Star Trek - Gateways 7 - WHAT LAY BEYOND

STAR TREK - GATEWAYS
WHAT LAY BEYOND (various Authors)

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Contents

-Star Trek "One Giant Leap" by Susan Wright
-Star Trek Challenger "Exodus" by Diane Carey
-Star Trek Deep Space Nine "Horn and Ivory" by Keith R.A. DeCandido
-Star Trek Voyager "In the Queue" by Christie Golden
-Star Trek New Frontier "Death After Life" by Peter David
-Star Trek The Next Generation "The Other Side" by Robert Greenberger

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STAR TREK
ONE GIANT LEAP
Susan Wright

Chapter 1

Captain Kirk was suspended in the gateway, floating between the countless dimensions. The interstellar transport lasted for only a few seconds, but the flashing light seemed to freeze every thought and feeling he had. Then he was falling out the other side, rolling to his feet and unsteady on the soft surface. He was standing on the edge of a small platform, suspended near the top of a giant crevice. The sheer parallel cliffs extended for miles to either side.

Holding his arms out for balance, Kirk could only look down. The cliffs descended out of sight. The bottom was obscured by mist or smoke that was rising, softening the sharp edges of the cliffs. The rocks on both sides looked as if huge sections often sheared off and fell forever into the center of the planet. Backing away from the edge, Kirk looked around and saw the two Kalandans. "Tasm! Stop!"

Commander Tasm was on the other side of the platform, trying to wrest away the large cylindrical unit from her errant officer, Luz. The blue neutronium cylinder was the key component of the gateway, and they were waving it around between them at the edge of an abyss!

Kirk briefly considered stunning them, but they were too close to the edge and he was afraid they would be knocked over by the impact. So he ran forward and grabbed Tasm around the waist, pulling her away. Luz hung on to the cylinder and came with her.

The soft ground gave Kirk plenty of traction, and he was able to drag both women closer to the wall of the cliff. There was an arched doorway there leading to a tunnel. Apparently that was the way off the platform.

Tasm struggled against him, but Kirk took hold of the cylinder with one hand, expertly twisting it away from her. The Kalandans were thin and frail even if they were tall.

But Luz hung on, kicking at him and jerking on the cylinder as if she were crazed. It swung wide and hit Tasm in the head, driving her down to the ground with an agonized cry. The commander rocked crouching on her knees, her head in her hands.

Glaring at him, Luz managed to push Kirk closer to the sheer drop. The streaks of green and blue on her eyelids suddenly looked right. He hadn't seen such a display of outright passion from any of the Kalandans.

"It's mine!" Luz screamed. "Let go!"

Kirk stayed calm. "Stop fighting me or we're both going over."

In response, she swiped a leg at him, catching him behind the knee. Kirk stumbled, and her momentum carried her forward, taking him right to the edge of the platform. Kirk wasn't letting go of the cylinder. He meant it - if he went over, then he was taking her with him. Their brief struggle showed that she didn't know anything about hand-to-hand combat. But she fought in a frenzy, nearly knocking him off the platform.

Kirk got his feet under him and spun away from her, hack toward the doorway in the cliff. As she fell back, he grabbed hold of her wrist. She tried to wrench it away from him, but he twisted her arm down, forcing her to take one hand off the cylinder.

With a quick turn, he stepped behind her, bringing her arm behind her back. Now that he had leverage on her, he had the advantage. She didn't have enough brute power to shake him off.

He jerked the cylinder from her grasp and bent her arm up until she went to her knees. Her cry didn't stop him. He hung on to her long enough to make her realize there was no way she could win in a fight. "Had enough?"

Panting, she continued to struggle to get away from him. But she knew she couldn't beat him.

Finally Kirk let go, pushing her away to roll on the ground next to Tasm. Tasm was still on her knees, groaning from her head injury. Her eyes were bleary as she tried to focus on him.

Kirk pulled his phaser from his belt and trained it on them so they didn't get any more ideas. Then he quickly assessed his situation. They were standing on a platform hardly six meters square. But what he had mistaken for soft sand was really some kind of plush rubbery material that coated the rock.

He took a few steps inside the tunnel, getting a better took at the thick beige stuff. It ran up the sides, covering it completely. Farther in, the tunnel ended. When he poked at the stuff, it felt like a dense block of suede.

Back outside, Kirk looked in both directions up and down the crevice. He had seen two metal-plated buildings on top of the cliffs before jumping through the gateway. Now he had to strain to see them. They were much farther up on the opposite side. The sun in the orange sky was so bright it made it hard to focus on the dull metal.

One look at the cliff behind him, and he knew it couldn't have been a tougher climbing challenge. Kirk was willing to bet he could make it with hands and feet alone, with the gateway cylinder strapped to his back by his uniform jacket. But that was his last resort.

Still holding the phaser on the two women, Kirk demanded, "Where are we?"

Tasm was moaning and clutching her head, so he jerked his phaser at Luz. "You brought us here. What is this place?"

Luz's lips drew back from her teeth, a desperate expression. 'This is our birthing world."

"You aren't Kalandans."

"We're Petraw!" she spit at him. "You're such fools! Such trusting fools ..."

Tasm was struggling to stand up. "Silence, Luz! You've betrayed your pod - "

"I saved the interstellar transporter!" Luz let out a high-pitched shriek, rushing at Tasm.

With surprise on her side, Luz managed to shove Tasm toward the edge. Tasm fell flat to stop herself from going over. Luz sat on top of her, grabbing her around the throat, screaming inarticulately.

"You never learn, do you?" Kirk dropped the cylinder to go to Tasm's defense, but he wasn't exactly willing to risk his own life for her. Aiming his phaser, he hesitated as they rolled over, Tasm on top, then on the bottom again.

Before he could fire, he was surrounded by people. Hands grabbed his arms and took away his phaser. They were rough, their manner abrupt. It was like they appeared out of nowhere.

Kirk stopped struggling immediately. When they realized he was giving them no trouble, they let his arms free so he could stand among them. He couldn't see what had happened to his phaser, but it was gone.

They separated Tasm and Luz, taking them to opposite sides of the platform. Kirk counted eight humanoids crowded onto the platform, dressed alike in whitish-transparent bags complete with enclosed hands and feet. The loose hoods over their heads slid forward.

Kirk settled his uniform, reaching down for the cylinder. But one of the strange people picked it up first.

Kirk had to look up to see his face. It was like melted wax, with his nose, eyes, and chin softened and flattened.

"I'm James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise." Kirk pointed to the cylinder, holding out his hand. "I believe that belongs to me."

Luz cried out, stumbling forward. Kirk couldn't understand what she was saying, something about completing an engagement... Tasm was speaking to others, still holding one hand to her injured head. Clearly these were her people.

The androgynous Petraw held up the cylinder. "This is for the matriarchs to deal with."

"Are those your superiors?" Kirk asked. Getting an affirmative in response, he agreed, "Lead the way." He was more than ready to talk to someone in charge. Tasm had clearly lied to him about everything.

Tasm and Luz were herded into the tunnel behind him. It had somehow become unclogged and continued much deeper inside the cliff. It curved ahead, so he could only see a short way, and the top was within reach of his hand. It was cramped, but better than climbing that towering cliff freehand.

Kirk could hardly see a thing. There was no obvious light source, but the pliable material covering the walls was so pale it seemed to glow like amber under a light.

It wasn't long before the tunnel ended in a slightly more bulbous section. Straight ahead were six hexagonal openings stacked three across and two high. Each opening was about a meter wide.

"In there." The Petraw holding the cylinder gestured to the first hexagonal opening on the bottom.

Kirk peered in, but he couldn't see out the other side. "This is the way to the matriarchs?"

Several of the Petraw crowded close to him, trying to push him inside. Their baggy coveralls rustled as he resisted.

"What's the rush?" Kirk tried to regain his footing on the mushy floor.

They still nudged him forward, pressing down on his shoulders. He realized he was being given no choice and he began to fight back.

Without hesitation, the Petraw seized his legs and arms, subduing him by sheer numbers. Before he knew it, they were tossing him into the hexagon.

They slapped something on the end. Kirk scrabbled at it with his fingers. The covering was hard and peach-colored, almost opaque. He could see the shadows of the Petraw outside, but even when he kicked hard against it with both feet, he couldn't budge the seal on the end.

After a while Kirk couldn't see any more shadows. It was pitch dark inside. He kept kicking against the plug, but it held firm. He crawled to the other end, checking it for openings, but it was sealed tight as well. He was trapped.

It didn't take long to search the place. Kirk could sit up inside the cell if he hunched over, his hair brushing the ceiling. He could also lie down and stretch out to his full length, but both ends touched his feet and outstretched arms. It was a tiny, claustrophobic place. A sarcophagus buried in the rock.

He wasn't sure where the fresh air was coming from. Feeling around, he found nothing but smooth, slightly damp walls that were cool to the touch. Too bad his phaser was gone. But they hadn't taken his communicator.

Operating the communicator by touch, Kirk checked each frequency, listening for activity. There might be a Starfleet vessel in the area, or an allied planet that had diplomatic ties to the Federation.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. Can anyone read me? I'm being held prisoner. ..."

He repeated his distress call on every frequency. If the Petraw didn't like it, they could come stop him.

But there was no response. The static was extremely high, crackling on the lower frequencies, leading him to believe that a shield could be interfering with the sub-space channel.

Kirk grimly kept trying.

His voice was raw from speaking into the communicator when he finally gave up. No one could hear his calls.

A different course of action was required. Kirk flipped the cover up and felt the screen mesh. No sharp edges on it or on the smooth black body of the unit. He tried wrenching the cover from the communicator, straining with both hands to twist it out of its hinge.

The mesh cracked at one corner, breaking free and leaving a jagged edge. He winced when it cut his probing finger. The other corner slid out of the hinge.

Kirk dug the broken cover into the seal on the end of the cell. It reacted like some kind of polymer. The jagged edge left a small slice in the flexible stuff.

He hacked away at the seal. The polymer wouldn't tear, but successive jabs cut deeper into it.

Satisfied that he was finally making some progress, he worked faster.

It took a while for Kirk to break through. At first only one hand could push out of the cell. He continued to dig at the polymer to enlarge the slash.

Getting his shoulders through was the hardest. He struggled with the polymer as if the cell were alive and determined to keep him inside. When he finally slid through, dragging his legs after him, he rolled onto the soft ground.

Only to find himself trapped again. The tunnel was exactly the same as before, nearly dark with no way to get out. But the Petraw were gone.

Kirk carefully retraced their steps, and found the tunnel once more clogged at the end with a dense mass of tan polymer. But now he knew that it could be opened.

He plunged his hands into the center, feeling them sink deeper and deeper. It was powdery dry. The stretchy texture reminded him of the thick rubber bands he had used as a kid for makeshift slingshots. He pushed harder on it.

The walls slowly started drawing back, opening up to reveal the platform where the gateway had deposited him. It was darker outside now, and Kirk went forward to see the blood orange sky looming over the parallel cliffs. It was densely spangled with bright white stars. Everything inside the crevice was ruddy, including the cliffs and the tunnel.

The Petraw could have taken a transport from the platform up to those metallic structures. But why did Luz bring them here instead of directly to the top? The last thing she had expected was for Kirk and Tasm to come along with her.

Kirk crouched down and went right to the edge of the platform to look over again. The crack seemed to descend forever, cleft deep into the planet. It was completely dark down there, and would likely be even in the brightest daylight. Plus there was that odd smoky mist. It didn't look very inviting.

No, the answer must lay inside the tunnel.

Kirk went back inside, returning to the six hexagon cells.

He didn't have much time before the tunnel began to close behind him, shutting out most of the light. But he searched the walls quickly, pushing and poking, trying to find another place where the polymer would open up.

Right next to the cells, his hands sank into the wall. Kirk leaned in, pushing his arms into the center. The barrier began to give way, irising into an opening tall enough for him to step through. It was not much brighter inside this tunnel, with the ambient light coming from a warm glow within the walls themselves.

The tunnel finally widened as it ended in a cross-tunnel. This passageway was apparently well trodden, with the tan polymer floor roughened and pitted by use.

Going down this tunnel, Kirk paused to listen to the echo of odd mechanical noises. Light slanted out of a doorway ahead. Edging closer, he could see a brightly lit, cavernous space filled with various large pieces of equipment. They were interconnected by ductwork and conduit junctions. The walls and floor were bare rock rather than being covered by the beige polymer.

A shadow crossed the doorway as several Petraw approached the door from inside. Kirk pulled back, pressing against the wall. He sank in deeper and deeper until it almost covered him. His muscles strained to keep him inside, and he wondered if he could bury himself completely. But there was still a stripe down his front that wasn't covered.

But the Petraw passed by in the gloom without noticing him. Kirk finally managed to pull away from the wall, which took as much effort as sinking into it. Then he looked around the doorway again. The machinery appeared to be pumps and some kind of a hydraulic press. They were being operated by Petraw in the baggy coveralls.

Kirk waited until none of the Petraw were in view before vaulting across the opening. He wasn't ready to take on a dozen Petraw by himself. Not yet.

He felt very conspicuous in his gold and black uniform. If anyone came down the tunnel, he would be spotted instantly. But he continued on. Far ahead, light was slanting out another door, and beyond that was another door.

Kirk made the same careful approach. Each large chamber held different types of machinery. In every one, the rock was left exposed and work lights gave adequate illumination for the Petraw.

His luck changed when he found the factory where the coveralls were made. Inside the door were racks of drying coveralls, shining and smelling strongly like a brand-new spacesuit. They were translucent when wet, drying to nearly a solid white.

Kirk slipped in among the racks, going deeper to avoid the Petraw who were conveying the garments out of a mold and hanging them up to dry. Some of them were miniature, probably for babies, while others were bigger than he was. They were designed exactly the same; bags with legs that started at the knees and arms that started at the elbows, ending in booties and four-fingered gloves. The hood was attached to the neck.

He found one his size, but he wasn't sure how to get inside it. After some experimental testing, he realized the neck stretched if it was steadily pulled on. By the time his shoulders got through, it was hanging open wide. But when he pulled up the hood, the elasticized stuff began to shrink back into shape. What little shape it had.

With the hood up, Kirk felt much better. His black pants could vaguely be seen through the near-opaque polymer. But in the darkness, no one would notice.

Finally feeling free to roam, Kirk slipped out of the garment factory and began briskly walking down the center of the tunnel. He didn't have to sneak up to every doorway, and could take more time to examine the unusual machinery. It had the same hodgepodge construction as Tasm's ship, as if different materials and technology had been jumbled together to form one functioning unit.

No one paid any attention to him, even when several Petraw passed close by. They kept their eyes cast down as they walked, and their movements seemed somewhat slow to Kirk.

He grew bolder, ranging through the corridors. His general direction was up, figuring that would be the way to get out of the complex. Yet the tunnels went on and on, making him pause as he tried to remember his route. No sense getting lost in the maze. It appeared to be laid out in concentric rings, with short, steeply sloping tunnels up to the next level.

Though it had long underground corridors like the Kalandan station, everything else was different. The Kalandan passageways were large and kept sparkling clean like the space station it was. This place was cramped, dark, and dirty, like an underground mine. The Petraw, especially the smaller ones, were bowed down with work. With their melted faces, he couldn't tell any of them apart.

Kirk didn't want to feel sorry for Tasm, but for some reason he did.

It took hours before Kirk found what he was looking for - a docking bay for spaceships. Keeping his elation in check, he passed a few of the larger vessels the size of Tasm's ship. They filled the underground bunkers from one end to the other. Then he came across several hangars for the smaller shuttlecraft-type ships, the kind that a single man could operate.

Kirk was grinning in relief. That hadn't been too difficult. Now all he needed to do was get hold of the interstellar transporter and steal a ship to return to the Enterprise.

It took a while to explore the extensive hangars to find the right ship. Most were being worked on round the clock by the silent waxwork Petraw.

At this point, he didn't hesitate to go right up to them. They were so intent on their jobs that as long as he appeared to be doing a task of his own no one paid attention to him. They coordinated with each other with a minimum of clipped words, almost a technocode.

The one time Kirk was asked a question, he made sure his hood hung over his face before grunting and shaking his head. The worker accepted his ignorance and asked someone else.

Finally Kirk found a small ship that appeared fully operational. He slid into the pilot's seat and examined the controls. The panel was activated, but it was like nothing he had ever seen. Spiky symbols scrolled down one side, with triangles and diamond patterns on the other side.

"Uh-oh," Kirk muttered. "Maybe not so simple..."

His other problem was how to get the ship out of the hangar. There were large recessed doors in the ceiling of each bunker, but he couldn't see a control panel that operated them.

I might need a native guide, he thought. Not that Luz or Tasm seemed predisposed to help him.

Working at the panel, Kirk managed to call up the navigational chart. The pattern of a galactic star map was clear in any language. He felt a rising hope that he would manage in spite of any obstacle - Then he realized what he was seeing. Amid the multitude of stars, there was one that coincided with a red stationary indicator. It was near the center of the galaxy, in the spiral arm at the base of the Beta Quadrant.

Kirk froze. In the center of the galaxy ... if that red indicator meant what he thought it meant, then he was there! At least forty thousand light-years away from Federation territory ...

Dazed, he tried to do the math. At top warp speed of 9.9 - and no ship could go that fast for very long - it would take him over twenty years to get back to the Enterprise.

Chapter 2

It was a shock, no doubt about that. Kirk kept thinking about the orange sky outside. It was filled with stars just as the sky would be on a planet close to the galactic core.

But Kirk wasn't completely convinced until he checked two other navigational arrays on different spacecrafts. Each one showed the location indicator positioned over the same star near the galactic core.

Well, that certainly changed things. Much as Kirk liked space travel, he didn't intend to spend the better part of his life dashing through unknown space trying to get home. Who in their right mind would do something like that?

His only hope was the dimensional transporter. If he could get hold of the cylindrical unit, hook it up to a self-diagnostic subprocessor, then somehow build an archway out of solid neutronium .. .

Even Spock would consider that an impossible task.

Kirk had no idea how neutronium could be made or shaped since it was supposed to be impervious to heat and pressure.

He was almost delirious after so much searching, then hours of examining spaceships. He hid out for a while in the fresher of one of the ships as he tried to consider his dilemma, but he didn't want to be discovered or, even worse, be on board if the ship took off to points unknown.

Cautiously, he emerged in time to see at least a dozen Petraw heading toward the door of the hangar. Kirk tagged along behind. He kept thinking of the millions of stars between him and the Enterprise. Was his crew looking for him now?

But the silent workers commanded his attention. Kirk wondered what sort of terrible hardships must have befallen these people to make them so downtrodden and subdued. He kept his own head down, too, to cast a shadow over his well-defined features.

But when they emerged onto a ledge, he forgot himself and looked up in frank amazement. They were at the bottom of another crack, a miniature version of the crevice outside. These parallel walls were much closer together. The inner wall was lined with hexagonal cells, just like the one he had been sealed into by the Petraw. These cells were open; a honeycomb of thousands of cells stacked at least a hundred rows high.

The edges of each cell glowed, making a latticework up one side of the narrow crack. The other wall loomed close in the darkness.

The lattice was crawling with Petraw, climbing up or down, easily gripping the open sides and stepping on the staggered rows. But it was completely, eerily silent.

The Petraw from the hangar started climbing, so Kirk did too. His gloves and booties were skid-resist-ant, helping him keep a grip on the edges of the cells.

Inside most of the cells were Petraw, lying down. They were on their backs, their heads concealed in the darkness at the other end. Their encased feet stuck toward him.

Kirk climbed very high where more of the cells were empty. He didn't want to take someone else's spot, though he wasn't sure how anyone could find a certain cell among these identical units.

Crawling inside, he sat on the edge and looked down. He was about seventy-five meters high, but it seemed higher because of the nearby opposite wall and the many levels between him and the floor.

Kirk stretched out, lying down with his head at the inner end to hide his face in the shadows. He was still trying to think of a way out of this mess when he passed out.

Kirk was dreaming. It was a nightmare replay of the events leading up to their leap through the gateway. But this time it was different, as if he were watching it outside of himself, seeing details he hadn't noticed before: Luz's snarling mouth as she fought, the flare of the protective shield over the crevice, and the arrival of the defenders on the platform....

That drove Kirk nearly to wakefulness, making him roll over. But he let sleep pull him back in.

Then he was dreaming about Tasm. She was being praised by the matriarchs. But he could only see a waxy-looking Petraw dressed hi baggy coveralls. Then something in the way she moved and inclined her head as she acknowledged their praise made Kirk realize it was Tasm!

His eyes opened wide as he was jolted out of sleep.

But he could still see Tasm in her new guise. Only now it seemed to fit her constrained and sexless manner. That's why he had rejected her kiss. His subconscious mind had detected the forgery, and had recoiled from a false intimacy with her.

Tasm will be rewarded with our highest honor. She will take her place in the birthing chamber and will be fed the royal gel. She will make a fine addition to our birthing world....

Kirk sat straight up, his heart pounding. Now he couldn't hear anything. But somehow the words had formed in his mind.

His hands felt the slight curve on the floor at the end of the cell. It was made to fit his skull. The concave surface felt warm.

It was an information feed. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did. Just as he knew the matriarchs used it to distribute their orders and information to Petraw throughout the galaxy.

Kirk hesitated for only a moment. Then he lay back down, placing his head in the curve. He breathed deeply, trying to relax. If this thing provided information, mat's exactly what he needed.

His fatigue helped. In spite of his surprise, his mind started to drift. Then he saw Luz. Her face had been transformed, too. Now she had mere dips for her eyes, with an abbreviated nose and a bump for a chin. She was fully Petraw.

Apparently Luz had already given her version of events. Kirk was disappointed; he wanted to know what had possessed her to steal the interstellar transporter from her own commander. He was certain now that Tasm had been surprised and appalled by Luz's betrayal. Apparently that was the consensus.

Luz is defective and must be put away from the Petraw. The defenders will put her into the deep.

Kirk could see Luz crying out, her gloved hands reaching up to something he couldn't see. She was apparently protesting her innocence. But he couldn't hear what she said.

Two of the larger Petraw took her by each arm, and Kirk couldn't see her anymore.

He lay there for a few moments longer, but he got no other information. It seemed like a haze hung over his thoughts.

Kirk resisted, sitting up. They were going to kill Luz. If this was happening in real time, they were going to do it any moment. Not that he had any affection for Luz. Quite the contrary, it was because of her that he was trapped so far from home. But the Petraw defenders had made the first move against him by sealing him in that cell. Their enemy was his potential ally.

Tasm was clearly out of the picture, now that she was a favored member of the ruling clan. He would never trust her again.

Kirk slid forward to the edge of his cell. He had slept for a while, to judge from the cramp in his shoulder. Now where, in this huge complex, is Luz?

It would be easier to figure out where they were taking her. The deep... He was sitting at the edge of what was certainly a deadly plunge, but he wouldn't call this the deep.

It had to be the giant fissure outside. They were going to throw Luz off the platform.

Kirk rapidly climbed down the cells. There was still a lot of movement over the latticework. After sleeping in the information feed, it made more sense. As if he had been listening to routine orders given throughout the night. He now knew there were thousands of workers in this one block who kept the factories and shipyards functioning. Other vast blocks of cells catered to the guards they called "defenders," and the scouts in training.

Kirk hurried through the tunnels, slowing down only when he spotted a Petraw ahead. He had been careful to memorize the tunnels he had used, and was able to find his way back with only one wrong turn.

After pushing through the first barrier, he knelt down to check on the cell where he had been sealed in. It was difficult to see that the seal had been broken unless you got close. So they might not know yet that he had gotten away.

Feeling his way along the wall, he went toward the outer barrier. It opened for him more easily this time, and he was outside again. The orange light was bright.

Kirk leaned over the edge. The beige polymer sort of dripped over the edge, but it offered no strategic advantage.

As the barrier closed again, he took up a stance behind it, against one wall. He would jump the Petraw when it opened. Assuming that they hadn't already marched Luz through here and over the edge. In that case, there was nothing he could do for her.

- The barrier started to open, and by the time the Petraw stepped through, Kirk was clinging to the wall near the top curve of the tunnel. His hands and feet were buried in the soft polymer, giving him the perfect ambush position.

They didn't see him. As the Petraw passed underneath, Kirk dropped down on the first one. His feet kicked out to catch the other Petraw in the face. They let go of Luz to fight back, but with a few well-aimed chops from Kirk, they were both lying unconscious on the floor. He wished he could learn how to do that Vulcan neck pinch. It would be easier on his hands.

Luz looked completely different now, with smoothed features that left her expressionless. Except for her thin-lipped mouth, which was perfectly round in horror. "You!"

Kirk grabbed her. "Come on! Run!" he shouted at her.

Jerking on her arm, he pulled her after him. After a few stiff steps, she finally got going. She must have been in a near-trance, unable to resist being taken to a plunge to certain death.

The second barrier was too slow in opening for Kirk's comfort. But then they were through and running toward the factories. "Where to?" Kirk asked.

She looked at him blankly, her steps faltering.

Kirk stopped and gave her shoulders a commanding shake. "You better snap out of it and start helping me! The first thing they'll do is announce that you've escaped. If you don't want to take a dive into nowhere, you'll have to find us a safe place to hide."

"Yes!" she gasped out, clutching at his arm. "Yes, I think I know where we can go."

Luz hurried down the tunnel, passing the doorways to the factories until she found the one she was looking for. Kirk ducked inside after her, wary of other Petraw. But Luz beckoned him to follow her behind a bulky ion generator before anyone noticed them.

It was very dark behind the generator, though the polymer coating on the wall continued to glow. Luz crouched down near an obstruction. Kirk shifted until he could see that it was the wall itself, stretched out and attached to a large round collar in the side of the generator. It was nearly a meter in diameter.

Touching it, Kirk discovered the wall material was taut, pulled to its maximum extension. It was amazing, the uses the Petraw found for polymer.

Luz glanced up, her eyes shining with a fierce intensity. But she didn't speak.

"This isn't going to be enough cover." Kirk crouched down, too, but the junction wouldn't hide them if anyone walked behind the generator.

"Everyone always underestimates me," Luz retorted scornfully.

Placing both hands against the wall next to the junction, she pushed. An opening appeared in the wall, widening to about a meter in diameter. It was low to the ground, so Luz stuck her head and arms inside, and with a wiggling motion, disappeared inside.

Kirk scrambled closer. There was faint warm light glowing in the walls of the small tube. "Can't you open it a bit wider?"

"Nothing satisfies you, does it?" Luz shot back over her shoulder. She started to crawl away.

Kirk shook his head, knowing he'd be a bit caustic, too, if his own people had just tried to throw him off a cliff. Bending his arms, he crawled inside after her.

The opening slowly began to close behind him. "What is this?" he called up to her.

"Access tubes for maintenance and repair." Her own voice was low. "Be quiet, will you? There's other Petraw in these tubes."

Creeping through the tiny space, bumping his head and elbows with almost every movement, Kirk swore he would never again complain about the size of the Jefferies tubes on board the Enterprise. If he ever got back to the Enterprise.

At least the polymer offered padding for his knees, even if the tube was too small. But it also took extra effort to move since he sank into the stuff. It was like crawling through sticky clay.

Kirk caught up with Luz as she reached an intersection. Another tube crossed theirs. She listened for a few moments. Kirk wasn't sure how any sound waves managed to carry in such spongy surroundings. There was nothing for them to bounce off.

But Luz seemed satisfied. She turned right, scuttling away again as Kirk slogged after her.

Luz was pushing on the ceiling when Kirk caught up again. Another round opening grew in the top of the tunnel to nearly a meter wide.

"How did you know where that tube was?" If she was going to keep leaving him behind, he needed to be able to navigate on his own. He didn't trust any of these Petraw.

Her rapidly blinking eyes and nervous twitching indicated she was about to crack under the strain. "I can see it," she snapped.

"Be more specific. What is it you see?" Luz ignored him. She stood up inside the tube, lifting one foot to dig it into the lip. Her toes sank in, giving her a grip. Her legs disappeared up the tube.

Kirk couldn't see what she was holding on to. So he stood up in the tube, feeling around with his hands. There was nothing but the pliable wall. He figured she was clinging to the polymer the same way he had ambushed her captors.

So he followed her, planting one foot into the tube and pushing until his back braced against the other side. Using that for leverage, he dug the heels of his hands into the wall next to him. It was faster going up than forward.

Luz led him through a long series of tubes, climbing a number of levels and heading deeper into the complex. Kirk was panting from fighting the rubbery Walls when she finally turned in to a side tunnel that terminated in a dim cul-de-sac.

"Is there another way out?" Kirk asked.

"Yes," she said shortly.

Kirk waited, but she didn't offer anything else. "Listen, we're in this together, whether you like it or not. I asked you a question, and I expect an answer."


Luz sullenly gestured to the end of the wall next to her. "This takes us into one of the waste reclamation chambers. Nobody uses this tube because the opening is so high up. But if we have to, we can jump down."

Satisfied, Kirk sat down next to her, straining to see the wall at the end. It looked no different from everything else. He knew he would have trouble finding his way through the access tubes without Luz. And she was not being cooperative.

Kirk had learned that when all else failed, make Mends with your enemy. "Why did you do it, Luz? Why did you take the gateway?"

She glanced over at him. Her face was so different that he kept having to remind himself that he knew this person. If only Dr. McCoy hadn't stopped him from interrogating her inside the Kalandan station. Luz was obviously unstable. If he had ordered McCoy to stay out of it, he might have cracked her cover. But at the time he had nothing concrete on which to base his doubts. The Petraw were competent con artists, if nothing else.

Luz tried sarcasm to fend him off. "Why would anyone take the gateway? Who wants to transport thousands of light-years in an instant?"

"I wish I could," Kirk replied. "What I don't understand is why you betrayed your own people. Surely Tasm was planning on taking the gateway for the Petraw."

"Tasm!" Luz blurted out, unable to restrain herself. "This is all her fault. She made the wrong decision at every point, /was trying to save the gateway!"

Cannily, Kirk agreed, "You did bring it back to your people."

"That's what I told the matriarchs! Tasm is so inept she would have lost it. She was going to try that Klingon ruse herself, to scare you away. It was an inane idea." "You used it," Kirk had to point out. "Yes, to gain time to secure the station. It worked perfectly for that." Luz looked proud of herself. "But Tasm doesn't have a shred of originality. She didn't think of using the gateway to return home. She would have sent it back on an automated drone, making the Petraw wait another generation before we had this technology to use."

"So you did help your people." Kirk added, "Now they'll find out how the gateway technology works." "Thanks to me!"

"Where do you think they'll take the cylinder to analyze it?"

Luz drew away from him slightly. "I'm not telling you anything! I'm a loyal Petraw."

"Yeah, so loyal they almost killed you." Luz closed her burning eyes. "That's because Tasm came along and ruined everything! I would be the one accepted into the birthing chamber if she wasn't here.

Another cron and I would have been gone before you arrived!"

Luz put her hands over her face, curling into a ball. Kirk knew it would be useless to try to get information out of her right now. It was depraved the way these people lied and cheated, even their own crewmates, to get what they wanted.

He no longer felt sympathy for any of the Petraw. To think, this selfish greed was what had brought him so far from his own ship. Kirk turned away from Luz, propping his head in his hand. He almost wished he hadn't rescued her.

Time blurred together for Kirk, with no way for him to tell when each day had passed. They snatched sleep in the tiny access tubes, leaving only to go to one of the cell blocks where Luz showed him the feedtubes deep inside.


Kirk needed to eat, but it was a strange experience. He had to pull on the strawlike tube until it straightened and dripped a golden liquid. It tasted tart and was rather thick and syrupy. According to Luz, it supplied the nourishment needs of the Petraw in this complex. He was thirsty enough to drink deeply every time he could, but after a while he wished there were some other flavor. He wasn't used to eating the same thing all the time.

Whenever they left the narrow access tubes, they saw scores of defenders, the bigger Petraw who were searching for him and Luz. At first Kirk thought he had made a tactical error by rescuing Luz, alerting the Petraw that he was on the loose. But Luz knew a great deal about the complex that enabled them to avoid the defenders.

At one point, the search teams were going through the access tubes meter by meter. Luz kept trying to dodge them. They were forced to keep moving or be caught.

"I didn't want to do it, but I guess there's no other option," Luz finally said, huddled in the tube in front of Kirk.

"Now what?" It looked as though their time was running out.

"We'll have to go into the web. That's the network of tubes that link a block of cells close to here."

Kirk had become more comfortable with the towering cells, but he wasn't prepared for the tangle of access tubes that filled the space behind. He crawled after Luz, sighting workers here and there in the dim light They kept making sharp turns, climbing up, then down to get away.

Kirk was exhausted from the climbing when Luz uttered something in exasperation. "They're all around us."

"I don't see them," Kirk protested, looking behind.

"I can feel it in the tube," she said vaguely. "We'll have to make a dash for it."

"For what?" he asked doubtfully.

Luz didn't answer, opening a tube above them and starting to climb even faster than before. Kirk didn't try to talk to her, saving his breath for the effort.

After a long ascent, Luz finally paused. She appeared to be listening before she cautiously pushed on the wall next to her, opening the tube. Then she slithered through headfirst.

Kirk emerged into a much larger room. Without hesitation, he lifted his arms up, stretching as tall as he could. He felt as if he were turning into a scurrying bug that inhabited the woodwork.

Luz was kneeling over something. Another tube was opening up.

Kirk sighed, but when she pulled back so he could look inside, it wasn't a tube as he expected. Below the bole in the ground, it opened up almost as large as the chamber they were in. About four meters down, there was a smooth flat floor. It was a deeper golden color and lacked the inner glow of the surrounding walls.

"Hold on to the edge," Luz told him. "We'll hang from here until they pass through."

"What is it?"

"A nutrient sac, holding the nourishment for distribution to the cells."

Kirk swallowed. How could he miss that smell of the sweet syrup they drank every day?

Luz swung over the edge, digging her gloved hands into the lip of the sac. Kirk thought he heard voices, and he quickly slid over himself, making sure his grip was good. The opening was already slowly squeezing shut.

He swung slightly next to her. "Can't we just tread water - or, whatever you call it?"

"The walls are stretched taut. We wouldn't be able to climb back out."

She shifted as the opening shrank back to nearly its closed position. Kirk also had to regrip. He hoped none of the defenders would see their fingers digging into the pliant edge.

The smell was overpowering. He didn't want to imagine what would happen if he fell into it, stuck swimming until he couldn't stay afloat any longer, then finally sinking under....

This time he could feel the slight vibration of people walking around. Maybe because his entire weight was supported by his fingers. He was in agony, trying not to make a sound.

After a while, the vibrations ceased.

"Are they gone?" he whispered, aching to get back out.

"A bit more. They'll have to check the other sac rooms."

Luz hadn't said a word about the interstellar transporter since Kirk had first questioned her. But as they dangled uselessly from the lip of the sac, she finally said, "Tasm is completely inept. You would never have let her take the gateway, would you?"

Kirk looked at her in surprise. "You want to talk about that now?"

"Why not?" Luz was staring morosely down at the nutrient fluid.

Kirk considered the question. "My orders were to keep the gateway from falling into enemy hands. I didn't trust Tasm, so I don't think I would have let her take it."

"I thought so." Luz shifted, getting a better grip. "Tasm would have destroyed your ship to take the gateway."

Kirk remembered the ease with which Tasm had disintegrated the Klingon cruiser with their quantum torpedoes. "The Enterprise has been in worse situations and survived."

"Then it's too bad you didn't bring your ship with you," Luz retorted.

"I like a streamlined mission every now and again." Kirk smiled, showing his teeth. He was not about to indulge in useless worry or let Luz know that this was a particularly tight spot he was in. Confidence was the key to success. If he didn't make it back to the Enterprise, he would have plenty of time later to think about failure.

Chapter 3

Kirk tried various tactics to make Luz cooperate with him. He was desperate enough to single-handedly hijack a starship, but he wasn't leaving without the gateway component. Luz refused to tell him anything that would help him locate it.

They continued to elude the searchers, forgoing sleep to keep on the move. Kirk was amazed anew at the size of the complex.

Every time they had to go into a block of cells to get some nourishment, Kirk placed his head in the information feed, trying to hear news about the gateway. But it was hard for him to access the feed because he had to be nearly asleep to hear anything. He was so wary of searchers checking the cells that it was tough to relax.

Needless to say, despite his attempts he didn't discover anything useful. But he did get the sense that the search for him and Luz was easing off and valuable workers had been returned to their regular duties.

He wasn't surprised. They would eventually be found, and there wasn't much they could do to harm the Petraw while they were on the run. Especially with Luz still fanatically loyal to her own people.

Yet the countless days of constant companionship, forced to struggle together to survive, had an impact on Luz. Kirk could understand it would be hard to stay faithful to people who were out to kill you. Gradually, Luz's rants against Tasm shifted against the matriarchs and the other Petraw. Her most scathing comments were reserved for her own podmates.

They were sitting in yet another narrow access tube, with Kirk trying to ignore the closeness of the walls, when Luz muttered for the hundredth time, "No imagination. No insight. Just because Tasm was the leader, they rewarded her and tossed me away. Even though / was right. Now Tasm will breed a bunch more idiotic Petraw to bumble around out there, making a mess out of their engagements."

"You're obviously not meant to be with these people." It was a habit now for him to try to flatter her. "Why don't you leave here? Surely there are other Petraw who would appreciate your talents."

Luz frowned thoughtfully. "I thought about that. Petraw territory is far-flung. There are birthing worlds far removed from here."

"You think you could get a ship out of this complex?" Kirk asked with deceptive lightness.

"Possibly." She seemed wary of telling him more. "The shield generators on top would have to be disabled."

Kirk felt a leap of eagerness. "Disabling shield generators is my line of work."

Anything would be better than skulking around in the dark. But what if he did get off this planet? Then what? Stranded far from Earth, possibly never seeing another human being again ...

Not if he could help it Luz was shaking her head. "But even if I was allowed to stay on another birthing world, I'd be relegated to cleaning waste tubes for the rest of my life. Only those born in the complex are accepted into the birthing chamber."

"Didn't Tasm earn that by giving the matriarchs the gateway?" At her sudden interest, Kirk added, "Valuable technology like the interstellar transporter is worth something."

"But our matriarchs would spread the word against me," Luz protested.

"Do you really think anyone in their right mind would give up the gateway? They'll want to back-engineer it for themselves."

She searched his face. "That's true. I could take it to one of the distant worlds where it would take time for the feed to spread. And once I was made a matriarch, it would be too late to change it."

"I'll make a deal with you, Luz. I want out of this place. I can't stand it anymore." He give a realistic shudder, hoping she would think his human sensibilities were overwhelmed by the alien culture. "I'll help you get the cylinder for the gateway if you get me out of here. Once we're off this planet, we're both free to go our separate ways."

"You said your orders are to keep the transporter from falling into enemy hands," Luz pointed out. "Why Would you let me take it?"

His grin twisted. "If you help me get out of here, then that makes you my ally."

Luz hesitated, then shook her head. "I don't believe you."

Kirk almost sighed. It had been worth a shot.

"But," she added, "I think you're right that taking the gateway is the only way I'll earn my proper place among the Petraw. I've got to get it back."

Hiding his elation was not easy, but Kirk simply nodded. "Then we can both get out of here."

Her shallow eyes and smooth skin were like a mask, hiding her true feelings. "I know where it may be."

Kirk didn't want to risk upsetting his tenuous agreement with Luz, so he contained his anticipation as he followed her through the tubes. They kept going down, and were heading toward the side of the complex adjacent to the cliffs.

They descended lower than Kirk had ever been, when they reached a long tube that slanted downward. "This is different."

"It's one of the access tubes for the conduits supplying the experimental stations." Her voice was muffled, facing downhill in front of him. He could only see her rounded behind and her feet pointing back at him. "That's where we work with technology we don't understand. It's safer that way."

"Safer? Why?"

She paused to look back. "The cliff has been rigged with charges so that in an emergency, each experimental station can be dropped into the chasm. It's molten rock at the bottom, so anything dangerous is swallowed up before it can damage the rest of the complex."

Kirk could appreciate their caution. He would have taken care to protect his ship before attempting to crack open that neutronium cylinder. It would take an incredible amount of energy to penetrate the seal on the gateway's secrets.

The search began. There was a long row of chambers that held experimental stations, and Kirk doggedly crawled through each tube after Luz. There were Petraw workers in these access tubes, but Kirk just kept his head down and pretended to be intent on his duty.

The tubes were attached only to the inner walls of the rooms. To check each station, they crawled forward and opened the wall, usually next to some conduit, while Luz peered around. These rooms were solid rock except for the inner wall. They were brightly illuminated by pole lights.

Kirk couldn't recognize most of the equipment they saw, but Luz only needed a glimpse to dismiss each station. It made him uneasy, but he was convinced that she truly wanted to find the dimensional transporter. She was focused in a way he had never seen before, intent on her objective. Finally he could see the determination that had enabled her to fool everyone, including himself. She had almost succeeded in getting away clean with the gateway.

Luz leaned forward on yet another opening. She barely pushed, allowing the tube to iris only slightly. She got very close to look through, blocking Kirk's view.

"There's the magnetomotive," Luz exclaimed. "It's fully operational."

"Let me see." Kirk squirmed up next to her, putting his eyes to the hand-sized opening. They were about four meters above the floor with a conduit running out from the wall next to them. It was attached to a scaffold tower. The interlocking bars seemed too delicate to support the enormous black rings. Each ring was at least twenty meters wide and five tall. Kirk counted fifteen rings stacked on top of one another, separated by suspension units on the scaffolding.

"What is it?" Kirk asked.

"A series of magnetic circuits that focus the electromagnetic field of this planet."

The light glanced off a microthin coil wrapped around the magnet rings. Spock would have been able to tell him exactly how much magnetic flux was being generated.

Kirk guessed it might be enough to power the dimensional transporter. "You think they're trying to activate the gateway?"

"Naturally."

"But there's no archway, no computer..." Then he remembered Tasm's pouch, probably conveniently stuffed with all the information Spock and her officers had obtained while working on the gateway.

The bulk of the room lay beyond the dull black tower of magnets. Determined to discover the truth, Kirk pushed open the tube so he could see better. The floor between the magnets and the inner wall was smooth rock. But the door was down to their left, and he would be in full view of anyone entering or leaving.

"Will that conduit hold my weight?" he asked Luz.

She also looked down, then at the wide duct next to them. In answer, she swung her leg over the duct, using her hands to balance on the shaft. Kirk kept an eye on the doorway, hoping no one would come in at that moment.

Hitching herself forward, Luz crossed over the gap so she could step onto the scaffolding. Kirk swiftly followed.

This close to the magnetic flux, Kirk could feel his hair rising on his body. A subsonic hum rattled his bones, filling his ears with an endless thrumming. It sounded as if the circuits were powering up.

Their scaffolding tower was connected to the others on either side by narrow catwalks that circled the open sections between the magnets. Squat round suspension units were spaced along the catwalks, holding up the incredible weight.

"Higher," Kirk whispered, gesturing up. If there was anyone in the room, they wouldn't be as apt to notice them if they were in the darkened area near the ceiling. Most of the light was concentrated low.

The tower swayed under their climbing, seemingly too weak to hold up the magnets. But that work was really being done by the suspension units. The entire framework would crash to the ground if enough suspension units failed.

Near the top, Kirk stepped onto one of the catwalks. He went in the opposite direction from the door so he wouldn't be seen.

As he started out, it was impossible not to look down. His arms stretched out for better balance, but he instantly pulled his hands back in. The magnetic field was strong enough to cause a burning sensation against Ms skin.

It was tough to balance on the narrow metal grate as be walked. At the next tower, he eased forward, looking farther around the magnets. The only thing he could see was the next scaffolding tower. Luz was already starting to cross the catwalk after him.

It took two more nerve-racking trips across the cat-Walks to reach the scaffolding tower one-quarter of the way around the magnets. Then Kirk saw a Petraw standing against the far corner in the attitude of a guard.

Kirk pointed down, gesturing to Luz to keep quiet. She stayed at the back of the scaffolding, gazing fearfully at the hooded head of the defender. Kirk went forward to the front end of the scaffolding. A mere two meters made the difference. Now he had a view of everything in front of the magnetomotive.

The arch was the first thing he saw. It was standing in the center of a ring of lights, highlighted like a rare piece of art. It was an identical replica of the one they had found on the Kalandan station. The neutronium gleamed in blue-black highlights, and the impenetrable alloy was even molded into the same pattern. He knew he shouldn't be surprised at anything the Petraw were capable of. Though they looked like simple underground dwellers, their technological capability exceeded that of almost every other culture he had encountered.

That arch changed everything. Kirk couldn't begin to imagine the terrible things the Petraw would be capable of with an operational interstellar transporter. These people were ruthless and would use this technology to their own advantage. It was his fault the gateway had fallen into their hands.

Kirk was determined to change that. Staying very still to keep from attracting the attention of the guard, he searched for the cylindrical unit. In the very front of the magnetomotive, the huge rings were open, with a segment at least five meters wide cut out, indicating it was the more powerful open-flux system.

But he couldn't see the key component of the gateway from his position. It wasn't attached to the new arch, which meant he couldn't steal it the same way Luz had done. Instead, there were a bunch of cables that snaked along the floor toward the magnetomotive.

Luz joined him, keeping a wary eye on the guard. Her sharp intake of breath indicated she saw the gateway, too.

A voice came from below. "You two get back to the door. Just because we're holding a test run doesn't mean you can leave your posts."

Kirk couldn't see who was talking, but he recognized her voice. It was Tasm.

A hooded Petraw strode up to the arch and knelt to check the cables. From nearly sixty meters up, Kirk couldn't see much other than a sharply foreshortened view of her head and shoulders. "Is the flux stabilized yet?" Tasm asked.

Another Petraw somewhere down below and around the curve answered, "It has reached optimum level."

"Proceed with the test run," Tasm ordered.

She pulled back to the corner of the room, standing next to the defender who was posted there. If she looked up, she would see Kirk and Luz. He hardly breathed.

A different Petraw stepped up to face the gateway. Kirk clenched his hands around the scaffolding. They were at the point of testing the gateway? Those long days of dodging through the tubes and snatching naps in cul-de-sacs took on new meaning. The Petraw must have worked continuously to pull the gateway together.

The Petraw standing in front of the gateway let out a slight cry. "I see it!"

Inside the gateway an image had formed of windblown sand nearly burying two metallic structures. The Orange sky looked fluorescent in the blazing light. Kirk recognized the surface near the fissure. "Now go through," Tasm urged from her safe spot across the room.

The Petraw eagerly stepped forward. Kirk leaned out as far as he dared to see the hooded form enter the gateway in a flash of brilliant light. The magnetomotive shook the scaffolding as power was drawn at a phenomenal rate.

Nothing came out the other side. The Petraw was gone.

The subsonic hum of the magnetomotive made Kirk's head pound.

Tasm was staring down at a handheld communicator, rigid in concentration. "Anx made it! He's next to the shield generators."

The unseen Petraw exclaimed, "The gateway is functional! I'll inform the matriarchs at once."

Tasm tapped into the communicator. "I'm ordering Anx back. We'll try a long-range test this time. Keep the magnetomotive on full standby."

Her underling acknowledged, pride in his voice. They should be proud of themselves, Kirk thought. They now possessed a weapon of unbelievable strength.

Kirk was determined to make this work for him. The gateway offered him the chance to cross those troublesome forty thousand light-years in an instant. But he couldn't allow the Petraw to keep the gateway. The responsibility would be his if they used the gateway to harm others.

Tasm went to the base of the magnetomotive, disappearing from view. Kirk carefully withdrew to the back of the scaffolding, where he could no longer see the guard.

Luz seemed goaded to dreams of glory. "How are we going to get everyone out of here?" she whispered.

"We'll have to create a diversion." Kirk reached into the top of his boot to retrieve his broken communicator.

The sarium krellide power cell was too small to cause much damage if he made it overload. But there must be something he could do in a neighboring chamber that would draw Tasm out. It would have to last long enough for the gateway to read his mind and cut through the light-years between him and home - Luz tried to snatch the communicator from his hand. "What are you doing?"

Kirk managed to hang on to it, but the broken cover flew off the hinge, arching down and falling sixty meters. Both of them drew back as far as they could before it hit bottom, uselessly trying to hide in the shadows.

"Now who's the idiot?" Kirk shot at Luz.

"You were going to sabotage the gateway - "

"You've just proven my point."

Gritting his teeth, Kirk hoped the cover wouldn't make too much noise on the rock floor. But it bounced erratically, hitting corners and edges, before spinning slowly into a stop.

The movement caught the defender's attention. He instantly alerted the other Petraw in the room with a loud shout.

Kirk wanted to push Luz off the scaffolding. Only someone who thought they were smarter than everyone else could do something so lame-brained.

He tried a strategic retreat as the defender went to inspect what had fallen. He made it to the next scaffolding tower while Luz was still inching over the catwalk, but it didn't take long for the defender to light up the entire tower and detect them both. Kirk couldn't see any way to escape with Petraw climbing up the scaffolding on either side of him. With visions of the chasm dancing before his eyes, he slowly climbed down to the floor.

Luz was dragged from the scaffolding as well, and in the shrieking melee she caused trying to break free, Kirk made a dash for the arch. All he could think about was the misty terrace next to the commandant's office at Starfleet Academy, overlooking the glorious arch of the antiquated Golden Gate Bridge. He could almost taste the salty ocean air, he wanted it so badly.

But Tasm stepped between him and the archway, stopping him short by pointing his own phaser at him. One look in her eyes and he could see Tasm even through her dissolved face. "Don't move, Kirk, or I'll put you away for good."

Chapter 4

Kirk froze. "You'd use my own phaser on me, Tasm?"

She was as coldhearted as Kirk always believed. "Yes."

Kirk kept his hands out. "It's set to kill."

"I know."

She didn't flinch, and he didn't doubt she would fire if he made a threatening move. He did nod toward the distinctive blue cylinder that was mounted on a large computer unit. It was sitting next to the magnetomotive. "The gateway doesn't belong to you."

"Now it does. I earned it."

Kirk couldn't see anything left of the woman he had kissed in the Kalandan station. Her unformed features were softened and flattened like the other Petraw. Except for her eyes, fierce with Tasm determination.

The big Petraw defenders weren't taking any chances this time. With each of his arms held by a defender, Kirk was marched out of the experimental station. He cast one longing look back at the gateway. So close. He had almost made it home.

Tasm took the lead, overshadowed by the defender next to her. Kirk was half-carried, half-dragged up a long slanting corridor. As they went up, Kirk wondered if they were being taken to the exterior platform where they would be summarily tossed off the cliff to smash into the molten rock at the bottom. At least the heat would burn him to a cinder before he hit the lava.

But after going up a few levels, they began to move deeper into the complex. Kirk kept track of every turn they took, optimistically intending to use the knowledge to find his way back to the gateway. That was the spirit. He only needed to get Tasm and the defenders to cooperate by turning their backs and ignoring him for a few minutes....

They picked up more defenders along the way who seemed eager to pound him into a pulp if he so much as twitched. He wasn't sure how he knew that when they didn't say a word. Maybe it was because they all looked alike, and something about that uniformity was unnerving.

A couple of times Luz started yelling past Kirk at Tasm, venting the frustration that had been boiling inside of her for days. Kirk wasn't sure how Tasm kept her steady pace. Some of the insults about her intelligence and command abilities were enough to make him wince on her behalf. He supposed Luz wasn't counting on leniency from her commanding officer. She hadn't gotten it the first time.

They finally reached their destination. Kirk could tell by the way Tasm glared at him, cautioning, "One wrong move and I'll shoot you."

Kirk raised his hands slightly to indicate he didn't want any trouble. "You could just give me a ship and let me go right now, Tasm."

"That's for the matriarchs to decide."

Luz was panting, infuriated. She hardly looked Petraw compared to the others, with her face contorted in anger. "I saved the gateway! I brought it back."

Tasm actually smiled. "Perhaps the matriarchs will thank you before putting you away, Luz."

"You don't deserve to join them! It should be my honor..." Luz lunged against the defenders holding her, but she couldn't shake them. She swung there, a fighting slip of a woman.

Tasm didn't touch the wall, but an opening began to grow slightly larger than the others. The Petraw herded them inside. There must have been a dozen defenders around them now, along with Tasm holding the phaser.

Kirk looked up and kept on looking. They were at the bottom of a cylindrical well that rose very high into the rock, at least ten times higher than it was wide. In the very center, a long slender tube dangled down to a bulbous gold sack that nearly brushed the floor. It was shaped like a ripe pear, and swayed slightly as the air was disturbed by their entrance. Its rounded sides were shiny taut.

Looking up, Kirk saw that the surrounding walls, starting about ten meters above them, were dotted by hundreds of small protrusions. The curving wall was so dark that it took him a moment to see they were moving.

They were Petraw. At least, each one was the head, arms, and chest of a Petraw. Kirk shifted so he could see the lowest one better, and gulped. Where its legs had once been was a swollen mass that stretched wide, bulbously attaching to the lumpy, moist wall. "What is this?" he asked incredulously.

"This is the birthing chamber," Tasm said reverently. "Joining the birthing chamber is our highest honor," Luz snapped. "She doesn't deserve it!"

Tasm glared at Luz, but saved her words for those who mattered. "Beloved matriarchs, we have brought you Luz and the invader."

Kirk didn't think it was a good idea to be considered a nameless antagonist. "Matriarchs! I am James T. Kirk and I come in p - "

One of the Petraw defenders belted him in the stomach. That dropped him to his knees, and they withdrew to a watchful two paces.

Kirk coughed and choked, trying to catch his breath. Luz landed next to him, on her knees, looking up the well of matriarchs. Heads turned on the wall, and arms gestured in various attitudes of distress or condemnation.

Tasm stood next to them, with the phaser still aimed at Kirk. "Matriarchs, we found Luz and the intruder near the gateway while we were testing it."

Kirk had to put his hands to his ringing ears. Something about the well amplified their voices, but it was pure sound with no articulated words.

Gradually, there seemed to be streams of consensus within the tones, as threads of their comments rose to near-audibility. Kirk relaxed to hear what they said, much the same way he did inside the cells. He realized this was the source of the information feed in action. Luz is defective. Luz must be put away immediately. Luz's mouth opened wide. "But I'm the one who brought you the gateway! Ask him! He wouldn't have let Tasm take it. She would have lost it!"

Like an implacable river, the thoughts droned on: Luz is defective. Luz must be put away immediately. Rather than be condemned without a hearing, like Luz, Kirk lifted his hands to appeal to them. "Matriarchs, it was an accident that brought me to your world. I'm no invader! Surely we can come to an understanding - "

He could hear their rising agreement even as he spoke, buzzing through the bones of his ears. The invader must be put away. The invader must be put away immediately.

Tasm finally looked satisfied. "I knew it. I'll make sure it's done properly this time."

Kirk started to protest, but a new sentiment began rising from the matriarchs. It was filled with something like warmth of feeling.

Tasm is exemplary. Tasm will soon join us.

Kirk was nonplussed by the idea of what must happen for Tasm to be transformed and joined to the wall of the birthing chamber. She would be stuck somewhere up there among the hundreds....

Tasm took another step closer to the sack that hung in the center of the birthing chamber, raising her empty hand toward it. Her body trembled in eagerness. "The royal gel is almost ready."

That's when he understood. The polymer substructure of the Petraw complex was the living body of the matriarchs. It was one vast organism that was growing in the tunnel-riddled cliffs. This well was their brain center. The matriarchs supported their children in their own body, using their own life systems to distribute nourishment and remove the waste.

Kirk refused to let his own cultural bias affect his judgment this time. What concerned him most was the monolithic nature of these Petraw. He would never be able to admire a society that forced all individuality out of its people.

One thing was clear, there was no reasoning with these Petraw. Kirk made his decision and acted instantly.

He knocked against Tasm, grabbing for his phaser. She was so absorbed in gazing at the sac that he twisted it from her hand. The defenders leaped at him, but he bounded up the slight rise and jumped onto the hanging sac.

It swung widely. Cries rose around him, with Tasm's outraged wail the loudest The defenders hesitated, pulling back as the sac swung toward them, as if it was taboo for them to touch the royal gel. Kirk scrabbled higher up the side, feeling the tension in the full sac like it was going to burst; He got to the top. "Nobody turns my own phaser against me, Tasm."

"You can't touch the gel!" she screamed.

"Oh, no?" Kirk stamped on the bag, hanging on to the slender tube as it swayed sharply.

Tasm shrieked as the defenders gathered around the base of the sac, cutting off any avenue of escape. The waving arms of the matriarchs and the buzzing of their thoughts warned him that more defenders were being dispatched from the blocks of cells. They would be here shortly. Luz backed toward the door, seeing a chance to escape.

Kirk aimed his phaser down at the sac and fired as he jumped. It was set to kill.

A geyser burst straight up in a spray of yellow blobs of goo. Kirk was propelled higher into the air as the sac exploded in a boiling gush of sticky liquid. Tasm and the defenders were covered.

His feet slipped in the ankle-deep stuff, as he landed. But he was instantly up and heading for the door, phaser firmly in hand.

Matriarchs were protesting in shrill voices, echoing through the well. Tasm was also crying out, but it sounded like ecstasy as she flopped around on her side. The baggy coverall over her legs began to swell.

The defenders were gasping in agony, writhing on the floor. Apparently only females reacted well to the royal gel. Kirk kicked to try to dislodge the rancid stuff from his feet, but it didn't seem to be bothering him.

He reached Luz in time to pull her away from the edge of the splattered gel. Her eyes were glazed, and she was shaking with desire to dive in.

"Make your choice, Luz. I don't have time to fight you."

Her straining toward the gel eased, and her eyes focused on him. "They would kill me before they let me join the birthing chamber."

"Then let's go!"

Kirk set off down the corridor at a flat run. It would be a race to see who got to the gateway first.

When he had a moment, he adjusted the phaser setting back to stun. He wouldn't be reduced to the ruthlessness of the Petraw. But he freely stunned workers and defenders who spotted them. There was no way they would have gotten through the complex without the phaser. If they were faced with a large enough attack force, he could be overwhelmed by numbers. It depended on how long it would take the matriarchs to rally the defenders and send them down to the gateway.

Kirk stunned several more Petraw in the long corridor to the experimental stations. But there were no defenders posted at the door to the gateway room. They had been too eager to accompany them to the matriarchs.

Inside, the magnetomotive was running at full standby. Ready for the final test.

Kirk hit Tasm's assistant with a phaser beam before she could say a word.

Luz went to the cylinder and grabbed hold of it, trying to wrench it from the metal computer unit.

"No!" Kirk demanded. 'This gateway is our only way out."

Luz protested, "But I need it! No other birthing world will take me without it - "

"There's no time! It's either die here or come with me. Now."

She hesitated, glancing at the door where defenders would arrive any moment. Then she looked at the phaser held loosely in his hand. He could point it at her to force her to agree, but his innate sense of decency wouldn't allow it.

Maybe that did it, or else Luz finally saw the wisdom in his words. She went over to the controls of the magnetomotive and adjusted the dials. "There. It's ready to go."

Kirk went to the gateway. The image of the terrace overlooking Starfleet Academy was bright in his mind's eye. But his hands were busy with the phaser. He clicked it to level ten, then set the energy feed wide open. It was the same way the Kalandan defense computer had overloaded his phaser back on the station. A whine quickly began to grow as the power cell cycled faster.

"What are you doing?" Luz demanded. "You can't - "

"I'm keeping them from following us."

He took a deep breath and concentrated on the terrace. Voices were coming from the corridor outside as the moist flagstones appeared. The cloud-filled sky loomed over the craggy hills of San Francisco. It was just as Kirk remembered.

Without another thought, he pushed Luz through the gateway. It blinded him for a moment as she stumbled over the threshold. Then the light faded while she fell onto the flagstones, looking around in surprise as if she could no longer see him.

Several Petraw burst into the room and rounded the magnetomotive. As Kirk jumped through the gateway, he flung the overloading phaser sideways, directly into the gap of the magnets where the flux crossed.

The flash as he passed through the gateway was brighter than he remembered, but this time the light didn't stun him. He looked back as the Petraw running toward him were caught in the explosion of the phaser. It broke the delicate hold of the suspension units, and the magnets began to crash to the ground, falling directly toward the gateway.

A push of air seemed to propel him through the gateway faster than his own momentum.

The last thing he saw, the walls of the chamber shuddered and began to fall. It disintegrated, taking everything in it down into the chasm and the molten rock below.

Kirk's heart was pounding in reaction, feeling as if he were also sliding to certain death. But the flagstones were firm under his hands, and he could hear Luz's gasping cries. They were on the terrace overlooking Starfleet Academy, forty thousand light-years from the destruction of the gateway.

It was done. He had buried the gateway in the fiery heart of the planet. And he had managed to return home at the same time. He couldn't stop grinning. "Welcome to Earth!"

Commodore Enwright and the other Starfleet officials eventually let Luz go after she and Kirk were fully debriefed. She didn't know much more than Kirk had already figured out during his visit to the Petraw birthing world. Luz claimed that it was against Petraw laws when Tasm had made them pose as Kalandans to steal the gateway. Kirk didn't believe a word of her testimony, knowing that Luz would say whatever it took to get her way. But Starfleet was satisfied.

On the last day, when the Enterprise was finally due to enter orbit, Kirk went to say good-bye to Luz at the orbital space station.

She was subdued to suddenly find herself alone without any of her people. Kirk hadn't heard a word about how stupid they were since they had passed through the gateway.

"Do you plan to try to return to the Petraw?" he asked. "It's a long way back."

"No," Luz said flatly. "The Petraw would never accept me. I'm heading out on my own now."

Kirk was sure she would be fine. After all, she had almost succeeded in getting everything she wanted. "The Alpha Quadrant is a remarkable place. It may offer more opportunities than you think." Kirk had to shake his head. "There's a lot to admire in your people, but I don't see how their totalitarian regime could satisfy your needs."

She looked at him oddly. "You never did understand the Petraw, did you? Our unity is what makes us magnificent."

"You violated that unity," Kirk pointed out.

Luz finally smiled. "Well you heard the matriarchs. I'm defective."

"Lucky for me."

Luz gazed out the observation window, looking toward the core of the galaxy. "But the other Petraw are strong. And they're coming, I know it. We haven't seen the last of my people yet."






































******
STAR TREK CHALLENGER
EXODUS
Diane Carey

The free dancer was dying. Its enormous lunglike body inflated one final time, but not enough. The creature wailed as its microbrain struggled to remember the path to the skies.

Where would it land?

Alarms rang through the city trails. Despite the danger, steel shutters clanked open on the north side of many domed huts. Brutish winds scraped by, unable to get a grip on the oystershell domes. Slowly the giant descended from the biohaze in a shroud of parasitic life-forms. The parasites puffed outward from the free dancer and raced upward to the stormy atmosphere, their abandonment clear proof of the animal's doom. The free dancer twisted its long tendrils of shock floss upward as if beseeching its little riders to come back.

When they didn't, the free dancer almost seemed to understand. It gave off a last sad crackle, buckled like an accordion bellows, and quite sharply dropped the last fifty feet to the ground.

Tanggg! Tang-tang! Tangggg - shutters closed all over the quarter, just in time. The harsh sound echoed and continued longer than any reasonable echo, into the city, onto the plain, to the mountains, and rang there awhile.

Like a cattleprod touching flesh, the planet came up to meet the dying free dancer with a sharp slap. At the first inch of contact the creature heaved, then flattened to the trail's surface and there gushed out its life. Electric-blue neon crackles engulfed the corpse in a violent cocoon.

Again Nick Keller found himself reminded of old newsreels - the crash of the dirigible Hindenburg - a giant lung collapsing into a single great mercurial transfer of matter to energy, as all the animal's stored power shot directly into the planet.

What a waste.

"Close the shutter! You'll be burned by the blast wave!"

"I need to see it."

Raw energy strobed between the huts. The uncontrolled natural death of a free dancer could take a hundred people with it in a population complex, or go without witness on some distant open tundra.

The whole planet was a tundra. A metal tundra. Soot on silver on pearl on ingot, with leaden shadows and pewter hills. The only natural life was in the skies, and it came down only to die.

This animal grounded on the outskirts of the City of the Living, the oldest settlement on the planet, a cluster of knobby buildings and dome huts secured with pylons rooted twenty feet into the planet's mantel. Out there, in the "suburbs," were six or seven scattered huts out by themselves. As Keller watched in morbid fascination, the free dancer flattened right on top of one of the huts. The energy transferred back into the planet, and an instant later the blast wave blew through the city with a single deafening bark.

The echo bonged like a big doorbell. Blinding disruption blossomed across the open terrain.

Keller let the heavy iron shutter drop closed just in time, and ducked. The dome thundered around him.

When the shaking subsided, he bolted to his feet and grabbed his tricorder. "Come on! It landed on a hut!" "Keller, why do you do these things?" He didn't wait. Braxan would follow him. She always did.

Heat from the dead free dancer radiated through the metallic streets and buildings with a vibrating thrum of harp strings. Though he felt the heat, he was protected by the chain-mail sheath over his own clothes and his tightly woven mail footwear.

The primary structural shape in the Living city was a dome. The city looked like a huddle of shellacked mollusks. They were built by inflating a free dancer's float gland, then spraying a composite - which Keller's tricorder analyzed as some chemical soup that hardened when mixed, along with a bunch of unreadable adulterants - over the balloon frame. The result was, on average, a six-hundred-ton house. The curvature could absorb hundreds of pounds' pressure per square centimeter, which the weather frequently tested.

Otherwise, there were a few towers and a few large storage facilities. That's all.

The free dancer's dropping on a house with its shut-open caused an implosive charge. Curiosity had gotten the better of somebody. The people inside had made a bad bet - a free dancer could die a half mile away, then in its final convulsion flip over and land right on some poor slob's head.

Could've been me. Next time maybe I'll close the shutter. It's just such a sight!

The carcass was now a huge pile of placemat-sized ashes crudely recalling the shape of the dead animal, thickened by the spilled and stir-fried contents of its guts - hundreds of pounds of candleflies, now cooked to a paste. Keller plowed right into the mess. Giant black flakes blew out of his way, then began to clog around his knees as he went deeper into the fried remains. His feet were gummed up in the candlefly paste. Behind him, hundreds of people swarmed out of the domes to watch. A few helped push the cooked flakes away from the imploded dome, but most held back.

As he pushed through the hesitant people, Keller cast a glance behind for Braxan.

She was there, right behind him. Her narrow shoulders shifted back and forth under the shimmering foil tunic she wore. What it would be on the other side of the gateway, he had no idea. Here, everything was silver, ferrous, bullion, and plate. The planet was one big ingot, hammered, pocked, or polished by constant storms. Some unknown inner force had formed jagged inorganic mountain peaks in the distance, but Keller's tricorder offered only basic statistics and couldn't read beneath the planet's surface. Like a pet dog in a strange house, it didn't act very happy here.

Braxan stayed with him until he began climbing the dome's ash-entombed ruins.

"Hold this!" He handed her his tricorder just before climbing out of arm's reach.

"When will you understand?" she warned. "They've been Anointed!"

"Don't be silly. Come up and help me."

"I shouldn't."

He glanced around for someone who might help and spotted two of their neighbors, a pair of brothers. "Donnastal! Serren! Climb up here! Help me pry this thing open."

The two teenaged boys looked around at the others, scouting for disapprovals. Excitement got the better of them. They broke with traditions and swam through the ashes toward Keller, who was now about ten feet up on the crumpled dome, straddling the nearest shutter.

The shutter wasn't latched, but only bent by the force of the free dancer's frying-pan act. The hinges were crimped.

"Ready ... three ... two ... haul!"

Though his hands weren't strong enough, his foot behind the shutter and the two boys pulling on the sides did the trick.

Donnastal and Serren were young, but on Metalworld a teenager was a mighty commodity. Serren was wiry and Donnastal, though only sixteen, was built like a shuttle-craft. Against all the precepts and rules of their planet, these boys would take chances and do what the stranger ordered. Keller wasn't beyond making use of a little teenager hero worship.

The iron shutter rasped a god-awful honk and bared the glassless window. Keller swung around on his hip and dropped into the hole.

Inside he dug through what was left of the house and came up with three people right under the shutter - one unconscious, one moaning, one dead. The shutter was a 'light. Probably they'd been sleeping and hadn't heard the alarms in time. Any minute they'd be crushed by the weight of the shifting rubble. The Living called it destiny, fate, random order. Keller didn't buy it.

He got the moaning woman up on his shoulder and called, "Donny, reach down! Pull these people out and hand them to Serren. Good boys."

He hoped they wouldn't hesitate. The Living carried fatalism too far. An unintelligible mutter of protests squabbled outside, but Donnastal appeared over his head and reached down. One by one, the victims were hoisted out of Keller's arms and into the open.

"Braxan, hand down my tricorder. Can you hear me?"

The instrument had a terrible time operating on this side of the gateway. Half the readings were scatterbrained and silly. He'd learned to take notice of sick blips that otherwise he would ignore and to expect huge skips in data. The terrible moment came when the instrument figured out what he wanted it to do, and reported, clearly, nothing.

Keller turned off the tricorder. He leaned back against one of the bent steel braces and closed his eyes. No one else buried under this jagged, electrocuted mess ... around him, the ruined dome structure groaned. Metal scratching against more metal. Unsupported, it would soon collapse under the very weight of its own materials.

Metal and more metal and more. For the first six weeks he'd hardly slept a wink from the weirdness of the noise. Simple footsteps made the ring of chains. A falling tool made not a thump or bonk, but a jannnngggggg. He was living on a giant tuning fork.

No wonder these people dreamed of trees and moss.

What about Challenger? What were his shipmates His words disturbed the people around them. Braxan noticed, even more than Keller did, or a least cared more.

"Get your Grid mats," she said. "Spread the word for all hunters to meet at the Feast plain."

The people broke up and hurried back into the city to prepare for the hunt. Ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring - their chain-mail moccasins were like jinglebells anyway. Vibrations couldn't be muffled here.

Braxan was uneasy giving the order to hunt, or any order. It wasn't in her nature. She reminded Keller some of himself when he had been suddenly spun into charge of a ship in crisis and a colony in trouble, without the people he had come to depend upon. She was alone too, without family. Braxan had lost all her relatives in the last few hunts, a group of people who hadn't been blessed with many children. Most women Braxan's age had a half-dozen children. Braxan had none. Apparently the luck of the draw.

So Braxan was alone, except for the injured traveler she had nursed back to health.

This would be the fifth hunt since Keller came through the gateway and crashed the spinner out on the plain. Through weeks of Keller's recovery, Braxan had provided both nursing and information. She had wanted to go through the gateway more than either Riutta or Luntee, and for that reason she had stayed - one of those old-order quirks of caution.

"When you appeared in one of our spinners," she said, "we didn't know what kind of being you were or why you came. You told us we must use our stored energy to power more ships, to cross over before the gateway closes ... that it is still time to go. Still, there are many fears to this."

"Braxan, you have to keep believing." He clasped her arms and bothered to look deeply into her eyes, hoping she would find the truth in there. "This side doesn't want people. It never did. On the big scale of time, eleven thousand years isn't that long. The time of the Living is running out on this big ball bearing. Lightning, rain, ice - on the other side of the gateway you can do more than just survive. You can grow. You won't have to give up thousands of people to the hunts. It's better there. It wants life."

"I believe it's wonderful," she said. "I believe you. We'll keep storing energy, and keep trying to convince Kymelis. If her voice is with us, then we'll all go."

He smiled at her, but not because she was telling him what he wanted to hear. She wasn't the youngest nymph on the planet or the prettiest, but he liked looking at her. Her harsh features - a sharp nose, thin eyebrows, high cheekbones, thin lips, and a chin that came to a dimpled point - were offset by worshipful eyes like two balls of hematite in a setting of platinum skin. She was a very simple person, content with small comforts and controlled hopes, yet she had warmed to Keller's tales of life on the other side in a way that made him feel valuable.

Though she had no unique talents or wisdom or skills, she was special because she had survived more hunts than all but two others of her people. That made her the third Elder, the one Riutta and Luntee had left behind. After so long with no word from Riutta and Luntee, the Living had accepted two new elders. Braxan was now in a new triumvirate of leaders for the Living.

There were Braxan, a one-eyed woman named Kymelis, and a man named Issull, in that order of seniority. Braxan wanted to go through the gateway. Issull intended to go through, but didn't think this was the time. Since there was trouble in space on the other side, perhaps another ten thousand years of preparation was needed.

The middle Elder, one-eyed Cyclops, hadn't made up her mind about what random order "wanted."

Three elders - a leadership in turmoil. One for Keller's way, one against, and one vacillating. Kymelis knew hers was the swing vote, but also didn't know whether to trust Keller, a stranger who had soared through the gateway after the signal from the Anointed was silenced. Was Keller the one who had stopped the signal? What had happened to the Anointed? These many troubled months hadn't been smooth skating for Keller or his message of welcome from the other side.

Of course, one key factor was that Issull did want to go through the gateway, as all their histories planned, but he didn't think this was the time. That meant he could eventually be convinced. Keller only needed two Elders to go his way.

'Time's running out," he murmured, more to himself than Braxan. "If my multiplication's right, it's been almost thirty hours on the other side. They can't hold the gateway open much longer."

"I think you'll prevail," she said quietly. "My people listen to you."

"Well, the Living don't waste. I'm a stranger, but I've got special knowledge and skills. They can't ignore me ... it's not exactly the same as listening."

"You are a champion of many here, especially the young ones like Donnastal. He defies everything for you."

"Mmm ... that's because I'm the suave foreign substitute teacher. What I am is the focus of conflict really."

"Our first leader, Ennengand, meant for us to go through. We have invested generations in this. I still believe."

"But is Nick Keller the messenger?" he asked. "OF Cyclops isn't sure."

Braxan's glossy eyes regarded him warmly as he came out of his thoughts. 'There are some who say you treat me gently for the sake of influence. So I'll go with you."

"Hey, hey ... don't blame the messenger." Keller grinned, caught her hand, and pulled her up close. In a cold world, she was his only warmth and therefore all the more precious. "You always wanted to go to the other side. I didn't change your mind, did I?"

"Random order sent you to us to tell us it's time to leave. Why would you be here otherwise?" Like a silver bell on a cord she swung in his arms, and appreciated him with her eyes.

"I'm glad you've survived," he murmured, "even if you have to bear the burdens of an Elder." Usually he tried not to be so candid. But for this moment, would a little selfishness hurt? "How do you stay so nice in a place like this? You don't even realize how much death breathes on this place, do you? It'll always be a subsistence living here. If more resources appear, the population expands just enough to make it subsistence again."

"We have enough to survive," she said.

"You have metal. Nothing else. No help from others, no neighbors in space, no way to make medicine ... you live on candleflies and legends of better places. People are afraid to form relationships, children are pushed away by their parents, nobody dares to care too hard... there's complete insecurity. You lose everybody you love, or they lose you. The only thing in my culture's history, the only parallel I can think of... is the Black Plague."

"You always speak of other colors," she said, steering him away from his morbid subject. "We have darkest dark, this 'black' you've shown me. I like to hear about the others. Red and green. Cobalt and pumpkin ... very exotic names."

"They're exotic." He twiddled his fingers through her coppery hair. "Not quite as exotic as you, I don't think." With his eyes out of focus he hugged her and gazed at the silver dome over their heads. "I wish I could remember... sometimes I dream in colors ... but I'm afraid I might be forgetting what they really look like. Seems to have been an awful long time..."

"Time - " She pulled away, her shiny eyes bright. "It's time for the hunt. I have to be there."

"I know." He sighed. "You, me, coupla hundred other hunters, and my trusty tricorder."

She smiled. "Again you'll take it onto the plain?"

"I have to reset it just before the capture. You know that."

"You reset at the last hunt, and the one before, and before that."

"Oh, I s'pose," he mumbled as he palmed the instrument. "Clears the head ... electrical interference is my hobby now. I can compare certain electrical readings. Y'know - research. Data acquisition. Fun with numbers."

"On our world there is not enough electricity for you already?"

"Hon, on your world there's enough electricity for dang near everybody, dang near everywhere. If we could box it - "

He stopped himself, held back from telling her too much. These people had survived in an impossible place by holding to some kind of purpose. Civilizations had been doing that for a long time, but this one took the method to an extreme. Keller knew he had to work within their system. They wouldn't accept too much rebellion.

"Stand right in front of me. Let me use you for - "

"A sensor anchor," she completed. "I know. You will 'read' me now, and you will 'read' yourself on the plain, and later compare the information. I shall stand better than anyone ever has stood."

She squared her shoulders, spread her hands out, drew a deep breath and closed her eyes, still smiling. Her hands, less a little finger on each, were slim and feminine. Even the bitterness of evolution and of life on this rugged world hadn't taken the girl out of this girl. She didn't have much of a figure, but the simple foil sheath made an enchanting envelope.

"Mmm, you're good at standing," Keller commented wryly. He finished scanning her and turned the tricorder on himself for a quick sweep. "Ought to do it..." Braxan pressed her hands to her gold-leaf pixie-cut hair. Her hair looked brassy to him here. What it would if look like on the other side - he had no way to guess. All he knew was that her smile was friendly, her heart forgiving and unsuspicious in a place of inclement legend, and she had started to look pretty to him.

"I wish I could have you give the commands." She sank against him, pressing her chin to his shoulder. "Why would random order select such as me to be made an Elder?"

"When we go to the other side, you can be whatever you want. There's no 'random order' there. You can be lots of different things. All at once, if you want." He gazed at her. "What do you want?"

It was like asking a cloistered novice to describe Mardi Gras. Her lashless eyes tightened with the mystery he put before her.

"I would like to see trees," she said.

"We have trees on Belle Terre. We're sowing sod too. Grass. I think you'll take to grass between your little stubby toes down there."

She smiled, but he had awakened a cautious streak. "Does color hurt?" she asked.

Her innocence filled him with a whole new kind of responsibility. Cupping her neck, his own hands were a bizarre computer-generated pearly texture instead of their normal shade of Santa Fe. Everything here seemed artificially animated. He'd almost forgotten what a human really looked like or the kind of world he and all life like him was meant to occupy. Was some inner part of him expecting to be trapped here?

He slid his hands down her shoulder blades and solemnly promised, "Color is one of the best things."

"Hunt! The hunt!" Cries from the streets shook them out of their private moment. Local heralds were running through the streets, summoning all those qualified to hunt. The same thing would be happening in the other settlements.

Keller looked up and sighed. What a shame - a free dancer had just landed here, but all its energy was lost. Hundreds of people would soon die a horrific electrical death to tempt down more free dancers in a controlled environment, so one could be killed and its energy taken into storage.

"It's time to hunt" Braxan said, and pressed back, breaking their quiet communion.

"Right," he acceded. "Let's buckle on our swash and participate in chivalry at its weirdest."

The hunt plain was nothing more than miles of ferrous flats, brushed to a dull sheen by wind and storms constantly battering this planet. Lightning flashed overhead and the skies growled. The biohaze, a shroud of primordial life surviving in the atmosphere, flickered and swam and tumbled.

There were twenty thousand people or so on this planet, by Keller's best reckoning. The low number was a sad clue. According to the "old records' there had once been upward of a hundred thousand, all descendants of the crews and passengers of those first two ships to pass through the gateway, one Blood, one Kauld.

Nature was intolerant here. The planet couldn't support a population. The Living were more devolving than evolving. Families had fewer children, even though they produced as many as they could. Women dutifully produced babies their entire adult lives, by several men, to keep genetics from singularizing. They had developed an Eskimo-like manner of cooperative tribal structure, to be sure children were cared for if their adult relatives didn't survive the hunts, and to make sure nonhunting families were fed. There was food sharing and a strict hierarchy of distribution, the top of which involved the families of people who had been "chosen" in the hunt. Perfect, to the dreamer's eye.

Reality was far less kind. Several times, the histories told, this system had broken down. Communalism would support only the very smallest of communities.

This inhospitable planet was a test case. When there proved no other way, communalism's answer had been to make the community smaller, not bigger.

They survived, but didn't thrive. Starvation, competition, failure. Generation after generation, the pattern repeated itself. The population surge to five hundred thousand had only happened once, and like a flare quickly collapsed. Now they were on their way to another wave of harsh limitation. Their numbers were shrinking. The metal planet would never let them flourish. It didn't want them.

So they clung to their legend about going home. It was their single enduring plan. They wanted to go. They planned to go. Unless they were "chosen" in the hunt of a free dancer or "Anointed" - killed by accident or illness - they worked toward the goal of eventually leaving this tin pot.

The plan's most recent leg had been a mighty monumental one - to take thousands of Anointed home, then send a signal for the rest of the people to follow. That signal had never come. Instead, quite another signal had been sent. The Anointed had been summoned down from their pedestals all at once, not by destiny but by Nick Keller in his determination to save his side of the gateway first.

Taking the unexpected "destruction" of the Anointed as a message, the Living had hunkered down once more to the business of collecting energy from the free dancers, but this time with the idea of another ten thousand years of work before trying again. They had used up almost all their stored energy to open the gateway and hold it open, then power Riutta's spinner fleet. They had to hustle now, hunt more and more often, to gather enough energy to go on surviving. But Keller had come. He wanted them to use their new power stores in a different way - to go through the gateway en masse, as they had originally planned.

He was the only one who knew the clock was ticking to a much nearer alarm. Challenger and the grave ship could hold the gateway open only a few hours on their side, more than a year on this side.

A year... sounded long, but wasn't. The Living had been waiting years on this side for Riutta and Luntee to send a summons, then instead received a cutoff. They supposed the Anointed had met with tragedy in space. After hundreds of generations, nothing had come of this. They had accepted two new Elders, along with the one left behind, and they had begun again. More than half of these people would die in a stepped-up schedule of hunts, to provide enough energy for the other half to keep existing on this brittle ferrous ball.

What could Keller do? Send a pigeon through the gateway and tell Shucorion to throw another dead guy on the fire?

The gateway was still open. He clung to that.

He clamped his lips on his thoughts as he and Braxan worked side by side, along with hundreds of hunters from all the settlements, to fit woven gum segments into place and seal the seams. The heavy mats, woven with patterns and messages and tributes, would prevent a grounding. Ironically, the mats protected the free dancers from the planet, but didn't protect the Living from the free dancers. The Living had learned long ago that they had to let the free dancers ... well, there was no nice way to say it... let them feed.

Rather quickly, the mats were puzzled together into a gigantic circle of a size perfect for its task, big enough that the free dancers would be able to sense the Living crowded upon it, but not so big that the Living couldn't race for the edges when the time was right. Keller had seen four other hunts and had participated in three. A more ghastly spectacle he had never witnessed.

He got a shudder up his arms as he remembered, and fully realized again what was coming. Hundreds of healthy innocent men and women would strip down to their birthday suits and plunge out onto the plain, then wait for the free dancer herd to "see" them - whatever that meant - and come to the trough. Against all instinct, the Living had learned to simply stand there and be "chosen" in an electrical feeding frenzy that defied description.

The mental pictures alone turned Keller's stomach. The people would stand with their faces up, fear clearly shown, as the monsters came down, and wait for the Elders to decide the free dancers had eaten enough that they would return next time. Finally, the scramble back to the perimeter while the slaughter went on ... desperate hunters would pull on their silky chain-mail tunics so they would be protected from the pyrotechnics, snatch up their arc spikes, pulpers, clamps, nets, and race back to harvest one free dancer for the reservoir of energy and the gizzard full of candleflies it provided.

Not exactly Home on the Range.

Overhead, enormous shapes painted shadows upon the hunt plain. Heat blew downward from the skies, a sure sign that the free dancers were clustering above. A fine hail of ice particles bitterly pummeled the back of Keller's neck, his head and arms, as he worked on the gum mats, so hard that he fell to both knees. His hands were cold, but as much from the inside as the outside. Courageous people would be dying soon, and horribly.

But not him, and not Braxan. He needed to live, and he needed her to live - "Look!"

"What is it?" someone shouted.

"A spinner!"

Keller raised his hand to shield his face from the ice particles and scanned the ugly sky. Beside him, Braxan hunched her shoulders and turned her unprotected face upward.

In the sky a tiny dot grew quickly larger, a bug-shaped metallic vessel with forward mandibles and a bulbous stern. A spinner from Riutta's fleet on the other side of the gateway - and quite literally the last thing Keller expected to see.

Who was piloting it? Was someone bringing a message for him? Had Riutta abandoned the gateway? Had one of the Living crew broken away? A hammer blow of worry hit him.

To a planet that hadn't entertained a visitor in ten thousand-plus years suddenly came the second visitor in a matter of months. Things were changing here - a harbinger now landed upon the plain, a much better touchdown than Keller had managed when he came through.

"Uh-oh ..." he uttered. "This can't be helpful."

"Perhaps it's one of your friends," Braxan suggested.

"Bet it ain't."

At first Keller didn't recognize the man who stepped from the spinner. The smooth silvery skin and dark eyes threw him off. On the other side of the gateway, the skin of the Living revealed its mottled pattern and their eyes were - different.

"It's Luntee, alive!" Braxan chirped, pushing on Keller's shoulder. "This will put to rest the idea that you may not have been honest with us! There were rumors that Riutta and Luntee had died on the other side!"

"They're fine," Keller hoarsely confirmed. "I told you they were fine ..."

He found his feet and pushed his way through the crowd of hunters. They knew him and were curious, so eagerly they parted before him and Braxan, until he was face-to-face with Luntee.

Though they both appeared like Halloween versions of themselves, they recognized each other.

"Couldn't take it, huh?" Keller flatly asked.

Luntee squared off with him, unsurprised and obviously prepared. "You don't belong here. We don't belong Outside. We should never have gone."

Aware of the hundreds of people staring at them like a swarm of bees waiting for a flower to open, Keller held himself in check and went for information.

"What's the status on the other side?"

"They think you're dead," Luntee announced. "Almost all the Anointed are gone. Time is running out."

Keller held up a hand. "We've been getting ready. We've been storing energy to power the transport ships. All the Living will be able to go through the gateway and settle in the Sagittarius Cluster."

Braxan appeared beside him, almost between him and Luntee. "The plan is troubled now."

He looked at her. "Why?"

She and Luntee watched each other as lightning flashed on their faces. "Luntee has returned to us and he is an Elder. There can only be three Elders. Luntee is senior to Issull. Issull is no longer Elder. Luntee's voice will now be heard with the voice of Kymelis."

She might've been trying to be kind or cautious, but everyone here knew what she meant.

The matter broadcast itself when Luntee spoke up again. "We will not go through," he declared. "We will destroy all the transporting vessels and we will live here, as we are meant."

"Meant?" Angry, Keller flopped his arms. "Nobody's 'meant' to live on this pie plate! There's no natural life here at all!" He turned to the crowd and implored, "The gateway is still open. That's a clear message. My friends and Riutta are holding it open. They're still waiting for us!"

Luntee held up his hand and pointed to the skies. "It remains open because his friends are forcing Riutta to push Anointed after Anointed into the processor! Wasted!"

Keller spun back. "Don't talk like that. They're not being wasted. They're saving you, all of you, all you people, if you'll just go through. Riutta knows that now - "

"Riutta is ill in the mind!" Luntee gasped. "You made her weak. The Anointed are almost gone. The gateway is soon and forever to close!"

"And you didn't want to be trapped on the other side," Keller accused. "Why not? Tell your people the truth. You couldn't adapt. You didn't like it over there, you found it uncomfortable, and you like being an Elder. Riutta wanted you to spend your life in space and you can't stand the idea. Here, you're a big fish in a small pond." His finger leveled at Luntee's chest, at the chain-mail shut he couldn't punch with a phaser. "At least admit that this is about you, and not about your people."

Braxan started to say something, then looked at Keller and asked, "What's a fish?"

"What's a pond?" Luntee asked, but in a mocking way. "I hate it there. I'm saving my people - "

"You're saving yourself. You won't take the time to adjust or let us help you. Did Riutta know you were escaping back through the gateway?" Keller plowed on, "Or did you break away on your own? I'm surprised Shucorion didn't knock you out of the sky."

Luntee's expression turned hard. "They think you're dead! Take the spinner! Go away from us and put their fears to peace! And leave us alone!"

"That's exactly what you'll be," Keller said. "Alone." The crowd was nervous, doubtful, and suddenly scared. Their fear crackled as clearly as the electrical frenzy high in the sky, and just as palpable. Push!

"You like that, don't you?" he pressed on, and actually stepped closer to Luntee, to put the focus where he wanted it. "The difference between you and all these other people is that you want to stay here. Everybody else is debating when to go through. You don't want to go at all. Tell them the truth."

"I speak truths," Luntee said. "I know how long you've been here. We have enough to go, but only if all our energy is used. Is this not also true?"

Keller started to speak, but all he could do was agree. Better not to do that.

Luntee took the silence as a cue. "If we go to space and the gateway closes before we go through, then we all die. All our energy will be used up. We'll freeze and starve by thousands. We have a fresh store of energy, to be used in powerful vessels to go through the gateway to that place of horrors, or to be used to make life better here. More heat, more building, new ways to hunt - "

Feeling his influence slip, Keller took care to keep desperation out of his tone of voice. "But most of the Living want to go through the gateway, as Ennengand intended. Isn't that true? Braxan, isn't it true?"

Her eyes were solemn, communicating to him that his argument was pointless now. "There are three Elders," she said. "If Kymelis decides to stay - "

"The old rules are too old," he argued. "Three people shouldn't be making decisions for tens of thousands of others - not this kind of decision. All of your people - each person has the right to decide whether or not to go."

"No one knows how to make this kind of choice."

"I do!" He turned and met the eyes of as many individuals as he could. "I surely do. This place is appalling. The best you can ever do here is make life barely bearable. Your legends came down of a wondrous place polluted by people who struck off into space. Okay, I'll tell you the truth - things aren't perfect on my side. It's not all wonderful, but it's mostly wonderful. The other things - we're working on all of it. You folks, you're right to stop looking for simple ways to live. You have a spectacular technology here, your metallurgy and your free dancers, and how you've learned to use them ... what a gift! You could improve life for billions of people, and you won't have to suffer anymore. You can be warm and have food - no more hunts, no more orphans - growing, breathing planets, flowers and grass and color - think of it and brace up!"

He paused, and watched the crowd. They were like a pack of gray wolves staring down a deer that wouldn't run. They had all the power and possibility, but didn't know what to do.

"Keller speaks with the voice of Ennengand," Braxan defended. "We should go through. I have always said it and I'm very smart."

He glanced at her, charmed by her ability to find a joke at these kinds of moments. Suddenly he felt stronger.

"The Elders speak with separate voices," Luntee reminded. "If no two Elders agree, then random order will declare which voice shall be final."

"Hold it," Keller snapped. "What's that mean?" His own question gave him a shiver.

Lowering her chin, Braxan watched Luntee cannily. "It means there must be a hunt decision."

A rumbling ball hardened in Keller's stomach. "What's a hunt decision?"

"Watch the biohaze! When the first free dancer descends, all hunters will retreat except for the two challengers. One will be chosen. The other, the voice left behind, is meant to be heard."

Luntee, who had been reserved, skittish, and overwhelmed on the other side of the gateway, boldly addressed the gathering of hunters - numbers well into the hundreds. He spoke up sharply, and something about the acoustics of this metallic world carried his voice almost to the horizon. Keller had found that out the hard way.

Since all the hunters were gathered anyway and there were free dancers in the sky, the hunt decision would happen here and now. Just as well, wasn't it? To get all this over with? No time to think twice?

The judge would be Cyclops - Kymelis - the impartial Elder. Impartial? Vacillating, really. She was a stocky woman with many children, her right eye and right ear destroyed in some hunt catastrophe. Whether or not she coveted control or just accepted it was a mystery. Since becoming an Elder involved nothing more than surviving more hunts than any but two others, there was no political parrying or ambition in play. Being an Elder, status-wise, was nothing more than jury duty or a rotating chairmanship, except that big decisions were made for big numbers by these entirely random leaders.

Of course, until very recently, the decisions hadn't been so very big.

Kymelis was also dangerously superstitious. She was waiting for a "sign" that this was the right time to abandon their ridiculous planet.

As if there hadn't been enough signs lately! Belle Terre Trail, Blood Junction, Crossover Crossing, Keller Corners - "What if both die?" Keller asked. "If both are chosen?"

"Then neither is meant to be heard," Kymelis explained. Her bulky shoulders changed shades with the violent storms overhead as the free dancer herd noticed the hunt plain and began to gather. "There will be two new Elders."

"Wait - wait a minute. What do you mean by 'two new Elders'? If I'm chosen, Braxan still - "

"You will not be on the hunt plain. Braxan will be."

"This is between Luntee and me!"

"You're not an Elder," Luntee said. "Braxan is the dissenting Elder."

"Yeah, but you're not taking her out there."

"Yes."

"No. This is between you and me."

Luntee shrugged. "Braxan is your voice. A hunt decision is made with Elders."

"There's got to be something better," Keller insisted, "something involving me. I should be able to stand for my own purpose and take my chances."

Around them the hundreds of hunters shifted and bobbed with anxious curiosity. None dared cheer his words or even speak up, though he saw cheers in many eyes. Rules were rules and a lenient crowd wouldn't change them, but the effect wasn't lost on any of the three Elders. After all, if none of these people wanted to go through the gateway, there wouldn't be a problem, would there?

Kymelis's remaining eye shifted back and forth, as if scanning the old records and laws and rules and their details.

How could such a crowd be so quiet? It was like being watched by owls in the night woods.

"She can select a surrogate," Kymelis concluded.

Keller went up on his toes. "Great! Perfect - " He swung to Braxan. "Pick me. Come on, hurry up. I'm right here."

She looked at him, at Kymelis and Luntee, and back at Keller.

"Come on," he urged, twitching like a kid. "Let's go.

Pick me."

"I can't," she murmured. "You are the next Ennengand. You'll find a way."

"But if you - if you're chosen, Luntee's side wins!"

She gazed at him with miserable adoration. "And if you are chosen, there will be no one strong to speak for going. I'm not strong enough to lead. Whatever happens, you must remain to lead the Living. I will stand on the plain."

So she did believe in him. Too much.

"Braxan will go onto the hunt plain for the decision," Kymelis judged.

"No - oh, no!" Keller's head started to pound on the inside and down the back of his neck. He pushed forward toward Luntee and might've hit him - he might have - except Donnastal and Serren held him back.

Maybe they were smart. Maybe there was some little law about hitting an Elder.

What about insulting one?

"You're devious, Luntee," he tempted. "All right, you don't like me - fine. You want me to pay - that's fine too, but don't make me pay with her life!"

"These are our laws." Something had stabilized in Luntee's voice. He sounded much more confident than he had on the other side of the gateway. "You have come here and must live within - "

"I will," Keller blurted, "if you go out there with me, not with her. Let me be my own voice!"

A light came on in Luntee's eyes. "Very well," he complied. "You will be on the hunt plain."

Why had that gone so well?

Braxan shook her head frantically, suddenly overtaken by a new horror. Why?

A groan rose in Keller's throat. "What a low-down trick."

Eminently satisfied, Luntee spoke again to him, clearly enough to be heard well around.

"You, Nikelor, will go out as my surrogate. Braxan will represent the voice to go. You will represent me and the voice to stay. Random order will decide which voice remains to be heard, as it has for five hundred generations."

Keller fought his own inner arguments and tried to add up the situation. If Braxan lived, her "voice" remained and Ennengand's ideal of going through the gateway would prevail. But Luntee could easily muddy the waters, play on Kymelis's doubts, and make the clock run out. He could stall enough to let the last Anointed go into the processor and the gateway to finally close, locking the Living to their fate on this side. Braxan wasn't the type to fight him hard enough.

In fact, Luntee had Keller better than even Luntee realized. Keller had only his one ace, his big secret. He could arrange for one or the other to survive on the Feast Grid. He could do it artificially.

Now what? Admit to these brave hunters that he'd been hedging his bets, immunizing himself and Braxan with tricorder scans? Tell them how different the energy acted on either side of the gateway? Just as the grave ship's power wouldn't read in conventional sensors, the tricorder acted differently, and had different effects.

Cheating ... His own actions left as bad a taste in his mouth as the scans did in the free dancers', but he had a lot to stay alive for. If he didn't influence them, didn't complete his mission, these people would stay here, would probably shuffle along for a few more generations trapped in this hellish place, and probably die off. Without Keller, there would be no one to speak for going to the other side, right now, while they had the chance, while the gateway was still open.

He had to at least appear to be playing by their rules. He had to participate in their society, or they wouldn't respect him.

Now he couldn't even play his one ace. If he did, the free dancer would descend, but wouldn't choose either him or Braxan. He could save both their lives. Then what? Another hunt decision? And another one, until random order was satisfied?

Or if random order defied a choice, then the Elders would decide. By now Keller knew Kymelis well enough - she wouldn't decide. She would want to wait for a sign or a clue that would never come. Luntee would win, because time would run out.

A sly glint lit in Luntee's eyes as he watched Keller. On the other side of the gateway Luntee had seemed a minor player, hesitant and unclever, hovering on the sidelines as Riutta made the decisions. On this side, all that changed. He was not only playing the laws, but daring to make hunches about his adversary and doing it with the rocky nerve of a riverboat gambler. If Braxan were chosen and Keller lived, representing Luntee, then Luntee's voice was meant to be heard. Luntee's trick was flawless. It left Keller no good way out, no way to win.

The wind tore at Keller, at them all. The sky began to crackle and grow lower. Giant shadows moved across the grid mats.

"All I have to do is throw myself before the free dancer, and Braxan's voice remains," Keller announced. "I swear to do that, Luntee," he vowed. "I won't let your voice be heard."

A singular moan swelled through the crowd at this shocking declaration. Approval... shock... everything. He had to push.

He'd guessed right - nobody had ever said such a thing among the Living. He was glad to shock them. He needed their respect. All of the people here, and on the other side of the gateway.

His hand was on his tricorder, but he dared not use it now.

Around him, Luntee, Braxan, and Kymelis a sea of hunters rounded their shoulders against the bitter wind, their soft link shirts ablaze with reflected lights from overhead.

So the free dancers would decide. Except that the tricorder would have more influence. Braxan was already immunized. Keller hadn't done himself yet.

And now, he wouldn't. Braxan had to live. Luntee's voice couldn't be allowed to prevail. Keller would stand on the hunt plain, and take his chance the hard way. No tricks.

"Crackle!" one of the hunters called. "There's crackle above! We have descent!"

The hunt plain turned gunmetal gray under snaggle-toothed sparking from overhead as a blizzard of candle-flies panicked and shifted in giant tides. The free dancers had begun scooping them up, causing the bio-haze to boil. A sense of imminence crawled over every shoulder.

"Descending!"

The cry was picked up and transferred through the hunters all across the plain. It rang like an echo.

Overhead, the first free dancer released its heat and floated down toward the Grid to take its meal. Above it came others, also sensing the crowd of hunters.

Nick Keller's fingers were stiff with cold, his neck stiff, teeth gritted, legs aching. The hunt was a perfectly nightmarish experience, both physically and mentally. Everything hurt.

Around them, the hunters began to scatter, to fill out the Feast Grid in the way determined by centuries of desperate efficiency, the best way for the dirigibles above to spot them and be tempted down. Billions of candleflies caused a sparkling cloud to fog the Feast Grid.

With his mind racked at the probabilities - dying out here right now, for one - Keller moved away from Braxan. When they were alone on the field, when the free dancer came for him, he didn't want to be anywhere near her. Strobe lightning and candlefly fog damned his vision. The nearest free dancer must almost be down!

He closed his eyes and stripped the tricorder strap off his shoulder. His fingers were cold, slow. Fear balled up in his stomach. He hadn't bet on this as his last act, but it would have to write its own poetry later. Maybe he'd be a legend someday, like Ennengand.

Suddenly he stumbled and fell to one knee, yanked hard by a force on his left arm. His tricorder flew from his hand, its strap raking his arm as he grabbed for it.

"Hey - hey!"

He twisted, still on his knee, off balance. Over him, Luntee was aiming the tricorder directly at him.

"Hey!" Keller shouted. He lunged, but fell short.

The tricorder chirrupped and set up the electrical interference, with its short-range focus aimed at Keller. A few seconds ... the deed was done.

Now he would never be chosen! He would give the free dancers a burning mouth.

Too far away to change anything or know what to do, Braxan called through the curtain of panicking candle-flies. "Keller! What are you doing! The free dancer is descending!"

With a shove Keller vaulted to his feet, knotted his fists, and would've struck Luntee if they had been two paces closer. "How'd you know? How could you possibly know about that?"

Luntee held the tricorder as casually as a Starfleet yeoman. Somehow he seemed to regret what he was being forced to do. "I have lived here a lifetime. Energy is our tonic. Now I've been to the Outside and I know all things behave in strange dances."

He dumped the tricorder on the mats, turned, and raced away from the center of the Feast Grid. He didn't realize Braxan was already immunized.

But now Keller was immunized too. If the free dancer chose neither of them, time would run out before another decision could be hammered into place. Luntee would still be able to keep his people here.

Pretty simple. One-dimensional, like this pewter pot they lived on.

"I'll be damned," Keller grumbled. "All right, I can play too." He turned and shouted over the noise from overhead. The free dancers were getting closer. "Kymelis! Kymelis, wait!"

In a clique of hunters, some of whom were her family, the stocky Elder squinted her one working eye at him. "More? But we have descent!"

She pointed to the sky, to the giant bulbous animals growing larger and larger.

"This decision is too important!" Keller called. "There's only one way to really be sure. Luntee will stand on the plain with Braxan and me. All three of us take our chances."

"Why should this be?" Luntee demanded. "Order has already been established!"

Keller turned to Luntee and suddenly there was no one else in the universe but these two men and their challenge. "If your voice remains, there won't be any doubts. Braxan will do what you want. I will too. That's my promise to the Living."

Through the haze of heat waves and candleflies, Kymelis and several hunters hurried back toward the center of the Grid. She was already thinking. Her one eye was crinkled with puzzlement. "What is this way of thinking?" she asked.

"Why should I stand with you?" Luntee demanded. "You are my surrogate. Braxan represents the hunt challenge. All is correct!"

"Don't be so tied to your rules that you make a big mistake." Keller peeled off his mail shirt and tossed it to Donnastal. It flushed and eddied like water between them. "I'm ready."

Luntee hunched against the flash and wind and turned to Cyclops. "I reject this! He uses our rules against us!"

"He's afraid of real random order," Keller pointed out. " Kymelis looked up at the lowest free dancer, a truly horrifying sight no matter how many times experienced. "All things come from random order," she said, and looked at Luntee. "If you're afraid, then I side with Braxan and we will go tomorrow."

Her single eye fixed on Luntee.

Rain began to pummel the confused crowd. The hunters were nervous, glancing up. Pellets of ice were melting in the heat of the first few free dancers as they came down directly over the hunt plain, long strands of electrical floss snapping like a woman's hair in the wind.

All the hunters were on the plain, with Keller, Braxan, and Luntee at dead center They had left their nonconducting mail shuts behind and thus would be unprotected from the savage tendrils of floss.

"Clear the plain!" Kymek's shout was carried dutifully through the throng, and the hunters raced for the perimeter to pull their mail shirts back on - there to stand and watch as a great decision occurred on the Grid. For a woman who had trouble making a decision, she was done with this one.

"What happened?" Braxan called. With Luntee still standing on the plain, she didn't understand the change. She was afraid - that showed clearly enough through the tides of candleflies.

"Stay there!" Keller called. "It's the three of us now!"

"Why!"

"Just stay put!"

Luntee had no choice but to stand his own ground as the first free dancer came down and the hunters flooded off the Grid. As far as anyone else knew, this was a fair fight. Only Keller and Luntee knew otherwise.

The shock floss moved toward Braxan, a maneuver which Keller had to battle in his own heart. He wanted to run and protect her, but he'd already done all he could, with his tricorder. Luntee never bothered to look at Braxan.

Of course - he must assume Keller would already have immunized her.

Yes. Of course.

The tendrils snapped around Braxan, but quickly retracted at the "taste" of her.

Luntee knew, for sure now, that he was the only vulnerable person here. "I thought you were not so brutal," he charged. "You know who is chosen now."

Just between the two of them, Keller offered a nod of understanding. "Yes. But it's your life against all these others. One person's life - one selfish person - against a whole community of lost souls."

"Then you sentence me?"

"One more death in this place?" Keller told him bitterly. "You know, it's almost a joke. That's the way it is. I'm sorry for it. I'm sorry!"

He was shouting. No choice now.

The free dancer came down, confused because a moment ago it had seen a herd of hunters and now it was searching for any at all. An easy target - but this time there was no call to ready the arc spikes, nets, pulpers, reactor clamps, or other equipment to reap a harvest of candleflies or to transfer energy from the captured free dancers. All those had been left behind, on the perimeter of the Feast Grid. Today the free dancer would descend to feed and instead be the jury in a very strange case.

Keller summoned all his resolve to stand firm while everyone else was running off the Grid. The emotional suction was overwhelming! Despite a year in this place, despite the work of the tricorder, he had to fight hard against the pressure of self-preservation.

He drew power from Braxan's determined face and narrow hunched shoulders as she stood her own ground thirty paces in front of him. His thoughts were lost under the scream of shock floss and the puffing of the giant over his head.

Several paces from him, Luntee squinted and raised his arms to shield his face, but he was doomed.

Floss snapped and sizzled around them, between them. Keller couldn't see Braxan. In his mind he knew she was immunized and that he was too, that the free dancer would taste them and bully them, but probably leave them alone and snap up Luntee into its electrical processors. Even so, instinctive terror overrode what he knew in his mind. As he gritted his teeth and tried to see Braxan, perfect panic rose in his guts and he pushed up all his resolve to keep from bolting. If nothing else, these people needed to see him not running away.

He couldn't see Braxan anymore. His only duty now was to move away from Luntee and let fate take its course. He had to live, to take these people home.

A step, another step - he began to shift sideways away from Luntee. A dozen feet over their heads, the lowest free dancer roared and screamed and flapped its floss. Tendrils slapped the Grid mats viciously.

Luntee closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and prepared to lose. But he never ran, never even attempted to protect himself or change what had been choreographed either by random order or by Keller's manipulation.

Keller ducked the tendrils and the electrical crackle and watched Luntee a couple more seconds before he finally snapped.

"Aw, hell, why aren't I rotten? Braxan, down!

Braxan!"

"Where are you!"

"Never mind! Get off the Grid! Get off! Run!"

He swung around, cupped his hands at his mouth, and shouted to the crowd on the perimeter. "Donny! Arc spike!"

Donnastal was ready. The boy seized the nearest spike, raised it to his shoulder, and heaved it like a Roman pilam. The fifteen-foot spear flew poorly, but enough to sail over Luntee's head toward Keller. In a maneuver that would've been impossible a year ago, Keller bunched up his body and propelled himself into the air. With his high hand he knocked the spike out of its path. It cartwheeled once and thumped to the mats ten feet from him.

He came down - it seemed to take a month - on one knee, and rolled until his hands made contact with the spike. The long device leaped into his grip. He hugged it, rolled again, and turned the spear-end upward. With one hand he found the bitter end, cupped it, and gave a mighty shove.

The body of a free dancer was fifty percent guts and fifty percent hot air. The long spike punched through the hide with skill honed of thousands of hunts over thousands of years. Like a fish sealer, it knew its job to perfection. Oily glue poured over Keller's hands, but he didn't stay to receive the rest of the spillage.

Rolling to his knees, he kept a grip on the end of the spike and endured the deafening whine of the injured free dancer over his head while he plunged at Luntee. He caught the other man with the point of his shoulder and drove him down. Once on top of Luntee, Keller dug his fingers into a seam between the gum mats until his fingernails scraped metal.

The planet's surface!

With all the strength in his lean and muscled arm, he hauled back on the woven gum. With the other hand he grounded the arc spike's blunt end into the now-bared spot of surface metal and rolled for his life.

A conflagration erupted over them. The gum mats coiled around him and Luntee. Keller kept rolling until the mats were tight around them both in a rubber coffin.

Crushed against him, Luntee made a strangled shout and hammered his fists against the gum.

"Stop it! Lay still! I mean lie still!"

He couldn't hear himself over the giant frying pan that sizzled around them. The free dancer was grounded. All its stored energy flashed into the planet in a single, instant, roaring display of pyrotechnics and raw voltage.

The gum mat became instantly hot. From outside the lightning flash was so bright the opalescence even penetrated the layers of woven rubber. Keller crammed his eyes shut. His skin was burning! Luntee's body jolted against him. They were frying!

Cramped tightly against him, Luntee let out a long cry of panic. His elbows tucked tight, Keller buried his face in Luntee's body and determined not to make a noise. The rubber box vibrated and jumped with them in it, slammed down, jumped again, rolled, as they were nearly cooked inside. Every hair on Keller's body stood up and spun. His back and legs tightened inside the rolled mats, trapped, yet every muscle contracted as if he were running full out.

Grounded!

What he felt on his skin, though his body, he saw as an ultimate picture of destruction in his mind. The free dancer had made direct contact with the planet - instant, complete energy transfer.

Indescribable heat had soon filled up his brain and broiled away his thoughts. Time lost meaning. He was aware only of a terrible hammering from outside, as if the rubber roll and its pathetic inhabitants were instead the head of a mallet.

The planet surged up under the great electrical bladder and sucked back what it had once given in some weird ancient trade. When the last crackle sounded, Nick Keller had stopped trying to handle the moment and simply allowed himself to be slaughtered. All the more surprise when he found himself alive.

With his aching hips he changed the balance inside the coiled mats and forced himself and Luntee to roll free. Like Cleopatra falling out of the carpet, the two men suddenly sprawled free.

Keller tried to move his legs, but his arms shifted instead. For five or ten seconds he worked to retrain his brain on the use of limbs. When he found his legs, he crawled to Luntee. Hot, alive - and not melted. The worst they each suffered was a bad sunburn.

Around them and rising several stories on one side was the cooked mess that had once been the free dancer that nearly killed them, now a mountain of blackened flakes.

"Why - why did you - " Luntee's gasp ended in a weak cough.

Keller crawled to him, pushed him flat on the still-sizzling gum, and sat on him. "Shut up a minute. Braxan! Braxan!"

She didn't answer... then, she did.

"Keller? Keller! Where are you!"

He couldn't see where she was through the flying ashes and powdery remains of billions of toasted candleflies.

"She's alive," he growled down at Luntee. "So are you, chickenhawk."

"Why?" Luntee choked. "Why would you save me?"

Possessed with sudden ferocity, Keller grinned and snarled at the same time. "Because I don't have to accept the verdict of random order. Those aren't gods in the sky. They're animals. The free dancer chose you to die, but I choose for you to live."

Luntee stared up at him. Behind the frothing hiss of the barbecued free dancer they heard the cheer and rave of the hunters who were just now coming to understand what had just happened. Donnastal was the first to appear. Braxan came behind him, her narrow face crumpled with fear. Next were Kymelis and her family, Issull and his brothers, Serren by himself, and two by two, three by three the rest of the hunters pushed through the mountain of ash and fibrous smoldering flesh until there were hundreds crowded on the melted segment.

Shaking with aftershock and satisfaction, he managed to stand up. With Donnastal on one side and Braxan on the other, he glared down at Luntee.

"Random order is finished here," he announced, without any particular force. The word would spread itself. "I'm in charge now. We don't belong here and we're not staying. Finally, blessedly, we're gonna saddle up and leave this moodless world."

Frigate Challenger, Bridge The twenty-ninth hour "This is like waiting for somebody to come out of a coma, except with every hour there's less brain activity. You know what's coming, don't you?"

"Clam up, Ring. Just clam up."

"Flirt."

"Both of you ... this is unhelpful." Shucorion didn't enjoy interrupting Ring and Bonifay in their prickled communion, or in particular conversing at all. On the main screen, a view of the grave ship and the gateway's flicker had become a torturous mock, and somehow worse than anything he had ever endured. A large statement, considering all.

Nick Keller was in a horrible place and to their nearest calculation he had been there more than a year. What could possibly take so long? Was he dead? Was he trapped?

On the sci-deck, Savannah Ring maintained constant contact with Riutta on the grave ship, monitoring the energy output to the gateway. As Shucorion watched her shoulders tighten and her body shift from foot to foot with nervousness, he realized how deeply this tragic decision dug into them all.

"We're down to the last chamber of zombies," she reported, sensing his gaze. "Any one of those corpses could nourish a power system on our side for months. But to keep that gateway open, we're pouring them in like penny candy."

She didn't look down at him, or acknowledge that he heard her.

Shucorion clasped his hands tightly, very tightly. What should he decide, and when?