships that had trailed it as it passed world after world, it always did one thing whenever it paused in the vicinity of one of those worlds: it extended some kind of crystalline appendage. It was assumed that this was the source of the deadly "emissions," although there was no real evidence to support that assumption. It was also assumed that whatever data the thing received-through some unknown form of sensor scan-it received through that same appendage. Further, when the appendage was extended, it revealed at its base a cavity of equal size-the only opening, the only potentially vulnerable spot in all the square kilometers of surface. And it was just beyond the inner end of that cavity that a crystalline mass of some kind existed, a crystalline mass that bore at least a superficial resemblance to the crystal found on Temaris Four. It was therefore possible, Jenyu reasoned, that this crystal was the thing's data storage center, just as the crystal on Temaris Four had been the data storage center for the Exodus Hall. Furthermore, it was the only object the Galtizh's sensors could detect that seemed likely to have that capability.

 

 

There was, in short, a possibility that this crystal was the nerve center of the object, and that if the appendage was extended, an all-out short-range assault with phasers and photon torpedoes could at least destroy the object's usefulness to the Federation.

 

 

If such an assault was possible.

 

 

If the experience of the Henzu, as relayed by the distant Azmuth, was any indication, it was not. The Henzu's phaser fire had been blocked almost instantaneously, and the Henzu itself, together with a nearby unarmed cargo ship, was reduced to a dispersing cloud of molecules within seconds.

 

 

Hidden in the records of the object's first trip through the Empire, however, was an incident that gave him hope. A dozen scout ships had been engaged in a training exercise in the vicinity of Kruzaak's World when the object came out of its version of warp drive virtually on top of them. Two of the ships were fast enough to fire on the object before its damnable emissions knocked all their power out. The phasers, locked on a stun setting for the duration of the exercise, of course did no damage, but the ships themselves were not destroyed like the Henzu, nor even damaged except for the temporary loss of power. They were, in fact, simply ignored, which led Commander Jenyu to believe-to hope-that the reason they were ignored was their very proximity to the object. They had been, in effect, inside its defenses, like insects inside a warrior's battle armor.

 

 

And now the Galtizh was similarly close to the object, inside its armor. Jenyu only hoped that the Galtizh's sting was deadly enough to, if not kill the behemoth, at least render it useless to the Federation. Or if the Galtizh proved not to be inside its defenses, to prompt a response like the one that had destroyed the Henzu and an unnamed cargo ship, a response that would swat both insects, not just the Galtizh but the Enterprise as well.

 

 

"Commander!" The suddenly excited voice of the subcommander monitoring the sensor scan pulled Jenyu from his angry brooding. What now? he wondered as Hiran turned from the viewscreen to the subcommander.

 

 

"There is a mass of crystalline material on the planet, Commander," the subcommander went on. "It appears to be quite similar to the data storage crystal found on Temaris Four." Tiam's face, as grim as Jenyu's until now, suddenly brightened. "Can it be beamed aboard?" The subcommander, after an inquiring glance at Hiran brought a scowling nod, said, "Its total mass is approximately equal to that of the Galtizh, Ambassador." "Then a portion of it-" "Tiam!" Hiran snapped. "If this is indeed another data storage crystal, then slicing it up will only destroy it!" "We have only the Vulcan's word for that, Commander!" "And I am far more inclined to trust his judgment in the matter than yours. The crystal, whatever it is, remains intact." "Then I will beam down there myself." Tiam turned to the subcommander, the Romulan equivalent of a science officer. "There is certainly something that can be done to retrieve the data." "There are things that can be tried, Ambassador, but the Enterprise is better equipped to-" "And the Enterprise is the enemy!" Tiam almost shouted. He turned to Hiran. "Will you order your officers to comply with my wishes, or must I formally assume command of this vessel? It is within my authority to do so!" It seemed for a moment that Hiran was going to rebel, but finally he nodded. "Do as the ambassador says, Subcommander-but do not damage the crystal!" Jenyu watched as Tiam and the subcommander left the bridge, on their way to collect the instruments the subcommander said "might" prove useful. Let the fool try, Jenyu thought. There was even, he supposed, some remote chance Tiam would succeed, that the subcommander would tap at the crystal's portals with her jury-rigged equipment and it would respond with a sudden flood of information, perhaps even with the key to the control of the thing that had brought them here.

 

 

But Jenyu did not think so.

 

 

Abruptly, he turned to leave the bridge. He had to contact his remaining men, call back from the Federation ship those still taking part in the Vulcan's efforts, and work out the details of what in all likelihood would be his own suicide. His only real regret-he told himself grimly-was that, even if he succeeded, he would probably never know.

 

 

NINETEEN "Before anyone beams down there," Kirk said to the officers assembled in the briefing room, "we are going to be damned sure this isn't just a rest stop for that thing and that it isn't about to head out again, taking the Enterprise with it. This does not look like the most hospitable world in the galaxy to be stranded on. The air in that cavern is breathable, but the atmosphere on the surface is marginal at best." "And how the blazes do you intend to find out what that thing's intentions are?" McCoy asked. "The last time I looked, we hadn't figured out how to talk to it, let alone how to order it around." "Dr. McCoy has a point, Captain," Spock said. "We could never be certain of what the Probe's future actions might be, even if we were able to communicate with it." Kirk shook his head. "I never thought I'd see the day you two agreed on something. All right, so what are your recommendations, either one of you?" "Go down and look around," McCoy said. "See if there's anything the sensors didn't pick up. See if Spock's idea of jury-rigging a giant analysis chamber could work." He shrugged. "And just generally play it by ear and keep a transporter lock on us at all times." "I would not put it in those precise terms, Captain," Spock said, "but I cannot disagree. The potential for knowledge to be gained far outweighs, in my judgment, all other considerations, including the possibility of our deaths." Other heads around the table nodded. "We didn't enter the Academy because we wanted to always play it safe, sir," Sulu said with a grin.

 

 

"And slingshotting back to the twentieth century in a Klingon bucket of bolts that could've fallen apart at any moment wouldn't put us on any insurance company's preferred-risk list," McCoy added.

 

 

"I get your point, Commanders," Kirk said with a resigned smile. "Very well." He stood up. "All that's left, then, is to see how our friends on the Galtizh feel about joining our party. If they haven't already started one of their own." By the time they reached the bridge, it was apparent that the Romulans had done just that, and possibly more.

 

 

"Transporter activity between the Galtizh and the planet, Captain," Lieutenant Parnell said from the science station almost the moment the group emerged from the 'lift. "Three personnel and some electronic gear," he added a moment later, "and their destination appears to be the cavern that crystal is in." "Hail the Galtizh, " Kirk said, frowning.

 

 

"I have been, Captain," Kittay said, "every five minutes, but-"She stopped, her eyes widening momentarily. "The Galtizh, Captain. On-screen?" "On-screen, Lieutenant." It was Hiran, his usual smile replaced by flinty grimness. "I have been requested," he began without preamble, "to ask that all Romulans aboard the Enterprise be transported to the Galtizh without delay." "Requested? By Ambassador Tiam?" "In effect, yes. Specifically by one of his aides, whose requests the ambassador has told me I must honor during his absence." "The ambassador's absence? Then he's one of the ones who just transported down to the cavern?" A flicker of a smile touched Hiran's face briefly as he glanced at something or someone out of range of the screen. "You know about the cavern, then?" "And the crystal within. Yes, Commander, we know. We are planning on beaming down ourselves shortly. We were going to invite someone from the Galtizh to accompany us, but I gather an invitation is no longer necessary." "It would seem not," Hiran said.

 

 

"Will you notify Tiam and his colleagues in the cavern that personnel from the Enterprise will be beaming down? I would not want them to be startled into any inappropriate action." "Of course, Captain." "Commander Hiran," a voice said stiffly from offscreen. Hiran glanced to his right briefly.

 

 

"It seems," Hiran said, "I am being reminded to repeat my request for the return of all Romulans currently aboard the Enterprise. " "They will all be notified, Commander. I suspect there are two, however, who will not respond." "I suspect the same, Federation captain." With another faint flicker of a smile, Hiran broke the connection.

 

 

Commander Hiran was back on the bridge after having watched Kital greet the last of the musicians and archaeologists as they stepped off the Galtizh transporter platform. This Kital, he had decided, bore watching even more than Tiam.

 

 

"Don't worry about protocol," Hiran had said quietly to Subcommander Morvain-one of the only officers on board whose allegiance he felt entirely sure of. "Just keep me informed of what he does, particularly anything that you might consider odd for one of his rank." He had debated engaging Feric for this task, but decided against it. Whatever his first officer's true feelings regarding the conference-and at this point he still had no idea what those feelings were-Feric was staying firmly on the side of the "legitimate" authority on Galtizh-Tiam.

 

 

And unlike Tiam, whose expressions were a shipwide broadcast of his feelings and attitudes, Kital was unreadable. While Tiam reacted-overreacted-as a matter of course, Kital seemed untouched by anything that went on around him. While Tiam was arrogant and overconfident, Kital was-what? Quietly sure of himself? But whatever the quality was, it was more pronounced now that he had been given authority to act for Tiam in the ambassador's absence. He had taken to giving orders as if he had been doing it for years, not just minutes.

 

 

And perhaps he had, Hiran thought abruptly. For someone of Kital's obviously advanced years to still be a subcenturion was unusual at best. Normally, anyone of his age stuck at that level would have long ago opted out. But perhaps he had been of a higher rank. Perhaps, like Tiam's late brother-in-law, Reelan, he had lost favor, but not badly enough to rate death or even expulsion from the service, just enough to lose rank.

 

 

If the Galtizh ever made it back to the Empire, he decided, he would do a little digging through records, perhaps find out just who this Kital really was.

 

 

For now, though- "Commander." Hiran turned abruptly from the viewscreen, still dominated by the icy image of the nameless planet below them. Subcenturion Morvain leaned close and spoke in a voice no one but Hiran could hear. "You wanted to be notified if Tiam's aide did anything that might be considered odd." Hiran grimaced inwardly as he nodded. That certainly didn't take long, he thought irritably.

 

 

McCoy scowled as he pushed back the hood of his fur-lined field jacket and wiped the first traces of sweat from his forehead. He had pulled the jacket from stores and come straight to the transporter room, assuming Spock and Kirk and whoever else was going on this little jaunt would do the same. But he had been standing by the platform, bundled up and ready to go, for at least five minutes, and he was still the only one in the room except for the increasingly uneasy ensign at the controls.

 

 

"Leave it to that pointy-eared perfectionist to find one more detail to double-check at the last minute," he muttered, scowling at the door. He was reaching for the intercom when the door finally hissed open and Kirk and Spock strode in, their own jackets still across their arms.

 

 

"Bones," Kirk said with a grin, noting the sheen of perspiration that had appeared on McCoy's forehead, "as a doctor, you should know better. You'll just feel that much colder when you go out in the weather." "And I should know better than to expect the lot of you to show up on time. Or that you'd know the difference between an old wives' tale and a medical fact." He turned on Spock, empty-handed except for the jacket and the ever-present tricorder. "Do we still have to wait for that equipment of yours?" "No, Doctor," Spock said, setting the tricorder down and shrugging into his jacket, "just for Dajan and Dr. Benar. We will not be taking the equipment down at this time." McCoy glanced around at Kirk, who was likewise donning his jacket, then back at Spock. "May I remind you, Spock, the Romulans have been down there-with the Romulan version of the same equipment, according to you-for the last half hour. Their stuff might not be as whizbang modern as ours, but if we give them enough of a head start, it won't matter." "Do not concern yourself, Doctor. Their `head start' will, I believe, prove illusory at best." "Tortoise and the hare, Bones," Kirk put in as he slid the strap of his own tricorder onto the Velcro-5 patch on his shoulder. "While we were all in the conference room debating without facts, Lieutenant Parnell was doing a more detailed analysis of the sensor readings. He discovered some differences between this crystal and the one from Temaris Four. This first time down, we're going to do a close-range examination with the tricorders to confirm the sensor readings. And try to figure out just what we have to do to our equipment so it will work." "Does this mean we've lost the possible Erisian connection?" McCoy asked. "If the structure of this crystal is different from the one from Temaris-" The door hissed open and Audrea Benar hurried in, trailed a moment later by Dajan, both already in their jackets. She turned instantly to Spock. "I was told that Lieutenant Parnell has discovered that the structure of this crystal is different from that of the Temaris crystal." "The difference is not in the structure, Dr. Benar," Spock said, stepping up on the transporter platform. "The major difference appears to be that there is no magnetic field associated with this crystal." "Then it is useless." Benar's voice slumped, if her body did not. "Whatever data was stored has been lost through time." "Not necessarily, Dr. Benar. There is no indication that a magnetic field was ever associated with this crystal." "If true," Benar said, "that can only mean that this crystal is not a data storage device." "Again, not necessarily, Dr. Benar, although it is certainly possible. What I suspect, however-and what I hope to confirm with a short-range tricorder examination-is that the data was stored by means of some other form of energy, in all likelihood the same form of energy the Probe employs." "But if you do not know what that form of energy is and you are unable even to detect it-" "It may not be necessary, Dr. Benar, any more than it is necessary for us to know the exact nature of the energy emitted by the Probe in order to record and analyze its effects. In the case of the Temaris crystal, a form of magnetic energy was used to distort the crystal's lattice structure and hold it in place. The sensors `read' the crystal not by measuring the distortions directly but by measuring the magnetic field that was associated with that distortion. If there is indeed a structural distortion in this crystal, it may be possible to measure that distortion directly, given the proper equipment." "People," Kirk prompted, beginning to feel warm inside his fur-lined jacket himself, "there will be adequate time for discussion of technical details once we find out what the technical details are." When no one replied, he gestured to the ensign at the transporter controls. "Keep a lock on us at all times," he reiterated, "and be ready for fast retrieval." "Aye-aye, Captain," the ensign said briskly if a trifle nervously. Then he was sliding the controls.

 

 

McCoy, liking the process no more this time than any of the hundreds of previous times, braced himself and wondered if sheer curiosity was reason enough for this particular trip. It was always good to have a doctor in any landing party on an unknown world, but more than enough qualified Starfleet personnel were aboard who could have- The transporter energies gripped him. Talk about energies no one really understands!

 

 

The transporter room flickered out of existence, replaced a frozen moment later by- -darkness!

 

 

I didn't make it! That blasted machine finally did me in! Left me hanging in whatever no-man's-land it sends things through!

 

 

But then he felt the pressure of his own weight on the soles of his boots.

 

 

And the icy shock of the perspiration evaporating abruptly from his face.

 

 

And out of the corner of his eye, a small bubble of light- Suddenly, it was as if the bubble exploded, but a moment later he realized it was Dr. Benar, who had been standing on the transporter circle just behind him, turning on the halogen lamp he had seen in her hand only seconds before on the Enterprise. Kirk and Spock were on either side of him, Dajan next to Benar behind Spock. Underfoot was translucent, glass-smooth ice, too frigidly solid to be slick. Overhead was only darkness. The roof of the cavern was beyond the reach of Benar's lamp.