  STAR TREK LOG FOUR Alan Dean
Foster "NBC'S new animated Star Trek is
. . . fascinating fare, written, produced and
executed with all the imaginative skill, the
intellectual flare and the literary level that made
Gene Roddenberry's famous old science-fiction
epic the most avidly followed program tilde
TV history . . ."
  Cecil Smith The Los Angeles Times
  FAN stVery backslash AIL FOR ALAN
DEAN FOSTER:
  "Your Star Trek Log One was a real thrill!
I enjoyed reading your stories almost as much as I
enjoyed watching the actual animated adventures.
I am anxiously awaiting Log Two."
  "Star Trek Log One was really a
tremendous book . . . from the first page I was
hooked . . . one of the best books I have ever read
. . . thank you."
  "Bravo! Magnificent! Fascinating! The
Star Trek Logs are an addition to the world of Star
Trek that deserve galaxy-wide praise!"
  "LIVE LONG AND PROSPER!"
  ALSO BY ALAN DEANS FOSTER ON
TE1Every BALLA1VT[VE BOOKS
LISI) THE TAR A IBM KRANG
BEOODHYPE ICERIGGER LUANA DARK STAR
AND STAR TREK LOG ONE STAR TREK
LOG TWO STAR TREK LOG THREE
available at your local bookstore
  STAR TREK LOG FOUR Alan Dean
Foster
  Based on the Popular Animated Series
Created by Gene Roddenberry BALLANTINE
BOOKS NEW YORK For Joann . . . of
course Copyright at were 1975 by Paramount
Pictures Corporation
  All rights reserved under tilde nt-mational and
Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
  SBN 345-24435-4-125 First Printing:
March, 1975 Cover art supplied
by Filmation Associates Printed in Canada
BALLANTINE: BOOKS A Division of Random
House, Inc. 201 Last 50th Street, New
York, N.y. 10022 Simultaneously
published by Ballantine Books, Ltd.,
Toronto, Canada
  CONTENTS PART I The Terratin Incident I
PART 11 to 97 Time Trap PART Ill hive
Tribbles, More Troubles 167
  STAR TREK LOG FOUR log of the Starship
Enterprise Stardates 5525.3-eebfcomb
Inclusive fumes T. Kirk, Capt.,
USSC, FS, ret. Commanding transcribed
by Alan Dean Foster At the Galactic
Historical Archives on S. Monicus I
stardated 6111.3
  For the Curator: JLETTER
  PART I THE TERRATIN INCIDENT
lAdaPted from a script by Paul Schneiderl The
view Kirk was studying at the moment differed little from
the one normally projected on the main screen up
on the Enterpnse's bridge. Except the
brilliant specks immersed in the sea of shifting
black were a uniform white instead of the varigated
spectrum of a normal universe. True,
the floating motes did vary in brightness and intensity,
as did the pale swirls of chalcedony-colored
nebulae that formed a backdrop for the white spheres.
But it remained a universe singularly devoid of
colon
  Kirk made a movement with his right hand and a
cascade of new stars permeated the void.
Contemplating the result, he smiled.
  Perhaps the theologians were right after all and there was some
idle omnipotent force Out There that treated the real
universe with the same studied indifference he was now
lavishing on this private one. He moved his hand
holding the instrument once more, and the tiny circular
cosmos became a maelstrom of white particles and
cream-colored cloud-shapes.
  "Come on, Arex, play something for us."
  Kirk recognized the voice of
Sub-lieutenant M'turr and glanced up from his
dreams.
  M'turr stood off in the far corner of the
Officers" Lounge. She and several of the other younger
officers 3
  4 STAR lltEK L tilde POW
  had cornered Arex and were gently pleading with him.
The Edoan navigator, like most of his kind,
preferred his own company to that of others. This was the
outgrowth of a natural shyness and strong sense of
modesty, not of any feeling of awkwardness around other
beings.
  Ordinarily, the crew respected Arex's
desire to keep to himself. Kirk wondered what would have
prompted them to intrude on the navigator in an
off-duty moment of privacy. Curiosity astir,
he moved closer to the group; and when one of the
belligerent officers moved aside, the reason for the
sudden assault on the Edoan's privacy became
obvious.
  Arex had his sessica with him, and the rest of the crew
around him were exhorting him to play. They were not being
especially courteous, but Kirk foumd it hard to be
angry.
  Arex usually played in the isolation of his cabin.
The fact that he had brought his sessica out with him was
a hint that he was half-willing to offer one of his
infrequent concerts. His sense of humility, however,
required that he be suitably harangued until he
couldn't escape without playing.
  Arex owned several of the slim, flutelike
instruments, keeping each one inits own special
  case. Certain sessicas were used for
different songs, others only on special occasions
or days of the week.
  Sipping his coffee, Kirk studied the one the
Edoan was half-consciously fingering now. It was made
of some light, ivory-colored wood that shone like fine
Meerschaum. Delicately inscribed designs
flowed like crevices in the bark of a tree along the
instrument's sides and baffles Edoan trees and
mammals and flowers the work of some master
craftsman.
  "Do play us something," Ensign Yang
implored.
  "Anything at all even improvisation," another
urged.
  "Really, my friends, I. . . ," Arex started
to protest, but his companions didn't give him time
to finish.
  "We've got you trapped, Lieutenant," an
ensign
  STAR TRE-LCan LOG FOUR 5
  wearing the insignia of the Quartermaster Department
insisted with mock warning, "and we're not letting you go
until we hear at least a one-movement Edoan
cycle." The threat was echoed enthusiastically by the
rest.
  "Well . . ." Arex spotted Kirk hovering
in the background and appealed to him. "Captain
Kirk, can you not explain to my friends that I have to be in
a certain outgoing frame of mind in order to be able
to play for others?"
  "I would, Lieutenant," Kirk said slowly,
"except I'd like to listen myself." He thought a
moment, then sigh Bested, "Why not tell them the
story about the Edoan contortionist who operated on
Earth for nine months as an incredibly successful
pickpocket until the police discovered he had a
third arm?"
  Arex hesitated, but once Kirk had mentioned the
subject, there was no way the others were going to let the
navigator go without hearing the story. So he told
it, letting the absurd, amusing tale unravel in
his lilting, sing-song tones. Then he seemed as
embarrassed as pleased by the resultant laughter.
  His nervousness abated besides, he had run out of
excuses he shifted the sessica in his hands and
moistened the curved mouthpiece. Residual
chuckles faded into respectful silence, and a
respectful hush absorbed the assembly. The
Edoan blew a couple of experimental notes,
adjusted several openings in the body of the
instrument, then paused. He appeared to be looking
at something in the distance. Even his voice changed,
growing slightly rougher, charged with something out of his
past.
  "this song," he told them, "is in the form of an
ode, in tripartite mode, and is called 'The
Farmer and the Road.""
  A recording enthusiast in the group, who seemed
to know several Edoan fold ballads, murmured
appreciatively.
  Arex set the mouthpiece firmly to lips and his
honey, rather homely face assumed an expression
at once sad and noble. He played.
  6 STAR TREK L tilde FOR
  Despite the inescapable alienness of the song, there
was no atonality or sharpness about it. What stood out
immediately was an ineffable sense of longing coupled with some
mild,
  admonishing irony. The sessica produced
long, deep tones of winsome mournfulness, rather like those of
an oboe, but having much greater range in the upper
registers.
  Arex played easily, almost indifferently. At
times he seemed to be falling asleep, then he would
suddenly waken in a burst of rapid,
calling notes. The delicate fingers shifted in
triple patterns that grew ever more complex as he
piled variation on variation on top of the basic
melodic line.
  Like the others, Kirk stood entranced and just
listened.
  Arex played for many minutes. When the last bit
of honeyed sound slipped from the multiple mouths of the
sessica, no one broke the mood with rude
applause. tilde But there were satisfied smiles
all around.
  "You liked it, then?" the Edoan asked
  hesitantly, when no one spoke. Ann
Sepopoa of Engineering nodded softly, once, for
all the listeners and asked, "More?" Arex made a
gesture of agreement, obviously pleased. Another
  moment of thought, then: was "The Song of the
Orchard-Master and the Twelve Polor Trees,"
to be sung to children as they rest on their knees,
provided they each see fit to ask, please?"
  Supple fingers commenced rapid tattoo on the
wood and Arex's head began to weave from side
to side on his thin neck. The new tune was the
emotional opposite of the one that had gone before.
Lively, catching, expressing an
  interspecies joy which soon had the little group
clapping in time, awkwardly at first but with increasing
confidence in the peculiar skipping rhythm.
  Kirk put cup to lips and became aware that he
had ignored his coffee completely during the
previous playing. It was cold now. Well, no
problem. Coffee backslash vas an especially
efficient recycler. He moved off and poured it
into the proper disposal, drew a fresh cup
  STAR TREK POUR 7
  nearby. Adding more cream and sugar, he stirred
idly, listening to the music.
  "Plays grandly, doesn't he, sir?" Kirk
looked around
  "Hello, Scotty. Yes."
  "Interestin' fellow, our Arex," Scott went
on. "You'd like to know more about him, Cap'n, but . .
. well, you know. It's not that he's standoffish, but he
dinna have the sort of personality that encourages
intimate questions."
  "You know how shy the Pdoans are, Scotty."
  "Aye, Captn." He nodded in the direction
of the concert. "It's just that to me, Arex seems more so
than most. I'll give him this, though passive he
may be, but he's the best damn
navigator in the fleet."
  "Not everyone's naturally as nos . . . curious
as you, Scotty."
  They moved to a table. Scott drew a drink of
his own, Darjeeling tea, with a touch of nutmeg. He
also picked up a hot muffin with loganberry jam
before sitting down next to Kirk.
  "You wouldn't be implyin" that Arex is normal
and that I'm hyper, Cap'n?"
  "We all know how ridiculous an assumption that
would be, Mr. Scott."
  "Aye," Scott nodded vigorously, "and if
sometimes I do seem to...." He noticed
Kirk's slight smile, responded with one of his
own. "All right, so I'm not as restrained as Arex
but then, who is, Cap'n? Except Spock, of
course."
  Kirk nodded agreement, but found himself drifting
away from the conversation. Back to the music. The vild
piping had turned positively rambunctious.
He considered the generally held opinions the crew
had regarding Arex. Shy. Introverted. Quiet.
Restrained and relaxed and inoffensive. Scott and the
rest of them would have been interested to know that Arex had not
won his commission as Lieutenant by passing a
number of exams, but in the field during a
skirmish with the ever-present Dragons testing the
Pederation borders.
  8 STAR TRBR LOG POW
  When all the officers aboard a small Federation
cruiser were killed, Ensign Arex took command.
Retreat, concealment, and then a re-engagement with the much
larger, far more powerful Klingon ship. The Klingon
ship was damaged and taken as a prize charged with
violating neutral space.
  Arex was entitled to wear three separate
decorations for bravery, under his Starfleet citation for
conspicuous valor. Kirk had seen the medals
once. Arex kept them in a plain bag at the
bottom of his personal-effects drawer in his
cabin. He kept them at all only because he was
required to wear such things to formal Stardeet
functions, events that he shunned with
  dedication. Had Kirk told anyone else on
board about the medals, the navigator would have been
embarrassed beyond recovery.
  So though Kirk thought it was unnecessary modesty on
Arex's part, he kept the secret and told no
one, not even Scott.
  Everyone had to admit that it was this
  unassuming posture which enabled the Edoans
to coexist alongside belligerent races like the
Klingons and Romu1ans and Kzinti while
  remaining in loose alliance with the Federation. The
isolation of their home world also helped. Edos was
located in the Triangulum Cluster at the very edge
of the spiral arm and was a jumping-off point for
scientific expeditions studying the great energy
barrier at the galaxy's rim. The planet was not in
the path of expansion of any of the would-be galactic
empires.
  A very long-lived people, the Edoans were able to adopt
a relaxed outlook on life. Their
civilizatian revolved around home and family rather
than around intersystem politics. Natural
neutrals, their loose alliance with the Federation was a
matter of convenience only.
  One of Kirk's fondest wishes was some day
to meet Arex's parents. He always wondered if the
remarkable things rumored about them were true....
  A harsh buzz, doubly so in contrast to the
sweetness
  STAR TREK LOG POUR 9
  of the sessica's song, broke his thoughts. One of the
lounge speakers blared.
  "Commander Scott, please contact Engineering.
Commander Scott, please contact Engineering."
  "Now what?" the chief engineer rumbled. He
took a quick bite out of the half-devoured muffin,
washed it down with a hurried draught of tea. A quick
touch of a button in the table and a small intraship
communicator appeared in front of him. He
pressed for Engineering, was rewarded with picture and
sound.
  "What is it, Gabler?"
  The voice of the second engineer reported back
from distant regions of the ship.
  "Commander? It's those extra radiation shields
again. They're still not responding properly to external
adjustment."
  "Are they goin' over into the danger zone?"
Scott asked.
  "No, sir, but there's some peculiar fluctuations
I don't recognize. They may be harmless enough,
but I wanted to know if you want us to try and set
something else up to compensate."
  Scott took a deep breath.
  "All right, Mr. Gabler. You did the right thing in
tellin' me. I'm comin' down." He flipped off
the communicator, and the little screen submerged
once more.
  "Excuse me, Cap'n, but we've been takin'
all kinds of strange stuff from outside lately,
and some of it's gettin' through the ship's shields.
I've had secondary shields rigged to protect the
anti-matter nacelle, just in case, but Hey
seem to be givin' us trouble, too."
  "Sensible," Kirk concurred. "In the region
of particulate tilde debris from an unmeasured
nova you can't tell what sort of radiations you're
likely to run through Better not take any chances with
engine shielding."
  "Aye, Cap'n." Scott downed the rest of the
muffin in one gulp, following it wim a sip of
tea. He dumped cup and plate into the table
disposal.
  "Besides," he muttered around the mouthful, "we're
gettin' close in now."
  1OSTAR TREK L tilde POW
  "All right, Scotty." Kirk rose. "I'm
going, too."
  He glanced back over a shoulder. "Anyway the
concert seems to be coming to a close. I
  recognise that crescendo. Arex is winding himself
up for a finish." The two men started for the
elevators together Kirk to go to the bridge, Scott
back to Engineering.
  "It's been a fairly standard scientific run
so far," he continued. "I don't expect we'll
run into any difficulties, Scatty."
  The chief engineer looked hopeful. "And so far
I tend to agree with you, Cap'n, except I
seem to have heard that sentiment expressed on too many
occasions before...."
  The door to the bridge slid open, and Kirk
stepped into a realm of constant but controlled
activity. As long as he had been Captain of the
Enterprise, as long as he would be, he would never
fail to feel that slight tingle of excitement as he
stepped into the control center of the great starship into the
control center of one of the most elaborate and powerful
constructs ever built and realized once more that its
simplest movements had to be duly authorized
by him, by James T. Kirk.
  Little Jimmy Kirk, whose secondary-school
physics instructor had assured him he would never
get past second year University, let alone
into Starfleet Academy. He smiled and
  wondered, as he took his seat in the command chair,
what had ever happened to that counselor.
  If the bureaucracy ran true to form, he
reflected, the man was now probably a top
economic advisor in the High Counsel.
Kirk's musings took on more immediacy as he
shifted thoughts to consider the brief discussion with engineer
Scott.
  He heard a brief hum behind him, and seconds
later Arex strolled past to take up his position
at the navigadon console minus sessica. The
  bridge of the Enterprise was now at full
strength. Overstrength, he reflected, when Dr.
McCoy suddenly appeared beside him. The good
doctor held a portable life tilde systems
piclcup aimed at him.
  STAR TREK POW I I
  "I wish you wouldn't stick that thing in my face
all the time, Bones." McCoy assumed a
put-upon expression.
  "Just the usual health checks, Jim. Considering
our position I think it's a good idea. Why does
this bother you? We're taking more radiation from outside
than the "Lizer puts out."
  "I know that, Bones, but the damn thing still makes
me nervous."
  McCoy chuckled, carefully passing the
detector over Kirk's form.
  "Why Jim, you sound like the natives who refuse
to have their pictures taken because they think the camera's
going to capture their souls."
  "Don't lecture me when I'm being obtusely
dogmatic, Bones." Kirk managed a grin.
"I'm really worrying about the chat I just had with
Scotty. We have been picking up some heavy,
unusual radiation recently and he's concerned about
its affecting the engines in some impossibly
unpredictable way."
  McCoy nodded knowingly. "That's just like Scotty,
Jim. He worries twice as much when there's no
evidence for it. A good, solid crisis hardly
bothers him at all, because he knows what the problem
is. It's the nonexistent difficulties that he
really agonizes over!" He sighed.
  "I wonder what his wife must go through when he's
home. I can picture it, I can picture it.
Can't you see him rolling over in his sleep and
muttering something like, 'Darlin", your drive
components need an overhaul and lube in the
bearings." was Kirk smiled in spite of himself,
looked over to where Spock stood at his science
station.
  "Speaking of radiations again, Mr. Spock,
let's take a look at our immediate environment."
  "Very well, Captain." Spock touched a
switch. The main viewscreen immediately came
to life. Murmurs of appreciation were heard from those
on the bridge. The Arachnae nebula had been
painted by one cataclysmic, searing stroke from a
pallette filled with ruptured atoms and
annihilated energy. A star had gone supernova and
  12 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  become a glistening memory. In so dying it had
raised in its place one of those strange nebulae
that constitute the most spectacular headstones in the
universe.
  A sprawling, fiery mass of radiant gases
and particles streaked across the screen millions of
kilometers of color, mostly electric white,
tinged throughout with iridescent shades of crimson,
azure and purple. The arms of fire were vaguely
spiderish in shape and design, hence the name.
  Kirk took time to study the fluorescent
panorama, overwhelmed for the thousandth time by the infinite
beauty and endless spool of glory the universe un
tilde vound. Returning to prosaics, he thumbed
the recorder switch set into an arm of the command
chair.
  And spoke easily. "Captain's Log, Star
Date 5525.3. We are approaching the remains
of the supernova Arachnae." He paused a moment,
  studying the scene ahead, then continued: "Initial
close-in visual observation correlates with
advance telescopic probe-pictures.
  "We are moving deeper into the nebular region
at standard observation speed. Location survey will
commence, as requested, with extensive measurements of
expansion rate and radiation levels." Another
pause, then: "Certain new types of radiation have
already been detected. At present they exist in
minute amounts and
  constitute no danger to either ship or mission.
Engineer Scott is taking precautions."
  Kirk clicked off the log recorder. That was that.
A few days traveling through the region under study
with the ship's automatic and manual monitoring
systems operating at full capacity, and then they
would be on to the next scientific station. Everything
pointed to an uneventful yet interesting cruise.
  No wonder Scotty was nervous.
  "Mr. Spock," he said casually, "what do you
think of Mr. Scott's unusual
radiations?"
  "They have been measured and recorded, and the
results are now being analyzed by the computer,
Captain. Some of the shorter
  wavelengths are indeed peculiar. But we have been
receiving them now for several hours
  STAR TRER t tilde POW 13
  and have no hint of any debilitating effects. I
cannot yet view them as a threat Mr. Scott's
precautionary actions notwithstanding."
  "Have we any indication that this radiation might
increase as we move deeper into the nebula?"
  Spock, having turned back to the computer readout
at his console, spoke while studying it. "On the
contrary, Captain, there are signs that certain
wavelengths are peaking now and, if anything, they should
decrease in strength. Arachnae is entering a cycle
of very strong emissions, but we should be long gone before
any strong bursts reach this area." He hesitated.
  "There are occasional brief bursts of a wave-form
that does exhibit extraordinary characteristics.
Extraordinary because they appear to be totally out of
synchronization with the normal pulsations of the nebular
center. These do seem to be growing stronger. But they
are still too faint and of too brief duration for
intensive analysis."
  "Keep on it, then, Mr. Spock. That's the
most interesting discovery we've made so far. Any
chance the source might be other than natural?"
  "Again, Captain, it is too early to form any
definite conclusions. But I am working on it."
  Kirk nudged another switch. "Stewart?"
  "Here, Captain," came the voice of the head of the
Enterprise's Astronomical Mapping Section.
  "What have we got on the rate of expansion?"
  "Preliminary reports only," the voice
replied evenly. "We're just now starting to receive
information in bulk. Thus far the rate appears
consistent with what we know of other nova and supernova
remnants, though it seems to be high. A good deal
higher than the Crab Nebula, for example.
Too early to say if it's anything remark- able."
  "Very good, Mr. Stewart. Let me know if
anything unusual crops up."
  "Aye, Captain."
  Kirk switched off, considered possible details
as yet unfinished and turned back towards Uhura.
"Lieu
  14 STAR TREK [00 POUR
  tenant, inform Star Base twenty-three
that we are now officially on station and commencing
reconnaissance."
  "Yes, sir." She turned full attention to her
console, edged a little to one side and gave McCoy
an irritated look. "Please, Doctor, can't
you keep that thing out of my face while I'm working?"
  "It's the only way I can effectively
monitor the condition of your exquisite eyes,
Lieutenant," McCoy replied, juggling the
medical recorder and trying to keep it in line with the
  communications offlcer's face. She continued
to move around at the console, but no more
  objections were offered for all of two minutes.
  "As you and others have repeatedly told me,
Doctor, they're in perfect condition. Now, if
you'll let me complete this call, you can then point that
thing at me all you want."
  McCoy moved away, shaking his head with an
expression of exaggerated disgust. "I wear myself out
trying to make sure everyone on this ship stays in
perfect health and what are my rewards?
Indifference, obstruction, lack of cooperation . .."
  "It is not that, Doctor," Spock suggested
helpfully, "but rather that the desire to insure our health
some" times appears to be overridden by an
exaggerated sense of what I would call the mothering
instinct."
  McCoy stopped short, looked up quickly from the
recorder's readouts.
  "Mother instinct?"
  "Your constant solicitude sometimes laps over
into an empathic condition of such a degree that it can
only be properly defined as such," the first officer
continued blandly. "If you will objectively
analyzesome of your actions, you will clearly see
that...."
  "Now just a minute. Just a doggone minute,"
McCoy began hotly. "If anyone's going to do
any analyzing of reactions here, it's...."
  Uhura broke in, "Excuse me a minute,
  Doctor." All three officers turned to face
her. "Captain, I'm getting some strange
interference on the subspace radio, evelything in the
upper registers."
  STAR TRERL tilde PO tilde 15
  "Any trouble in getting through to Starbase?"
  She shook her head, a puzzled expression on
her face. "No, Captain. I'm sure they got
the message, albeit a little fuzzily. But this
interference is ... patturned. If it's a
signal, I don't recognise it. It doesn't
conform to any known pattern, though, distress or
otherwise."
  "Can you pinpoint the source."
  "Just another moment, I think...."
  There was a long pause while the
  communications officer worked busily at her
console. Occasionally she would trade questions and answers
with Sulu or Arex.
  "There's a record of a star, with a single planet,
in the region the interference appears to be coming from,
Captain. Drone records on the system are
slight or nonexistent, but .. ." She looked
thoroughly confused.
  "There's no mention of the area producing any kind
of radio emissions. Nothing beyond the normal
electromagnetic discharge of the star itself, and it
shouldn't produce anything up in these wavelengths.
Nothing about them in either the drone records or," she
glanced away for a moment to scan another readout,
"or in standard radio-telescope surveys of that
area."
  "Step up amplification and put it on the
speakers," Kirk ordered. "Let's hear them.
Maybe it'll strike a response in
someone else."
  Uhura shrugged, looked dubious, but turned
back to her instruments and made the
  adjustments. A minute later the bridge was
inundated with a sound like a million electrified
shrimp all chattering at once. Normal star
chatter, it seemed.
  But at ordered intervals they heard a definite,
harsh, though modulated screech that pierced the standard
static with a regularity that fairly screamed
"lmelligeru tilde er
  Uhura was right when she said it corresponded to no
known broadcast signal at least, not that of any
civilise zation Kirk was familiar with. Nor
anyone else, for that matter. While they listened and
wondered, Spock worked at the computer. Great
insights were not forthcoming
  16 STAR TREK LOG POW
  "Signals appear random," he said, watching the
flow of figures and words across the readout. "There are
a number of possibilities. We may be receiving
only disjointed parts of a more complete message and that
may be why the pulsations make no sense."
  "Could it be a radio mirage?" Kirk
ventured. "There's certainly enough energy flowing
for light-years around to transfer an awfully distant
one."
  "An interesting possibility that cannot be ruled out,
Captain."
  "Radio mirage?" McCoy looked properly
blank.
  "They've been known only for a century or so,
Bones," Kirk explained. "They happen when a
broad- casting civilisation shoots signals in the
direction of a highly active electromagnetic
energy source, which then boosts and bounces them all
over the cosmos, though usually badly distorted.
Primitive radio-telescopes on Earth were
picking them up for years without ever knowing what they
really were.
  "And the high cycle of activity Arachnae is
entering would be particularly conducive to such," he
finished. "It's as good a guess as to what these
unknown pulses are as any."
  "Correction," Spock put in laconically.
"There is one identifiable word detectable in the
pattern." Kirk quieted, leaned forward slightly
and listened intently. After another minute of trying
to sort something recognisable out of the blare of noise,
he shook his head.
  "I still don't recognize anything, Mr.
Spock."
  "That is because it is in Interset code,
Captain. If you grant the fact that someone may still
be using it."
  "Interact," Uhura repeated. "A standard
deep-space communications code but one that has been
out of use for nearly two centuries. A
contradiction within a puzzle. I'm not conversant with
all the old codes, Mr. Spock. What's the
one word . . . help, hello . . . what?"
  - "It would seem to be in phonetic English,
Captain;
  but the word itself has no meaning. It may be an
archaic term. When decoded, the signal spells the
word
  T-e-r-r-a-t-i-n ...
Terratin.",
  STAR TREK POUR 17
  Kirk considered a moment. "Try your
directional red
  ceivers, cued to the code frequency being
utilized, Lieutenant. See if we can't pick
up more of that message."
  Uhura promptly returned to work at
her
  instruments. But before she could make any
readjustments the tiny screech which constituted the single
burst of interpretable energy had faded abruptly from
the speakers. Only normal star hiss was heard on
the bridge. She tried the directional pickups
anyway, in hopes of regaining that one elusive
attempt at communication if it was that but with no
luck.
  "No use, sir. It's gone completely." More
adiust- ments, then a long pause while she
studied various readouts. "I just broadcast
multiple queries in the old Interset code for
further information. No response at all to our
signals."
  Kirk turned his attention back to the science
station. "Spock, anything on that code word yet?"
  "No, Captain," the first officer replied, still
staring into his hooded viewer. "The computers show no
ancient interpretation of the word. Nor do exhaustive
scans of all variants of Interset code give
any clue to what it might mean."
  "Was it a random broadcast, Mr. Spock?
tilde radio freak, perhaps?"
  "No, sir. That signal was repeated at
least twice, on a patently non-natural
frequency . . . and possibly more often. It is
difficult to be precise considering the amount of
background
  interference."
  Kirk paused thoughtfully, the other officers
watching him, waiting. The only noise on the
bridge now was the muted hum of
  instrumentation, the steady babble of interstellar static
over the speakers.
  "Two times ... one too many for semantic
coinci- dence. It has to be of human origin,
then. Mr. Sulu," Kirk said crisply,
swiveling back to face the helm navigation console,
"lay in a course for. . . ," he hesitated
until the name of the obscure star came to him, "...
Cephenes."
  18 STAR TREK [equals POW
  "Aye, sir," Sulu acknowledged, bending over
his controls.
  That decision caused McCoy to lower his health
scanner and walk over to stare uncertainly at
Kirk.
  "Jim, you don't mean you're going to abandon the
survey mission to check out some coincidence of
stellar electronics that might or might not be part
of a twocenturies dead code? At the outside, the
most it might be is the dying gasp of some forgotten
deep-space drone probe. Meaningless stuff.
Ships run across that kind of junk all the time."
  "Maybe meaningless at the moment, Bones. But
there's no record of anyone having come across any
old F'ederation artifacts anywhere near this region.
It's well away from the historical exploration
routes. And I'd sure like to see any "old dead
probe" that can put out a traceable signal this far
from Cephenes. Must have been some probe. No, it
doesn't make sense. T'nere are other
possibilities, too, that we haven't fully
considered."
  "Such as?" McCoy challenged.
  "An intelligence someplace that somehow picked up
the Interset code and is trying to contact us." He
gave a soft shrug. "There are a host of
possibilities."
  "We've no indication that the signal if it was a
sign nal was even directed at us."
  "True enough." The Captain nodded. "I
admit it's a long shot, Bones. But if there's
even a chance of it being anytlung more. we're
bound to check it out ... even if that means deviating
from our planned course. I'm rather surprised at you.
Where's your spirit of adventure, Bones?"
  "On top of a three-centimeter microscope
slide. That's far enough off course for me, Jim."
  Kirk glanced to his right. "Mr. Spock,
continue intensive research on the word
"Terratin." Check pre-Interset codes,
too. There's always the chance the word may be a
carry-over from an earlier, more primitive version of the
code."
  "I've been doing so, sir," Spock replied.
"No signifi
  STAR TREK LOG POW
  cant historical references have been revealed as
yet. I suspect that if any do exist they are
certainly pre-Fedoration."
  Kirk looked disappointed. McCoy merely
turned away, muttering under his breath. "Waste of
time if you ask me." Hefting the health recorder,
he moved toward the helm. "Sulu, you're next."
  "I'm in perfect health, Doctor."
  "That's what they an say," McCoy countered,
"bate they show up in Sick Bay complaining of
internal pains, vomiting, headache and
irregularity and want to know why I didn't spot
something two weeks in advance of symptoms."
  "Precautionary checkups are an excellent
idea, Lieutenant Sulu," came sudden
advice from Spock's station. "It is illogical
to object to the doctor's informal checks."
  "Well, thank you, Spock," said McCoy,
surprised and pleased at support from a totally
unexpected quarter.
  "Although," the first officer continued mildly, "I
see no reason why they could not be performed with
considerably less frequency than at present."
  "I'll keep that in mind, Spock," McCoy
said, "be- cause you're next...."

  Actually, McCoy's concern for the mission was
exaggerated. They were not too far from
  Cephenes, so they could examine the source of the
mysterious signal and return to the scientific
mapping of the huge nebula with little time lost.
  20 STAR TREK L tilde POW
  Cephenes" lone planet proved to be a world of
constant upheaval. Considerably drier and somewhat
smaller than Earth, it resembled a convulsed
Mars. The atmosphere was in continual
motion, as unstable and violent as the surface.
  Sulu set a low orbit and the bridge complement
stared at the screen as one external viewer after
another provided varying closeups of the planet
below. Telescopic subviews revealed shimmering
flares of crimson and yellow, occasionally blending
into violent orange eruptions as volcanoes
belched forth the globe's insides at sporadic
intervals.
  "Cephenes One . . . and only," Sulu
reported formally.
  "Doesn't look very hospitable," McCoy
observed prosaically.
  "Mr. Spock, any information on conditions below?"
Kirk asked.
  "Our only data are from that single early drone
probe to this region, Captain, and it passed through the
system very fast. Clearly there was nothing to trigger its
automatics for a longer stay. We have no record
of anything beyond the lower life-forms existing on the
surface. Nor, indeed, mention of anything beyond a
few basic statistics."
  On the viewscreen an enormous orange-red
flare temporarily obliterated the view.
  "Two items of interest, though. The
atmosphere is high in rare gases, but breathable and
surface conditions are indicated as being
approximately normal."
  Kirk studied the screen. Another gigantic
flare tinged distant clouds with hellfire.
"Normal, hmmm? So either the probe's instrumentation
was at fault, or else these eruptions are a
fairly recent phenomenon." He looked at
once satisfied and disappointed.
  "That probably accounts for our strange
"signal."
  Natural source after all. Volcanic
eruptions can produce great bursts of short-lived
  electromagnetic discharge. I still think it's a
mighty peculiar coincidence, but it's possible.
Still, we're here. We might as well run
  STAR TREK LOG POW 21
  a more thorough survey. Keep scanners on and
recording, Mr. Sulu?"
  "Yes, sir. Anything in particular you'd like
to see on the screen?"
  "There doesn't seem to be anything particular.
No. . . ," he watched the changing images of
tectonic belligerence. "I see nothing we
haven't observed on a half-dozen
similar worlds before. We'll run an equatorial
survey. If our "signal" doesn't repeat
itself and I'm not optimistic we'll return to our
planned mission." He glanced back at
McCoy.
  "You were right, Bones. There's nothing to waste our
time on, here."
  Actually, this was not entirely so. But at that point
Kirk had seen no reason to think otherwise. Had
he utilized the starship's high-resolution scopes
on a certain area, however, he might have seen something
interesting. A particularly protected,
barren-looking valley, for example, dominated
by towering crags of black and dirty gray, some of which
were more ragged than others. Thick streams of viscous
molten rock poured down their slopes. Occasionally
a crisped-over river would crack, and harsh yellow
light would flood the jumbled cliffs and crevasses.
  A valley of utter desolation, then, no
different from dozens the Enterprise had already passed
over . . .
  From an area to the north of a portion of rugged
basalt, a beam of intense light suddenly leaped
across the valley floor. Instead of a shard of
broken, twisted stone, it struck a
hemispheric, concave dish studded with curvilinear
projections.
  The dish was camouflaged, hidden, but the polished
metal was clearly the work of something other than
nature. Seconds, and then the twisted
protuberances began to glow brightly. Slight motion
and the dish readjusted itself. From the omphalos a
powerful beam probed the ash-laden sky.
  Simultaneously, the dish generated another
beam, a twin of the one still locked on from across the
valley. It
  22 -- STAR TREK LOG POUR
  disappeared into the distance. Kilometers away,
another sky beam replied immediately. Another, and
yet again as a webwork of light sprang up across the
valley.
  Soon the blasted landscape was a bouquet of
cloudpiercing beams, all entwined in the
  atmosphere in a mysterious, purposeful
  pattern a photonic macrame.
  All the while, the lava fountains played on in
more substantial counterpoint to the sudden eruption of
light.
  Kirk relaxed and turned, bored, from the
viewscreen. He had orbited over
platonic
  landscapes before, over hell-worlds far more
spectacular than the one below. He had toured with an
Academy class through the Nix Olympica thermal
power station on Mars. No, there was nothing here to hold
them. The survey would take but a few minutes more.
  "Let me know when we've completed initial
orbit, Mr. Sulu. A single circuit should be
enough."
  "Aye, sir." Sulu studied instrument
readouts, an pounced moments later: "Coming up on
primary termination, sir."
  Involved in winding up their scan, no one
noticed the unusual frown that came slowly over
Spock's face. Nor the even more unusual
gesture that followed. He squinted. His attention was
focused on a small readout set just above the main
computer screen at the science station.
  A gently weaving line there had abruptly
produced a violent visual hiccup which sent the
line shooting on the top of the screen. Spock jabbed
a switch and the moving line froze instantly.
Another dial was gently turned and the monitoring
gauge ran the readout backwards.
  Undeniably, something had given the
scamper involved a severe jolt. A powerful
jab, as if something had kicked into it from below.
  He allowed the dial to snap all the way back.
Once again the screen showed a pattern of standard
wave disturbances, the easy Dowing line. Spock
touched another control and a still picture of the violent
distortion
  STAR TREK t tilde FOR 23
  appeared on the main screen. Isolated, but just
possibly....
  "Captain, I have registered a prodigious
wave-disturbance. An electronic impulse of
some sort has just passed through the ship."
  All hint of relaxation or lassitude gone,
Kirk sat up straight in his chair. "Type and
source?"
  "Unidentified, unknown," the science officer
replied tersely, still studying the readout "It was a
single brief burst, very sharp. If the source is still
active, it's extremely faint and diffuse.
Too much so to pinpoint while we continue orbit."
He looked away from the viewer.
  "I suggest we synchronise orbit with the
surface at the impulse reception point,
Captain, until the effects can be
analyzed. Though there is no evidence of damage."
He exchanged glances with his fellow officers.
  "Bridge reports?"
  Sulu made a quick check of the helm monitors.
"All instruments functioning. Ship's condition is
normal. All status lights green. No
damage calls from any sections."
  "Warning sensors stable," Vhura said, and Arex
added, "External scans detect nothing
abnormal, sir."
  Kirk drummed fingers on the arm of his chair. It
was a definitive rhythm which Sulu had been trying
to identify ever since he had joined the Enterprise.
Some day he would get it.
  "You're sure it passed through the ship, Mr.
Spock?"
  Spock appeared mildly miffed.
"Absolutely, Captain. A rapid burst of
an unknown type of energy. It is the apparent
generative power behind it which impels my concern."
  Kirk grunted, hit a switch on the chair
arm. "Bridge to Engineering." A wait, then,
"Scotty, we just took an energy impulse of
unknown type. How are your engines?"
  "A moment, Cap'n." A longer wait
while
  everyone on the bridge visualised Scott
hurriedly checking half a hundred lights and
gauges. The chief engineer's voice
  24 STAR TREK LOG POW
  came over the bridge as he worked the intercom
multiple.
  "Davis?" he asked, talking to an unseen
  subordinate.
  ""Chief?"
  "Any problems?"
  "Problems, Chief.? What kind of problems?"
  "Thanks, Davis .... that's what I wanted
to know." Back on the main cam, now. "Purrin"
like kittens, Captn. Why, what's going on?"
  "Probably nothing, Scotty, but keep a
close eye on your telltales just the same."
  Scott sounded confused, but willing. "Will do,
sir."
  Kirk tried a final possibility. After the
inanimate machinery, there was one other
  component that required checking.
  "Bridge to Sick Bay. Bones?"
  "Here, Jim."
  "We've just taken an unidentified
energy impulse. Any effect on the lab
animals or crew?"
  "No sudden sicknesses, if that's what you mean,
Jim. Just a second and we'll check the lab
animals. Christine?" He looked around for his
assistant.
  "Doctor?" She responded from her station.
  "Time to check the guineas."
  Leaving her station, Nurse Chapel followed
McCoy into one of the interconnecting lab rooms.
This particular chamber boasted a double thick door.
It was designed for holding both alien and domestic
life-forms, from beings the size of a horse down to new
viral strains. The present population was starship
standard, small, and quietly spectacular.
  To doctor and nurse, however, the flashy
experimental animals were everyday
  acquaintances. McCoy went nrst to the modest
aquarium.
  Nothing could look more ordinary. Small stones,
waving water plants and even a few decorative
bits of coral offered naught to tease the eye. One
had to look much closer to tee that the sole occupant
was most defnutely not
  ordinary.
  Rather like a cross between the tropical trumpet and
  STAR TREK LOG FOR 25
  angelfish of the warm Terran ocean, the single
fish was beautiful enough. What turned it from
beauteous to breath-taking was the extraordinary ring of
rainbow light that encircled it completely from top
to bottom, floating centimeters away from the body
proper.
  No one had yet figured out how the halo fish
produced its remarkable Saturnian ring. Its
brilliance shaded the phosphorescence of Terran
deep-sea dwellers into dullness.
  The importance of the tiny swimmer derived not from
its ornamental value, however, but from its touchy
disposition. At the moment it swam placidly and
healthily through its liquid abode.
  McCoy examined the fish carefully while
Chapel peered into several connecting cages fined with
small creatures, paying particular attention to the
large specimen in the far corner. The cages themselves
were worthy of note, not just for their inhabitants, but
because they were constructed entirely of black
materials. Had they been of a lifter color,
observation of any kind would be difficult if not
impossible.
  The little mammals inside were nearly
  transparent, to a far greater extent than the
albino, sometimes translucent cave dwellers of
Earth. Here was a true transparency, like fine
quartz.
  McCoy mumbled something at Chapel, and she
shook her head. He pressed the lab intercom.
  "McCoy again, Jim. Nothing in the experimental
animals indicates anything out of the ordinary has
happened. The gossamer mice show no signs of
shock, and our halo fish. . ."
  "Halo fish, Bones?"
  "We acquired them two visits ago at Star
Base Science Center. The ones that lose an
color at the least environmental shifty They're as
radiant and healthy looking as ever."
  "You sure, Bones? Isn't it possible that
something subtle could affect them without their showing any
signs?"
  "Not in these two species, Jim. But wait a
second
  26 STAR TRBR LOG FOR
  and I'll double-check." He beckoned to Chapel
and indicated the aquarium. She walked over,
rolling back one sleeve on her uniform.
  Carefully, she slipped her hand into the water just
above the slowly swimming fish. As soon as her
fingers contacted the surface, the
  multicolored ring vanished and the zebraic array
of colors on the body turned a pale white
to blend in with the white sand bottom of the tank. When
she pulled her arm from the water, both ring and colors
returned.
  "No, Jim. The animals are healthy. No
sign of any disturbance."
  "Good to hear. Thanks, Bones." He clicked
off and turned to Spock, more relieved than he cared
to show. "Your mystery wave seems harmless enough,
Spock. You may as well continue your analysis
while we conclude orbit. We'll hold here
another few minutes.
  "Mr. Arex, summarize sensor sweeps,
please."
  "Commencing condensation, sir. Condensation completed."
  "Further detail on surface conditions?"
  Arex studied his viewer, now linked to the Enters
pnses's elaborate system of computer cells.
"Sensor scans show a far more unstable surface
than the old drone probe reported, Captain.
Activity appears to be increasing almost
  exponentially. We may have arrived in time
to witness a major blowup, though we do not have enough
information to know for certain whether such a cataclysm is
cyclic or extraordinary.
  "Both eruptive and steady-flow disturbances are
present. Given the current rate of tectonic
activity, the emission of subterranean noxious
gases will render the oxy-nitrogen atmosphere
unbreathable in a few decades."
  McCoy had hurried to the bridge, curious as
to what had prompted Kirk's tense check of their
life-systems status. Now he studied the main
viewscreen and commented, "Not that it looks very inviting
right now."
  "What about composition, Mr. Arex?" Kirk
went on. Pronounced seismic activity often
brought other, more
  STAR TRFRIEND LOG Pow 27
  interesting things to a planetary surface than
poisonous gases. Heavy metals, for example.
  "Composition appears normal, Captain," the
navigator replied, turning his gaze back to the
viewer. "As far as evidence of ore-bearing formations
is concerned, I believe. . . ," his voice
changed unexpectedly, "Captain . . .
a light below. It appears to be shifting. I think.
. ."
  And then he was staggering back from his console,
clutching at his narrow face. "My eyes. . . to was
  The suddenness of the outburst had shocked everyone
into immobility . . . doubly shocked them, coming as it
had from the near-whispering Arex. Then Sulu rose
to help his friend. Grabbing at the steadying support of the
helmsman with one hand, Arex kept his other hero
over his eyes.
  Meanwhile, Spock's eyes had been affected,
too. The reason Sulu had been first to Arex's
aid was became the science officer had been stunned
by the abrupt explosion of lines on the upper screen
lines similar to the one that had so troubled him when it
first passed through the ship moments ago.
  Now the sensor in question was receiving that subtle,
powerful impulse at a steady, unwinking rate.
  "Captain," Spock said anxiously, "we are
now under a non-communications beam of some
  potency. It's ef. feels cannot..."
  "Sound red alert!" Kirk ordered before the first
officer could finish. He had no access to Arex's
viewer, no sight of Spock's gauges. But the
reaction of his navigator coupled with
Spock's sudden announcement was sufficient to tell
him something was definitely wrong.
  "Uhura... to was
  The lieutenant was moving too rapidly to obey.
Her hand shot toward the alarm switch, stopped before
she could reach it. Something froze her in her seat.
Froze Kirk in the command chair. Froze Arex and
Sulu standing together, Spock at his station froze
everyone on the Enterprise.
  Simultaneously the crew, their instruments, even
the walls of the ship flared with a pale white
luminescence.
  28 STAR TREK LOG POW
  It was as if the ship were burning in the grasp of a
cold white flame. They could hear a deep ringing
sound, like the single toll of some great ancient bell
  Scott and Gabler were discussing the repair of a
re" calcitrant section of the ship's reclamation
machinery when that awesome groan rolled
  through the ship. They stopped arguing and moving.
  In the main mess hall, hundreds of diners from the
second shift were at mid-meal when all motion
ceased and the light turned to creamy white.
  It was the same from one end of the starship to the other from
Hydroponics to Astrophysics, from rec"
reation rooms to sleeping quarters, from the salvage
hold to the synaptic study center.
  The Enterprise had been neatly pinned like a
metal butterfly on a blackboard. It hung
  enveloped in an icy radiance produced by many
beams erupting on the surface, forming an
intricate webbing around the pinioned ship a webbing
woven by the multiple dish antennae that pockmarked
the floor of a certain barren valley far below.
  Trapped in that spectral radiance, the
  Enterprise drifted for long moments. Then the
tired landscape below convulsed in a tremendous
eruption. Several of the beams vanished as
automatic antennae were thrown off their
  mounts. Others were buried by a steady
  avalanche of magmatic material.
  With its interdependent, complex pattern broken,
the rest of the beams shut down. On the Enterprise's
bridge the last reverberations of that thunderous peal died
away. There was a brief moment of uncertainty as the
ship lights flickered and finally steadied. They were
somewhat
  dimmer than normal, but showed no sign of
weakening further.
  In the absence of sound there was motion, as those
on the bridge began the comforting routine of checking first
themselves and then their instruments for internal
malfunctioning. Even Arex, still blinking away
streaks from his sensitive eyes, was back at his
station, hunting for the source of the surprise assault
on their sensed
  STAR TREK LOG POW -- 29
  A good conductor keeps an eye and ear on
tempo and rhythm but lets his players play.
Kirk waited until his people had had a little time
to sort themselves out before asking formally, "Anyone hurt
here?"
  A stream of murmured "No, sirs" came
back to him from various seats. Uhura, Sulu,
Arex, McCoy, Spock. He considered, made
one
  concerned inquiry.
  "Are you sure, Lieutenant Arex?"
  The navigator looked back over his shoulder, the
assurance of a dozen years in the fleet showing in every
syllable. "I'm quite all right now, sir. I was
only temporarily stunned, and most of that was
surprise. There appear to be no lingering effects."
  "All right, Lieutenant. Just the same," he
continued firmly, "as soon as we revert from
alert status, I want you to report to Sick
Bay for an eye check-up."
  "I was just about to order that myself, Jim," McCoy
added. He looked over at the navigator.
"You're positive there are no aftereffects,
Lieutenant? No blurring of vision, strong
retinal images?"
  "No, sir," Arex told him. "I think
evidence sup- ports it that if there were any
dangerous radiations in whatever hit me, the
scope's sensors automatically screened them out."
  "Let's hope so," the doctor muttered. Behind
him, Kirk could hear Uhura talking rapidly
over the intership com.
  "AU sections report in. Damage and
casualties. All sections report in . . .
damage and cast . ."
  Kirk had a sudden thought, caught Sulu's
attention. ""Mr. Sulu, any deviation in our
orbit?"
  "No, sir. Maintaining standard elliptical
orbit. All instruments functioning normally." He
looked back worAedly. "But we've been
operating on impulse power since that whatever it was
hit us."
  Uhura broke in before Kirk could pursue the
power situation further. "I have first damage
reports coming in, Captain."
  "Put them over the main speaker, Lieutenant."
  "Aye, sir." In a second the bridge was
fined with the
  30 STAR TRBX LOG POUR
  consecutive voices of various section chiefs,
some confused, some slightly panicked, some
admirably calm all uniform.
  "Mess section, no damage."
  "Repair section intact."
  "Cargo hold here, Captain, no damage
observed."
  And so on. Everyone had seen the white glow,
recoiled under the ringing drone, been frozen in
place. But there had not been any real damage. Not
a broken eardrum or loosened plate seam.
Odd.
  Spock glanced up from his console, spoke
quietly. "Captain, we are still receiving radiation from
the surface, but it is greatly reduced and altered.
A most peculiar type. Our deflector
shields are proving ineffective."
  Kirk nodded quickly. "We JUS-THAT had
ample demonstration of that. Let me know the second
there's any increase in the intensity, Mr.
Spock."
  "Very well, sir." Spock returned to his
instruments.
  Kirk considered. After making sure to his own
satisfaction that Arex was at least temporarily
fit, McCoy had headed back for Sick Bay.
He ought to be there any minute. Kirk pressed the
intercom switch.
  "Nurse Chapel here, sir," came the instant
reply. "The doctor . . . he's coming in now,
Captain."
  McCoy's deeper voice on the com, now.
  "Sorry, Jim. Just finishing a quick check of my
own. We've no casualties reported at all.
Arex appears to have been the only one even slightly
affected by the attack."
  "Why 'attack," Bones?" Kirk wondered.
"We've suffered no damage and no casualties.
It might have been a natural phenomenon."
  "Call it my inherent pessimism, Jim.
Anyhow, ineffectuality of method doesn't
negate intent. Though I'll admit to the chance it was
some random freak of tectonic activity.
If that's what it was. I don't suppose. .
."
  "As yet we've no idea what it was,"
Kirk told him.
  "So then it wasn't completely harmless."
  STAR TREK L tilde FOR 31
  "Not hardly," Kirk observed. "Let me know
if anyone walks in with any strange symptoms,
Bones." A light was flashing on the arm console.
"Scotty wants in. Kirk out."
  "Sick Bay out."
  McCoy flicked off the intercom and turned
to Chapel.
  "No one seems to have been injured, Christine.
Let's hope it stays that way. Meanwhile, you can
dig out the tape file on Arex for me. Also the
ophthalmological standards and charts for adult
Edoans."
  "Yes, Doctor."
  Engineer Scott turned and yelled instructions,
liberally laced with suitable comments on certain
probable ancestries, up at the four technicians
who were running on the catwalk above him. Then he
turned his attention back to the intercom as a beep
told hen it was clear.
  "Engineerin' here, Cap'n."
  "Let's have the details, Scotty. I know
we're running on impulse power. Anybody
hurt?"
  "No casualties, Cap'n," Scott
reported, breathing heavily. He had been doing
considerable shouting and running, often at the same time.
"But trouble aplenty with the engines. Every dilithium
crystal's smashed in the warp drive circuitry.
Damnedest thing I ever saw. We're trying to rig
a temporary bypass for them now."
  "The main circuits, too?" Kirk asked
incredulously.
  "What main circuits?" Scott countered
tiredly. "You have to see it to believe it, sir."
He shook his head. "The big crystals in there have
all come apart. Each of them fractured and
re-fractured and re-re-fractured along its
natural lines of cleavage until there's nothin'
left but powder. Try to imagine an elephant
steppin' on an opal, sir."
  "What about spares, Mr. Scott?"
  "I said all, sir. Even the spares. Whatever
it was took a whack at us didn't seem to much care
whether they were activated or not."
  32 STAR TRERLOG FOR
  "And the other drive components?" Kirk asked,
determined to know the worst.
  "Nothin', sir. Only what shorted out when the
activated crystals were pulverised. No problem
replacin' them. Whatever hit us was damnably
selective, Captn."
  Somewhere in Scott's report, Kirk mused as
he switched out, was the answer to the impulse beam
they'd absorbed and were still absorbing, according to Spock.
He looked across the deck, found the first offlcer
watching him.
  "Though couched in emotional terms it would appear that
Dr. McCoy's supposition may have some basis
in fact," Spock ventured. "If this is truly
a natural phenomenon, it has certainly chosen a
sensitive portion of the ship to attack. Nor have I
ever heard of dilithium crystals being affected in the
way Mr. Scott described."
  Kirk rose from his seat and started for the elevator.
Spock followed. "We haven't seen it, either,
Mr. Spock But it seems that we're going to."
  The chief engineer was waiting for them. They went to a
small open hatch, stared into one of the dilithium
holding cases for backup supplies.
  "Not only is this situation different from anythin'
I've ever seer), Captn," Scott was telling
them, "but even if I had ever imagined dilithium
breaking up, I wouldn't have visualised it happenin'
like this."
  "How so, Scotty?" Kirk asked.
  "Well, sir, I would expect them all to go at
once. Instead, whatever blasted us appears just to have
initiated the process. The crystals are still in the
act of disintegratin'. It's a steady process."
  Moments later they stood before one of the operative
grids. Scott made sure all activating
circuits were inoperative, opened the double door and
stepped back. Tiny crackling sounds, like glass
popcorn, issued from within
  Staring inside, Spock and Xirk could see
clearly what was left of one of the large dilithium
crystals that not long ago had helped power the
Interpose. It had been
  STAR TREK LOG FOR 33
  reduced to a small pebble. And what was left was
shedding tiny curlicues of itself, adding to the growing
pile of dust in the grid. The curlicues were
unique. Dilithium was the only mineral known
subject to spiral fracture.
  Kirk reached in, extracted a pinch of
red-white pow" den He studied the dust and tried
to feel optimistic. The dust mocked his best
efforts.
  "This isn't going to power a toothbrush, much less
the drive." He put the powder in Spock's
outstretched palm and turned, heading for the engineering
library. While Kirk and Scott looked on,
Spock dropped the bit of dust into a
  depression set into one console. One switch
sealed the depression; others activated the com-
puter. Instructions were given.
  "Any hope of recombining the powder into one or
two usable crystals, Mr. Scott?" Kirk
asked as they waited for the computer's verdict.
  The chief engineer shook his head. "I know what
you're thinkin', Captain, but the physicist who did
that made a one in a million combination of heat and
pressure work and he wasn't sure afterward exactly
how he'd done it. It might take us a hundred
years to grow one crystal from this powder.
  "You can't play with dilithium like modeling clay.
Too much of its peculiar potential is locked in
subatomic structures. Even if we wanted
to try it we haven't got the facilities
here.
  ""No, Cap'n. Our only hope of
gettin" out of here and back to a refuelin' station is
a recirculatin' impulse from our stored emergency
power cells what's left of it. But before we can try
that there are broken connections and linkages all over
the place that have to be fixed."
  Kirk looked thoughtful, considering their options.
"Could we possibly. . . ," but he was interrupted
by an anxious voice at the computer console.
  "Captain, this is quite unprecedented."
  For Spock to say something like that it would have
  34 STAR TREK L -- -- FOR
  to be, Kirk mused, as he and Scott moved
close to the instrumentation.
  Spock had removed the sample of powdered
dilithium from its holder and, following the directions
of the computer, placed some of it under a electronic
scope. He was peering into it now, but stepped aside
so Kirk and Scott could have a look. Kirk put
his eyes to the scope . . . and sacrificed a
breath.
  What had prompted Spock's typically
  understated comment was instantly apparent under the
brilliantly illuminated circular
field.
  Dilithium was the only metallic substance whose
molecules were arranged in helical instead of linear
or linear-variant form. Now, even as he watched,
the molecules were unwinding in
  various places, the chains spinning apart. In other
molecules the chains were winding tighter and tighter
until they broke apart, and then the fragments would
begin to unwind or tighten.
  In either case the resultant substance was no
longer active dilithium.
  This made his thin hopes of a minute ago
obsolete. Even if they did manage to stumble
across the nearmagical process for recombining
dilithium, soon there wouldn't be any honest
dilithium shards left to recombine. Almost as
remarkable was the fact that the breakdown was occurring
without a hint of subsidiary radiation. It was a
clean disintegration.
  "Fracturing is spiroform," Spock went on,
"as it has been theorised it would be. But it has
never been observed to occur in an inorganic
material like dilithium before only in similarly
built organic molecules."
  Kirk leaned back from the scope, came
down off his tiptoes. His mind was occupied by the
impossibility just observed tilde therwise he
might have noticed what he had just done. He could be
pardoned. It was the spiral structure that made
dilithium the most rigid, stable....
  STAR TREK LOG FOUR 35

  Kirk's thoughts were broken by the nearing voice of
second engineer Gabler. He spoke while walking
quickly toward them.
  "Mr. Scott, more trouble with the circuitry
clearance. It's just that...."
  "Blast," the chief engineer muttered. "What
now?" He moved to the railing, looked down across the
floor. "Now what, Mr. Gabler?"
  "It's the tools, sir," Gabler yelled back
up at them. "They're too big for us to handle."
  Several other members of the engineering section came
into view. All held up wrenches, pliers,
liquid circuit welders and sliders and
molly-pugs. All appeared awkwardly large in
their hands.
  Scott didn't know whether to be confused or
furious. If this were some kind of elaborate joke
on the part of his section, at a time like this. .
.
  "You sound like you're all of you blatherin' . . .
no, wait a minute. Let's have a look." After
what they'd just learned about dilithium molecules
fracturing, he wasn't about to deny the possibility
of anything. He moved to the nearest ladder and started
down.
  "That's an odd thing for Gabler to say," Kirk
mused. Then he found himself frowning, staring. It
seemed as if something were not quite right about Spock, all
of a sudden. Nothing
  obtrusive the first officer looked perfectly
healthy.
  Then why this sense of vague unease when he
looked at him?
  For his part, Spock's reaction- was a dulled
mirror of
  36 STAR TREK L tilde FOR
  Kirk's own. He was eyeing the captain, both
eyebrows raised, an expression he reserved for more
than idle occasions.
  Kirk's frown deepened. He gestured at the
computer console Spock was standing by,
  blinked. The light that had momentarily blinded
Arex was there some subtle variant of it at
work in the ship now?
  "Spock, are you slumping?"
  "I've never slumped in my life, Captain,"
the science officer replied with considerable dignity.
"But it is most peculiar. I was just about to ask you the
exact same. . ."
  "Security!" The violent call issued from the
open intercom. "Any security, respond!"
  Kirk rushed to the com., reached to turn it
to broadcast and had to stand on tiptoes to do it. What
was wrong with Spock, what was troubling Gabler he was
astonished at how calm he was in the face of the
dawning catastrophe. Maybe it was the fact that,
physically, he still felt fine. Or it might be
shock.
  "Kirk here. What's the trouble?"
  His steady tone apparently reassured the voice
at the other end of the line. It responded crisply,
less hysterically.
  "Mess Offlcer Briel, sir." The young
officer was clearly trying to calm herself with the captain
on the line.
  "What's going on, Briel? Speak up what's
that noise behind you?"
  "It's the second shift, sir. They're
nervous and frightened and so am I. We need psycho
  assistance in the main dining area. At least, I
think we need psycho. Maybe it's just me. Or
maybe I just..." The voice was risimg again and
Kirk's tone turned hard, sharp, no-nonsense.
  "Easy, Briel. I think I know what you're
experiencing."
  The voice was still tense, but the relief was audible.
  "You do, sir? I wish you'd tell me. Tables,
chairs, silverware everything seems to have grown
larger, too
  STAR TRERL tilde POW 37
  large to use. Women are losing their rings,
hairpins . . . everything. The people here are near
panic, Captain, and I don't know what to tell
them. I'm the ranking officer present and I. . ."
  "Do your best to quiet everyone,
Sub-lieutenant. Get up on a table if you can
still reach it and make an announcement. Tell everyone
we're passing through a distorting field phenomenon.
We don't know how far it'll reduce us, but we will
eventually return to normal. Meantime everyone is
to improvise. Tell them to use their
  imaginations."
  "Thank you, sir," came the much-eased
voice of the mess officer.. "I'll do that.
Frankly, sir, I was beginning to get more than a
little. . ."
  "Don't waste time, Briel, or you'll have your
full panic. Relay the information to Lieutenant
Uhura and instruct her for me to broadcast it throughout
the ship. Quicker dissemination that way."
  And also, he thought, the responsibility would take
the sub-lieutenant's mind off her own fears.
  "Aye, sir. Mess out."
  Kirk clicked off, noticed Spock still staring
at him.
  "Well, what are you goggling at, Spock?"
  "You lie with great facility, Captain."
  "You have this constant aberration in which you persist in
confusing diplomacy with prevarication, Spock," he
shot back. "Let's get back to the bridge.
Scotty will have to handle things by himself here."
  Having absolutely no idea what to expect,
their shock as they returned to the bridge was
magnified severalfold.
  At first glance it appeared that the Enterprise was
being manned by a group of well-drilled children. All
crew members were sitting on the fore edge of their
seats. It was the only way they could still reach
the controls. Heads swiveled as Kirk and Spock
entered.
  Uhura started in immediately. "Captain, reports
are coming in from all over the ship. The most incredible
thing is happening."
  38 STAR TRB tilde LOG POW
  "We know," he broke in. "The whole ship and
everything on board has apparently expanded."
  "An equally good possibility, Captain,"
hypothesised Spock, "is that the ship's personnel
have contracted." He moved toward his library computer
station and surveyed the abruptly oversized
surroundings thoughtfully.
  "And are probably continuing to shrink."
  A moment of shocked silence on the
  bridge somehow the idea that the Enterprise and its
inorganic components were growing larger was merely
ridiculously inconvenient, while the concept of the
crew growing smaller held
  terrifying portents.
  There was an element of grimness in Kirk's
voice that hadn't been heard in some time as he
turned to Sulu.
  "Take us out of orbit, Mr. Sulu. Take
us far out of here. Shut down all unnecessary
systems . . . everything but defense and
life-support. Draw on every ounce of remaining
impulse power. We've got to get away from this
planet."
  Sulu and Arex worked furiously at the
  helm-navigation console. Occasionally they were forced
to shift awkwardly in their seats to reach a
particularly distant control. There was a mild rising
hum as fresh power was fed to the ship's engines, then a
tense pause.
  "Mr. Spock?"
  "We're shifting position, Captain, but
slowly."
  A red light appeared on the console to the right of
Sulu's hand. He eyed it, ignored it.
  "StiMore moving, comCaptain," reported Spock
  patiently.
  Gradually, painfully, the single red light
by Sulu was joined by others. A brief hooting
whistle sounded near Arex. He slapped a hand down
on a switch and the hooting stopped..sulu gave his
companion a questioning glance. Arex bent to his hooded
viewer, studied its contents for a moment. Then he
pulled away and gazed at each of the watching,
expectant faces in turn.
  "It's no good, Captain. The engines are
completely dead."
  "Confirmed, Captain," Spock added, studying
  STAR TREK LOG FOR 39
  readouts. "We simply do not have enough
  dilithium left in the holding grids
to activate the matter-anti-matter annihilation
sequence. We retain enough emergency power to maintain
basic life and internal ship functions, but nowhere
near enough to drive the ship."
  "Not even enough for a last try?" Kirk asked
desperately.
  "It would be foolhardy, Captain. The chances are
on the order of thousands to one ... and we would surely
lose life-support."
  "Then that," Kirk murmured fatalistically,
"is that." He glanced down toward his feet, shook
his head and mumbled something Uhura strained to hear but
couldn't. Then he thumbed a well-worn switch in
the chair arm.
  "Captain's Log, 5525.4. Our attempt
to escape this world's gravity on limited power has
failed after the ship's dilithium supplies have been
wiped out. We are currently in a . . . ," he
glanced over at Arex. The navigator
hid several controls.
  Up to now the image on the main viewscreen had
been a moving panorama of the planet's glittering
surface. Now it shifted briefly to show a dull
chart of the world with a blinking red dot floating nearby the
Ens terprstse. Kirk nodded and Arex banished the
chart back to distant cells of memory. The roiling
surface picture returned.
  "dis . . low but stable elliptical orbit. Main
engines and circuitry are one hundred percent
  incapacitated." Again a look to the library
station.
  "Mr. Spock, what about that diffuse wave
bombardment?"
  Spock checked his viewer, barely able to reach it
now. "We're still receiving a light amount, Captain,
but it shows no sign of thinning further."
  "Thank you, Mr. Spock." He spoke into the
Log pickup again. "Unidentified radiation
  bombardment continues, resulting in either a
contraction of our bodies or an expansion of the ship
by a factor of. . . ," he glanced to Spock again
and the science officer held
  40 STAR TREK LOO FOUR
  up three fingers, "dis . . by a factor of
three." He switched off the recorder.
  "Lieutenant Uhura, broadcast a general
  mayday.
  "Aye, sir."
  "Lieutenant Sulu, I know how precarious
our reserve power situation is. But see if you can't
compute something that would give us a little higher orbit
without risking a fatal drain on the reserves."
  "I'll try, sir."
  "Arex," Kirk's voice remained brisk and
busi- nesslike, "give me a power reading on
all backup cells."
  As everyone on the bridge busied himself about his
immediate tasks, Kirk sat back in the command chair
... and discovered he couldn't even do that. He'd
shrunk or the ship had expanded to the point that the chair
no longer fit him easily.
  He glanced over at Spock and studied the first
officer in relationship to his surroundings. Assuming
he was right and they were contracting, they now averaged about
a meter and a third in height.
  Then he stared tensely up at the main
  viewscreen and the glowing, angry landscape brought
in close by the telephotos. Normally it would have
been enough to examine the giant volcanoes, the
lava lakes and strange movement in the burning,
tortured crust. But now he found himself straining for
sight of something more.
  His first theory that they'd been subjected to some
unexpected burst of natural radiation was being
rapidly eroded. What natural effect would hit
them for a microsecond with no discernible effect, come
back full force, and then suddenly change to a steady
low-power beaming?
  But what if Bones was right and they Severe under
attack? What kind of an enemy were they up against and
why? What could their
  tormentors want. There had been no attempt
to contact the Enterprise. The only explanation that
seemed logical was that the world below held a
low-population race living underground, per- haps that
was inherently inimical to all outsiders
  STAR TREK LOO POUR 4I
  They are other than us, therefore they are to be
destroyed was the usual rationale of such races.
  Yet how could they know that the Enterprise contained
creatures different from themselves? A problem, he
rejected, that had plagued mankind throughout much of his
own history. If they were under assault by an
intelligent civilisation, its founders must have
a philosophical orientation radically different from
the Federation's. Kirk watched the surface they
hovered over, watched it trying to tear itself to pieces,
watched and tried to visualise what kind of beings it
could support.
  What must they look like.
  Sulu's voice roused him from contemplation.
"New parameters established, sir." The
helmsman sounded pleased with himself. Considering the
miniscule amount of power he'd had to draw upon and the
effect he'd achieved with it, he had reason to be.
  "Our perigee has been raised by a
significant amount."
  Kirk made a positive gesture. At least
they didn't have to worry about losing altitude
until they crashed into the boiling crust below.
  They could sit up here and rot.
  Uhura's report was less encouraging "No
reply to our universal mayday, sir. I don't
believe we have enough power left to push a signal
to Star Base Twenty-three. And there's no reason
to expect any other ships to be in this region."
  Kirk nodded somberly. "All right. Keep
trying Lieutenant." He glanced to the library.
"Spook, anything new on the wave
bombardment we're taking?"
  The first officer looked up and shrugged slightly.
"Only that it is complex beyond anything in my
scientific experience. As a weapon it would appear
to be not only extraordinarily effective, but the
product of a devious mass mind. And yet, there
are psychological overtones that make me
wonder...."
  "It's the physical ones I'm concerned with at the
moment, Mr. Spock."
  Scott's voice came over the ship com.
  42 STAR TREK LOG FOUR
  "Engineering Captain Kirk."
  "Kirk here," he acknowledged. "How are you doing
back there, Mr. Scott?"
  The chief engineer didn't try to hide the
exhaustion in his voice. "We've replaced all
the damaged circuitry and bypassed what we can't
replace or repair."
  "Will they hold up if we have to press them,
Scotty?"
  "Well enough, Captain. That's not the
  problem. We can only run so long on impulse
power before the emergency cells go. Then it's restart
the reaction chambers or.... The well will
run dry soon enough, sir."
  "I know, Scotty. You've done what you can.
Kirk out." He considered. Somehow they had to conserve
even more power. They might have to try a last breakout,
Spock's warning
  notwithstanding Then they would need every erg the reserve
cells could muster.
  "Uhura, reduce mayday signal repetition.
One broadcast per ten-minute cycle."
  "Reduce range, too, Captain?"
  ""No." Frequency would have to do. "Maximum
signal strength for the isolated broadcasts ...
otherwise they'll be worse-than useless."
  "Yes, sir."
  "Mr. Arex, cut down on all sensor
sweeps of the planet."
  "Visual sweeps are already impossible,
  Captain," the navigator told him. He
gestured at his finder up at his finder. ""My
eyes no longer properly fit the optical
pickups."
  "And I can't reach the dial I turned five
minutes ago," added Uhura, a rising note of
alarm in her voice. She was reaching for the control in
question, stretching on tiptoe and still falling
short.
  Damnationt If they didn't shrink much more they could
cope. But if they continued to lose height?- He
had had no compunctions about having the deflector
shields turned off they had proven useless
anyway. If they couldn't break out of orbit and
remained under the influence of the mysterious radiation, would
they
  STAR TREK LOG FOUR 43
  contract to the point where they could no longer
oper-ate the controls?
  He was hunting for a miracle in a fog. What do
you do in a fog first? Stay in one place, he
reminded himself, and establish some reference points.
  He hit the intercom again. "Kirk to Sick
Bay."
  "Sick Bay," came the familiar response,
worried now. "Sick Bay . . . McCoy here,
Jim."
  "Bones, I've got to have some answers. I know
what's happening to us what I must know is how, and
why."
  "Come down to the lab, Jim. Spock too. I
was just going to call you. I may have something . . ."
  Despite the fact that they ran, Kirk
and Spock took much longer than usual to reach the
lab. Not that they moved any more awkwardly, or that
their strength was sapped, but they were now less than a
meter tall. Sheer distance was making it more time consuming
simply to get around the ship.
  McCoy had to can out before they spotted him. The
doctor was standing part way up a metal stepping
stool, necessary now if he was to reach the instruments on the
counter above. The cabinets above the counter proper were
as much out of his reach now as the planetary surface.
  He gestured at the laser scope on the counter,
then stepped down to make room for Kirk.
  Fortunately, the device had a swivel
eyepiece which could be tilted down as well as up.
Kirk glanced in, feeling uncomfortable at the
unnatural size of the scope lenspiece.
  The slide was a hybrid, two sections joined
side by side. The difference between the healthy stable
tissue and the radiation-poisoned tissue was
obvious.
  Nonetheless, McCoy explained helpfully:
"That's the test tissue I've been using on the
right, Jim. From my arm, not that it matters. The
stabilized normal tissue is on the left."
  Kirk studied the accusing slide a moment
longer before muttering, "Then Spock's theory is
confirmed." He didn't look away from the scope.
"We're contracting."
  44 STAR lllBK LOG FOW
  "No question about it, Jim. That's why our weight
remains about the same, and why we haven't gone
Boating up to the ceiling with every step. The number of
atoms remains the same. The wave bombardment is
simply causing them to tighten, reducing the diameter
of electron orbits. Just like the dilithium. Not
to the shattering point, though I guess organic
structures have more resilience. Otherwise we would
start break- ing up like glass figurines. At
least, I don't think the shrinkage will get that
extreme." He looked uncertainly to Spock.
  "Though I can't really make any assurances about
an effect that's never been observed before."
  "Agreed," the first officer said. "A most-
unique phenomenon. It is quite interesting. I should like
to study it at more leisure. . ."
  "Except that we haven't got any leisure
time left," McCoy finished grimly.
  "An accurate if not particularly scientific
description, Doctor. I believe the process
is accelerating."
  Kirk finally turned away from the depressing
evidence displayed by the scope. Obvious
  perversions of nature held a horrible
inevitability about them that no amount of rationalising
could dispelLike
  "How long could it keep on?"
  Spock stared around the lab as he reflected on
the captain's question, the lab which had assumed the
proportions of a coliseum.
  "Perhaps infinitely. Considering that the distance between
electron orbits and nuclei is relatively as
great as the distances between suns, even if the rate of
reduction continues to increase it should take some time
before we .. . disappear entirely."
  There was numbed silence in the lab.
  "Dr. McCoy."
  They turned as Nurse Chapel appeared from behind
a row of cages. "It's the experimental animals,
doctor. They're getting too small to be
contained-by some of the cages, the ones with wire mesh
walls. All the gossa
  mere are out already."
  STAR TREK tilde POW 45
  She held up one of the transparent
  quasi-rodents for them to stare at. It was
perfectly proportioned and the proper size compared to the
rest of them.
  "Look how tiny they've gotten," she went on.
"Just hke the halo fish. It's tadpole size
now." She looked back and pointed up toward the
aquarium. They could still discern the sensitive
swimmer, spectacularly colored as always, its
satellite circlet fluorescing brightly though now
it was barely the size of a finger ring.
  "And that," noted McCoy sarcastically, "is
supposed to be a creature sensitive to the tiniest
changes in environrnent." He snorted. "So much
for the confident dice tales of Starfleet Medical
Center."
  "Don't be too hard on them, Doctor,"
Spock ad- vised. "No one could have forseen our
present remarkable situation."
  McCoy took several deep breaths and eyed
Spock significantly. The science officer's
attention had been diverted elsewhere, however. He was
staring at a large band of metal which dangled from
nurse Chapel's arm. He fingered the double twist of
shiny alloy curiously.
  "Christine, what is the composition of this
decoration?"
  Chapel blinked, looked down at her arm. "It
was made for me by the Knight Smiths of Libra
IV. It's a common piece of costume
jewelry." She lowered her arm and the now greatly
oversized circle of metal slid off easily.
The arm bracelet was more like a necklace now.
  "What about it, Spock?" queried McCoy.
"I didn't know you were interested in jewelry of any
kind."
  "A moment please, Doctor. It is not its
aesthetic qualities which intrigue me at the
moment. Knight metal alloy," he repeated
cryptically. "An artificial construct. Yet the
uniform on which it rested fits as well as ever. Your
uniform, all of our uniforms, is woven from
algae-based xenylon, I believe."
  "Naturally. All regular Starfleet-issue
work uniforms are made of xenylon," McCoy
observed, still not seeing
  46 STAR TREK LOG FOUR
  what the first officer was driving at. But Kirk was
only a couple of steps behind Spock and catching up
rapidly.
  "I think I see what you mean, Spock.
They've all been shrinking proportionately
with us, so...."
  "Exactly, Captain. I would be assured my
theory is fact.. ." He was staring up at the
aquarium, suddenly started towards the table it sat
on. "One more example, I thin a
  Then he was climbing up the stool. Stretching, he
reached into the water and brought out a small piece of
floating coral which had become detached from the main
mass. He examined it briefly before nodding to the
others.
  "The animals, the living corals, have contracted
along with us and so have their organically based limestone
homes. Yet the rest of the material in the
aquarium, the rocks on the bottom, remain
unchanged and normal sized."
  "I see. So that confirms it, then only
organic matter is affected," McCoy said.
"But then how. . . ?"
  "Remember, Doctor," Spock went on,
climbing down from the stool, "the wave impulses
cause only spiral molecules to wind tight.
The only inorganic spiral molecular chains we
know of are those which form crystalline dilithium. Which
is actually analogous in structure to one we are
quite close to."
  "The doubled DNA helix in the nucleus of every
cell in our bodies," Kirk recited, echoing a
line from Academy biology. The remembrance was
small comfort. He frowned. "I suppose we ought
to consider ourselves lucky, Bones. Some of the
dilithium crystals self-destructed when their
internal structure unwound instead of contracting.
If we were subjected to the same stresses we would
all be puddles of jelly on the deck by now."
  McCoy shrugged. "It's all the same in the
end, Jim. I'm not sure that I wouldn't prefer that
to being a candidate for a flea circus."
  Kirk had a thought, hiked over to the computer con"
  STAR TRBR L tilde POW
  sole. "Bones, what happens when DNA is
compacted to its ultimate limits?"
  "I don't think the strands would break, Jim, as
Spock says." He walked over to stand next to the
Captain. "I guess they just stop winding."
  "Well then, if that's the case, we can
calculate the limits of our shrinkage. It
shouldn't be infinite."
  "It is possible," conceded Spock. "I'll
feed the question to the library."
  Kirk and McCoy wrestled with the stool
set near the scope until it was set close to the
computer console. Spock climbed up, carefully
walked out onto the sensitive keyboard. The keys
were now hand instead of thumb size. But he had no
trouble depressing them.
  "Something else that we had better calculate just
on curred to me," Kirk yelled upward. "How
long can we expect to maintain effective control
of the ship?"
  "I have considered that question also, Captain. The
computer will project a point beyond which the systems
switches and controls will be beyond our ability
to operate efficiently..
  "I might also add, Captain, that we had
better take care where and how we walk.
Remember, our weight remains approximately
the same despite our smaller size. It is
therefore concentrated on a smaller supportive
surface. It would be dangerous to walk out on a
glass surface, for example. We would tend to go
right through it.
  "It appears the calculations will take some time."
  "Stick with it, Spock. I'm going back to the
bridge."
  - "And I think I'd better make some
  preparations,
  Jim," McCoy told him. "At the rate
we're
  contracting
  there're going to be some accidents soon. Maybe
not
  quite the kind Spock is thinking of, but related."
  "Check, Bones. Spock, report the moment you
have some results."
  "Yes, Captain."
  The walk back to the bridge felt like a hike of
kilometers, even though Kirk was expecting it.
He was also expecting a new view of the bridge.
Even so, his first
  48 STAR TREK POUR
  glimpse of what had become a giant's
playground was shocking. He walked slowly toward the
towering command chair, thinking furiously. . .
  While minutes and centimeters continued to tick
away, the entire scientific complement of the
Enterprise worked overtime trying to find a way
to reverse, or at least halt the contraction that was
literally taking their mastery of the ship away from them.
  They knew the cause . . . the strange faint
radiation from the surface they could not run
away from. They could now calculate their rate of
shrinkage. But no solution offered itself. They couldn't
even identify the type of radiation.
  The intercom buzzed insistently for attention.
Kirk reached over to acknowledge the call, missed and
had to readjust his reach. His arms had grown shorter
in the last hour. That was the most frustrating aspect
of the shrinkage effect. You had to constantly readjust
your senses to a new size. A few crewmembers
were reacting so badly to the constant change they had
to be sent to McCoy for sedation.
  "Spock here, Captain," came the voice at
the other end. It was totally unreasonable to hope that the
science officer had found any miracle solutions,
but Spock had done it before.
  Unfortunately, this didn't look to be one of
those times. The report was consistent only in its
pessimism.
  "Not only does our rate of contraction show no
sign of halting, Captain, but it appears it may
continue beyond our ability to adapt to it."
  Still thinking about missing the intercom switch a moment
ago, Kirk shot back, "How long can we
anticipate retaining ship control, Mr.
Spock?"
  "I would say," the thoughtful reply went on, "that
even with our most intensive miniatunzing measures and
ability to design new compact backup systems,
we will lose effective control of this vessel at the
point when we become
  approximately one centimeter tall." There was
a pause, then, "My present height is something like
a third of a meter, Captain.
  STAR TREK LOG FOR 49
  tilde 1 am coming forward to utilise the fuller
resources of the library computer station . . . for as
long as I can continue to operate it. Spock out."
"Kirk out."
  IV
  The next hour was a hectic race against
rapidly increasing-Qdds reducing odds, actually as
the Enterprise tilde s construction engineers worked
frantically to fashion an endless stream of ingenious,
yet ultimately useless miniaturised
apparatus.
  Ladders mounted on wheels and built of metal
strips; long clamp poles and flex tubes for
manipulating simultaneous dials and switches
now far out of reach a host of intricate devices.
  It was, expectedly, a losing
battle. Eventually all operations and energies above
bare life-support maintainance were directed toward
retaining control in two sections . . . the bridge
and Engineering.
  Kirk leaned back and stared up at the cliff of the
library computer station where Spock was running back
and forth manipulating controls with tireless- energy.
But even with adroit manipulation of the new,
miniature handling tools, Kirk could see that the first
officer could not keep it up much longer.
  Eventually he would grow so small he wouldn't be
able to read the gargantuan printouts. He was
minutes from losing the ability to use the hooded
viewer.
  "You said one centimeter was the critical point,
Spock?"',
  Spock came to the edge, leaned over carefully and
shouted down, "I beg your pardon, Captain?"
  50 STAR TRERL tilde POUR
  "tilde When will we reach the critical one
  centimeter point?"
  "At the present rate of compaction I should
estimate in thirty-two minutes, Captain."
  Kirk nodded, acknowledging the inevitable, then
remembered an as yet unanswered question.
  "How small will we ultimately shrink, Mr.
Spock?"
  "One moment, Captain." Spock turned his
attention back to the instrument panel. Surveying the
angular field of levers and switches, he mapped
out a plan of attack. Starting with a red triangle
close by he hopscotched his way across the controls.
His only real worry was that his concentrated weight
might shatter them, but fortunately the high-impact
styrene remained intact.
  Seconds passed. Then a billboard-sized
series of figures appeared on the first screen in
front of him. Spock studied them briefly, then
marched back to the edge of the console. It wasn't the
kind of answer ho liked to give.
  "There is not sufficient information to calculate our
final reduction limit with any precision,
Captain. I do have a projection on the time
required for full analysis of the spiroid wave
phenomenon, though, which could lead to a solution and
method for reversing the process."
  "That's great, Spock . . . follow it up!"
  "I would, Captain, but there is one difficulty.
Dine time required for such analysis is estimated
at between seven and eight years. As we have
perhaps several hours remaining to us . . ."
  Across the vast valley of the bridge deck,
Sulu heard Spock's fatal pronouncement and
clenched his fists in helpless frustration. Sulu
turned back to the helm console on which he now
walked, the controls growing more and more difficult
to manipulate. He stared up at the main
viewscreen. It still showed the same quarter of
fractured land below them.
  This was not the way the men in his family had diedl
His ancestors would be ashamed to see one of
  STAR TREE LOG POW 51
  their blood go down without fighting, without striking
back. There had to be some way, any way. . .
  "Bypass that analysis, Mr. Spock,"
Kirk instructed his first officer. He turned,
looked over at the huge clock balanced carefully
against the base of the command chair. The clock had
  recently rested on his wrist, but like all other
inorganic material except the dilithium, his
watch had remained normal size.
  Hourscomthey didn't even have hours if the rate of
shrinkage continued to accelerate. They had twentynine
minutes. Twenty-nine minutes before they were too
small to control the Enterprise.
  Cupping his hands, he shouted to the busy cluster of
crewmen moving around on the deck.
  "Everyone continue to jury-rig control systems.
There's nothing more we can do."
  "But there is, Captain."
  As the rest of the crew continued with their tasks,
Kirk and Spock turned in the direction of the
voice, staring up at the overhanging edge of the helm
console. Sulu stood there, looking down at them.
His tone was one of desperation.
  "Sir, request permission to direct phaser
fire at the surface immediately below," he implored,
and then turned back to his own task at hand before the
captain could reply.
  Sulu shoved against a waist high needle set in
a timing dial, pushing it back several notches.
With his concentrated body weight he had no trouble
manipulating the huge lever. But his mind was on
something else.
  When no reply from below was forthcoming, he turned and
moved to the edge of the console again. "Ten seconds,
sir, just let me set it for ten seconds and we'll
destroy. . ."
  "Destroy what, Mr. Sulu? Sensor
studies have shown that the unknown waves
originate from an area kilometers in diameter.
We could assault that region for hours without
disrupting whatever is generating the bombardment of the
ship. We haven't got hours worth of power
  52 STAR TRBR LOG FOR
  to divert to the phaser banks. We haven't even
got minutes."
  Sulu stood at the bottom of the circular timer,
now clicking back along its present path, and
continued to argue with the captain.
  "What good does it do to wait like this, sir.
Wait for a death reduciio ad absurdum in the
truest sense? Just one quick blast, Captain, to see
what will happen."
  In his concentration on winning Kirk over, Sulu
had forgotten the timer completely. It clicked through the
final notch . . . to club Sulu behind the knees.
Both legs were taken out from under him.
  Falling forward, he rolled once, took a
wild, desperate grab at the edge of the console and
fell floorward. There was a disproportionately
loud thump as he hit. It sounded convincingly
fatal, but wasn't.
  "Sulu!" Kirk and Arex rushed to the injured
helmsman's side. The same gestures that
showed them he was still alive indicated he was far from
uninjured. He was clutching his right leg and grimacing
with the pain.
  "Damn .. . mmphh!"
  "Easy, Lieutenant." Kirk forced Sulu's
hands away from the damaged area. He felt the leg
gently, winced himself when he put miniscule
pressure on a particular spot and saw the
helmsman's face contort in pain.
  "Leg's broken," he murmured to the watching
Arex.
  "Call Sick Bay for a bed?"
  "No . . . the sooner we get him down there the
better. Besides, Bones doubtlessly has his hands
full already. Let's make a temporary splint."
Arex made an expression of understanding, moved off
to located the requisite material.
  "Try not to move it, Sulu. We'll have you down
to Sick Bay as soon as possible." The
helmsman tried to smile back up at him,
managed a slight grimace.
  "Good thing I fell on my head, Captain.
Beyond fracturing, I think."
  "Something about you is." Kirk was studying the deck
nearby. Sulu's heavy, compacted form had
put a noticeable dent in the smooth metal
  STAR TREE [tilde FOR 53
  "These should serve, Captain." Arex showed him a
couple of small metal strips of the kind being used
to make miniaturised holders and grips. He had
also appropriated a couple of organically based
belts from several crewmen.
  Kirk straightened the leg slowly. while Sulu
fought to stifle the pain. It couldn't be helped, they
had to get the leg straight. He set one metal
strip behind the leg, the other in front, and proceeded
to tie them tight with the belts. The thick straps were
awkward to work with.
  "Couldn't you find anything better in the way of
binding material, Lieutenant?" he grumbled.
  "I'm sorry, Captain," Arex replied.
"None of the cordage in the bridge storage
lockers would work. It is all inorganically based
and therefore has remained normal size."
  "Of course." Kirk pulled harder on the
bottom belt. Interesting how certain small
items had suddenly become indispensable and
unavailable. While others, like these belts, were
proving invaluable. He found himself fervently wishing
that, of all things, starship's stores had
included a couple of horses.
  He finished the improvised splint. With the help
of the captain and the navigator, Sulu managed
to struggle to his fe*. Arex slipped a pair of
arms under him one across his shoulders, the other across his
front and finally put the third around his waist.
Kirk added an arm to the other side.
  "Let's get him to Sick Bay." He glanced
around. A small crowd had gathered. "Everyone,
back to your stations."
  Moving as quickly as they dared, they half dragged,
half carried the injured helmsman toward the
bridge doors. They seemed kilometers away.
  "How are you doing, Sulu?" Kirk asked
  awkwardly as they struggled toward the elevator.
He was at his best giving orders, not comfort. For all
his sometime brusqueness, that was Dr. McCoy's
specialty.
  "Lousy, sir," Sulu replied, grinning
"I'll make it."
  54 STAR TREK LOG FOR
  His expression twisted as he accidentally put
pressure on the injured member.
  "It would have been nicer, sir, if our ability
to feel pain had diminished along with our
size."
  They reached the elevator doors and came to a
grinding halt. Nothing happened, even when they moved
to stand right up against the metal. The now
Brobdingnagian portal refused to open. Arex
looked frankly puzzled. It took Kirk long
seconds to recognize the reason.
  "The body sensor. We've grown too small
to activate it beam's over our heads now." He
left Sulu to Arex's support while he hunted
around for something long enough. Everything seemed too big
or too small, until he nearly tripped over
a strangely shaped piece of metal.
  It was barbed, thin, and bent in the shape of an
elongated U. . . one of Uhura's fallen
hairpins.
  Hauling it back to the doorway, he hefted it
carefully, then made a sweeping motion forward,
overhead. Nothing. Another sweep, coupled with a little
jump and this time the colossal doors slid apart.
  Slipping the hairpin over his right shoulder, ready
for use at the next doorway, he resumed his
support of Sulu. Together, he and Arex helped the
injured helms man through the door.
  Even more depressing than the situation on
the bridge was the situation in Sick Bay. Kirk
was shocked by the number of injured there, many Iying on
the deck on makeshift pallets of bits of cloth
and sponge. The fact that many of the blankets and
sheets were woven from
  natural-based substances alleviated the
problems somewhat. They'd remained in proportion to the
growing number of patients, all of whom now
averaged about eighteen centimeters in height.
  McCoy and Nurse Chapel were doing their best
to care for the injured. When the number of cases began
to grow alarmingly, he had
  distributed the rest of the medical personnel to the
various sections of the ship. That, he had decided,
would be more practical in the
  STAR TREK LOG FOR 55
  long run than trying to bring all the injured
to Sick Bay and would insure medical care
  throughout the ship no matter how small they shrank.
  And though some areas of the Enterprise were more
injury-prone than others, a large number still made
their way to Sick Bay for treatment.
  Chapel spotted the new arrivals immediately,
nudged McCoy. The doctor bestowed a reassuring
smile on a communications tech with a
shattered collarbone and went with Chapel to meet the
others.
  He directed them to lay Sulu on an empty
bed and knelt to examine the helmsman. "What
  happened? No, let me guess . . . another
falling incident people aren't taking heights seriously,
Jim."
  "Broken leg," Kirk informed him. "He fell
all right from the helm console." Turning slowly and
surveying the room, he counted the number of injured.
"I might ask you the same question."
  McCoy was bent over Sulu, moving an
  improvised miniature medical scanner over the
leg.
  "A lot more of the same, as I said. More and more
fall injuries being reported all the time." He
clipped the scanner on his belt, started to undo the
makeshift splint. "Compound fracture how did you
straighten it?"
  "Pulled," Kirk said curtly.
  "Bedside-manner-wise you leave something to be
desired, Jim. But it was the right thing to do."
  "if we could only use a bone-knitting laser,"
Chapel was muttering. At Kirk's questioning glance,
she explained, "We miniaturised all the
medical instrumentation we could, Captain, but we just
didn't have time for everything. We've been so busy."
Her expression brightened.
  "Wait a minute, Dr. McCoy, what about the
tiny laser set in the auralite? The one designed
to work on the inner ear? Could it be used for bone work?"
  McCoy looked away from his examination of the leg,
considering. "It ought to be easy enough to detach from the
'life it's a self-contained, replaceable unit.
  56 STAR TRBK [equals POW
  But bone work I don't . . . no, it's better
than splimting. At this stage anything's worth a
try."
  He looked back down at Sulu.
  "I haven't mixed a plaster cast since first
year Med School. I'd sure hate to start
relearning now even if the supplies are still
manageable." He was getting excited. "Sure,
let's try it. The 'lite's up on the shelf with the
semi-surgical supplies."
  "1911 get it," Chapel told them. She
left while the others turned their attention back
to Sulu. McCoy started to explain what would
happen if the badly broken femur were allowed
to heal by itself.
  The lab room had taken on the appearance of a
metallic replica of Zion Canyon on
Earth, with sheer cliffs of white and grey closing in
on narrowing channels. Chapel didn't need a
map to find the shelf.
  Up one of the movable stools to the table-top, from there
up the angled base of the aquarium, and then an easy
hike to the open shelf.
  Miscellaneous supplies were scattered about,
hastily removed from containers as the people had begun
to shrink. Spools of thread, small surgical
devices now the size of shuttlecraft all were
strewn haphazardly about.
  Several minutes of fruitless searching made the
nurse think McCoy had been wrong about the location
of the auralite. Then the long polished tube came
into view near the far edge of the shelf. The laser
module was in the front of the device. A couple of
simple twists on a pair of screw clamps, a
click, and it was free. She held it easily in
one hand an extraordinary piece of medical
engineering about the size of a small button.
  It had its own self-contained meters. She
stepped back to check the reserve power gauge in
better light and stumbled. Her feet
slipped onto a couple of large plastic
skin-patches, now the size of folded tents, and the
laser began to shift in her grasp. Clutching at it
anxiously, she went over backward into the
glass-sided lake of the aquarium.
  The fall knocked the breath out of her and she had
to fight for air as she swam back to the surface,
sell
  STAR TREK LOG 57
  holding the laser. At first the incident seemed
only embarrassing. The laser was well sealed and the
water wouldn't bother it. She would climb out. . .
  Only after regaining control of herself and her breathing
did the first touches of panic set in. The towering
glass sides of the aquarium proved unclimbable.
And she was far from being the best swimmer on board the
ship. She had to struggle to keep from thrashing about in the
water and screaming in panic. Instead, she treaded
water steadily and screamed at regular, controlled
intervals.
  Many of the patients in the main room were under
sedation, so it was relatively quiet. Otherwise
Kirk and the others might never have heard her.
  Arex had returned to the bridge, but Kirk and
McCoy heard the screams clearly enough.
Kirk left the exhausted doctor attending
to Sulu and ran toward the adjoining lab.
  Chapel divas already growing tired she had no
place to rest her legs and one arm had the double task
of helping to keep her afloat while holding onto
the laser when Kirk finally located her. Following
the same path upward he was soon standing on the shelf
above the aquarium, looking over and down into the water.
  He could hardly go in after her that would leave two of
them in need of rescue. Nor was there any
miniature climbing gear in evidence. There had to be
something on the shelf. . .
  A now-enortnous spool of metallic
surgical thread caught his attention. Unwinding a
  sufficient number of loops the thread looked and
felt like electrical cable in his hands he made a
strong ring at one end and dropped it to Chapel.
  She half scram, half flailed her way over
to id Maneuvering carefully, she put her head and
arms through the loop. Using the spool cylinder as a
brace he slowly hauled her up. A minute
later she was standing next to him, gasping and coughing.
Kirk found a shrunken lab smock that had somehow
found its way
  58 STAR TREK LOG POISE
  onto the shelf, slipped it over her. Her
shivering abated somewhat. The halo fish was a
cold-water denizen.
  "No more mountain climbing for you, Nurse.
Understand?" Chapel ignored the warning. She was
hunting through her pockets. Holding onto the laser
and treading water had proven too difficult, so. .
.
  "Agreed, Captain," she panted as she
produced the instrument, "but I've got it."
  She insisted on carrying it herself as they made their
way first to the floor and then back to the main room.
McCoy studied it without speaking. Kirk watched
him worriedly, waiting.
  Finally, "What's the matter, Bones? Don't
you think it'll work?"
  "If you mean by work, will it still operate
effectively, the answer is yes," McCoy
responded. "That's not what concerns me. Normally
this device locks into a much larger mechanism which in
turn has standard size switches to operate it.
I've never handled it directly the contacts, of
course, are far too small for our hands. I'm
worried about getting the settings right." He looked
at the deck, over at Sulu.
  "No way to know without trying it, though. Nurse
Chapel, shift the lieutenant's other leg to one
side, please." Chapel did so. Then, while she
and Kirk watched, McCoy improvised a stable
stand for the laser. Hesitantly at first, then with growing
assurance, he manipulated the tiny control
contacts.
  Eventually he sat back on his haunches and
looked up at Kirk.
  "That ought to be right, Jim, though I still can't be
sure. I've replaced this component with tiny handlers
often enough. It feels awfully strange working it
directly." He directed his next words to the
helmsman.
  "Sulu, if there's any pain anything that
doesn't feel right to you you tell me immediately,
understand? Don't go overboard on
  stoicism anything twangs out of tune, yell good
and loud!"
  Sulu responded with a quick, nervous shake of his
head. No jokes, now. McCoy took a deep
breath, ex
  STAR TREK Lo POW 59
  changed an infinite glance with Kirk, then touched
a tiny recess in the side of the circular
instrument. A beam of bright blue abruptly took
up the space between lens and leg. It touched the injured
limb on black and blue skin, where McCoy had
cut away the tunic.
  "Nothing so far," Sulu reported without being
asked.
  McCoy bent over the laser, squinted at the
screen set in the back of it and made a couple of
adjustments. An infinitesmal shift in the beam was
the only noticeable result. Thirty seconds,
forty McCoy touched another hidden switch and the beam
vanished.
  "All right, Lieutenant, move your leg."
Sulu looked at him uncertainly. He gritted
his teeth and started to pull his leg up. The grimace
disappeared as it moved easily. Now he flexed it
slowly, then with increasing confidence, moving it from side
to side.
  "It still aches a little, Doctor." McCoy
moved over and started feeling the treated area.
  "Here?"
  "No ... no .. . yes, there . . . that's the
spot."
  McCoy made sure of it, had Sulu
straighten his leg again, then returned to the
laser. Readjusting the device he activated the
beam again, played it on the helms manffness leg for a
couple of seconds.
  "Try it again, Sulu."
  The helmsman did, moving his leg at the hip,
then at the knee, and finally raising it completely off
the deck in a high arch.
  "No pain now, Doctor. Only a kind of
dull throb and a warm feeling."
  "That's natural. No," he warned, as Sulu
showed signs of getting up, "just stay there and rest for
awhile Sulu."
  "Em going to need him, Doctor," Kirk said
softly. "How soon before he can come forward."
  "You mean you'll need him at the helm?"
McCoy gave Kirk a look of admonition.
"Isn't there a bit of wishful thinking there, Jim?"
  "I try to think positive, Bones. If we have
a second's
  60 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  opportunity to blast free of here, I'll want
my best people at the controls."
  "Sorry, you can't have Sulu for a while yet.
I'm not worried about the bone it has fully knit.
But sometimes rapid repairs have their own
effect on the body. Severe injury isn't the
only thing that can initiate shock. It will take time
for the nerves and blood vessels in that area
to readjust to the fact that they're suddenly not on a
crisis footing. After that he'll be as good as new.
But he needs to rest for a little while, at least." He
lifted the laser carefully off its improvised
platform.
  "Christine, move the base, will you? Let's try
Solinski's hip next." He looked at
Kirk. "Bxcuse us, Jim, there are a lot of
other casualties here I'd like to try this on.
tilde ,
  "Of course, Bones." Kirk turned his
attention back to Sulu. "I'm tempted to call
Chapel's thinking of the ear laser a lucky break,
  Lieutenant, but. . ."
  "Comments like that could result in a
  breakdown of command." Sulu smiled broadly up
at him. "I understand, sir. Right now I'm too
pleased with the results to care."
  Kirk started to reply but was interrupted by a new
voice. He turned to see Spock moving
  toward him.
  "I have other results available now,
Captain. Figures on the ultimate molecular
contraction rate have come through."
  "What are they?" Kirk asked, at once
intensely curious and fatalistic.
  The latter emotion turned out to be justified.
  "Reduction factor of
thirty-two-point-nine."
  Kirk did some rapid upstairs calculating,
commented somberly.
  "That means we're going down to one-sixteenth of a
centimeter."
  Spock nodded, spoke matter-of-factly,
"Yes, Caps fain. While it is in a sense
comforting to know we will not be tripping over dust motes,
it is still well past the point at which we can exercise
operative control of the ship. An interesting height
from which to contemplate the world and the remainder of one's
life."
  STAR TREK L tilde POW 61
  Kirk stood silently, watched by both Sulu and
Spvck. He thought back to Sulu's request of
minutes ago. Everything was happening too fast. If
they could spare the power from life-support, maybe
by closing off all but a few remaining sections of the
ship, maybe he should try phasers on the
surface below.
  No, they simply didn't have that kind of reserve
energy left. Not enough for the phasers. But they did have
power for something else. For one last choice.
  If he was going to die, then the location didn't
much matter.
  "You have decided on a new course of action,
Captain," Spock commented, evaluating the
familiar thoughtful expression on his friend's face.
  Kirk didn't even hear him. "Mr. Spock,
can you calculate the approximate center of the
  wave-emitting region?"
  "A simple enough task, Captain. But that will not
necessarily be the point at which the waves are
produced."
  "I know that, Spock."
  "May I ask the purpose then, Captain?"
  Kirk shrugged, stared over to where McCoy and
Chapel were busy repairing a yeoman's broken
ribs with the laser.
  "That is- as good a place as any to beam down."
  While Spock stood digesting this remarkable
statement, Kirk moved to a nearby metal boulder.
It had a flexible face bordered by projecting
studs a huge hand communicator. It would
be quicker than climbing to a console and trying to operate
the wall com. unit.
  Putting his compacted weight behind the push, Kirk
had no trouble opening the grid. Making his voice
strong enough for the pickup to be activated was another
story. He had to bend and shout into the mouthpiece at
the top of his lungs.
  "Kirk to Engineering! Scatty, can you hear me?"
A pause, then the chief engineer's voice
  acknowledging, filtered, faint, and weak but
comprehensible
  "Just barely, sir."
  62 STAR TREK LOG FOUR
  "Get a crew down to the transporter room!"
Kirk yelled. "We have twenty minutes left in
which to operate ship's controls including the
transporters."
  "How many beamin" down, Captain?"
  "Just one, Mr. Scott. Me!"
  "Aye, Captain," Scott replied
solemnly. "Dinna worry . . . we'll rig
somethin'. Scott out."
  Kirk stop, kicked at the deactivation switch
to shut off the communicator.
  "ill meet you in the transporter
room, Mr. Spock. Meanwhile, see what you can
manage in the way of a doll-sized communicator.
Anything at ad, even something that just broadcasts a
pulse signal. I'll send in code, if I have
to."
  "Yes, Captain."
  "I won't be long. I've got to make one more
check of the bridge and issue final instructions."
  "I understand, Captain."
  Uhura, Arex, and the others took the
  announcement with typical calm. They had an
advantage nothing Kirk said came as any
  surprise.
  As he headed for the distant transporter room,
Kirk kept their faces, reactions in mind. There
wasn't one among them who felt those last
instructions would not be implemented in a dozen minutes
or so. He still retained private hopes, though.
  There was one last thing they could try to halt the
lethal bombardment. If an intelligence was behind it,
then one had to assume the waves could be shut off as
competently as they had been turned on the
Eruerpase.
  In the absence of any attempt at contact from the
surface, Kirk had to assume paranoid
  reluctance on the part of any such intelligence.
In which event a personal appearance might be the
only thing that could convince "them" of the peaceful intent of
their visitors. He would beam down and search them out
  Alternatively, they would reduce him on sight
to something considerably less than a centimeter in
height a thin layer of smoking dust, for example.
  With admirable foresight, the doorway to the trans
  STAR TREK LOG POUR 63
  porter room had been locked open, and a metal
plate had been secured over the sensor eye. As
Kirk walked toward the transporter console he
spotted Scott and Gabler working at its base.
Chief Kyle was busy with a crew nearby. They were
rigging a doubled-back piece of strong wire to the
console, bracing it against an empty wire spool-
secured to the deck.
  A rapid examination revealed that the other end of the
doubled-back cable looped around the first manual lever
of the transporter control. Fortunately, that
crucial switch moved vertically. If a
horizontal control had been involved they would have
had all-sorts of problems, requiring at least one
and possibly more miniature pulleys.
  The other end of the wire was being played out
to a crowd of patient crewmen. Each was taking up
a firm stance and a tight grip on the wire.
  Kirk placed a hand on Scott's shoulders.
Sweat dripping from his face, the chief engineer
turned quickly, even managed a smile.
  "We'll be ready in a minute, Captain; We
can still manipulate the switches properly. It's
workin' them at the proper speed that's gain' to be
touchy, but I think we can manage it."
  "Good, Mr. Scott." Kirk looked up,
following the wire into the heavens to where it looped
tightly around the handle of the transporter lever, now
looking like a grey sequoia angling over the console
cliff.
  "I estimate our height is now down to about
five centimeters," Scott ventured. "With
maximum leeway I think we can manage controls
for another fifteen minutes no more."
  "That will have to do, Scotty."
  Kirk noticed Spock hunched down over a
pile of material. He Walked over as the science
officer stood, trailing microscopic wire and
hastily reduced hand tools.
  The crudely made boxlike instrument he
  handed the captain looked ready to fall
apart any second. Kirk
  64 STAR TREK LOG POW
  hefted it, was gratified to see it was more solid
than it looked.
  "Unattractive but functional, Captain,"
Spock informed him. "This is the best I could do in
egging so small a communicator in such a short
time."
  "It's fine, Spock. Thanks."
  "It is proportionately about ten times the size
a hand communicator should beea.captain," Spock
went on, still apologising for the incredible feat of
improvisational engineering he had just accomplished,
"and its range cannot be
  guaranteed. How shall we locate you for return
if it fails?"
  "We haven't much time anyway, Mr. Spock,
so that problem solves itself." He called back over
his shoulder. "Scotty, set an automatic
return for me. If there's anything to be found down
there, ten minutes should do it."
  "Aye, sir," Scott agreed. "We'll set
it now." He turned, yelled to several crewmen
hanging on another mire. "You there Johnson,
Massachi, Nikkatsu let go of that
wire and give me a hand with this servopole." The men
hastened to obey as Scott started to take up a
grip on the long hollow tube.
  "A disconcerting thought, Captain," Spock
ventured, "that I have been pondering while working here.
The transporter relies on a banked record
of the body's molecular structure. Will that record
adapt as well to your present height?"
  "There is the chance, I suppose, that it can't
adjust to the transporter pattern," Kirk
admitted, "in which case, either I simply won't
go
  anywhere or else I'll go everywhere, in pieces.
  "We'll know shortly. And in fifteen minutes
it won't matter whether the transporter can bring me
back or not. Prepare to energize." Kirk started
for the transporter platform. Spock took a step
to head him off.
  "Captain, may I wish you all. . ."
Spock hesitated, unusually. "I hope
logical eventualities prove that ... good
luck, sir," he finally finished awkwardly.
  He and Kirk exchanged shoulder claps. Then
Kirk
  STAR TREK L tilde FOR 65
  hurried off down the endless metal plateau toward
the alcove.
  Spock watched him for a minute, then moved
to take up a place along the doubled cable. There was
a short wait while Kirk scrambled up the low
cliff of the single step leading to the platform proper.
The super-strong wire made an excellent
"rope" ladder.
  Once on top, Kirk ran to the center of the
nearest disk, turned, and waved both arms.
  Scott, lost in other thoughts, eventually became
aware Spock was speaking to him.
  "What"...99
  "The captain instructed us to energise, I
believe, Mr. Scott."
  Energize. He had a job to do. First wire one,
then the two servopoles were adjusted, turned.
Spock took up a place in front of Scott,
both hands on the wire. Speed was critical now.
Five seconds, ten . . .
  "Heave, lads, heave! Heave for your lives!"
  The line of tummy figures on the floor started
backward. As the slack in the cable was taken up the
line grew taut, held. Straining, straining, for
millimeters at a time, they pulled on the
wire. Pulled until triceps howled with the demand
and shoulders threatened to pull from their sockets.
  The lever began to descend. Slowly,
  condescendingly,- but it moved. Servopoles made
minor adjustments again. A dial was turned as men
broke their backs on twin wires.
  On the transporter platform a waterfall, a
cascade of color, splinters of a rainbow, began
to form. It was normal in shade, normal in
flickering speed, normal in shape normal in an
respects except for its incredible, abnormal
thinness.
  It completely enveloped the near-invisible
figure standing at its base. The figure wavered,
blurred became a standard transporting silhouette
. ..
  ... and was gone.
  66 STAR TREE: LOG FOUR
  V
  Even though he had seen it only from
  kilometers above, the landscape was far from alien
to Kirk. He was studying it even as he
materialised on the plutonic scoria.
  What was surprising was the amount of
  vegetation holding its own against the
threatening tremors underfoot, green-brown roots and
  branches offering defiance to lack of moisture,
promises of sulfuric rain.
  Kirk was aware of this, of the constant intrusive
growl of smoking peaks all around and something else,
something indefinite and
  undefinable. Not the ash-filled purplish sky
overhead, nor the thin layer of pumice that crunched
under his boots. Something much more immediate. Something like . .
.
  A lessening of weight, weight on his right arm,
weight that should have been nestled in the crook of arm and
ribs and no longer was. Instead it rested neatly in
his palm, a miniscule shard of badly worked metal
and plastic.
  The communicator Spock had presented to him
only moments ago. He smiled.
  Spock's suspicions about the touchiness of the
transporter memory bank had been
  justified only not in the way he had imagined.
Instead of the transporter pattern adapting to his
smaller size, it had operated on the old pattern
stored in its cells, had forced Kirk's body
to adapt to it. He was back to his normal size.
  From a distant peak, an intense beam of
light shot like a yellow bar across the valley and
disappeared in a far-off crevice. To his right was
another, beginning
  STAR TREK L tilde FOW 67
  lower down but also meeting somewhere over a nearby
ridge.
  Turning a slow circle he saw that a network of
light converged at one point just beyond his vision. He
started walking toward it.
  As he started up the slight grade he raised the
communicator, handling it carefully. If it slipped
out of his grasp he doubted he would find it again in the
loose gravel and detritus. Peering at the tiny
device he used his fingernail to put the lightest
pressure possible on the activation lever.
  A violent rumbling began in the distance, grew
rapidly loud. There was a throaty ripping sound, like
an underground freight-liner rushing past. A flank
eruption burst the side of one of the volcanoes behind
him.
  He spared it only a brief glance. At the
moment he was more concerned about the tiny beep from his
palm. He spoke at the communicator, hoped
Spock's improvised pickup would modulate his
voice properly at the other end.
  "Kirk to Enterprise. Enterprise ... do you
ready" No reply from the tiny speaker. Maybe they
were trying to talk to him, and his ears couldn't pick up
their minute voices. He continued on the chance they were
picking him up.
  "I think we have the answer to the height problem.
It seems the transporter beam returns our
molecules to normal spacing. Nothing to indicate
that once realigned and transported back aboard
the whole compaction process wouldn't start all over
again, but at least we've got a stop-gap now."
  Still no reply. He tucked the communicator
away in a pocket. The slope grew steeper here
and he wanted to concentrate on keeping his footing.
Also, the eruptions on the valley fringe were growing in
violence and he wanted both hands in case of a
fall. One particularly sharp tremor almost did
knock him off his feet.
  Once the dust and volcanic ash in the air grew
so thick he had trouble breathing. And then, without sound
or warning of any kind, the beam of light he was
  68 STAR TREK L tilde FOR
  paralleling abruptly winked out. He looked
around, across the valley, up the slopes of distant
mountains. The network of lights he had
  observed on beam-down had been completely
extinguished. He brought out the communicator, tried
again.
  "Kirk to Enterprise, do you read me?" This time
there was an answer. Faint and unnaturally high-
pitched, but for all that immediately recognisable.
  "We read you, Captain," Spock told him.
"It was necessary to readjust power flow to the main
communications board to boost your transmission
to audible levels. Your makeshift communicator
carries less power than I believed.
  "A most interesting thing has just happened. If
sensore are to be believed, wave bombardment of the
ship has just ceased."
  "I think I know why," Kirk told his
astonished listeners. But before he could elaborate he
felt an agonized heaving underfoot and the ground
bulged. A crack like a sonic boom followed, and
this time Kirk was knocked completely off balance.
  Bracing himself he landed without being more than dazed, but
something he had feared had come to pass. Despite his
best efforts the tiny communicator had gone flying.
Flaming bits of ash and lava started to fall around
him as he searched for it on hands and knees. The
fiery fallout was dense behind him, though
less so in the direction he had been headed.
  Several minutes of fruitless searching failed
to locate the lost communicator. The rain of lava
was growing worse and the shar tilde slivered pumice
had nearly butchered his knees. It seemed a good
idea to move on. He was nearly to the top of the
ridge and he ought to find some protection from the
sizzling hail on the other side.
  Scrambling to his feet he started upward again.
OF casionally a hot ash would land on him and he would
beat frantically at the ember as it smoldered on his
clothes. But he still found no sign of whatever existed
at the confer of the vanished lights.
  Once, a lava bomb a tear-drop shaped
dollop of
  STAR TREK L tilde POUR 69
  molten lava cooled to hardness during its fan through
the cooler atmosphere shattered near him. It must have
weighed a hundred kilos at least. It would take
a far smaller bomb to make a real mess of him.
No use wishing for a solid duraUoy umbrella,
nor could he dodge the
  unexpected missiles
  But it was hard not to think about them.
  Another sharp tremor. Ready for tfus
one, he kept his feet. A meter-wide crack
opened in the ground to his left, forcing him to change the
direction of his climb slightly. Even without the time
limit imposed on him he didn't think an
unarmored man could spend much time roaming this
surface. Sooner or later the steady assault
would either batter him unconscious or cause him
to break an ankle in the plethora of tiny
crevices and cracks.
  He topped the rise, ready for a sight of the
unexpected but not ready for the mental shock he
received.
  Down in a steeply waned hollow, not five
meters from the base of the slope he stood on, rose
the walls of a city. Graceful towers and arching
branch structures were brilliantly lit from within,
the whole metropolitan network
  intersected by a complex webwork of covered
highways.
  To one side were stadiums and a huge
  amphitheater, while another boasted a large
factory complex. Parks and lakes studded the
landscape throughout, while the entire city was surrounded
by concentric rings of cultivated land, farms and
dairy country. In ad respects it was
one of the most thoroughly planned yet exquisitely
wrought cities Kirk had ever seen. It differed from
the great cities of Earth and Vulcan and the major
colony worlds in only one respect.
  The whole metropolitan area was just large enough
to fin the floor of an average-sized room aboard
the Enterprise.
  He stepped over the ridge, sat down in the
grinding pumice, and stared at the scene from a book of
children's stories. The tallest spire of the city came
just about up to his waist.
  70 STAR TREK LOG POW
  As he sat frozen with fascination, another cycle
of tremors shook the ground. He was certain that the
delicate towers and bridgeways of the tiny city would
be shattered, yet they barely moved. Obviously
those spires were built on some kind of flexible
foundation, constructed to give with the constant quakes.
  But this series of shakes opened a branching
canyon near the outskirts of the farthest
agricultural section. Kirk could have stepped over
the largest crevice in the crack, but it would swallow
the biggest building in the city with room to spare.
Even as he watched, one arm of the canyon moved like
a bolt of brown lightning in slow motion
toward the city.
  It was easy to conclude that despite its
miniscule size, he had come upon an intelligent
civilisation which possessed enough science
to irnmobilize and threaten the Enterprise.
Despite the threat to himself and his crew, he still could
experience a sudden fear that he might have crushed some
outlying farmhouses on his
  approach. He resisted the urge to retrace his
steps.
  Right now he had to make contact with the inhabitants
of the city. Clearly, their intellect was in no way
proportional to their size. He studied the plan of the
metropolis, decided the best thing to do was get as
close to the city center as possible.
  Rising, Kirk started carefully down the slope,
edging around toward what appeared to be a section of
farmland lying fallow. He could do the least damage
by approaching the city center from there.
  Even as he did so, a familiar tingling started
on his skin.
  "No, no. . . to He repressed the shout.
There wasn't a thing he could do. The ten-minute time
period was up and the automatics were banging him
inexorably back to the Enterprise. And
then lie had a moment to consider a horrifying thought.
  Was this pattern the one the transporter computer would
retain? Or would he be
  remateAalized back aboard ship in his
smaller size?
  Too late to stop the action, too late
to change, too
  STAR TRBR [tilde POW 71
  late to worry. His vision blurred; he felt a
second of total disorientation and nausea, and then the
tingling left him and his vision returned. He was
back on board.
  Kirk looked down at himself, around the room.
He was sHll his proper size. He stepped off the
disk, glanced around urgently.
  "Scotty, Spock . . ." No answer, no
gratified replies. Maybe they could not shout this
far.
  Moving rapidly to the transporter console, he
examined the place where the crew of straining
wire-pullers and pole-handlers had worked alongside
the first officer and chief e ngineer only ten
minutes before. No sign of them.
  He took a moment to examine the whisker-thin
wire still looped around the transporter
lever, marveling from a new perspective at the
ingenuity of Scott and his assistants. Dropping
to all fours he commenced a detailed survey of the
area, but found no sign of the crew.
  Surely they could not have shrunken to
  microscopic size! That would be far beyond
Spock's projected lower limit of a sixteenth
of a centimeter.
  Knowing the automatics would return him, they had
probably gone to another part of the ship in need of their
attention. The bridge, for example. He got
to his feet.
  After covering kilometers of scaled-down
corridor, it was a pleasure to make it to the
bridge at what seemed like superhuman speed. The
door was still locked open, the metal plate still taped
over the sensor.
  A quick look showed all panels and instrument
consoles still operating. Impulse power was still keeping
the basic functions of the ship
  operational, then. But still no sign of any of the
crew.
  There vvas plenty of evidence of their
activities, though. Discard remote handler
poles, wires running to dials and levers,
doubled-over cables attached to other controls in the
same fashion used to manipulate the transporter
lever, tiny ladders and stilts made of metal bands.
  But an uncanny silence. Clicks and snaps of
relays
  72 STAR TREK LOG FOW
  going over. The hum of still-powered machinery. And he
strained to hear it something more?
  High-pitched, barely audible, like the mewing of a
small kitten tucked away in a drawer somewhere.
Bending, he tried to follow the sound, finally saw the
line of ant-sized figures emerging from behind one edge
of the helm console.
  Dropping to hands and knees, he looked
  closer. The figures took on familiar
shapes and forms and even individual features. But
they were so tiny, so incredibly tiny.
  "Scatty, is that you?"
  Scott was staring upward, past the towering
peninsulas of Kirk's fingers, up into the monolith
of his overhanging face. It hung in the sky like a
great pink thundercloud.
  He cupped his hands and shouted, "Aye,
  Captain, for the love of heaven, be careful where you
step!"
  Kirk nodded slowly, then dropped his face to the
floor in an attempt to get as close as possible
to eye level with his miniaturised crew. Scott
and the others backed up nervously. It was like a mountain
falling.
  "IS EVERYONE SAFE?"
  Scott staggered backward, hands clapped to his
ears. "Easy Captain, you'll deafen us for
sure."
  Kirk dropped his voice to what he thought was a
bare whisper. To the shrunken crew his voice still
sounded like distant thunder. "Everyone accounted for?"
  "All but the regular bridge complement,
Captain!" Scott yelled back. "They were all
at their posts, when according to the ensign who witnessed it,
they were suddenly beamed away. Every living one of them.
That's why I moved my people up here, to keep things
rennin'.
  "No warnin', no indication of what was
  comin' tilde and not a blessed hint of what did it!
Only that something was using standard
  transporter technology."
  That was the end, the final assassin of somnolent
diplomacy. Now they would not deal so amiably with the
  STAR TREK L tilde POW 73
  inhabitants of the miniature city. Considering their
attitude toward the Enterprise thus far, Kirk
didn't think their treatment of the captured bridge
staff would be very benign. Sulu would get his wish,
if he were still alive.
  Kirk put the tail end of that thought out of his mind.
  Turning his head, he had another look at the
main viewscreen. He could still see the same
quadrant of tortured surface seething below.
Transporter recorder would show precisely where
he had been set down. He could pinpoint the city
easily. He whispered downward again.
  "All personnel away from the helm area.
Move to the far bulkhead. I don't know if those people
down there I think I netter them have any kind of
defense other than their compaction beam, but they might
have a more physical way of jolting us. I'd hate
to fall on anybody."
  As the crew moved at top speed, with infinite
slowness, to scatter across the floor, Kirk got
to his feet and walked to the helm. His gaze went
to certain boldly marked controls controls which the
now-vanished Sulu had pleaded to use before.
  Kirk set the phaser control thoughtfully,
pressed a couple of attendant
switches, read the results of his request on the
appropriate gauge.
  Yes, the phasers were lined on his desired
region Yes, they still retained enough impulse power
for a couple of mild bursts. But that was all it would
take to men the jewel-like little metropolis with its
belligerent inhabitants into a shining puddlle of
metal slag.
  Anyone else in Kirk's position might have
done that immediately, on the chance of being whisked from the
bridge by some irresistible transporter effect
himself. Anyone else might, but they would not have been a
starship captain.
  Kirk's anger was moderated by one overriding fac
for the chance that Sulu and the others might still be alive
somewhere in that honeycomb of towers and roadways.
  74 STAR TREK L tilde FOUR
  With the phaser controls set, he moved
to Uhura's communications console, checking to make
sure Scott and his companions were far from his path between
there and the helm. After a second's thought, he
selected the general interspecies frequency,
composed his thoughts, and addressed himself to the pickup.
  "Message to the inhabitants of the city on the
planet below. I hope you can receive this
frequency and understand my words. Your
  continued survival depends on it." He
paused, gave any listener a chance to fine tune.
  "All this ship's armament is locked in on the
coordinates of your city. In case you doubt our
ability to operate effectively, I've timed a
demonstration." He checked his wrist
  chronometer, counted seconds, looked up at the
screen.
  The brilliant beam of the secondary phaser
bank vanished into atmosphere. On the surface,
another steepwalled valley appeared in the ground
alongside the one which held the city. Reduced in
strength as it was to a trickle of its usual self,
the beam was still powerful enough to annihilate the entire
city at one touch. The illumined towers and gilded
rectangles trembled slightly from a new,
artificial quake.
  Kirk turned back to the pickup. "You have one
minute to restore my bridge crew unharmed or you
will re" ceive a full barrage from my ship's
armament."
  Opening the speakers and setting part of the instru"
mentation to Receive, he moved back to the phaser
controls, set one switch, and put his finger
on the fire button. He had reversed the field
effect in the fluid switch. Now, if he took his
finger off the button if he were suddenly beamed away
the phaser would fire.
  He considered the possibility of destroying an
entire city. He found it impossible to be
objective, yet the situation had come to the point where
someone below had to make the ultimate decision. It was
no longer his responsibility. He told himself that,
repeatedly. Sulu, Uhura, Arex, Spock
all might be dead already.
  A glance at his west. Half a minute gone,
forty stop
  STAR TREK LOG FOR 75
  onds and then a rapid series of high beeps and
sputters filled the bridge, pouring over the main
speakers. On the main viewscreen the image of the
surface fluttered, was consumed by static, and then
suddenly sharpened.
  Kirk saw the interior of a huge room huge
on the screen with a vaulting roof soaring far overhead.
Highly intricate machinery was set nearby, and
tunic" clad Features were clustered around it.
  One of the beings stepped suddenly into the visual
pickup from the left side, blocking out
most of the view behind. Kirk thought he had seen enough
aliens to be prepared for the sight of almost any
Feature imaginable any Feature unimaginable.
  This was unimaginable and shocking.
  Overpowering.
  The alien was male, tall by the standards of its
peo. pie, vigorous-looking and topped with grey
hair. If it resembled anything Kirk had seen
before, it was his own father.
  Gulliver had been right all along only his
geography was inaccurate.
  Kirk underwent some localised tremors of his own
as he tried to readjust his thinking.
  The man spoke in a high-pitched but
  nonetheless im" pressive voice, a voice
filled with a dignity and earne/s that bespoke long
experience as a leader of men living in desperate
circumstances.
  "In the name of the Terratin people," he said formally,
"I forbid you to take offensive action against this city,
Captain Kirk."
  Kirk spoke into the helm pickup mike, trying
to put as much sarcasm into his voice as possible.
"tilde You forbid me, after what you've done to my
ship and to my Fiends?"
  "I am Mandant of all this city," the figure
told him with assurance, "superior in command to yourself."
  "Sorry," Kirk informed the speaker grimly, his
finger quivering on the fatal button, "Mandant is
not a recognized StarDeet rank."
  At this point the leader's tone softened
noticeably.
  76 STAR TREK POW
  "We are a people of considerable pride, Captain.
Equal in pride to your own. We neither suffer
insult, nor give apology for actions we deem
necessary, but.. . ," and here he hesitated, obviously
struggling with himself to hind the words for something he was quite
unused to saying, "I give apologies now for the
inconvenience done your ship and crew."
  Inconvenience!
  "To make amends I may tell you that this world
contains . . ."
  "I'm not interested in what your world contains just
now," Kirk replied angrily. "Where are Mr.
Spock, Lieutenant Sulu, and the rest of my
offlcers7"
  "I order. . . ," the Mandant began and then he
stop- ped, glanced away. "No . . . no. Not
order. Please try to understand, Captain
Kirk. Our adopted world is dying, has been dying
for many years. No ship of an intelligent race
had passed this way until yours came exploring.
  "We tried to tell you of our plight as you entered
or- bit, but our great communications antenna was
buried too deep by sequential flows of lava and
ash. We were, we are, desperate, Captain.
We had to make some kind of contact with you. The only
device we had remaining to us which conceivably could have
made you take notice was our invasion defense
system, and . . ."
  "You still haven't answered my question," Kirk in-
terrupted him. "Either you tell me what's happened
to my people . . ."
  The Mandant abruptly moved aside ...
to reveal a healthy Sulu and Arex. Both were
carrying tools of un- familiar design, yet
vaguely familiar in outline. Neither showed any
sign of mistreatment.
  "Here we are, Captain." Arex speaking,
normal,
  relaxed.
  "We're in the capitol building of the Terratin
city, sir," Sulu explained. "As you've
probably guessed, they beamed us down with
their transporters."
  Now why didn't they just do that in the first place?
Kirk found the answer immediately after the thought
  STAR TREK FOR 77
  occurred. If the Terratins had tried to make
contact by transporting down members of the
Enterprzse, even one person would have obliterated
not, only the transport station but probably half
the city as well.
  That's why they had to use their invasion defense
system first, to reduce the crew sufficiently in
size to where they could be brought into the city.
  Kirk wondered if the Terratin engineers knew
that the crew members would return to their normal
size once transported back to the Enterprise.
That was a question best side-stepped for the moment. The
impor
  - taut thing was that Sulu and the others were all right.
  But he didn't let himself relax until he had
reset the phaser controls to normal and lifted his
finger from the red button.
  "What's going on down there, Lieutenant
Sulu?"
  "See for yourself, sir." He stepped out of view,
fa- voring his injured leg. Arex and the
Mandant did like- wise.
  As the pickup panned the great hall, Kirk
saw McCoy and Chapel tending to a mass of people
scattered on beds about the chamber. The room was
packed to overflowing with people. Normal, humantype
people, except for their size. Many of them appeared to be
burn victims. Kirk rubbed idly at a hole
on the shoulder of his own shirt where one of the flying
embers had burned through. He did not need to be
told what the sufferers in that hall were experiencing.
  Even as he watched, the picture shook
visibly and the people in the building reacted to the new
quake. There was no panic, however, only a few
gasps and the shushing of crying children. These people were used to such
shocks by now, if not resigned to them.
  Panning further, the pickup finally settled on
Spock. The science officer was working with several
Terratins. They appeared to be struggling to repair
what resem- bled a video-broadcast unit of
extremely ancient design. His anxiety over
the condition of his companions now satisfied, Kirk
permitted his curiosity full flow.
  78 STAR TREK LOG POW
  "Mr. Spock!" The first officer looked up.
"Who are the Terratins? Where did they come
from?"
  The first officer of the Enterprise spoke toward the
screen. Kirk could hear him clearly.
  "An intriguing historical sidelight,
Captain," he began, with typically scholarly
reserve. "From the records I have had time
to examine, they appear to be the descendants of an
early lost colony ship. They are, despite
differences in size, of the same Terran stock as
yourself.
  "Believing their colony to be the tenth to be founded,
they named this world Terra
  Ten which over the years has become the
  present corrupted form, Terratin."
  "All very plausible, Mr. Spock, except for
that slight difference in size. I doubt we would find
any records of Earth ships carrying colonists a
sixteenth of a centimeter tall."
  "The original colonists were normal-sized
humans," Spock continued. "The remarkable
radiation which they have incorporated into their unique
defensive system is present naturally in a
transuranic element quite common on the
  surface here. This defensive system
intensifies the compaction effect of that
radiation tremen- dously.
  "The naturally present wave effect took
several hundred years to reduce the colonists and
their descendants to their present size. Once
aware of what was happening, they were able, as were we,
to predict the ultimate dunensions of the compaction.
And to plan far in advance for it, designing all the
miniature machines and devices they would need for
survival."
  Suddenly the Mandant reappeared on the
  screen, now standing beside Spock. "The colony
ship was well equipped, Captain. But even with many
years to prepare for this, our current state, our
ancestors were forced to direct all their energies
to insure their descendants" survival.
  "In concentrating on survival technology,
many other abilities were lost or degenerated our
ability to
  STAR TREK LOG FOR 79
  build deep-space communications equipment, for
example. Nor could we escape, since the
material inherent in a colony ship's construction
is designed to be incorporated into the colony itself.
Colony vessels were designed for one-way trips
only. Once our ancestors began
to cannibalize it for material for the first city, there was
no hope of using it for travel again.
  "tilde e had to build a new way of life
on this world, Captain Kirk. We had to adjust
to our changing size, create a new form of defense
against any potential attackers, master this
planet's unstable ways. We encountered no
outsiders, had no help of anyone." The screen
shook again, more violently this time. When the shaking had
stopped and the cries of the children in the hall had faded
once more the Mandant continued, his voice growing thick
with emotion.
  "But as you now see, Captain, we are forced
to seek outside help, for we are about to lose
everything. The geologists of the original colony
selected what they believed to be one of the most
seismically stable regions on the surface. Yet
even here we were never wholly immune to quakes and
tremors. Their intensity has grown alarmingly in
recent months.
  "We began to hunt frantically for outside
aid. And we began to despair of contacting another
vessel. When ""our Enterprzse went into orbit
here we were hysterical with hope, despite the earlier
destruction of our communications system.
We are only able to contact you DOW," he made a
  gesture off sheen to his left, "due to the knowledge of
your Mr. Spock.
  "We had to contact you and request if we could,
compel if we must, your help. Many thousands look
to me to preserve their lives, Captain Kirk.
Even so, I hesitated before ordering the defense
system brought into play. I apologize again if in
gaining your attention we caused any anguish to you or
your aew."
  "Your actions all but lost us our ship," Kirk
responded, his tone turning milder even as he
spoke the words. "If I hadn't accidentally
discovered that our transporters could return us
to normal size, we would
  80 STAR TREK LOG FOUR
  have lost total control of the Enterprise. That would
have been the end of us and any help we could have given
you.
  "Again, I am sorry, Captain Kirk," the
Mandant replied, torn between natural pride and the
Offer ateness of his situation, "if in gaining your
affection we utilized the first rule of politics do
that which is expedient rather than that which may be right.
Really, we had no other choice."
  He paused, and all traces of arrogance
vanished in a naked plea.
  "I do not know how to beg, Captain Kirk. I
can therefore only request, ask you to save as many of
my people as you can. My counselors and I decided
to use our defensive system to contact you. If you
bear any grudge against us, we will submit whatever
judgment you deem fit.
  "In any case, we of course insist on being the
last to be taken off."
  "Don't be idiotic," Kirk found himself
  mumbling He was vaguely aware that the
  Mandant was manipulating his emotions with a skill
born of long practice, but somehow it didn't
seem to maffer. Not with the lives of a city at stake.
  Uhura had entered the field of visual pickup
and was looking out at Kirk. "They had no other way
left to them, sir. They meant us no harm."
  Kirk had already arrived at that opinion
independently. But there were other things that had to be done
first, no matter how it made him look to the anxious
Terratins.
  "I can help no one under present conditions," he
told the Mandant, staring firmly into the pickup.
"I can't run the Enterprise myself. All
bridge crew, prepare to beam aboard. See to it,
Lieutenant." She nodded, disappeared from the
screen.
  "Oh . . . and Uhura?" Her face
reappeared. "The Terratins are a Earth colony.
That means they have Federation or at least pre-Federation
technology. Is their city by any chance powered by.
. . ?"
  "Dilithium, Captain?" The communications
officer
  STAR TREK L tilde POW 81
  smiled. "Lieutenant Arex has already checked
on that. It sure is, Captain." Kirk allowed
himself to mirror her grin.
  "Mandant, are you still there?" The leader of the
Terratin colony reappeared a moment later.
  "Yes, Captain Kirk. This difficulty, at
least, has been anticipated. Your officers informed
us of your difficulty in this regard. This world contains
substantial deposits of dilithium. The
natural wave radiation here is not strong enough
to affect its internal structure in the way our
defensive beams do. We have a certain amount of
refined crystals on hand not essential to the operation
of the city. It was this I tried to tell you
before.
  "My people have been transferring a stock of the largest
crystals to a storage area near our main
transporter. The move is nearly completed. They
will be made available to you for whatever use you
require."
  "You realise, don't you," Kirk ventured, "that
once I have the rest of my bridge crew aboard
and the engines repowered, we might easily destroy
your defense system and leave you stranded here."
  The Mandant looked solemn.
  "This is all obvious, Captain Kirk." That
was all he said. The directness and openness of his
reply made Kirk feel uncomfortable he had
even
  considered such a thought.
  "Okay then. Lieutenant Uhura?"
  She reappeared on the screen.
  "Captain?"
  "As long as we retain power I'd just as soon
use our own transporters. The Terratin computer
has patterns of you only for your present size.
As long as you're coming back aboard you may as well
do so at the proper size.
  "It's going to take me a minute or
two to get down to the transporter room. The
dilithium crystals are ready to come aboard?"
  "Nearly, sir."
  "Tell the others to stand by."
  "'allyes, sir!"
  82 STAR TR*R LOG FOW
  He had one bad moment in the transporter
room. It looked as if he had misjudged the
amount of reserve power remaining and would not have enough to beam
them back aboard. But by shutting down all
life-support in several unoccupied storage
compartments, plus the shuttlecraft hanger, he was
able to divert a fair amount to the transporter. It
wouldn't run forever, but by the time reserve power ran out
they should have the Terratin dilithium aboard and the
engines powered up.
  Kirk studied the image in the transporter
console viewscreen as he prepared to beam the
bridge crew up. They were in another chamber of the
capitol building. This one was also filled with
refugees from the rain of hot ash outside.
  The picture jerked a couple of times. Not from a
planetary, but from a human-induced tremor, as
Terratin technicians moved the pickup around. It
finally settled on Spock and the rest. They
were arranging themselves for beam-up while the Terratins
divided huge masses of crystalline dilithium
among them.
  At least, they appeared huge beside the compacted
crew. Actually, they were
  normal-sized crystals and Kirk knew he could
hold the entire amount in one palm.
  Terratins driving powered carts continued to arrive
with more and more of the vital mineral. Kirk allowed them
to heap the crystals around the feet of Uhura,
Sulu, and the others until it was overflowing outside
the range of transporter pickup.
  "That win have to do, Mr. Spock. We can get more
the next time. Prepare to beam up."
  "Very well, Captain." The first officer turned
away for a moment and said something to one of the Terratin
technicians. He nodded and backed out of range,
but Kirk could hear him speaking to the crowd.
  Immediately both colonists and the cart unloaders
moved away from the waiting
  crewmembers. Spock turned to take up his
place in the group, stared straight ahead as the
Terratins moved their visual pickup further
back.
  STAR TREK L tilde FOR 83
  "We're ready, Captain. You may energize
at any time."
  Kirk worked the transporter controls in proper
sequence, his gaze moving constantly from the console to the
viewscreen. Familiar sparkling cylinders formed
around the crew as the
  transporter effect took hold. His gaze
moved to the empty alcove in front of him as the
whine of shifting energies filled the chamber.
  The multiple shapes were materialising in the
alcove, fullsize, along with irregular clumps
at their feet. Dilithium, visible as gravel now
instead of boulders. He shifted down, turned a
dial, and the effect faded around darkening
silhouettes.
  "Nice to be back aboard, sir," Uhura
murmured with undisguised relief, "and back at
one's natural size."
  Kirk nodded, spoke quickly. "Everyone watch
where you step. We had enough trouble finding this dilithium.
Before you move off those disks, gather up those
crystals." As they all bent, he turned his
attention back to the console, flipped on the
ship-wide com.
  "All crew personnel report to the
main
  transporter room immediately. Prepare to beam
down to the surface. Beam-down and return will bring
you back to normal size. Repeat, all crew
report to the main transporter room immediately.
Move along the walls. Normal-sized
personnel will take proper precautions."
  Spock came over, both hands cupping the
precious load of accumulated dilithium. It
looked appallingly small compared to what he had
seen on the viewscreen.
  "The Terratins are making available every crystal
they can spare, Captain. The specimens are
small, but I believe they will provide enough power
to operate the ship efficiently until we can get a
mining crew down to the surface."
  Kirk made a sign of agreement, looked past
Spock. "Mr. Sulu, take over the
transporter, please. Mr. Arex, you will move
to B deck to handle transportation prom lems
there. See that Mr. Scott and his engineers are in the
first round trip, Sulu." The lieutenant nodded.
  84 STAR TREK LOG
  "They can handle the rest of the transporting, then,"
Kirk continued. "As soon as everyone has
made the circuit and is restored to proper size,
see that Mr. Scott gets a geotech crew down
to dig out a sufficient supply of dilithium."
He grinned.
  "At least we won't have to go prospecting for it.
That's another way the Terratins can be of help."
  "Excuse me a moment, sir." Sulu was
beginning to adjust the transporter controls for the next
beam-down . . . but slowly. "What about the
Terratins? The people in the city are in a state of
barely surpressed panic and . . ."
  "You have your orders, Mr. Sulu."
  "Yes, sir." All hint of expression
disappeared from the lieutenant's face as he turned
full attention to the instrumentation.
  Kirk took half of the double handful of vital
crystals, eyed Spock. "Ever on-loaded an
active dilithium reaction chamber by hand, Mr.
Spock?"
  "No, Captain. But the process is reputed
to be failsafe. As I evaluate the steps
involved, I forsee only a very small chance of our
destroying the ship."
  "Thank you, Spock. I can always depend on you
for a feeling of security and reassurance.
Let's go." Together the two officers started for the
elevator doors.
  "Slowly, Captain," Spock advised his friend,
as Kirk started off at a run from the elevator.
"It would be awkward to drop the crystals or not
to see some of our still compacted companions until too
late . . ."
  "Don't worry, Spock. I'll choose my
steps with as much care as you choose your words." The first
officer jogged silently alongside as they neared the
door to engineering section marked in bold red characters .
. .
  DILITHIUM REACTION
  CHAMBER AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL
  ONLY"
  STAR TREK L tilde POW 85
  y!
  His disclaimer of experience notwithstanding, Spock
managed the loading of the new supply of raw
dilithium into the minutely balanced chamber with all
the skill of a reaction specialistjust as Kirk
had known he would.
  Impulse power was fed to the chamber to spark a
greater reaction. A number of gauges on the
nearest monitor immediately jumped upward with
gratifying speed.
  Spock was ready with the results by the time Kirk
had re-established life-support and power in the
sections he had shut off earlier.
  "We will not be able to travel to the nearest starbase,
Captain, but essential functions no longer have
to be checked as closely and we could break out of
orbit at any time.
  "And the next load of dilithium should make us
fully secure until Scotty and his mining crew
can get to work." He let out a sigh of relief,
moved to the intercom.
  "Mr. Sulu?"
  "Main transporter room here, Captain; but
it's Third Transporter Engineer Lefebre in
charge. Mr. Sulu has returned to the bridge,
sir. I was directed to take charge here as soon as
I was returned to normal size."
  "Carry on, Mr. Lefebre. Is Mr.
Scott there?"
  "Mr. Scott left some minutes ago for
  Engineering Central, sir. Said something about working
on the engines. He did request that I inform you when
you called in that Second Engineer Gabler and a party
of five
  86 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  have beamed down to the surface with
  appropriate equipment and are already engaged in
extracting an adequate supply of raw
dilithium for future needs under the direction of
  geologists from the Terratin city."
  "Thank you, Lefebre. Kirk out."
  "Transporter Central out." Kirk started for the
elevator, Spock at his side.
  "It appears that we shall soon be fully powered up
once more, Captain."
  "Yes, Mr. Spock. As soon as we've
taken on all the dilithium we'll need, we can
leave this place."
  Spock raised a questioning brow, but Kirk had
moved slightly ahead of him and didn't notice
it.
  Or if he did, he chose to ignore the
suggestion behind it.
  The ship's transporter facilities worked
overtime for the next several hours, beaming ant-sized
humans down to the Terratin city and rematerializing
them on board in their normal guise moments later.
  The Mandant stood in the crowded chamber, watching
humans come and go via transporter. Now
and then he leaned to confer with one of his aides or to eye
the visual linkup which had been hastily set up in
the room.
  It showed several views of the city outskirts, now
menaced from three directions by abysses and
crevices which grew with even the slightest of
tremors. Another screen revealed the interior of the
Terratin science center where worried geologists
hurried back and forth. They paused only long enough
to deliver increasingly desperate reports.
  The Mandant acknowdged every report, spoke
steadily and reassuringly to his aides . . . all
the while trying to keep a calming hand on the
metropolis itself. The macropsychosis of the city was
fast approaching chaos proportions.
  Already a mob was forming outside, threatening to storm
the hall and hold the next group of aliens who
beamed down as hostages until
  guaranteed rescue was effected. What kind of
rescue was not specified, but
  STAR TREK LOG POUR 87
  that made the demonstrators no less virulent
in their demands.
  The Mandant smiled sadly to himself. Such people would
always exist, never to be calmed, never to be
satisfied.
  We exist for such a minute time, he mused. We
perform a great many inconsequential nothings and call
them Acts of Significance, realising the futility
of our lies all the while. Yet we constantly
strive for the postponement of the inevitable end which would bring
peace to all. Such is the nature of man, and it
does not change with his physical stature.
  For himself it mattered not what the captain of the
starship chose to do. For the young adults and children it
mattered a great deal. Some of his aides still had
confidence in the remnants of their defensive system.
The Mandant knew better. Now that the location of their
city was known, they were completely helpless.
  Their eventual fate depended on the whim of a
man whose ship and command they had nearly destroyed for
their own need. Even so, if he were forced to go back
he felt he would be compelled to do everything exactly
as it had been done before.
  But while he could control his fear of death he still
had a responsibility to the people.
  So when the next group of crewmen appeared in the
room, he moved rapidly to stand next to them before the
transporter took hold and asked, "Please inform
your captain that the reports from our remote
seismic research stations are very discouraging. It is
apparent now that the former stability of this area is fast
diminishing. We doubt we can survive continued
quakes much longer without some form of aid.
  "Our entire city is constructed on an
interlocking series of precision bearings and gimbals
mounted in a viscous fluid. These serve to keep us
upright and steady despite the severity of successive
jolts. Though we are rocked a little from time to time, as
your fellow crew members can attest.
  "But while we can withstand the most violent shak
  88 STAR TREK L tilde FOR
  ings we cannot withstand the peril that faces us now. A
number of enormous by our
  measurements cracks in the ground are forming
outside the city . . . and are expanding with each new
quake. According to predictions from our science center,
they will undercut the city in a very short time and drop us
to our doom.
  "Your captain must tell us shall we prepare to be
rescued, all or part of us? Or to die all or
part of us."
  The young yeoman who stood nearest looked back
at the Mandant with wide eyes. "I don't know,
sir, but...." The air began to glow around
him. "I think I have a pretty good idea what
Captain Kirk's decision win . . ."
  His words were cut off as the transporter energies
surged around him and stole him from sight.
  Kirk glanced at his wrist chronometer again before
turning his attention back to the gauges, dials and
readouts he was inspecting in his walk around the
bridge. The Enterprise was back to battle
efficiency again fully manned and fully powered.
  More than fully powered. If the dilithium
Gabler's hastily improvised crew had brought
back was anything less than a mother lode, the
Terratin world might one day become a major
source of that fabulously valuable material. Though
he doubted it would ever be much of a colony world.
  "How's the helm now, Mr. Sulu," he
asked.
  The lieutenant looked back at Kirk.
"Fully responsive, sir. All instrumentation
appears normal once again. All readings are up
to red-alert capabilities."
  "Subspace radio now operational too, sir,"
Uhura put in from over at communications. "I have
had contact with Star Base Twenty-three and have
informed them of the situation
  prevailing here. They are recording currently."
  "Very good, Lieutenant. You might also relay
to them tapes of everything that has taken place in the
past twenty-four hours."
  "Yes, Captain." Uhura turned back to her
mike, gan talking into it low and steady.
  STAR TREK LOG POW 89
  Kirk heard the elevator door hum, turned
to see Scott step onto the bridge. All questions
about the state of the ship's engines were answered by the
broad smile on the chief engineer's face.
  "The last of the crew has been through the double
transporter trip, sir. Evervthin' runnin'
smooth as a mother's lullaby. To look at the power
levels you'd think we'd never had any trouble here."
  "Almost, Mr. Scott." There was one last
problem to be dealt with. He turned to face the
helm. "Mr. Arex, prepare ship for immediate
departure from this region."
  Arex looked ready to say something but another
listener beat him to it.
  "I beg your pardon, Captain."
  Kirk turned to the science station. Spock was staring
at him evenly. His voice was a monotone. "What
about the people on the planet?"
  "I haven't forgotten them, Mr. Spock. I
know ex- actly what to do. I thought about it while the
rest of the crew were beaming up. It's the only thing that
can be done." He looked to the helm.
  "Mr. Sulu, direct forward phasers to the
region of the Terratin city."
  "Captain, I..."
  Kirk moved to stand next to him, smiled
reassur- ingly. "It's all-right, Mr. Sulu.
We'll require pinpoint fire control. There are
some precision adjustments necessary but believe me, this
is the best way."
  Using the computer linkup to phaser control, he
proceeded to trace with the electronic stylus a
certain pattern of fire on the targeting screen.
Behind them, Uhura, Scott and Spock had all
turned from their re- sponsibilities of the moment
to watch. All but Arex, who continued with his part of the
preparations for leaving the area. Of all of them, only
he had some idea of what Kirk was going to try.
  "Can you handle that, Mr. Sulu?" he asked when
he'd finished with the computations. The helmsman studied
the carefully wrought fire pattern and nodded
Slowly.

  90 STAR TREK LOG POW
  "I'm sure I cant sir. I would like
to incorporate a fail-safe into it, if I
might."
  "No time, Mr. Sulu," Kirk objected
firmly. "We'll have to do it right on the first try.
Those people down there must not be made to suffer any
longer."
  "Very well, Captain," Sulu acquiesced.
He turned and commenced programming the phaser
control computer. Once he stopped, to request some
information from Spock. When that was granted, Scott and
Uhura
  ew more curious than ever since Spock now am
peered to know what was going on, too.
  Neither dared interrupt what was clearly a harried
operation. But when Spock was finished relaying
Sulu's needed statistics, Scott moved to stand
next to the first officer.
  "For the love of Loch Lomond, what's
  happening, Mr. Spock? What's the captain
up to?"
  Spock turned unblinking eyes on him.
"Nothing more than what the captain has already stated,
Mr. ScoUs' though I confess to having
been somewhat mystified as to his intentions at first,
myself." He turned back to his console. "I
suppose one might describe it by saying we are
about to embark on a program of longrange
geologic dentistry."
  Scott mulled this over a moment and then his face
twisted into a quizzical expression. "There are some
people down there I think I could grow fond of, Mr.
Spock, from what I've seen of them. Don't
play word games with me."
  "We are attempting an extraction, Mr.
Scott," Spock elucidated.
  "An extraction"...'9
  "Only instead of removing the infected region from
the healthy, the captain is simply reversing the
process."
  Scott's expression of uncertainty lasted
only long enough for a few seconds concentrated thought .
. . and then his face settled into a pleased highland
grin as the truth was revealed.
  On the west side of the city two yawning crev
  STAR TREK LOG FOW 91
  ices soil-sided, rock-toothed pierced the
outlying farmland The atmosphere behind the tiny gilt
spires and soaring steel buttresses had
turned orange with the burning hills in the distance.
Thunder rattled the valley and sharp slivers of blue
flame broke through the ore ange at distant
intervals.
  The continued existence of intelligent life on this
world was becoming impossible.
  "Now, Kyle!" Kirk yelled into the intercom.
Long pause while everyone held his breath and
waited until Transporter Chief Kyle's
voice sounded over the com. with an air of exhausted
accomplishment.
  "Got "em, Captain."
  "Are you sure, Kyle?"
  "Aye, sir. It took a helluva lot of
power for so broad a subject, but we're holding."
  "Outstanding, Mr. Kyle. I'm on my way
down. Hold it in stasis until we get there, just
in case."
  "Will do, sir."
  Kirk and Spock hurried from the bridge. They
moved impatiently through elevators, down
corridors, heading for the bulk transporter room
near the Shuttle Bay.
  Minutes later they were standing beside Chief Kyle,
staring at the considerable object which had
appeared in the cavernous chamber. It was the Terratin
city, neatly sliced from the planet's surface.
  The city proper rested on about a half meter of
crystalline bedrock, it's gimbal-bearing
support system buried within and keeping it steady as
always.
  An astonishingly efficient system, Kirk
mused, which when increased in size and adapted to other
Federation colonies on active worlds would save
thousands, perhaps millions of lives.
  At the moment, the city was still enveloped in the
shifting spectral phosphorescence of the
transporter effect.
  "Set it down, Chief."
  "Aye, sir," Kyle replied. He
activated the necessary instrumentation, pushed slowly up
on a certain lever.
  92 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  The three men watched as the fairyland of towers and
domes materialised on the deck. The city,
complete to farmlands and forest belt, fitted neatly
into the chamber.
  If the city had appeared unus tilde lal on
the surface, Kirk reflected, here on board it
was thoroughly unreal Unreally beautiful
too. No, he wasn't worried about the Terratins
finding a useful niche in Federation society. Any
people who could construct a habitation of pure
  loveliness under the incredible stresses imposed by the
world below would contribute more than their share to any
society they joined.
  If anything, their participation in Federation affairs
would be outsized.
  He took a couple of steps closer, peering
into the depths of the transported metropolis and
wishing he could see and hear the inhabitants
clearly. Spock again proved himself open
to suspicion of mind-reading or perhaps
  clarvoyance!
  "I took the liberty of having this made up in
bioengineering as soon as I divined your
  intentions toward the Terratins, Captain."
Kirk turned and saw that Spock was bringing a large
device out from behind the transporter console. It
looked very much like a telescope pointing the wrong
way. It was all of that and a good deal more.
  There seemed to be a great deal of activity around
the open platform which girdled the tallest tower in the
city. Kirk helped Spock aim the narrower end
of the device toward it.
  "Speak normally, Captain. The instrument will
project and mollify your tones
simultaneously."
  Kirk cleared his throat, adjusted the focus on
the visual. One of the people on the platform looked
familiar, though more composed than Kirk
  remembered him which was understandable.
  "Mandant?" The figure smiled, nodded. "We
welcorne your people on board the Enterprise."
  The leader of the Terratin colony stared up at the
monstrous machine. Behind him, his
  counselors and
  STAR TRBGG'C LOG FOR 93
  aides grew gradually less timid, moved out
to stare up in their turn, look 'round in wonderment.
To look at the Mandant, you would have thought he
traveled with his city by starship at least once a
year. A very cool individual, Kirk thought. He
had no more worries about the Terratins" ability
to handle themselves in Federation politics.
  "Captain Kirk, we welcome your eye upon
our city and hope you find it fair."
  "I would tend to say stunning rather than fair,
Mandant," Kirk responded honestly. "Right now
it's about the most gorgeous thing on the
Interpose. Much as I hate to lose you, I'll have
to admit my ship's not a sufficient setting for it."
  "What do you have planned for us then, Captain?"
  ""There is a small world named Verdanis in a
system ten days" cruising from here, Mandant.
Verdanis is a lush world, much like Earth itself, but
devoid of an animal life. It is also about the
size of the solarian asteroid Ceres. Too small
and too far away to support a normal colony,
but I think more than sufficient for your people. Under
Federation protection I think you will thrive and grow
there in a relative sense, of course."
  The Mandant smiled back at him. "It sounds
idyllic, Captain. I do not know how to beep
to thank you."
  "Thanks are not in order, Mandant. However, it
may please you to know that while your adopted world will
never support a large population, it looks
to become a mining world of considerable importance for its
dilithium deposits alone."
  "The rescue of a portion of our population was an
we could ever hope for, Captain Kirk. To be
saved such, with our homes and city too, and then to be
given a new, friendlier world, is beyond prayer."
  Someone whispered in his ear one of the aides
and the Mandant paused to listen to him. He turned and
appeared to engage in conversation with several of the
counselors.
  94 STAR TRBGG'C LOG FOR
  When he turned back to Kirk, the counselors
could be seen smiling in the background.
  "I believe it is appropriate for me to make
a very short speech, Captain." Kirk waited
quietly. "People of the Enterprise," the Mandant
intoned importantly, "we have no way we can
possibly pay the debt we owe you. But this one little
thing we can give, and upon this one thing we are all
agreed." He gestured around, his arms taking in the
city surrounding him. "We name you all honorary
Terratins, now and for all time to come."
  "A singular honor," observed Spock drily,
"insofar as we came rather close to making it more than
merely an honorary title." Kirk looked
away from the eye piece.
  "Somewhere along the lines of one sixteenth of a
centimeter close?"
  "I would say about that, Captain." Kirk grinned
back at him.
  Maximum attention was paid to the Terratins as the
ship moved towards Verdanis. Once
  StarJleet deciphered the first reports on the
lost miniature colony, a flood of requests for
information kept Uhura and M'ress bound to the
communications console.
  A missing link in Federation prehistory was
filled in as the ship's historian took tape after
tape from the city's miniscule library stacks.
Ship geologists spent days in conference with their
bug-sized brothers discussing living under constant
quake conditions. And all the engineers marveled over
the construction of the city itself, with particular marveling
reserved for the re- markable Terratin city gimbal
support system. Nothing like it existed anywhere in the
  Federation.
  There was a brief ceremony of departure when the
Enterprise went into orbit around Verdanis. The
world was officially renamed Verdantin, good wishes were
exchanged, formalities of possession signed, and
then the city was
  transported down onto a broad plain filled
with miniature streams and to the Terratins tilde
Se- quoia-sized fungi.
  STAR TREK LOG POUR 95
  "What do you think will become of them, Jim?"
McCoy wondered. He was staring at the
main viewscreeneawh showed the city nestled in among the
towering vegetation. A nearby pond formed a broad
lake at the far end of the transplanted
metropolis.
  "Their location will be on public file with
Starfleet Central, of course. Eventually it will
become common knowledge throughout the Federation. But from what
I've seen I don't think the Terratins will be
satisfied with protectorate status for very long.
They'll want full membership. That means
trade, the exchange of ideas and material. With first
settlement rights to their origisal home planet and
its mineral wealth they'll wield considerable
financial clout."
  "That's fine for the immediate future, of course ... but
what of the day after tomorrow?"
  Kirk looked over from the command chair, consid-
ered. "One's tempted to say they'd be in trouble,
Bones, but I think not. You should hear what the
engineering people are saying about some of their
quake-resistant machinery. It looks as if
they're going to become a much sought-after group. Some of
their techniques and references are badly dated, but
skill and ability do not go out of fashion." He
returned his attention to the screen.
  "Why, I'd be willing to predict for openers that
when population controls are released, Verdantin is
going to become one of the biggest exporters of
precision machinery in the Federation." He looked at
his wrist and smiled.
  "Do you know, Bones, that the Mandant and some of his
counselors wear wrist chronometers every bit as
accurate as the one I'm wearing? It takes a
forty-fivehundred credit instrument under the control
of a mas- ter timemaker nearly an hour to properly
adjust the timing pin where it sets into the vibrating
crystal. One of the Terratin engineers fixed it for
me before the city was transported down . . . in a
couple of minutes.
  "Do you know what precision, super-miniaturized
  96 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  tool he used, Bones?" He eyed the doctor
  challengingly. "A crowbar.""
  "I see what you're driving at," Bones
  confessed, suddenly excited. "In fact, I
begin to see some possibilities myself. Damn!
If I'd only spent some time with their best
surgeons, instead of setting bones and treating
burns. . . I" He was thinking furiously.
  "I wonder, Jim . . . do you
suppose some of the Terratin doctors might consider
a little experimental surgery . . . wearing diving
suits?"
  Kirk didn't comment, but McCoy rambled on,
his voice taking on a reverent tone.
  "Wouldn't it be wonderful, Jim, if we could
perform heart operations as an inside job. . .?"
  PART 11
  TIME TRAP
  IA-DAPLED from o script from Joyce
  Perry)
  vll
  Kirk tossed uneasily in his sleep.
Strange, unknown energies were buffeting the
Enterprise. No matter what maneuver, no
matter what
  speed, no matter what attitude change he
  ordered, she seemed unable to break the grasp of the
malignant invisibility.
  Around them, space was solidifying, tangible
tendrils and fingers and ropy tentacles
  materialising out of the black depths. All reaching
out, out, for the ship.
  An inky pseudopod looped itself tightly around
an unsuspecting engineer. A long finger
folded crookedly over the bridge itself, while
  somewhere in the distant well of infinity a mad
voice giggled. tilde
  He ordered full phaser fire, but the beams
simply assaulted space itself, the ravening fire
passing harmlessly through semisolid members. The
Enterprise rolled, pitched, shook, unable
to loosen the slowly contracting grip of those
gigantic digits.
  Two of them entered the bridge, one from either wall.
They started to move toward each other. Kirk,
frozen in his command chair, was in the exact middle.
Someone screamed. He tried to rise from the chair and
discovered he
  couldn't.
  The black thumbs moved nearer and nearer, closing
off his view of the rest of the bridge, blotting out
Spock and Uhura and Arex and Sulu and the main
viewscreen 99
  1OO STAR TREK L tilde FOW
  and the phaser controls and the black cat slinking
along the deck. Spock and the others had shown no
sign, no awareness, of approaching oblivion.
  Didn't they see? Couldn't they feel the
massive claws flowing in upon them like
black glaciers to crush and squeeze and pinch? He
tried to call to Spock but seemed to have lost his
voice along with his mobility.
  All ignored hen as he tried to shout; all went
about their usual tasks as the life was taken from them.
Only Bones turned, once. Incredibly, his
gaze went right through Kirk as if he weren't there.
  The black fingers tensed tighter. The harder he
struggled, the more firmly rooted he was in the chair.
  And all the while the ship continued to shake as
dozens of other cyclopean tendrils and fingers
pulled and wrenched at it. No one paid the least
attention. Pressing hard now the fingers dug in.
Now they were at his very shoulders, squeezing, pressing
tighter and tighter. Compression started a ringing in his
ears and he felt pressure on both sides of his
head.
  Ringing ... a mocking, insistent ringing that grew and
grew as he tried to shut it out. Struggled to shut it
out. Fought to shut it out.
  And failed.
  He shot to a sitting position in bed, hands behind
hint, eyes wide and unwinking instantly wide
awake. Then he slumped ever so slightly and ran
a hand across his forehead. He rubbed at both
eyes, but the buzzing and ringing didn't go away.
Instead, they were transformed into a steady, almost
familiar hum. It pulled at his attention
insistently.
  Thought . . . he turned, saw the winking red
light set over his bunk. Pressed the acknowledge
button. At the same time a strong tremor
jolted the covers around him.
  "Kirk here."
  "I think you had beKer come forward, Captain.
We have just impacted the perimeter of the Delta
Triangle. As you can tell from the recent shake,
things are beginning to happen already."
  STAR TREK LOG POUR 101
  "All night, Mr. Spock." He paused
while another, more violent vibration rattled his
living quarters. "1311 be forward in Sve
minutes."
  He dressed rapidly. His mind raced as he
hurried toward the bridge.
  Following the establishment of the lost Terratin
colony on the tiny world of Verdantin, the
Enterprise had received orders to proceed to the
Delta Triangle. The order had been
transmitted and accepted with a quiet
assurance at both ends of the transmission that neither
broadcaster nor receiver felt.
  There were too many unanswered questions about the Delta
Triangle, none of them inspiring to a starship
captain.
  Kirk leaned against a corridor wall as yet
another jolt shook the Enterprise. Noticing the
uneasy, almost frightened look of two young yeomen who
were walking the opposite way, he smiled
confidently at them as he passed. Their incipient
fears vanished, but not his own.
  The Delta Triangle had a reputation that was
well known. It was a vast, uninhabited,
unexplored sector of the galaxy in the outer reaches
of the Federation's influence. Its reputation stemmed from
the number of disappearances occuring there of both manned
and unmanned starships. Some dated from ancient times.
Nor were they all Federation ships. Whatever was
response ble for the multitude of disappearances
made no dis- tinctions as to race or region.
  For awhile it had been enough simply to prohibit
ships from entering the area. Nonetheless some persisted.
Miners, traders, religious fanatics the
Delta Triangle was an irresistible magnet for
them all.
  Sometimes they came out, unharmed and
  having seen or found nothing. Often they
  disappeared, without a message, without a trace.
  Now the expanding Federation found its
  frontiers pressing hard against the Delta
Triangle. Should they avoid it and grow only in
other directions? Or were there worlds within worth
exploring . . . and exploiting?
  102 STAR TREK L tilde POW
  Starfleet Command studied, thought,
  considered the problem. They decided the time had come
to risk a full-scale exploration of the sector with a
major research vessel. That meant a ship of the
Enterprise's class.
  That meant, specifically, the Enterprise.
  The alarm lights tvere hashing to suitable aural
ace companiment as he stalked onto the bridge. His
first glance was for the helm navigation console, where
Sulu and Arex were working frantically. Moving near,
he peered over the Edoan's shoulder.
  An area roughly triangular in shape was
projected on the navigation grid. A tiny,
regularly-flashing blip sat just inside the bottom
edge of the triangle. Neither blip nor triangle
were to scale, but it was enough to show how little of the
mysterious region they had managed to penetrate.
  And trouble already.
  Kirk nodded to nobody in particular, turned and
took up his position in the command chair. Sulu cut
off the alarm lights and sound. Another jolt rocked
the ship as the captain took his seat. The jolts were
getting stronger. For a second he thought he was back
prowling the unsteady surface of the Terratin world
  It was time for facts.
  "Situation, Mr. Spock?"
  Spock spared him a brief glance before
  returning his attention to the library computer
console. He looked more than usually
  preoccupied with his instruments.
  "Indeterminate, Captain. Many of our sensors
have become completely unreliable. Some
  continue to function, while others give readings which
are patently impossible. And this wholesale
disruption of detection sensors shows no imternal
pattern.
  "The phenomenon commenced the moment we entered the
Triangle sector. I do have one positive
external reading, however. A solid object lies
directly ahead, though it barely registers on the
long-range sensors."
  Kirk considered this information thoughtfully. "And
  STAR TREK 103
  this object is the source of the instrumentation
disruptions, Spock?"
  Now the first officer did take the time to look
away from his readouts. "That is the odd thing about it,
Captain. This newly detected mass appears to have
nothing whatsoever to do with the addled sensors.
Interesting."
  "fiery," Kirk agreed. "Has visual
identification been tried?"
  "Not yet, sir," Sulu volunteered. "The
object Mr. Spock refers to has just come within
range of our maximum visual scan."
  "Let's see if we can't pick it up, then,
Lieutenant. Magnification ten on forward
  scanners."
  "Magnification ten, sir," Sulu echoed, working
the controls just to the right of the phasers.
  Kirk's gaze shifted to the main viewscreen.
It showed the speckled blackness of deep space just
ahead. Another of the unexplained jolts rocked the.
ship. The static that momentarily
  appropriated the screen was of unique and
unfamiliar nature.
  It sputtered out, leaving a grainy, pebbled
picture behind. Despite the lack of clarity, there
was no difflculty in identifying the object picked
up by Spock's operational detectors.
  A Klingon battle cruiser.
  It appeared to hang motionless against the distant
star-field, hovering against the emptiness like the great
bird of prey it was vaguely patterned after, though
Kirk knew it was anything but motionless. The
scanners compensated for its actual speed.
  It was a surprise to see an Imperial
Klingon vessel here. The Klingons were not considered
to be among the more adventurous races where
abnormalities of time and space were concerned. The
Delta Triangle was one of the last places
Kirk would have expected to encounter them.
  Somehow he had a feeling that their presence here was
unrelated to neutral exploration.
  "Klingon battle cruiser," he announced, his
tone becoming brisk. "Deflector shields up,
Mr. Sulu."
  104 STAR ORBS LOG POW
  "All deflectors up, sir."
  "Recognize her, Mr. Spock?"
  Spock studied the screen. "No,
Captain. Klolodeclass ship, though."
Kirk-nodded.
  "Equivalent to our own." He directed his
next order backward. "Lieutenant Uhura,
open a hailing frequency and . . ."
  Further conversation was cut off as several pulses
of lambent color suddenly erupted from the front
of the Klingon ship. The scanners were momentarily
blinded. A soft rumbling was heard, and the deck
trembled slightly underfoot as the barrage of
disrupter bolts impinged on the Enterpr tilde
se's deflector screens and were repulsed. A
moment later the screen cleared, showed the image of the
battle cruiser shrinking rapidly vnth distance.
  "Mr. Sulu," Kirk began angrily, "will
you. . . ?"
  "Following, sir," Sulu said tightly. The
helmsman was obviously controlling his voice and
emotions with difficulty. Kirk didn't have to ask
why.
  No doubt the Klingon commander had hoped to catch the
Enterprzse unprepared, her screens down, with that
first attack. Seeing that it had failed, he was
running now.
  The Klingon's logic was not hard
to follow. were the Enterprise to disappear in the
Delta Triangle, her demise would be recorded
as just another in the age-old series of mysterious
disappearances. Clever ... and thoroughly slimy.
  "He's running in a high warp arc, Captain,"
Sulu reported, handling the pursuit course, "but
we've got her. She won't get away."
  "tilde Plotting confirmed," added Arex in his
usual calm, s* tones. No sign in his voice
that anything out of the ordinary had occurred.
  "Ready phasers," Kirk ordered.
  If the Klingon commander expected his
  surprise attack would go unanswered, he was
badly mistaken. Letting such a provocation go would
be tantamount to an admission of
  cowardice. That was something the
  STAR TREE LOG FOR 105
  Elingons would immediately rationalise as carte
Blanche to try similar adventures in other
sectors perhaps against less well defended Federstion
vessels. If nothing else, a strong response
was required as a deterrent to such thoughts.
  "Phasers ready approaching attack range,
Captain," Sulu told him. Minutes later,
"Phasers locked on target, sir."
  Intolerably intense beams of deep blue lit
the blackness between the Enterprise and the Klingon
cruiser that sat squarely in the confer of the main
viewscreen.
  The Klingon had looked normal to Kirk until
just before the phasers were fired. Then he had noticed
or thought he had noticed a peculiar wavering of
space around the alien warship. A suggestion of
motion where there should have been no motion. A hint of
light where light was absent.
  Probably a trick of the eyes. In any
case, he had no time to consider it. The two bursts
from the ship's forward phasers impacted on the
Klingon's deflector screens.
  One of two things should have happened.
  The shields should have flared brilliantly with the
strain of absorbing the phaser energy or, if the
bursts were strong enough and contacted the shields at a
weak enough point, the ship should have shown damage from the
powerful attack. Neither took place.
  Instead, the Klingon cruiser vanished.
  Not in a burst of incandescent flame, not in a
sudden supernal explosion it just vanished. One
second the ship was there, awaiting the
  counterattack of the Enterprise and then there
was only the silence of space in its place, nothing
to indicate the cruiser had ever existed.
  At least, that's how it appeared to a
  flabbergasted Kirk.
  The first step was outside confirmation of his own
observations. His attempt to secure same was not
subtle, but had instead the virtue of directness.
  106 STAR lllBK [equals POW
  "Mr. Spock, did you just see what I think
I just saw?"
  "Not only did I just see what you think you just
saw, Captain, but I am now observing what you
think you don't."
  "So we concur on analysis if not on
grammar. Explanation?"
  Spock's attention was divided between the main
viewscreen, numerous gauges set above the computer
keyboard, and his double-hooded
  viewer. Several moments of intense study of all
three areas produced a reply tinged with the faintest
hint of uncertainty.
  "I can offer nothing plausible at this time,
Captain. However . . ." Studying yet another
new bit of information, he hesitated. "Playback
of sensor readings taken just prior to the
  disappearance of the Klingon ship, when
  examined at ultraslow speed, indicate that the
ship was not destroyed, repeat, not destroyed, by our
phaser fire.
  "Replay further implies that the enemy
vessels shielding was operating at full strength and
successfully deflected both phaser bursts though
no direct evidence of such shielding was
  detectable."
  Kirk paused a moment, asked, "What about the
possibility they're using a variety of the
invisibility shield we've encountered before?"
  "I do not think so, Captain. That produces
definite, detectable reactions, measurable
stresses in the fabric of space. Nothing of the
sort has been observed."
  "Ummm." Kirk thought back to the strange
phenomenon he thought he had noticed just before the
baffle cruiser vanished. "Seconds before we
counterattacked, Mr. Spock, I think I saw
a certain well, a kind of fluttering around the
Klingon's hull."
  "I observed a smiliar field -- ffect,
Captain," Sulu said excitedly. "I thought it was
a distortion in our scanners, an
after-effect of the disrupter bolts."
  "It is not a distortion, of either our eyes or the
scanner's," Spock added. "I saw it, too."
  You'll assume visual confirmation, then,"
Kirk went
  STAR TRPRLOG POUR 107
  on. "We should have a record of the effect, Mr.
Spock. Sensor analysis?"
  Spock returned to his computer, made demands
on recently employed tapes. "The instruments are
still not registering with regularity, Captain a disruption
still unaccounted for. But I believe I can say with
assurance, after scanning the pertinent information, that the
Klingon ship was not in any way responsible for the
effect we observed and exercised no control over
it.
  "As there have been numerous ship
  disappearances in this region, I would venture the
opinion that . . ."
  "Whatever caused the disappearance of the Klingon ship
was a natural phenomenon," Kirk concluded.
"Clearly the Klingons were expecting it no more than
we were. But what kind of natural phenomenon
Abe sorbs starships without a trace?" He
turned his gaze back to the viewscreen.
  "At least we have some idea what to expect . .
. instant, quiet annihilation. How comforting. All
duty personnel, yellow-alert status."
  Sulu touched the necessary switches.
  "Give me a three-hundredffixty-degree
visual scan, Mr. Sulu. Horizontal
plane first, then forty-five degrees, then
vertical."
  "Aye, Captain," the helmsman replied,
making adjustments. "Scanning
  three-hundred-sixty-degrees horizontal."
The starfield on the screen began to move from right
to left as they watched.
  The scan was barely a fourth completed when the
scanners picked up a new phenomenon.
  Unlike the odd fluttering that had appeared around
the vanished battle cruiser, this one was immediately
identifiable. The moving blot could be only one thing.
  "Captain, we have another vessel on the
screen," Sulu reported. "No, make that a
double pickup, sir. Both vessels moving toward
us at cruising speed, angle of approach. . .
," and he spat a rapid stream of threatening
figures at Kirk.
  "Visual pickup holding ... stepping
up magnifica
  108 STAR TREK LOG
  lion, sir," the helmsman continued. The image
on screen shifted, changed, held.
  Two Klingon battle cruisers appeared on the
screen now, and they were between the Enterprise and her
entry point into the Triangle.
  Spock had moved over to stand next to the command
chair, eyed the screen. Kirk's voice was grim
as he studied the pursuing vessels.
  "Mousestrapped." He glanced up at his first
officer. "If the surprise attack by the first ship
doesn't succeed in blasting us out of existence, they have
a pair of reserves ready to make sure we
don't get away to tell the story."
  "Speaking strictly from me standpoint of
objective tactics, Spock commented drily,
"an excellent idea. They are apparently most
  concerned that word of this altercation should never reach
Starfieet Central."
  "With good reason," Kirk noted. Both men
turned to face the communications console as Uhura
spoke up.
  "Sir, we're receiving a Class Two signal
from the nearest Klingon ship. Shall I
acknowledge?"
  "One moment, Lieutenant." Kirk looked
to his helmsman. "Mr. Sulu? On my command,
I want you to turn us from our present course and
head for the exact coordinates where the Klingon
cruiser disappeared. Warp-eight."
  "Yes sir." Sulu puzzled over the order
even as he made the necessary preparations. Sometimes he
wished the captain would be a bit more communicative
about his intentions. It
  occasionally seemed to him that the Enterprise was
governed as much by surprise as by
  forethought.
  "All right, Lieutenant," Kirk told
Uhura. "Put the visual on the main screen.
And P11 want this entire exchange recorded and
beamed back to Starfleet Command." Uhura looked
doubtful at this last.
  "It will take three weeks to reach the nearest
Starbase, sir. And additional time before it can be
boosted and relayed to command
  headquarters."
  STAR TREK [equals POW9
  "Norietheless, let's have it on the records .
. . provided the Klingons don't try
to jam it."
  "Aye, sir." She turned back to her board,
fiddled a moment. "Signal coming in." The main
  viewscreen dickered briefly. Then the view
of the two Klingon cruisers was replaced by a
portrait of a high-rar tilde king Klingon
officer..
  This particular Klingon was heavy-set and
stiff-faced. He also affected a beard and
mustache, the latter a thin, drooping kind once
favored by Oriental mandarins on ancient Earth.
It gave him an especially displeasing appearance.
His eyes were impressive, his manner standard for a
Klingon commander who believed himself to be in a position
of incontrovertible tactical supe- riority . .
. blunt, overbearing, irritatingly condescending.
  "You have been identified as the Federation Starship
Enterprise, Captain James T. Kirk commanding
at last record." The words came out clipped,
accusative.
  Kirk shifted slightly in his chair, making
sure the small visual pickup trained on him was
giving the Klingon as good a picture of himself as they
were receiving. His voice he held carefully
neutral.
  "Your information is correct. This is Captain
Kirk speaking."
  A grunt of satisfaction, then the Klingon went
on. "I am Commander Kuri of the Imperial
  Klingon fleet. We have just witnessed the
destruction of our sister ship, the Klothos, and we
hold you responsible. Surrender immediately or we will
destroy you."
  Nothing like getting to the point. Diplomacy
figured in Klingon requests about as much as
semantic inventiveness . . . meaning not at all.
  Kirk took a pained breath, hoped Kuri was enough
of a reader of human expression to know what it meant;
and he continued, his voice tinged with just the proper amount
of exasperation.
  "We did not destroy the Klothos and you are
well aware of it, Commander."
  110 STAP TREK LOG POW
  "Surely you don't expect me to believe it just
vanished," Kuri replied furiously.
  Spock leaned over, still staying out of range of the
visual pickup, and whispered, "The Klingons are
not good poker players, Captain. From this one's
attitude and expression, I would say he is as
confused as we are and not a little bit
  frightened."
  Kirk had no time to consider Spock's
  observations in detail. He went on sharply.
"You may believe what you like, Commauder. We were
fired upon first, without warning of any kind. Naturally
we returned fire. Our instruments record that the
Klothos successfully turned back our phaser
attack . . . and then disappeared. I have no more
idea than you what caused it.
  "But, as you are no doubt aware, we are now in the
Delta Triangle. You are familiar with this
region's reputation?"
  Kuri- suddenly seemed unsure of himself.
Clearly he had believed the Enterprzse was
responsible for the disappearance of the Klothos.
Kirk's explanation sounded plausible.
  "Yes, certainly, that was why ..." He hastily
took another tack, aware of what he had almost
confessed openly. "I am familar with the
  numerous ship disappearances recorded in this
sector, yes. But that it should happen now, at such a
time, is a coincidence of proportions I am not
prepared to accept." He confessed the last in such a
way that Kirk couldn't be sure if it was meant for his
ears or for those of unseen persons hovering
invisibly around them.
  Kirk was the only one who responded,
  however. "tilde rankly, Commander, what you
accept is of little concern to me. Feanterprzse out."
He flicked a switch in the armchair console which
shifted the viewscreen back to external scan.
Once more the two battle cruisers dominated the
picture.
  At the same time he said, "Now, Mr.
Sulu."
  The Klingon ships vamshed as Sulu drew power
from the engines. Kirk called for further
magnification,
  STAR TREK LOG FOUR 1 1 1
  but the Klingons had been lost in the starfield. That
wouldn't last for long.
  The view on the bridge of the lead Klingon
cruiser was reversed, where it was the EnterpAse that
seemed to disappear.
  "Fools, idiots!" Kuri shouted. "Thinking
they can escape." He had already forgotten Kirk's
  protestation of innocence. It was confession enough that the
Federation ship was running. He turned to his own
helmsman.
  "Accelerate to maximum . . . use
emergency power if necessary but do not let them escaper
Prepare to open fire."
  Moving in tandem, both cruisers leaped forward in
pursuit of the Enterprzse. Using emergency power,
they sprinted, closing on the Federation craft.
  Range had been reduced from excessive to
  marginal and several minutes had passed when the
gunner on board the lead Klingon cruiser looked
back at his commander wonderingly.
  Kuri was aware of the scrutiny. Undoubtedly the
officer was wondering why the order fire was being
withheld. Kuri fully intended to give the order, but
he had just the least bit of hesitation, the tiniest touch
of uncertainty, at the back of his mind.
  He did not know Kirk personally, but he knew
both his reputation and the reputation of his ship. It was not
like the Enterprise to turn and run, no matter what
the odds. A quick frontal assault, at least, a
passing attempt to damage one of his two remaining
ships but instead, she had turned and run.
  Nevertheless, they were within range.
  "Both ships, fire at will," he ordered,
waiting expee" tantly for the Enterprise to do . .
. what? What if Kirk had been right about the
  disappearance of the Klot tilde ws being
due to natural phenomena? Might not the same be
  waiting out there, poised to capture yet another
vessel?
  Disruptor bolts fled across the intervening space.
A
  112 STAR ORBS L tilde POW
  feathery nimbus flared repeatedly around the fleeing
Enterprise as her screens handled the assault.
  The steady barrage of disrupters blanked out the
rear scanners. Kirk switched to the forward
pickups. By now he was more concerned about where they were
going than what was behind them.
  Scott was working the engineering console on the
bridge. He had held off speaking as long as he
could. Now he felt it was time to speak up.
  "Sir, aren't eve going to defend ourselves!"
  "Your deflector shields are doing that quite
nicely, Mr. Scott." Scott struggled
to maintain a respectful attitude. This wasn't
like Kirk.
  "But sir, just to . . . run away, sir. We
were attacked . . and there are only two of them
left."
  The chief engineer might have felt better if he
could have seen how Kirk was fighting his own
instincts. "We'll turn and fight if we have to,
Mr. Scott." He looked to the helm. "Mr.
Sulu, are we on course for the exact spot where the
Klothos disappeared?"
  "Dead on, sir." Sulu responded, checking
his readouts. "We'll arrive in . . . ten
seconds. Mark, nine, eight .. ." He counted
down the seconds. At six, Scott whirled from his
console to announce in a stunned tone, "Captain,
our defector shields have just gone out."
  Sulu commanded his attention before Kirk
  could reply. "Sir, the helm instrumentation has
gone haywire. I can't orient myself."
  "Everything is quite abnormal, Captain," Arex
added. "None of the navigation readouts are behaving
sanely."
  "Subspace radio channels are all dead,
sir," put m Uhura.
  By way of mechanical afterthought, alarm
  lights began flashing, blinking on the bridge.
None of them could see, of course, the gentle
shimmering light which had suddenly appeared around the
ship.
  For several seconds the Enterprzse lay
  enveloped in a faint, ghostly halo.
Then the halo winked out, and with
  STAR TRBK tilde OG FOW113
  it, the Enterprise both presumably gone to the
same unimaginable, unknown destination.
  Not too far away in the relative sense, a
senior Klingon officer suddenly jumped halfway
out of his seat, staring in disbelief at his main
viewscreen. A Federation vessel had been
  depicted there only seconds before.
  "Where did they go? Where did they run to?
Navigatorl" The officer in question examined his
gauges and telltales, looked back helplessly
at his commander.
  "I do not know, Exalted One. Their ship has
vanished from range of every one of our
  detectors as did the Klothos."
  Kuri sat down slowly.
  It was not permitted a cruiser commander to appear
Lightened before his men. However, nothing in the manual
of battlefield posture prohibited him from sounding
concerned.
  "Slow to minimum speed. Spread out, search this
area. And remain in contact at all times. The
second any abnormal phenomena are detected,
both ships are to retreat at battle
speed to the perimeter of the Delta Triangle."
He turned to his communications officer.
  "Keep all hailing channels open." The
officer nodded. "Federation and Imperial
frequencies."
  Now there was nothing more he could do.
  First the Klothos and now the Enterprise. Kirk
had been right, then, in his explanation of the Klothos'
disc appearance. Little good it had done himt
  Unless . .. unless this was another Federation
trick. If there was one thing Kuri had learned through
the years it was never to underestimate the deviousness of the
Federation mind. But he was grasping at Starr. Some
gross abnormality of space-time was at work here.
  It was time to proceed with the utmost caution.
  On the Enterprise something had happened to the vision
of the bridge crew. Or else something had affected
the atmosphere in the room.
  Whether the thing was in their eyes or air, it caused
everyone to see his neigh
  114 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  bar through a faint haze. One couldn't judge
distances, discern outlines; and whatever it was made the
eyes hurt and the brain, which had the responsibility
of trying to sort out the distorted images and
reconcile them with known memories.
  No one was having much success. Those who had not
fallen from their seats were hanging on for dear life.
The sudden displacement was not due to any violent
shaking or tumbling, although a weird vibration was
running through the metal underfoot and in the hug wads.
Rather, everyone was experiencing an abrupt and disquieting
loss of balance. Something was causing a gross
distortion within familiar surroundings.
  Sulu had both arms around the back of his chair and
was leaning crazily around one end, staring back in
Kirk's general direction.
  "Captain, coordination's gone ... dizzy."
  Even Spock spoke without his usual assurance.
"Captain, we appear to be suffering from a sensation
akin to mass vertigo. Remarkable."
  "Sulu," Kirk managed to mumble, "are we still
locked into the same course?" The effort to concentrate
on the weaving outline of the helmsman was making him
feel sick. Somehow he controlled it.
  "I can't ten, sir," *z Sulu's reply.
"I can't read the instruments clearly. They're an
running together. Running, blending, and . . ."
  As abruptly as it had begun, the strange
  haziness abated. Vision and balance
returned with unnatural speed. Only the lingering
  queasiness gave any indication something unusual
had happened.
  Spock characteristically, was the first to recover. His
gaze was directed not to Kirk or any of the others but
to the main viewscreen.
  "Captain . .. ahead of us."
  StiUs feeling slightly ill, Kirk looked
over at his first officer and followed his gaze to the main
viewscreen. His first reaction was that somehow the two
Klingon battle cruisers might have gotten ahead
of them. But that was not the explanation. Oh, no.
  STAR TREK POUR 1 lSo
  There were other starships ahead of them, though.
Several starships. Dozens of starships. Starships
of every age and origin. Starships representing every known
civilisation and some unknown.
  Some looked so ancient it was difficult
to believe they contained even the most rudimentary form of
star-drive. Others were sufficiently advanced
looking to boggle Scott's mind.
  All drifted motionless against an alien
starfield, tightly packed, a chaotic confluence of
uncounted relics in overwhelming numbers.
  There was unconscious awe in Kirk's
voice as he studied the slowly shifting panorama.
"It's a graveyard. A graveyard of ships from every
part of the galaxy maybe from Outside, too. Ships
I've never seen before. Look at that one."
  He was indicating a monstrous jumble of spikes
and pylons bound togedher by a webbing of translucent
arches. Not in his considerable experience nor in the
recognition tapes Starfleet issued regularly
had he seen anything remotely like it.
  Nor, he ventured to guess, had he ever
  encountered anything like its unknown
  builders wherever They were.
  "Where are we, sir?" a voice asked
hesitancy. Uhura's.
  "I have no idea, Lieutenant," he said
huskily. "I don't think we've traveled very
far in space." He nodded towards the screen.
"Some of those farther constellations looked unchanged.
It's the nearer ones chat look distorted. That means
we may have traveled a rem spectable distance . .
. in time."
  He broke off to stare at another vessel
passing close by to starboard. It showed a more familiar
outline an interstellar cargo transport of a type
and design discarded as obsolete some
Ulree hundred years ago.
  Of we check" he went on, "I'll bet
we'll find chat many of These ships are ones
designated by history as having been lost in The
Delta Triangle."
  116 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  "tilde Where . . . ," Uhura started to say,
but Kirk had other concerns in mind.
  "Mr. Arex, can you give us any idea of our
present spatial position?" Arex worked at his
console for several minutes. Eventually the bony
skull swiveled round on its thin neck and he stared
back at Kirk out of deep, soulful eyes.
  "I'm afraid not, Captain. Our sensors are
operating properly once more, but the star-field is not
cooperating I cannot place our position with any
certainty, given the apparent position of the nearer
stars. Nor can I pick up anything like a navigation
beacon."
  Kirk was nodding "I suspected as much."
  "An alternate universe, Captain?"
Uhura
  wondered.
  "Perhaps something of the sort, Lieutenant. If we
revere in the same universe but behind some form
of energy screen then we ought to be able to plot our
position. But as Mr. Arex says, everything is
changed around here. Same
  universe, different continuum it's all a matter
of semantics."
  Alternate universe, different continuum .. .
amazing how easily the words came when you were
presented with an astrophysical fait accompli.
  "Observations and comments, Mr. Spock."
  'if can find no fault with your evaluation of the
situation, Captain. I would add a thought, however.
  "It must be remembered that many vessels
  which enter the Delta Triangle traverse it with
no incident whatsoever. It would seem therefore that the
contact bet tilde veen the two continua is
erratic, the point of tangency shiftinand In this
case the gate remained open long enough for us to follow
the Klfzthos in." He momentarily turned his
attention back to a readout.
  "Possibly it closed before our pursuers could
follow us on through."
  "I'm not sure they tried," Kirk ventured.
  Scotty added a heartfelt "Aye."
  "Speaking of the Cloths, Captain, I've been
scanning for her ever since we threw off the
lingering effects of the entry." Sulu continued to probe
the space around
  STAR TREK LOG FOR 17
  them with full scanners. "But there are so many ships
here, it's near impossible to locate a specific
one."
  "Stay with it, Mr. Sulu."
  "Yes, sir."
  Kirk studied the viewscreen. Somewhere in that
sargasso the Klothos drifted, perhaps disabled, perhaps
as intact as the Enterprzse seemed to be. The
Klothos, which had sprung a totally
  unprovoked, premeditated surprise attack
on them, he found himself looking forward to meeting again .
..
  V111
  At slow speed the Enterprise moved deeper
into the swarm of dead ships and dead they surely were.
Not a sign of life or hint of motion from any of
them.
  Every member of the bridge complement experi- enced
related reactions to the sight of so many abandoned
vessels, the thought of so many vanished crews. But for
Chief Engineer Scott the experience bordered on
the religious.
  Naturally the man to whom starships themselves were
reason for existence was most profoundly moved of them
all.
  "Sir," he told Kirk, his voice hushed,
"there are ships here I've only seen crude
drawings of. Pictures in museums. Ships
live only seen bare outlines of on the Pederation's
  unconfirmed-sightings charts. Ships hinted at
by rumors."
  Spock added additional information, his library working
overtime. "Sensor scans have provided a rough
approximation of the age of the metal in some of the
hulls, sir those hulls which are metallic in
composi
  118 STAR TREK FOR
  ffon. I have already catalogued several whose base
is plastic.. There is also one of a unique
ceramic-metal alloy and even one of wood."
  "Wood! Come on now, Mr. Spock!"
Scott
  admonished. But Spock remained confident in the
findings of his sensors.
  "That is what the detectors reported, that is
what the spectrograph confirmed, Mr. Scott.
A wooden starship. The hull was composed
of a celluloid material of a density not believed
possible in an organic substance.
  "As to the age, Captain," he continued, turning
his attention back to Kirk, "while none of the
vessels here have deteriorated, of course, there was
sufficient degeneration of some material to indicate that
many have been here for centuries. That may be a
conservative estimate."
  Scott's voice rose in a yelp of sudden
  recognition. He pointed at the screen. "My
Great Aunt McTavish's haggis, Captain,
isn't that the old Bonaventure?"
  Kirk looked at that hulk. He had no question which
of the myriad ships on the screen Scott was
gesturing at.
  Among the alien helical, parallelopiped, and
conic ships floated a metal shape much like that of the
Enterprise, only smaller. Its hull was not as
smooth, fes-tooned with awkward-looking
  projections and tubes, its design not as sleek
but nevertheless, a powerful vessel in its time.
  Scott's voice was reverent. They were looking upon
a piece of the interstellar cross. "The
Bonaventure, the first ship to have warp-drive
installed. The first of us all.""
  "She vanished without a trace on her third
voyage." Spock spoke from over by his hooded
viewer. "The crew's descendants could still be
living, Captain."
  "Their descendants?" Kirk threw his science
officer a look of puzzlement. "But I thought . .
."
  "The vessels in our immediate vicinity are indeed
dead, Captain. But there is a chance some of their
crews could have transferred to other ships.
Specifically,
  STAR TRBR LOG POUR 119
  to the cluster directly ahead of us, from which I am
picking up faint energy and, I believe, life
readings. They are increasing in intensity as we move
nearer."
  While -- Spock and Scott and Kirk studied
the Bonaventure and this new possibility, the
Enterprise was being observed on another screen.
  With its life-systems screened out, and nestled
carefully into the melange of empty hulks, the
Klothos waited like a trap-door spider at the
edge of its hole all systems poised, only its
eyes showing.
  Senior Officer Kaas looked back
from his
  station at the main sensor console. "It is the
Enterprise, positively, Exalted One.
Scanners indicate her shields are fully
down."
  "Excellent!" Commander Kor viewed the hated
silhouette on his bridge viewscreen with
  satisfaction. He still did not understand what had
happened to him and his ship, and for awhile it had seemed
as though nothing good could come of it.
  But now ... "All hands to battle stations,
quietly. Prepare to open Sre on the
Enterprise the moment she comes within range. Full
disrupters let's get her the first time, this time.
  "First Engineer, I want minimum motive power
to the engines. Navigator, intercept course. And
rotate the ship slightly. It is imperative that
we resemble one of these derelicts as much as
possible."
  Spock turned away from his loaded viewer for a
quick glance up at the screen. His gaze started
to turn back . . . and Angered. One eyebrow
rose a millimeter. Then he returned his
attention to the viewer.
  "Strange," he muttered.
  "What, Mr. Spock?" asked Kirk idly.
  "I had thought that the only sign of life here was in
the cluster of ships lying directly ahead of us, but
there appears to be ..."
  Before he could finish, Sulu was leaning forward in his
seat, staring at the screen. His eyes suddenly bugged
  120 STAR TREKO tilde
  as he recognized one shape in the crowded scene,
and his brows went even higher than Spock's.
  "Captain . . . the Klothos . . . twenty
degrees port!"
  "Sound red alert," Kirk ordered sharply.
"All deflect fore on full phasers lock on
target."
  "Aye, sir," Sulu responded, his hands
moving faster than his reply. "Screens up . . .
phasers locked on."
  On board the Klothos, sirens and horns
  suddenly howled in warning. Commander Kor shouted an
obscene word, made a violent gesture.
  Every disrupter that could be brought to bear immediately cut
loose with a tremendous
  discharge of destructive energy. The Klothos
shook with the release.
  The wave pate tide got halfway
to the Enter- prrse and the enormous charge shimmered and
dissolved into nothingness. First Offlcer Kaas stared at
his gauges with an expression he might have used if
they had suddenly confronted a Kalusian sand
serpent a hundred kuvits long.
  "Sir, I don't ... our entire weapons
system ... it's frozen."
  Kor started to rise from the command seat, an
appropriate comment on his lips then there was a sudden
crackling in the air. A brief whiff of ozone, the
commander was outlined in a sharp flare and then he was gone.
Utterly
  dumbfounded, the rest of the crew stared at the chair
where their commander had sat see" onds before.
  On board the Enterprise, Kirk had a brief
comment of his own, directed in this case to the helm.
"Fire, Mr. Sulu."
  "Firing phasers." It was the Enterprise's
turn to tremble with the release of annihilating
energies.
  Seconds passed before Kirk prodded Sulu.
  "This is no time for daydreaming report,
  Mister."
  "There's nothing to report, sir," the dazed
Sulu finally managed to blurt. For a
moment he thought the sensors might have gone berserk
again, but no, they were operational. But the readings made
no sense.
  "No Medication of damage, or even that the
deflector
  STAR TRER [equals FOR 121
  shields of the Klothos registered contact. AU
instrumentation appears functional and . . ."
  A sharp report, like the discharge of an ancient
projectile weapon, sounded on the bridge.
Sulu whirled in time to see Kirk outlined by a
radiant nimbus. It closed over him, and was
gone.
  So was Captain Kirk.
  For once, Spock had nothing to say.
  The chamber conveyed a va/s of spirit rather than mere
space. To a Terran it would have seemed more like a
gothic cathedral
  rendered in pastel tones than anything else. A
curved wall backed one end of the chamber, fronted
by a raised dais.
  Twelve beings sat behind a sloping table
  running the length of the dais. Male and female,
human, humanoid, and other no two members were
of the same race.
  A Klingon sat next to a Tallerine, who
seemed tiny compared to the huge Berikazin on his right.
Next to the representative of that warlike race
sat a beautiful woman from the Orion system.
An Edoan was near her, from the same world that had
given Lieutenant Arex birth. A Vulcan
rested at ease beside him. One could also see a
Gorin and a human in the assembly.
  There were also three aliens representing races no
one in the Federation would have recognbbzed, for they were as
foreign to Federation knowledge as was the Tetroid ship the
staff of the Enterprise had observed here. Yet they
waited in harmony with their nine spiritual brothers and
sisters.
  There was an air of purposefulness about this place
which transcended mere species. No seat was more
prominent than another, no being of the twelve higher
than his neighbor. At the moment an air of
expectancy hovered over them, though none could say
what they awaited.
  A peculiar electrical discharge appeared in the
room immediately before the dais. The flickering vanished
and a large simian shape stood there.
  Kor's reaction was typical of a Klingon
warrior sud
  122 STAR TREK LOG FOR
  denly thrust into an inexplicable situation. He
reached for his sidearm.
  The clutching hand never touched the handle of the pistol.
A secondary discharge formed in the region of the gun
and he stumbled
  backwards. The electrical shock he had
taken was not strong enough to hurt him badly. The
import, however, was sufficient to discourage him from
trying it again.
  Near the center of this alien collage, a tall
Romulan stood. His eyes were oddly sunken for a
Romulan and his voice soft yet firm.
  "My name is Xerius." He nodded in a way that
was unmistakably directed at the weapon, and his
voice turned cold. "That will not be needed here,
Commander Kor."
  Before Kor could offer the objections that occurred
without thought, a golden cloud of charged particles formed
at his side. He stepped hastily out of range of the
tingling field. A moment, and Captain Kirk had
materialised beside him.
  Kirk spared Kor a barely contemptuous
glance. Other things claimed his attention.
  "My name is Xerius," the aged
Romulan
  repeated. "Welcome to Elysia, Captain
Kirk."
  Turning, he gestured at the exquisite
Orionite woman who sat next to him.
  "This is Devna, our interpreter of the laws.
She will speak to you both, now."
  As the woman stood, she cleared her
  throat the first sign Kirk had that while
remarkable, this place was not Olympus and its
inhabitants not gods.
  She bowed formally, her gaze shifting from one starship
commandant to the other. "Gentlemen," she informed them in
clear, bell-like tones, "you stand now before the ruling
council of Elysia. Our nation, confederation . . .
can it what you will. Our world without a world.
  "Representatives of one hundred and
  twenty-three races participate in our
government. Our existence dates back over a
thousand Terran years. During this
  STAR 11 POW 123
  time these diverse peoples, many of whom were bitter
enemies on the Outside, have learned to live together in
peace. Learned to do so because they must.
  "Any act of violence is strictly
forbidden here and will be dealt with swiftly and with utmost
severity." This directed primarily at the scowling
Kor, though she didn't neglect Kirk.
  The ritual speech ended abruptly. She
smiled. "You are now each permitted a question.
Captain Kirk?"
  Kirk considered a moment before asking, "Are we in
an alternate universe, truly?"
  "It is not certain, but we believe otherwise,"
Devna told him. "This tiny universe has no
stars or planets, though we can see many such.
Exploration here has been most extensive. There
is a barrier that cannot be pierced to the outer galaxy."
Her smile grew wider, her attitude
sympathetic.
  "Those who were first here have had much time to explore.
The finite limits of our environment is one
reason why all must cooperate. This place is
best described as a pocket in the fabric of
normal space-time."
  "A restrictive Elysium," Kirk
murmured, but to himself.
  "Never mind all that," Kor broke in roughly.
"How did you freeze my weaponry?"
  Overlooking his tone, Devna endeavored
to explain. "We have among us many individuals
gifted with psionic powers unknown to most races.
On the Outside such people were often required to use their
powers to exploit, terrorise, and kill. Here those
powers are employed only to preserve the peace.
  "All our energies are directed to the
  maintainance of that peace. You, a moment ago, were
attempting to break that peace, Commander Kor. We will
not allow that."
  There was a significant pause while she stared
at both men in turn, then a look at Xerius.
  "Pronounce the law," the Romulan intoned
sol- emnly.
  Once more the Orionite bowed, this time to the Ro
  124 STAR TREK: LOG POUR
  mulan, then turned back to the two commanders.
'IJ-NDER our law, as ship captains you are each
responsible for the behavior of your crews at all
times. Should a crew member engage in any form of
violence against another intelligent being here, you will
suffer the maximum penalty. Total
immobilisation of your ship and selves for a century.
There is no lesser penalty for such an abomination."
  Something had finally taken a little of the cockiness out of
Kor, Kirk noticed. His startled
reply carried little of its natural bile
  "A century!" he exclaimed. "We will all be
dead by the end of the penalty period."
  "No, Commander Kor, you would not." Kirk
  looked closely at the Romulan. "This small
universe of ours is a most curious trap, you
see. Time passes here other than it does
Outside. It moves with a most extraordinary
patience. A century means nothing to us." He
gestured at his colleagues.
  "Our council appears fairly young, yet all
of us are centuries old."
  And that took some of the self-assurance out of
Kirk. "No war, and near immortality," he
  murmured softly. "Your life here must be almost
perfect."
  Xerius smiled wi/lly. "The same laws that
enable us to exist here over the decades in peace compel
me to tell you the truth, Captain Kirk. At one
time or another, not one among us has not experienced
a desire to leave this place, to return to the
normal universe. Such desires can be tamed.
  "We have made the best possible tilde existence
here, Captain, our lasting peace, because we have found
there is no choice. There is no escape
from Elysia as you will find."
  Each word of the Romulan's last sentence fell like
a steel weight on Kirk. It had a similar
effect on Kor. Incredible as it seemed, the
confidence in Xerius" pronouncement belied any
attempt to deceive them.
  Andwitha thousand years in which to explore and attempt,
it was possible that he was
  Aght though ev
  STAR TRER LOG FOR 125
  ery molecule of Kirk's mind rejected such a
possibility. "No escape ... no escape
... no escape ..." The words rattled around in his
head maddeningly. There had to be a way. He'd seen
little enough of this paradise, but one thing he did not doubt
was Xerius' contention that everyone had tried to leave it
at least once.
  It was like the children's fable of the man who be- came a
billionaire, had himself transformed into the handsomest
man in the galaxy and then found himself trapped on an
empty world. Money is valueless with naught to spend
it on.
  The same was true of life. Yet ... it might
be merely years of practice, of concealing truth, but
as he read those expressions he could on the
faces of the twelve, there were none that looked mad or
unbalanced. These people had come to believe in their iso"
fated immortality. It wasn't surprising,
really.
  Sanity dictated it.
  Well, they could swim in it if they liked. He
wanted no part of it. Right now all he desired was
to be back on the bridge of the Enterprise where .
..
  ... Spock, Scott, and Sulu suddenly
entered from the elevator, Kirk between them, still talking.
  Otherwise the bridge was empty. The
viewscreen re
  mained on, still showing a panorama of The metal
con
  stellation swirling about them.
  "dis . . and that's the whole of it, gentlemen," he
lin- ished, sitting down in the command chair. Spock
and Scott arranged themselves nearby while Sulu
took up his position at the helm. Kirk gestured
at the screen.
  "They may not be able to get out of here; they may be
resigned and even happy with their perfect soci-
ety but we are getting out."
  "Then we'd better do it pretty
quickly, Captain," Scott said warningly. Kirk
eyed him uncertainly.
  "I'm afraid speed may not be possible,"
Spock ven- tured. "As the captain has told
us, these people have been here for centuries, and their escape
plans have failed. We'll need time to find an
answer." Typical
  126 STAR TREK Loo FOUR
  Spock, Kirk thought admiringly, understatement and
complete confidence in the same breath.
  His confidence did not rub off on the chief
engineer. "Time is just what we haven't got."
  "What's wrong, Scotty," Kirk said
calmingly. "I thought time was the one thing we had an
  unlimited supply of here."
  "Only in the abstract sense, Captain,"
Scott replied crisply. "Not in the
practical. No wonder no one's been able to work
out an escape plan from this continuum.
  "It's the dilithium crystals. They're
  deteriorating again, breaking up and rapidly."
  "But how ...?" Kirk began, and then looked
exasperated. "I sometimes wish, Mr. Spock, that
Professor Jenkins and his associates had found
a more stable substance on which to base their
successful warp-drive."
  "It is this very instability that gives dilithium
crystals the triggering power necessary to drive starship
engines, Captain," reminded Spock.
  "I don't know how it's happenin', sir,"
Scott continued. "It's not like the last time ... the
breakdown is fast, but not as bad. And it's a
basic atomic breakdown, it's not in the molecular
links this time.
  "I've no doubt it's somehow connected with the same
energies that slow time here. At any rate, I
calculate that we've another four days our time before
the power goes completely."
  "It's a gradual breakdown, then?"
  "Aye, Captain. That's the odd part of it. The
crystals lose power uniformly."
  Kirk nodded. "Otherwise we would lose every
function on the ship. Be unable to maintain
life-support. I wonder what the other ships here
use as substitute for dilithium. Their drives
don't appear radically different from ours.
  "There are other races here whose engineering
abilities we know nothing of, Captain. Think of the
unique transporter, for example, which took both
you and Commander Kor at a moment's
  notice. Clearly they possess an alternate
energy system sufficient to keep
  STAR TREK L tilde POW 127
  them alive, but not sufficient at a decent rate
of speed."
  "Four days to get out of here, then." He threw his
science officer a questioning glance. "Got any
miracles in your physical-science tapes, Mr.
Spock?"
  "The basis for producing miracles does not
exist in the system, Captain."
  "I'll settle for a natural solution, then.
You'll start work on the theory immediately, Spock.
When you have something worked out, talk it through with Scotty.
If his objections get too strenuous, go back and
start again.
  "Requisition whatever you need. Work around the
clock until you arrive at a formula for getting us
out of here." He looked away, back up at the
screen. "If you can't find one in ninety-six
hours, you'll have plenty of time to catch up on lost
sleep . . ."
  On board the Clothes, in the pseudo-barbaric
chamber that was the commander's quarters, Kor looked up
suddenly from the sheaf of forms he was studying.
His attention was focused on the erect figure of
First Offlcer Kaas, who stood stiffly at
attention.
  "You call yourself a science officer!" Kor
sheared, suddenly throwing the forms and
  printouts in Kaas' face. The first officer
flinched only slightly.
  "These computations are useless. You couldn't compute
your way out of the defecatory."
  Standing, he jabbed a finger at the other offlcer's
nose. "Get out of my sight and don't come back
until you have a plan that will work. Not one that
delineates at length the reasons for your
ineptitude."
  Kaas saluted smartly, his upper lip
trembling only a riffle. "Yes, Exalted
One." Then he knelt, quietly gathered up the
scattered forms, and left the cabin.
  Kor watched him go. He paced nervously for
long minutes before throwing himself on the circular
sleeping platform. Rolling over, he stared up at
the multidepth picture set into the ceiling. He
felt caged by
  128 STAR TRBX LOG POW
  this room, this ship, this accursed pocket
in time and space.
  His sole consolation was that Kirk must be as
frustrated as he was.
  Only three of the twelve who had welcomed the
newcomers now waited in the council
  chamber. Iccright-brace evna and Xerius were
seated at the far end of the dais.
  Between them sat a female from a world in the little known
Omega Cyna system a world of light gravity, as
shown by her long slender limbs and slimness across the
body. There was a quality of ethereal suppleness about
that form.
  Otherwise it was fully humanoid.
  Her head was bent, her eyes shut tight m
  concentration. The lights in the chamber were dimmed.
  "What do you see beyond your eyes, Megan?"
Devna whispered softly, putting her lips close
to one nearly transparent ear of the Cygman.
  Long, long pause. The female's head rose
  slowly. The lids slid back to reveal a pair
of silver mirrors, blank, pupilless.
  "The two newcomers ..." The voice was
delicate, fairylike wind blowing through high
grass. ""In each ship, beings strive to solve
a riddle."
  "Name the riddle," demanded Xerius.
  "The riddle of the time trap. Escape,
escape."
  The wind blew harder. "They are desperate for a
way out. A way back to their own space-time, to their
own universe." Boneless hands fluttering in
agitation, in helpless empathy. "Escape,
escape. . .1"
  l tilde evna reached out hurriedly and took the
woman's nearest hand, rubbed her own palm gently
along its back. "Gently ... gently, good
Megan. Easily ... return to us now. See us
now."
  The Cygruan named Megan let out a
sibilant sigh, an almost imperceptible whisper of
air as thin lungs contracted. The mirrors of her
eyes appeared to dissolve, to break up like blots of
silver ink. The eyes turned to a light gold
color, and from a tiny pinprick in the cen
  STAR TREK LOG POW 129
  ter, black pupils appeared, expanded to full
size. Vertical, they were, slitted like a
cat's.
  The Cygnian smiled sadly at her
companions. "The new ones wish only
to get away, to run. It's always the same for the new
ones. I'm sad for them."
  "You're sad for everyone, Megan. That's part of
you and your people. The sympathy you feel for others,
intensified by your mind, enables you to see with sympathy
all that others do."
  "They may wish to escape an they like, fight as
hard as they want," commented Xerius. "It is quite
impossible. There is no danger from that."
  "Still," Devna countered, "it is natural that they
do so. They cannot help themselves, Xerius. They must
try. They would not be normal if they did not. All
must try before they come to accept. Best to leave them so
and not try to compel."
  "That is truth," Xerius admitted. "AU will
be well in four days" time when they have no hope.
I wish it were now. Even to keep the watch, to see that
in their fear they do no harm to themselves or others,
feels unnatural to me. It implies the threat of
direct physical restraint.
  "When I was forced to prevent Commander Kor from
drawing his weapon in the council chamber, the action
made me almost physically ill. Eventually they will
feel the same even the one named Kor."
  "You controlled yourself well, Xerius,"
agreed Devna. "I think the effort it cost you was
worth it. The lesson was taken to heart by Captain
Kirk, at least. I felt as sick as you. All
of us on the council did.
  "It is something we must go through. A close watch
is especially vital in this case because it seems that
these two are natural antagonists."
  "So it would appear," Xerius admitted. "It
is difficult, not knowing what is happening in the
socio-political universe about us."
  "But we do have our compensations, Xerius," Devna
reminded him quietly . . .
  130 STAR TREK L tilde FOW
  Spock was working at the library computer station,
Kirk staring over his shoulder. Both men were examining
a series of figures the astrogation computer had just
coughed up.
  More than a little time had passed since Scott's
ultimatum. Kirk was growing by turns tired and
depressed. Initial results had not been
  encouraging. It seemed impossible that Spock would
not be feeling the same emm lions; but, of course,
even if he were it would never show.
  The most one could say for him was that his usual
precision of manner was showing some wear.
Spock held his fatigue inside. Kirk glanced
back up, at the viewscreen.
  Nestled squarely in its center and surrounded
by ancient derelicts lay the Klothos. Behind it was
the tight cluster of ships that still held power and life.
Elysia's inhabitants tended to group tightly
together for company and companionship,
  shifting from one ship to another as internal
arrangements permitted.
  In this way they achieved a certain amount of
variety in companionship over the years. Over the
centuries, Kirk thought. The image held before them
was far from cheering. He turned from the thought and the view
of the Klothos.
  "This is the very best you and your
  theoreticians could come up with, Mr. Spock?"
  "Yes, Captain. I was personally astonished
we could produce a plan so efficacious in so
short a time."
  "I was hoping you could pull a whole rabbit out of
mat computer instead of part of one. You've done it
before."
  "I do not ever recall nor do I see any
reason," Spock replied in confusion, "why you should
suddenly expect me to produce a
Terran
  mammal of the leporid family from the computer
banks at this, or any other time."
  Kirk waved it off. "Slip of the tongue,
Spock. What I meant was that when there seemed to be
no possible answer, no conceivable solution to a
problem, you and
  STAR TREE L tilde POW 131
  that machine operating in tandem have produced one time
after time."
  "Not this time, it appears, Captain," SpDck
con- fessed, never one to offer an encouraging word in
place of the truth.
  "Have you covered every possibility?" Kirk
pressed desperately. "Every factor I don't
care how extreme the mathematics."
  "Every possibility, Captain, several times. The
facts are, simply, that with our maximum drive
we do not have the capability to pierce the continuum
barrier. I do not wish to surrender all hope, but the
facts do not offer reason for much
  encouragement. This was the best we could do."
  Kirk looked around, suddenly stood up and stared
uncertainly at the screen.
  "Well, he isn't giving up, at
least."
  Spock turned away from his console too, as did
everyone else on the bridge, to watch the screen.
tilde
  The Klothos had begun to move. It was leaving its
parking position and moving off at high speed.
Automatic trackers, preset on the Klothos
to free Sulu and Arex for research, adjusted themselves
to follow the Klingon cruiser. Kirk spoke without
turning.
  "If they can do it, why can't we?"
  "I do not believe they can, Captain," Spock
said with assurance. Kirk stared at him. "I consider
it the unlikeliest of possibilities. Clearly
Commander Kor bee lieves otherwise.
  "Their S-Two Graph unit, which is roughly
the equivalent to our warp-drive, began giving off
depleted energy readings at the same time as engineer
Scott reported the start of dissolution among our
own dilithium supplies. Their situation is no
different from ours, their abilities to react to it no
better.
  "Kor has apparently decided to try it
anyway, re- gardless of the attempts of his
navigator and engineers to dissuade him. I
am certain they have tried. The attempt may cost
them all their dilitbium, even to the loss of power
to their lif tilde support systems."
  132 STAR TREK LOG FOUR
  "So he's going to try, contrary to the advice from his
own experts, without a chance of getting through?" Kirk
looked skeptical. "I don't see even a
megalomaniac like Kor trying that."
  "You are momentarily forgetting the Klingon
mentality, Captain," Spock reminded
patiently. "It concludes that the guiding law of
life is that all laws are made to be violated.
To them their treaties with the natural universe are as
tenuous as those they make with other peoples. That is
why their advancement.in the physical sciences was held
back for so long.
  "I need not add mention of their pride, which is
everything to a Klingon especially to a commanding officer like
Kor. He would do
  personal battle with a sun if his pride was at
stake."
  "You're right, as usual, Spock," Kirk
turned back to stare at the screen. The Klothos was
now passing beyond the last row of desiccated starships and
out into the blackness beyond.
  Kirk should have thought of that himself. Kor could not live
with his trampled ego without at least making the escape
attempt . . .
  IX
  A subtle trembling had begun to run through the
bridge of the accelerating Klothos. Kor and his
officers ignored it, as they ignored the alarm
lights which had begun to flash around them.
  The forward scanners showed a strange mix of
light and faint colon Sensors indicated a
concatenation of immensely powerful forces cantered
ahead.
  The first officer of the Klothas struggled to keep his
  STAR TREK [tilde POW 133
  voice normal as he reported to his commander.
"All power beyond minimal life-support has been
diverted to the engines, sir. We're continuing to pick
up speed."
  Kor looked over at him, showing equal
  control control he didn't feel.
  "Continue on course for the coordinates
  indicated."
  "Yes, Exalted One." Kaas' attitude was
that of a Klingon warrior about to plunge into battle
against overwhelming odds. He was prepared
to die, he only wished for a less indifferent
opponent
  "Approaching maximum drive, sir,;" he
reported, after a glance at the controls.
  The center of the glowing vortex appeared to take on
a slight spinning effect, its flanks bursting with
erratic flares of violet light. The Klothos
impinged on the outer edge of the luminescent matrix.
  A high-pitched whine began to build on the
bridge, accompanied by a steady increase in the
trembling beneath Kaas" feet. It built to the
point where Kor had to hold tightly to the arms of his
command chair to avoid being thrown to the floor.
  Several other members of the bridge staff were not so
lucky; they were thrown off balance and had to fight
to regain their seats. The whine grew to deafening
proportions.
  The ship's lights went out and were replaced by a
faint purplish light something like the color of the
Terran sky seen from the bottom of a
  spaceport lift shaft. The whine became a
scream, a howl. One officer clapped both hands
to his ears, forgetting his controls. Another severe
jolt rocked the bridge. Then they were all
tumbling, falling, as the Klothos spun
suddenly on its axis and the artificial gravity
failed to compensate in bone.
  Instantly, their speed started to diminish. Though
no one was able to report this
  immediately least of all Kaas, who had been thrown
against a far bulkhead and right-brace necked
unconscious.
  Spinning, tumbling, rolling crazily, the
Klothos had been thrown bacletter along the path it
had come. Its speed
  134 STAR TREK FOUR
  reversed, it divas slowing perceptibly-by the
time it neared its original parking position.
  Attitude control was far from being
  reestablished, however. A slight deviation in its
return path was enough to send it crashing into and through half
a dozen of the unoccupied, drifting starships.
Mangled and dented, it finally came to a complete
stop as some desperate engineer shut down its engines
completely.
  Broken compartments released a small cloud of
frost ... frozen atmosphere bleeding from a broad
crack near the rear of the tilted hull.
  On the bridge the shrill whine had been
  replaced by a wail of another sort a
mixture of the overworked alarm system and the cries of
injured personnel. Kirk and Spock were not privy
to such cries as they studied the damage to the once
powerful battle cruiser, now centered in the main
viewscreen.
  For a moment, Kirk's pent-up anger at
Kor's earlier actions was replaced by a grudging
admiration. "You were right, Spock, but I almost wish
they had made it."
  "I am glad they did not," the first officer
replied easBy. Kirk gasped in surprise.
  "Spock, you hold a grudge?"
  "Not at all, Captain. I would never experience
such an unreasonable, lon tilde term emotion. It
is rather that their unsuccessful attempt has given me
an idea as to how we may be able to break through the
barrier."
  Kirk waited a moment, then, "Well ... what
is it, Spock?"
  "I would suggest that everyone concerned with the eventual
attempt hear this together. There will be emotional as
well as physical
  requirements."
  "I don't understand."
  "Neither may certain members of the crew,
Captain. Especially any who have been involved in
serious confflcts with the Klingons before. I suggest,
therefore, that eve and the principal officers concerned
adjourn to the central briefing room."
  "I'm not sure what you're leading up to,
Spock, but if you think this is the way to handle it .
. ."
  STAR TRE-LC[EQUALS POW 135
  "It is for the best, Captain."
  Unlike previous gatherings in the spacious
conference room, no one ventured any jokes in an
attempt to lighten the atmosphere. McCoy in
particular wondered at the absence of Uhura. The
reasons for excluding her from the conference would become
clear as Spock explained his intentions.
  Uhura had more reason than any of them to dislike
the Klingons.
  Beside Kirk and Spock, the conference included
Scott, Dr. McCoy, and Sulu.
Lieutenant Arex was on duty on the bridge
along with Uhura, primarily to keep an eye on
the Klothos, though it appeared certain that Commander
Kor would be unable to mount any surprises for quite a
while.
  Awam the others were watching him
  expectantly, Kirk began immediately. "Mr.
Spock has come up with a formula which has a chance
to extricate us from this paradise. Here is one instance
where figures speak louder than words."
  So saying, he hit a switch just under the edge of the
table top. A standard three-sided viewer popped
up in its center. Another adjustment, and a complex
set of computations began to appear on the three
screens.
  Kirk and Spock already knew what the
  computations meant. McCoy could hardly follow
them at all. So it was a toss-up between Scott and
Sulu as to which man would see their significance first.
The first expression to become quizzical, then
lopsided, then finally appalled was
  Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott's.
  "But this involves combining, in close-order
maneuvering, with the Klothddos, Captain.
  Closer-order maneuvering . . . hell, it
means combining shipsl"
  "That's right, Mr. Scott," agreed Kirk
quietly. The chief engineer did not try to conceal his
disgust at such a prospect.
  "You mean you want us to work hand in hand with those
vipers? Engine dregs, murderers . .
."
  "It's our only choice for getting out of here,
Scotty." The chief said nothing more, but continued
to mumble
  136 STAR TREK POUR
  under his breath. were Uhura present, further
discussion would have been impossible. Someone would have
to break the news to her later.
  Meanwhile, Sulu had been working furiously with
his pocket computer, occasionally glancing up at the
nearest of the three-sided screens to cross-check his
own work with the original equations.
  "As a problem in navigation it has more loose
ends than a millipede, Captain. Trying
to guide two such disparate vessels through such an
intricate maneuver .. ." His voice trailed
off and he shook his head wonderingly.
  "How difficult, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk
pressed. The helmsman tried to hedge his reply.
  "I can't say for sure, Captain." He
squirmed mentally. "Just ... difficult."."
  "Impossible?"
  "No . . . no, not impossible."
  "Do you really believe that?" That forced a
half-grin from the helmsman.
  "I'm not sure whether I do or not, Captain.
But I am sure that if Mr. Spock is confident
enough to propose it, then he thinks it isn't
impossible though I'm not going to press him too
hard for the exact odds. I think I'd rather not know.
  "If he considers such a plan workable, then it's
up to Arex and myself to find a way to make it work."
  "That's that, then." Kirk turned his attention
back to his chief engineer. "Mr. Scott, your
comments?" Scott appeared to wrestle with himself a few
moments longer. He too had little reason to love the
Ningons. But eventually, he capitulated.
  "Considenn' that we've only two days left before
our supply of dilithium has deteriorated to the
point where we can no longer drive the ship, I'd
say we've no choice but to go with Mr. Spock's
plan, Captain. Though I don't like it. Not one
bit."
  "I know how you feel, Scotty," Kirk
  sympathised. "I'd prefer just about any
  alternative. We haven't any. If it
manes you feel any better, consider that Kor and
  STAR TREK L tilde FOUR 137
  his people will like it even less." He smiled
sardonically.
  "Our dislike of them is founded on reality, which
enables us to consider such a plan
  rationally. Their pathological hatred of
  non-Klingons would prevent them from thinking of on
tilde but it won't stop them from going along with it."
  "That's just my point, Captain," Scott
wondered. "Can we trust them?"
  Kirk spread his hands. "That we don't know."
  Sulu finished his own figuring, stated his
position.
  "I agree with one thing, though, Captain, we have
to try it."
  "As for the Klingons being trusted . . ." Kirk
turned to McCoy. Having nothing to contribute to an
argument on astrophysics, the doctor had sat
quietly through the entire discussion. "What do you
think, Bones?"
  "Emotionally," McCoy began, "I tend
to concur with Mr. Scott. The idea of combining ship
functions with that crew of backstabbers
  automatically sends my hand for a phaser." He
looked resigned.
  "But to get out of here, I think they'll restrain
their inherent animosity toward us. Anything to escape
this elephants' graveyard."
  "Exactly," agreed Spock.
  McCoy shot him a look of surprise.
  "Now there's a reference I would not have thought you'd
know, Mr. Spock."
  "Reading the great fantasies of Terran fiction
was one of my mother's favorite pastimes,
Doctor," Spock informed him. "As a child I read
through all of them avidly."
  "Then we're all agreed on this," put in a
smiling Kirk. "I'll get in touch with Kor
immediately . . ."
  "Escape, escape, escape ..." Megan
fairly vibrated with the violence of the emotions and
thoughts she was reading. Devna had to reach out quickly again
to soothe the Cygnian.
  138 STAR TREK LOG FOR
  "Softly now, Megan," she whispered
  reassuringly, "softly."
  But Megan had no control over modulating
  such emotions.
  "It burns them . . . it consumed them . . . it
is a . . . Jire." Her voice shook
dangerously.
  "Return to me now, Megan," Devna husked
  quickly. "Gently, gentle, return .
. . see me . . . now." The bright mirrors
shattered like a pool of quicksilver. Their normal
light gold color returned, the cat-pupils
emerging.
  "It is a violence in them. They have no control
over it."
  "Not yet, perhaps," countered Devna, "but they will
come to accept. All do, eventually. There is no
other choice."
  "What has been learned?" queried a never
  voice. Both women turned to see Xerius
  materialise in the chamber.
  "These new ones," Devna went on, "they learn
nothing from their first attempt at escape. Now there
is a new plan . . . to combine their two ships and
try again. Can you not stop them, Xerius?" The speaker
of the council looked troubled.
  "It is not against our laws to try to escape."
  "But they may kill themselves in these mad
attempts. Already one of their ships has been
damaged and people injured."
  "That is how it must be, then, till they are con-
vinced," Xerius replied stolidly. He looked
thoughtful, reminiscing.
  "Remember, Devna, how I tried and
tried to fleet Tried till my ship and my people and
even I were beaten. Only then did I begin
to accept. So long as they do not break our laws we
must not impede them. were we to do so we would be breaking
the laws. Not only that, but doing so would lead them
to think they were our
  prisoners, and then they might never come to join us in
peace.
  "No, they must learn the futility of escape for
them
  selves." tilde
  STAR TREK LOG FOR 139
  ""Even if they kill each other in the
process?" Devna wondered bitterly. "Our
laws forbid violence. Why glen do we allow them
to do violence to themselves?"
  "It is only violence against odhers that is . .
."
  Xerius looked up at Megan. "You have been
looking into them, Megan." The Cygnian nodded.
"Tell me, then. If a majority are being forced
to try these escape attempts
  ,,
  . .
  But He Cygnian shook her head.
"One word
  branded indelibly in all, their minds, that word is
escape."
  Xerius looked slightly downcast. "It is as
I remember it, from long ago." He smiled
sadly at Devna. "You see, Deanna? They must
try. They must burn this desire out of themselves. This
thing we cannot do for them."
  The main briefing room on The Klothos was far
more elaborately decorated clan its counterpart on
tile Enterpnse. The central table was inlaid with
rough-cut gemstones. Spoked and striped,
  diamond patterned and tight-curled furs padded
tile seats. Archaic heraldic banners were on The
walls, sealed in transparent plastic. Only
four officers were present. Kor and Kaas
representing The Klothos, Captain Kirk and
Mr. Spock from the Enterprise. The discussion had
been going on for over an hour now Kor's
screeches alternating with Kirk's taut
replies, Kaas" aloofness bouncing off
Spock's invulnerable calmness.
  At last all suggestions had been made, all
inferior arguments rebutted.
  "Then it's settled," Kirk sighed
finally. "Our science and engineering teams will get to work
immediately at integrating both warp-drives and
navigation systems so that we can maneuver as a single
ship. Exchange of personnel and beginning of computer
interlock will commence as soon as we return to our
ship."
  Fourteen natural objections leaped to The fore in
Kor's mind. He forced every one of Them down. These
were extraordinary circumstances. So all he
muttered was a curt, "Agreed."
  140 STAR TRBGG'C LOG POW
  They rose. Or at least, three of them did.
Spock remained seated, his face blank, almost
dreamy.
  "Mr. Spock," Kirk said. The first officer
suddenly became alert. Rising, he started for the
door.
  Spock pushed his way between Kor and Kaas and
threw an arm around the shoulders of both men. "I cannot
tell you," he confessed, his voice bordering on
true emotion, "how impressed I am by your
splendid spirit of cooperation." There was total
amazement in the room. It was
  impossible to say whether the two Klingon officers
or Kirk stared at Spock with more as-
tonishment.
  "I realize we have had our differences in the
past," Spock continued unctuously, "but now we can
be brothers in the face of adversity."
  Kor's natural reaction to such intimate and
uninvited personal contact would have been a fast stab
to the throat with his nails. Had Kirk tried a
similar move, that might have been what would have
happened. But coming from Spock, the action so stunned the
Klingon commander that all he could do was squirm
uncomfortably in the Vulcan's grasp.
  "Mr. Spock," Kor muttered, "if you will
please . . ." Kirk, in a state bordering on
paralysis, continued to stare. Spock released both
mortal enemies then placed his hands on Kor's
  shoulders.
  "forgive me, Commander," he said gently. "I was
overcome by the import of this moment. May I shake
your hand?"
  "I suppose so," the dazed commander replied.
He extended his hand as if it were no longer a part of
his arm. Spock took it, shook firm and long.
Releasing the still befuddled Klingon, he turned to his
own counterpart on the Klothos. That worthy was staring
silently at him with an expression usually
reserved for the more
  interesting specimens of previously unknown alien
life.
  And yours, Science Officer Kaas." The first
officer of the cruiser extended his own hand . . .
somewhat reluctantly and Spock shook it, hard.
  "Goodbye, for now," Spock said. Then,
apparently
  STAR TRBX tilde oaPOUR 141
  overcome Stin further, he turned and started for the
door, shoulders heaving, concealing his face.
  Kirk followed, glanced back at Kor and
Kaas, rather embarrassed. "Goodbye, Mr.
Spock," mumbled Kor. "Captain Kirk."
  The door slid shut behind them. Kaas stared at it
for several seconds after the two Federation officers
had left before breaking the silence.
  "The stories of his being half human must be
true."
  "More than true," agreed Kor. "Or perhaps
passage through the continuum gate affected his hybrid
mind more than most." That shook the first officer from his
lethargy. He turned to eye his commander with something
less than mindless subordination.
  "I wonder," he began pointedly,
"if perhaps we all haven't been affected."
  "Explain yourself," Kor ordered, but not as sharply
as he should have.
  "This willingness of yours all of a sudden to work
closely with an old enemy like Kirk. With one who
has thwarted so many thrusts of the Empire. It is not
like you, Commander. What do you really have in mind?"
  Kor relaxed, let out a Klingon chuckle a
  sound as devoid of humor as a cobra's hiss.
"You've been my first officer too long for me
to conceal much from you, Kaas. Very well.
  "What would you think if the Enterprise were suddenly
to disintegrate after our dual ship had pierced the
space-time window?"
  "I would think my Commander had maneuvered
brilliantly."
  "I think the implications are clear?"
  "Perfectly," Kaas responded, understanding what
was required, now.
  "And it can be arranged?" The first officer
hesitated before replying, ran clawed fingers over the
polished wood of the briefing table.
  "It involves a high risk factor, given the
lack of time to prepare and Kirk's naturally
suspicious nature. Yet I thinly it
can be arranged.",
  142 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  "Very good, Kaas. Ill leave it to you to attend
to the details of the Enterprise's destruction." The
two K3ingon officers exchanged vows.
  Of all the hundreds of ships drifting in the
blackness of the pocket universe, none were stranger
than the two that hummed with activity near its
center.blue and purple from tiny phaser welders
surrounded the doubled vessels with shifting motes of
light, and it wore a corona of suited figures
busily weaving about its multiple hull.
  The Enterprise had been maneuvered to a
  point just above the Klothos. Now the two ships were
being joined together with cables and plates, bars and
impulse connectors.
  Kirk leaned back in the command chair,
  studying the changing view on the main screen.
Multiple external scanners provided a
constantly changing picture of the work in progress.
They were racing a clock with too few hours left.
  They had to finish by tomorrow noon, ship time. That was the
point at which the power supplies of both ships would be
depleted to such an extreme that they could not reach the
  minimum speed necessary to satisfy
Spock's figures. Time and navigational
requirements were inflexible..
  If they failed, they would be trapped here forever.
  McCoy was nearby, chatting with Sulu. The
doctor was trying for the eighth, or possibly the ninth
time, to get an explanation in layman's language
of the complicated physics through which it was hoped they could
break back into the normal universe.
  "Beg your pardon, sir," came a voice from
behind him. Kirk swiveled in his chair, was confronted
by Second Engineer Gabler and
  another crewman he didn't recognize
  immediately. A drive tech ... Bell was the name.
  Slouching between them rather reluctantly, Kirk thought
was a Klingon engineer. With a thousand
  STAR TREK LOG FOUR 143
  other things on his mind, Kirk forced himself
to devote full attention to the men before hi
  "What is it, Mr. Gabler?"
  "Sir, Bell and I are the relief watch for the
dilithium storage tanks." Gabler's way of
telling Kirk that the suspicious Scott had
placed guards at certain vital points in his
section. "We arrived a few minutes late and
found this one and a couple of his buddies poking
around."
  "Where are the buddies?" Kirk inquired,
  glancing behind the Klingon and seeing no one else.
  "Being watched, sir. This one appeared to be in
charge."
  "This is absurd, Captain Kirk," the
Klingon engineer broke in. "We were lost, that is
all. What is more natural when one is performing
hurried work on a strange ship?"
  "Lost, my foot," protested Gabler
angrily. "It's clearly posted as a restricted
area. You didn't have any trouble reading any of the more
  complicated symbols. Keep Out is one I'll
bet you recognised easy enough. You knew all
along you weren't supposed to be in there."
  "Gentlemen, I'm sure there's been a
mistake."
  Everyone turned to stare at Spock as he moved
toward them from his position at the library computer
station. He put a comradely arm
  around the shoulders of the Klingon. The
  engineer couldn't have been more shocked if he'd been
bitten by a malachite tree viper.
  Once again Kirk found himself at a loss for
words. "Now then, my good fellow,"
Spock
  inquired pleasantly, "where were you supposed to be
working?"
  "Ah ... your pardon, sir, but ..." The
Klingon found an answer quickly. "Engineering
subdeck five."
  "Close enough to the dilithium storage area. A
natural enough error, I'm sure you'll agree,
Captain."
  "If you say so, Spock," Kirk responded
  uncertainly.
  "There, you see?" Spock said to Gabler. "A
perfectly natural mistake. Allow me
to escort this young man back to his work area,
Captain."
  144 STAR TREK LOG FOUR
  "Very well, Mr. Spock."
  Spock, his arm around the Klingon engineer, turned
and steered him toward the elevator, talking easily
with the alien. The latter continued to eye the Vulcan
uneasily. As soon as the doors closed behind them,
Kirk looked firmly at Ben and Gabler.
  "Return to your posts and don't leave until
you've been formally relieved."
  "Aye, sir." Gabler saluted
stiffly, making no attempt to hide his displeasure
at the way things had proceeded. He and Bell
turned and left the bridge.
  When Kirk turned the chair back he found
  McCoy had been standing behind him. There was a note
of real concern in the doctor's tone.
  "Are you as worried about Spock as I am,
Jim? Taking into account what you told me about his
actions on board the Rlathos, and now seeing it for
myself, I'd say it would be the understatement of the
millennium to say he's not acting quite normal."
  Kirk rubbed a hand across his forehead. "He's
been performing under a lot of pressure, Bones.
All of us have. Spock's been working around the clock
for the past two days almost three, now, and we're not
finished yet. Arex and Sulu have checked his
calculations, but this is still being done at his say-so.
And the most crucial moments are still ahead of us, when
he has to be at his sharpest."
  "I know that, Jim. So listen to the say-so of
someone who has not been under so much
  pressure recently, when I say that there's
something wrong with him. live never known Spock to act
like a pal under any circumstances. Least of all
toward the Klingons."
  Kirk frowned, clearly worried. "That's
true, of course, Bones, but . . ."
  "If he's coming apart, Jim," McCoy continued
relentlessly, "then we're in real trouble. He
handled all the original computations for this escape
try himself. If he's not, as you say, a hundred
percent when we start to move, he could go under the
pressure and take He rest of us with him.",
  STAR lllEK Loo
  Kirk reflected on the situation. Bones was
exactly right, of course. Maybe he had become
so exhausted himself these past couple of days he had not
paid enough attention to the condition of those around him
especially Spock's. Particularly since the
science officer's work had not suffered.
  Still, you never knew for sure what Spock might
be concealing.
  "All right, I'll talk to hen, Bones. That's
about all I can do. I can hardly recommend he
see you for medication without something more positive:"
  ""No, you can't, Jim. I don't even know
if unnatural friendliness on the part of a Vulcan
is a sign of illness. I only know it's not part of
Spock's normal behavior."
  Kirk rose from the command chair. "He's
in the main briefing room. I'll take care of it
now."
  "Good. And Jim?"
  Kirk paused. "Yes, Bones?"
  "Whatever you find out, let me know. So I can be
prepared. In case."
  Kirk nodded once.
  The briefing room, where Spock could work in
absolute privacy, was crowded, but not with people. The
table was littered with piles of computer tape, cards,
tiny cassettes, diagrams and computations.
Material spilled off the desk onto chairs,
dripped onto the floor like white moss.
  At the moment, Spock was totally absorbed in the
study of a series of projected energy abstracts
on the three-sided central screen. Kirk
didn't remember when the first officer had last
slept, but he rose promptly when Kirk entered
the room.
  Kirk smiled reassuringly. Spock took this
as a sign that nothing of an emergency nature had
developed, sat back down and concentrated once more
on the tiny lists of figures. Kirk examined
another side of the triples viewer for a few
moments, then looked evenly at his
  first officer..
  "Everything seems to be moving on schedule. But
  146 STAR TREK LOG FOUR
  then, you're the only person who can really be
sure. Everything devolves on you, doesn't it,
Spock?"
  "I would suppose so, Captain."
  "Any final determination of our chances?"
  Spock replied without looking up, though there was a
note of puzzlement in his voice. "That is an odd
question to ask at this stage, Captain."
  "Nothing serious, Spock. It's just that Dr.
McCoy and I were thinking well, there has been
something about your recent
  behavioroflate particularly toward the Klingons
. . ." He trailed off uncomfortably.
  Now Spock looked up, spoke thoughtfully.
  "Yes, I grant you it is not my usual
pattern."
  Back went his gaze to the viewer. He touched a
control and a new set of abstracts appeared on the
screen.
  "Well," Kirk finally pressed, when it was
evident Spock wasn't going to add anything, "is
something wrong?"
  "I believe there is, Captain. But not with me,"
he added quickly, noticing the sudden look of alarm
on Kirk's face. "With the Klingons.
  "I sensed something odd about their attitude when we
were aboard the Klothos. Kor was far too agreeable
to our proposals."
  "You think so?" Kirk wondered. "He objected
to every suggestion we made."
  "And ended by agreeing with all of them. I believe
his objections were mere verbal
  camouflage. And his first officer, Kass, seemed
to me more at ease than our mere presence would
explain."
  "It might be due to their desire to get out of here
as desperately as we," Kirk countered. "There could
be a host of reasons for both Kor and Kaas acting
the way they did."
  "I would agree that their behavior might have other
explanations, Captain, had I not touched them. But
even though the physical contact was necessarily
limited, and their minds were uncertain, I did
detect a number of subtle indications in
EL-OR physical as well
  STAR TABS LOG POW 147
  as mentalcomccnected normally with victory
and conquest in Klingon physiology.
  "It is not a simple thing to convey with words,
Captain. You have to experience it. I can only infer
that Kor had an attack on the Enterprise in mind
even as he agreed to cooperate with us."
  "Attack? How can they attack us when our ships
are maneuvering as one?"
  "I don't know, Captain. But I would
hypothesise some form of delayed action. Something that will
affect us when we have successfully broken the barrier
and the Klothos has separated from us."
  "Could you gain any hint from Kor's mind,
Spock?" Kirk leaned over the table intently.
  "No, Captain. At the time Commander Kor may
not have decided on the method, only the course. I
am not that telepathically gifted, you know.
  "I also studied the mood and mind of the
  Klingon engineer who was discovered in the dilithium
vault. There was nothing specific in his thoughts only
a vague feeling of animosity, which is to be
expected, and expectancy, which is not. I cannot
escape the feeling that some kind of sabotage is being
planned against the ship."
  There was silence while Kirk weighed possible
act lion. "Whatever they have in mind, they
can't do anything until after we've finished our run
at the barrier. They need us to get through. That gives
us time to uncover anything they try to plant on
board." He ao" tivated the desk com.
  "Security, this is the captain speaking. I
want all security teams on round-the-clock
duty now. Watch every Klingon who is working on
board the ship dou3lose. Interior or exterior.
I don't want one of them to go to the bathroom without
our knowing about it."
  "We've been watching them all along,
Captain," came the reply.
  "I know that. I want the most intense
  surveillance you can mount, Mister. Is that
understood?"
  "Yes, sir," came the abashed response.
Kirk switched
  148 STAR TREK L tilde POW
  off, looked satisfied. "If they try anything,
we'll be ready for it."
  "I hope so, Captain," Spock mused. He
turned his full attention back to the screen. "I
sincerely hope so."
  The other members of the bridge complement on the
Klothos ignored the conversation of the three
officers grouped around Commander Kor's chair. As
any good Klingon crew ought, they attended strictly
to their assigned tasks, closing ears and eyes and
minds to all that occurred around them that did not
require their personal concern.
  Kor and the female, Lieutenant Kali, cast
expectant eyes on the first officer.
  "All is in readiness, then," Kor announced.
"You have the device Kaas?"
  In reply, the first officer reached into a belt
pouch, pulled out a small deceptively
  innocent-looking device. It was about the size and
shape of a throat lozenge and looked to be about as
dangerous. It gave even Kor pause when he
considered what was bound up inside that tiny package.
  "My compliments to Engineer Kanff," he said in
open admiration. Kor always appreciated fine
workmanship. "A wonder that they got it so small.
Kanff and his staff are due a decoration for this."
  "Yes, an extraordinary job, considering the
requirements and the lack of time in which to fnlfill
them," Kaas agreed.
  "How is to be triggered?"
  Kaas turned the compact device over in his hand,
displaying casual disregard for its
capabilities.
  "According to Engineering's calculations, we must
achieve at least warp eight to have a chance of
penetrating the barrier. At the time our dual
vessel reaches that speed, a sensing crystal within the
device will shatter, setting the timer.
  "Reaction time will commence approximately three
minutes after we have pierced the barrier, assuming the
Vulcan Spock's predictions to be correct.
Our engineers
  STARTREK LOG FOUR 149
  concur. The reaction will backflow until it
reaches the dilithium chambers themselves. At which point
the Era terprzse will disintegrate."
  "An admirable plan with an admirable end,"
grinned Kor, retaking his seat. "Engineer Kanff
has carried out the first half of the mission in producing
the machine." His gaze wandered up to Lieutenant
Kali. For a brief moment he
  considered virtues other than those of a top
officer. It passed.
  "The other half, Lieutenant, will be up to you."
  "Yes, Commander. I have been briefed and
  understand what is needed. How win I recognize
the diversion?"
  Kor looked temporarily pained.
  "Unfortunately, that is the one factor we cannot
plan for in advance, Lieutenant. For it to succeed,
it must be at least partly spontaneous in nature.
The choice of the crucial moment will be up to you.
However, there should be ample opportunity at the
joint gathering this
  evening-time."
  Kali's expression became one of disgust.
"To mingle on a social basis with humans and
Edoans and their kind," she almost spat. "It will be
difficult to maintain an aura of civility,
Commander."
  "It is necessary to be more than civil,
  Lieutenant. We must endeavor to appear openly
friendly." He eyed her sternly. "We can do nothing
until we escape this trap. Remember that if your
resolve weakens ... and smile."
  "Yes, Exalted One," she answered
compliantly.
  Kaas handed her the tablet-sized machine. She
took it carefully and tucked it away in a waistband
pocket.
  "Tonight they entertain us," Kor observed, barely
controlled excitement in his voice, "and so
it is only just that we provide them with some
entertainment ourselves. It will only last for a few
milliseconds, but it should be most gratifying."
  "If that device does what Engineer Kanif
  assures me it can," added Kaas, nodding in the
directeaion of the now hidden tablet, "I almost
regret that
  150 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  none on board the Enterprise will have the
opportunity to observe its entertaining
  capabilities at greater length."
  X
  It was all the better for Kor's machinations that the
party had been suggested by the psychology staffs of
both the Klothos and the Enterprise and then mutually
agreed upon by himself and Kirk. That should lull any
suspicions of ulterior motives on the part of the
Klingons.
  The rationale behind the gathering was that since the
Elysians felt so strongly about the personnel of
both ships co-existing in harmony, it might be an
excellent idea for them to observe members of both
crews mingling in a spirit of good fellowship and
cooperation even if a little faking was required.
  As a further indication of their desire
to cooperate vith their new friends, invitations had been
extended from both ships for members of the council
to attend. When locale had been called into question,
Kor had magnanimously agreed to have the event
staged on the Enterprise.
  One of the large briefing rooms had been
  made over for the occasion. Klingon and
  Pederation trappings were placed side by side. They
did not blend well, since conflict carried over
even into decorations.
  Long tables were set up around the room and loaded
with food and exotic drink from both ships.
Natural antagonisms momentarily laid
aside, the celebration commenced surprisingly well.
Klingons, crewmembers
  STAR TREK LOG POUR 1Sl
  of the Enterprise, and representatives of the
Elysian council mingled easily in the large
chamber.
  Taped music played over the concealed
  speakers. At first it had been mostly martial
Scottish music, angry fifes and drums,
until Kirk ordered the selection changed over
engineer Scott's objections.
  Then the speakers poured forth a tape
  requested by Devna, the Orionite member of the
council, and promptly turned out by the
  Enterprise's vast library.
  She was dancing in the center of the floor, to the
admiring stares of numerous onlookers. Sounding
clearly over the hum of constant chatter, the music
was lush, full, impressionistic. Devna danced
sensuously, completely relaxed. Only occasionally
did a movement seem forced. It was as if she were
desperately striving to demonstrate that there was a
different side to her than the formal interpreter of
laws who sat on the council.
  Now she was interpreting with her body instead of her
voice. There was nothing abstract in her movements.
They were basic ... primal, even. The performance
ended with a flurry of difficult moves lithely
managed ended with her Iying prone on the floor.
  There was applause, varying according to
  diverse styles of artistic appreciation. The
music changed to something simple, gentle, purely
melodic. Almost embarrassed, Devna made a
slight bow and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the dance
floor free for others to try their Terpsichorean
skill.
  Kirk was engaged in a somewhat forced
  conversation with one of the Klingon library
technicians. He turned to speak to Devna as she
hurried by. He was glad for the chance to break off the
discussion without becoming insulting, finding it increasingly
difficult to control his emotions around the Klingons.
Their ever-present, unsubtle sense of
supercilious superiority generated in him most
undiplomatic urges.
  "That was beautifully rendered," he told her.
  "I thank you, Captain." She was barely
breathing hard.
  "Especially that grande finale."
  152 STAR TRPR LOG FOUR
  Her eyes suddenly seemed to light, and a glow
came into her face. "You've seen the dances of
Orion before, then?"
  Kirk nodded. "Many times. Always with
  pleasure, never without admiration."
  "I wish . . ."
  Interpreter of laws, council member or not, the
look on her face was unmistakable.
  "Wish what?" he prompted. She stared hard at
him.
  "I wish I could return through this space-time
barrier and see Orion again. We tell,
we lie, we say to ourselves," she continued tightly,
"that homesickness is a mental abstraction and
easily avoided. We have put our former lives behind
us . . . and so we have.
  "But . . . the walls we've built in front
of those memories are not always as strong as we would
wish them to be."
  "You could go back," Kirk told her. "We're
perfectly willing to take passengers."
  "No," she said, gazing at hint tiredly. "You
see, we've an seen the absurdity of trying
to escape. Many times each of us here dreamed of
breaking out, till we comcame to understand it simply cannot
be done. We have accepted our new lives here.
To dwell on the possibility of returning is
only to open emotional wounds best left closed.
Such speculation is unhealthy."
  "We're pretty sure it can be done," Kirk
  countered.
  "Do you not think," she half shouted, "that each of us
has not believed that same thing as intensely, as
strongly as you? Mid you not see the Klothos fail?
Did you . . ." She stopped, staring at him.
  "You still do not believe. You still fail to admit
to reality. When fact has replaced
dream, I will dance again for you, Captain Kirk. You
will find, when you have been here a hundred years or so,
that the appreciation and companionship of one's fellows
is among the finest ends anyone can live for.
  "Until then, I will intrude on your dream no
longer."
  "Funny," Kirk murmured. "I've always
felt exactly
  STAR TRB1Can [tilde POW 153
  the same way about appreciation and
  companionship on the other side of the space-time
barrier."
  She gave him a friendly, pitying smile of the sort
usually bestowed on a stubborn child, fumed and walked
into the crowd, heading for the place where Xerius stood in
earnest conversation with another council member a
Tanarine male, Kirk noted absently. He
knew better than to go after her, better than
to repeat his offer of escape.
  Usually the outright refusal to consider another way
of looking at something was a sign of advancing age.
It appeared that physical
  deterioration of the body was not a prerequisite for
fuming so obstinate. Repeated discouragement would
only contribute to such an attic tude.
  The music issuing from the speakers had turned
faintly romantic. A number of couples were
dancing on the floor now. There were also one or two
triples.
  Kirk might have intervened if he had seen what was
happening across the room, but his view was blocked and
no one else saw fit to step in. McCoy,
overcome by the enforced spirit of the occasion, had imbibed rather
too much. But so what if his emotional gauge was
running a bit high? His judgment was unimpaired,
he thought and
  member of an inimical race or no, that
Klingon lady was one of the most beautiful gals in the
room.
  The doctor made a gallant, if unsteady bow
before her, smiled broadly.
  "Miss . . . would you care to dance?"
  Not surprisingly, the offer took her utterly
unawares. She made a pretence of looking away,
in reality searching for Kor. He saw what was
happening, nodded slightly. She forced a smile of
her own and stood.
  They started to shuffle around the
  floor awkward in each other's arms at first, but
with increasing steadiness. Kor broke off his
conversation with one of the council members and slid over
to where Kaas stood. His first officer had not noticed
the unusual pairing yet.
  154 STAR TREK LOG POW
  He was drinking and trying to avoid contact with any
member of the Enterprise crew,
  A few words were whispered, glances
  exchanged. Kauswaited until Kor had made
his way across the floor and struck up a new
  conversation, this time with one of the
  Federation officers. Then he moved, starting out
onto the dance Door, an angry, half-drunken
glare dominating his expression.
  A clutching hand, and McCoy found himself spun
around to face the furious, weaving Kaas.
  "Get away from her, human, this is my
  woman." Kali looked on quietly.
  "Now just a minute," McCoy objected, his
  liquid amiability rapidly starting to fade.
"All I did was ask her to dance. She didn't have
to agree, and I certainly didn't . . ."
  "She's my woman!" Kaas howled, not wanting
to be distracted by facts. Most of his body weight
was behind the wild swing he took at the doctor.
  McCoy dodged the worst of it, still
caught Kass" fist in the side. He stumbled
backward, over went a table laden with food and
drink with a nerve-tingling crash. The taped music
continued but now every eye in the room turned to them; every
conversation ceased.
  No one, not even the two security guards at the
door, noticed the long-forgotten Kali slip out
of the room through an open service hatch.
  Gratified at the ease with which he had bowled over
his unsuspecting opponent and not wanting to waste the
opportunity, Kaas moved in quickly, hoping to get
in a few damaging blows before they were separated.
  He underestimated McCoy a characteristic
  common to anyone who had ever fought the
  doctor hand to hand. McCoy had been knocked
off balance, but he was more surprised by the sudden
assault than hurt. And if his present condition was
not analytical it made him plenty combative.
  He hit the first officer of the Klotho, low,
ramming his head into the other's midsection and knocking
the
  STAR TREK LOG POUR 155
  wind out of him. Grappling wildly, the two
officers rolled over and over on the floor.
  McCoy flailed away with enough
enthusiasm to keep the frustrated, furious Kaas
from either doing any damage Or getting free. One
wild elbow even caught the Klingon officer under the
bridge of his nose, an exceptionally painful jolt
that started blood flowing.
  It was Kirk who got his arms around McCoy's
shoulders and dragged him off Kaas.
  "Bones, stop it!" McCoy was still weaving on his
feet. "What the blazes happened?"
  Kaas climbed to his feet. That's when he first
noticed the blood trailing from his nose. At the
sight of that, he forgot what he was doing on the
floor, forgot his position, forgot everything.
  He went for his concealed disrupter pistol.
  "Stopl" came a booming voice from the back of the
room. Xerius' commanding tone. Kass didn't hear
him, just as he didn't hear Kor's frantic cry
of "Khaba dell,, Kaus!" or the curse that
followed. Roughly translated, it meant, "The
idiot wilt ruin everything!"
  Kor ran toward his first officer . . . too
late, he saw. The disrupter was already out and aimed
at the two humans. Before anyone had a chance to reach
Kaas, he fired.
  The killing bolt faded into the air
centimeters from McCoy's chest.
  Kass, startled not only by the failure of his
pistol but by the sudden realization of what he had done,
stared in confusion at the useless weapon. Before he could
decide to fire, put the gun away, or do
anything, Kor wrenched it from him. The first officer
looked up slowly into his commander's eyes.
  A milky gaze was fading rapidly from Kass'
corneas. He had been in a berserker frenzy.
Kor struggled to control his own emotions. Not the first
officer's fault, really, considering that the other had
unexpectedly drawn blood.
  But what a time to let a little blood intervener
  "Captain Kirk and Commander Kor, and these
two,"
  156 STAR TREK FOR
  intoned Xerius solemnly, "twill come to the
council chamber in two minutes to face charges."
  There was a flash ... several flashes. When
Kirk and the others looked around, every member of the
Elysian council had vanished.
  The celebration had come to an end.
  A low babble of conversation resumed in the room .
. . Iow and concerned. All hint of the enforced
pleasantries of moments ago was gone.
Members of the two crews now had something real
to talk about a common threat of unknown dimension.
  Kali did not participate, however. By then she
had successfully made her way into the central
computer room of the Enterprise, avoiding the
depleted security forces.
  Using a packet of compact tools taken from
another pocket, she removed a certain panel
buried far back in the main complex. The
  components visible beyond the panel pulsed with faint,
miniature auroras, by-products of the energies
flowing through them.
  The tablet-sized machine slid neatly into place,
well back among a maze of interlocking
circuitry. The device would have been even better
located in one of the engine rooms, but security was
impenetrable. According to the schematics on board the
Klothos, this was the closest she could get without being
challenged.
  Engineer K tilde nff had calculated it would
be more than close enough.
  No one saw her replace the panel or leave
the room. A dozen or so technicians, some from the
Enuerprise, some from the Klothos, were passing through the
nearest corridor, moving to a new work
area Kali blended in neatly with them.
  When they reached the work section, she
  joined two of her shipmates and fell to assisting
them as best she could. They eyed her strangely, but
said nothing. It was not meet to question the actions of a
superior owl cer. They went silently about their
business.
  She had successfully earned out the crucial part
of
  STAR TREK LOG POW 157
  her mission. Now * remained only for her
to wait and enjoy the spectacle to come.
  There was no time to try and rig any kind of
protective defensive field. It probably
would not have been of much value. Previous experience
had demonstrated that whatever transporter the
Elysians possessed, it was perfectly capable of
plucking any member of the crew off either the
Enterprise or the Klothos any time the council
wished.
  So it was that once again Kirk and Kor, now
accompanied by first officer Kaas and Dr.
McCoy, found themselves standing in the cathedral-like
council chamber before the assembled Elysians.
  There was no attempt at explanation this
time, no effort to make the visitors feel at
ease. The enmity coming from the council was almost
palpable. A feeling of decision that Kirk found
frightening, hung in the air. There was to be no discussion
or trial here. A decision of some sort had already
been made.
  In a place where there was an excess of only
time, Xerius" speech was brief. "You have been
informed. You have been warned. You have been instructed.
And you know that any exercise of violence against another
intelligent being is forbidden here." He glared at
Kor.
  "Your man began the fight and attempted
to kill." Xerius looked around at his fellow
council members. "I formally propose as penalty
that we suspend the Klothos and- its crew for a
century of their time."
  All his carefully constructed struts and
  buttresses supporting an intricately wrought
plan had neatly been kicked out from under him when
Kaas had lost his temper. Now Kor saw the
foundation crumbling.
  "My first officer was provoked," he protested,
trying to project an air of outraged innocence. The
excuse sounded lame. Xerius treated it
with contempt.
  "He attempted to kill and would have, had we not
prevented it at the final moment. There is no
lesser penalty for such a crime."
  158 STAR TREK LOG FOR
  "But I didn't know," Kaas objected. "I
lost control of myself, saw only . . ."
  "That will be enough," warned Xerius sharply. "You have
spoken already . . . with your actions."
  "May I say something, them" Kirk asked.
  "You may, Captain Kirk."
  He took a step toward the dais, thinking
  rapidly. As a starship command flight officer he
was required to know a fair amount of law, but that had
never been one of his favorite subjects at the
Academy, though he had done well in it. With his
no-nonsense analytical approach, Spock had
the better courtroom manner.
  But Spock was not here. Kirk would have to argue his
case as best he could, alone.
  "Captain Kor and I as you probably
  know are going to try and break through the time-space
barrier tomorrow. If you put the Klothos and its crew
into suspension, you'll be punishing us as much as there.
We can't leave as a single ship.
  "I implore you to let our dual craft make
this attempt as we've planned."
  "This futile attempt at escape is so
important to you?" Xerius was saying. "Despite
what we have told you, that it is foredoomed
to failure?"
  "I repeat, we don't share your eternal
  pessimism. However you choose to see it .. .
yes, it's that important to us."
  "You wiation fail."
  "We must try," Kirk pressed desperately.
  "Xerius," he *tent on, hoping the council
leader didn't think he was being lectured, "in many
respects, Elysia is a perfect society.
It had endured a thousand years and proven that when
given a chance, the most antagonistic peoples can
live together in peace." And when given no other
choice, he thought.
  "But with all its virtues, it's not home. And with
all its faults, we would prefer to return to our
own continuum."
  Far down the dais, Devna was heard to
  murmur, "As would many of us."
  STAR TREK LOG FOUR 159
  Xerius pretended not to hear.
  "You insist on taking these would-be murderers with
you?"
  "I'd be Iying if I didn't admit that
Commander Kor and I regard each other with something
less than brotherly affection," he admitted.
Kor smiled toothily.
  "But sometimes an injured man has to take
medication that's not very pleasant, yet necessary to his
survival. That's my situation regarding the
Klothos."
  Kirk's argument was simple and logically
  irrefutable. And so, after studying both men for
several long moments, Xerius gave a reluctant
nod.
  "Very well. I release Commander Kor and Pirst
Officer Kaas into your custody, Captain
Kirk." He looked sternly at both Klingons.
"After your absurd escape attempt fails, the
penalty will be carried out should you survive."
  Kor forced himself to fight down his triumphant
smile and look nominally repentant. It wasn't
too hard. If the Vulcan Spock's
calculations proved inaccurate, the penalty might
just as well be carried out. Better to sleep than be
forced to endure an eternity of this
repugnant
  civility especially with humans and other Feder-
ation grass eaters!
  "Lest you believe we think you ill fortune, I
wish you good luck, Captain Kirk," the council
leader finished.
  "Preparations are completed," Kor announcer
  Kirk looked up at the viewscreen. The
image of Commander Kor stared back at him from his
position on the bridge of the Klothos. A
precision universal chronometer was mounted on one
arm of the Klingon commander's chair and was
  synchronised to the one on the Enterprise. They
had finished the conjoining work with several hours to spare.
  "Ready here." Kirk turned his attention to the
rising black band on the chair chronometer, watched
it reach a preset Numeral. At the instant it
did so, there was a buzz from the helm. A
preliminary check, successful.
  160 STAR TREE LOG FOR
  Helm and navigation instrumentation on both ships were
properly linked.
  "Manual timing checks," Kirk reported.
  Now nothing was left but to feed power to test
Spock's theory.
  Sulu was watching him, waiting.
  "Prepare to accelerate to warp-six, Mr.
Sulu."
  "Standing by, sir."
  "Ready to compute subordinate corrections if
required, Captain," Arex said crisply.
  "Communications standing by," Uhura added.
  "Computer backup ready." Spock, relaxed,
at ease.
  Kirk glanced down at the chronometer set in his
own chair-arm, silently counted off the seconds:
three, two, one, accelerate.
  A barely perceptible vibration ran through the deck
as preset automatics took over and the linked
ships suddenly leaped ahead, accelerating steadily.
  Two members of the Elysian council stood in
the otherwise deserted chamber and stared at the
flowmetal screen which had appeared behind the council
dais. Long-range monitors mounted on
long-abandoned craft kept the
Enterprise-Klothos in sight as it moved out of the
ship cluster.
  Devna and Xerius stared at the picture. As
they watched, a third counselor entered, eyes going
to the screen. Silver cataracts slid
over Megan's eyes as her gaze reached outward.
  "Escape," she mumbled. "All are concentrating
on escape. Their ships move ever faster.
  "Kirk of the Enterprise expresses confidence in
the work of his technicians and engineers, in the ability
of his first officer.
  "Kor of the Klothos, too, exudes confidence in
his personnel and in . . ."
  Both hands went to her temples. She stumbled
backward.
  "No! The Klingons have hidden an explosive
device aboard the Enterprise. The picture is
in Come
  STAR TREK LOG POUR 161
  mender Kor's mind. She will be destroyed. She
will
  . . .
  Xerius and Devna came out of shock
  simultaneously. It was the council speaker who
moved first, clutched at the controls of the concealed
microphone. Spoke frantically while staring at
the screen.
  "Intership emergency, intership emergency!"
  "Power Control acknowledges, Speaker," a
voice responded.
  "Full broadcast to the Jleeing starships,
tight-beam message to the Enterprise."
  There was a pause, then . . ., "Probing,
Xerius. They do not answer."
  "Keep trying ... give me an open channel.
Enter- prise, this is Speaker Xerius.
Respond, Enterprise! You are in ..."
  Descent into the Maelstrom, Kirk mused as the
whirlpool of light that delineated the space-time
barrier appeared on the screen. A wavering cyclone
of force they were rushing toward.
  Unconsciously, both hands dug tighter into the
arms of the command chair. True, the Klothos had
tried the barrier, been rejected, and survived. But
perhaps they were moving so supremely fast that this time the
barrier would reject them with less care. His grip
didn't relax.
  "Warp-seven, Captain," Sulu reported.
  "Everyone brace for resistance as we contact the
barrier field," Kirk ordered unnecessarily.
  "Sir!" Uhura's voice. "Xerius is
trying to contact The call is coming on an emergency
frequency."
  "Put it on the main speaker, Lieutenant."
She nudged a switch, and the speaker's
voice
  immediately sounded on the bridge.
  "Captain Kirk, the Klingons have secreted an
ex- plosive device of small size but
tremendous triggering power in your . . . in your
computer chambers. Megan reports it is located
at . . . a moment . . . she is attempting
to read . . ."
  162 STAR TREK POW
  The intercom went silent. Kirk's stomach was
doing acrobatics.
  "It is located," the speaker said, voice
contact returning, "in the casement housing
auxiliary power leads to the drive chamber. It will
activate when you reach warp-eight. If it is not
removed before then, it cannot be deactivated. It must
then be removed carefully, according to Megan's reading of
its internal structure, or ... (fizzle,
sput) ... racinatio ..."
  "Outer fringe of the barrier is disrupting
communications, sir," Uhura reported.
  "Stay with it, Lieutenant. Spock,
Scotty." Both offlcers were already halfway to the
elevator. Kirk punched a switch on his chair
console.
  "Computer room ... Captain speaking ...
give me the tech in charge."
  Brief pause, then, "Rodino here,
Captain."
  "Commander Spock and the chief are on their way
back there to perform some surgery.
  Remove all access plates to the drive power
leads, auxiliary casement. Don't touch anything
else . . . move, Rodino."
  "Computer out," came the fast reply.
  While the attention of the Enterprise's
  command was otherwise engaged, their
  counterparts on the Klothos were intent on the main
viewscreen. Their alert system had begun to sound,
as it had once before only a few days ago.
  "Approaching warp tilde eight, Exalted
One," Kaas noted from his position at the science
station.
  A new sound began to penetrate the bridge, a
sound Kor had listened to recently just prior to being
thrown into unconsciousness. A high, wailing roar
generated by forces which existed in contempt of all
natural law. A wild, thunderous moan which once
heard was never to be
  forgotten. Not by Kor, nor by any
member of the Enterprise's crew, now subjected
to the same buffeting.
  "The barrier," the commander muttered,
  staring at the light storm ahead. They were close
to it, now.
  "He didn't specify which auxiliary leads it
was be
  STAR TRIM LOG P0 tilde 163
  hind, damn it," Scott rumbled tightly.
Shoving the startled Rodino aside, the chief engineer
had gone through the Iirst such section. With blatant
disregard for everything the manual said and for years of
training, he ripped at connections and leads,
oblivious to the chances of shock or to the damage he
was doing.
  The first panel he searched showed nothing, nor the
second. Delicate circuitry was shoved aside
by the small combination tool in his right hand. He started
in on the third, nudging aside a minor knot of
microcircuits, probably deactivating
someone's favorite entertainment channel.
  That could be fixed . . .1ater. Right now he
wanted a look a little deeper into the casement.
Something seemed to be reflecting a touch too much
light back there. Then he saw it. A
small cylindrical section about the size and shape
of a large pill.
  "There it is, Spock. I'll hold the lines
aside."
  Spock dropped to his knees as Scott moved
slightly aside. Spock moved his arm into the
opening. Gently, two fingers slid around the tablet,
lifted, pulled it 810wly from its resting place
by a double-duid circuit.
  He had it.
  Seconds later, both men were standing,
  examining the compact device. Spock imprinted
its exterior design, consistency, weight,
color, shape in his mind for future study. Then
he moved to a boldly marked slot at the far end
of the chamber. A disposal niche.
  There were three switches set in the wall beside it.
One labeled DISINTEGRATE, the second
  marked RB-CALLYCRA and the Bird, was covered by a
snapdown protective top.
  Spock flipped the red plastic up and placed
me innocuous-seeming tablet in the open niche. Then
he pressed the uncovered button. The red label
alongside it read: POWER EJECT.
  Despite the coolness on me bridge,
Kirk found he was sweating A vibration that did not
come from the engines now rattled the deck beneath them,
shook the awns of his chair where he gripped it. A
teeth
  164 STAR TREK POUR
  scratching screech screamed over the speakers and
seemed to dig into his bones, despite Uhura's
attempts to moderate it.
  There was a sudden sharp jolt. Inside his skull
a little voice chuckled, said, "Nice try,
James That.... goodbye . . A'
  Then without any warning, the vibration
  stopped, the high-pitched wail trailed off into a
drifting sigh, and the view forward became awesomely
normal a vision of familiar stars and nebulae.
The view was infinitely more glorious than the
claustrophobic immortality they had left behind.
  As prearranged, a single relay snapped over
on board both ships. It begat a multitude of
tiny clicks and snaps as beams, cables, and
plates parted sometimes softly, other times with the aid of
tiny explosive bolts.
  The Enterprise-Rlothos fissioned, each half
arching off in opposite directions.
  Unrestrained cheering indicated the
emotions on the Clothes' bridge. Anyone would have
thought the crew had just won a major battle against
overwhelming odds. In a sense, they had.
  Her commander and first officer stared
  expectantly at the viewscreen in anticipation
of further pyrotechnics. Long-range scanners
struggled to hold the fast-moving dot that was the
Enterprise.
  Por a moment, something seemed to have gone wrong.
Then there was an impressive flowering of violet
light. The cheering died quickly as the rest of the crew
turned in surprise to gape at this new
phenomenon. First one gaze, then another, and
another, turned toward the command station.
  "Exalted One," Kaas said formally, "this is a
great moment for the Empire. May I have the honor
of. . . ?"
  "Not yet, not yet," Kor countered thoughtfully.
"Give everyone time to think on it. Let them reach the
proper conclusion by themselves. The result will be that much more
pleasurable for them. We can confirm it at our
leisure. I want to enjoy this as long as
possible."
  STAR TREK LOO FOUR 165
  His predatory smile widened as he
watched the angry dare fade from the screen . . .
  To see familiar stars again was a pleasure Kirk
had not expected.
  No, no . . . that was not true. Inside, he
had always really believed they would successfully
escape the continuum trap no matter how many times
the Elysians had failed. There wasn't a barrier
in the universe that Spock, Sulu, Arex and
Scott couldn't break once they set their combined
brainpower to searching for a solut tilde on.
  That belief had wavered only once ... when the
Klothos had tried the barrier and failed. Maybe
he had felt so sure about it because they had never really
been threatened. Kirk was used to facing down death the
promise of eternal life was something hard to feel
terry fled about.
  Uhura interrupted his musings. He noted a
calmness in her voice again that no promise of
extended life could put there.
  "Sir, I'm picking up a deep-space
transmission at the extreme range of reception.
It's from the l tilde lothos." She paused.
"Commander Kor is
  heading for his home station there, they've just passed
outside our effective communications
limit."
  "Don't keep us in suspense, Lieutenant,"
Kirk prompted. "What's the good commander done?
Probably taken full credit for our escape from
the time-space trap."
  Uhura seemed to be having trouble controlling
herself. "It's not ... that, Captain. They saw the
device they planted aboard go off and apparently
they felt it was still aboard.
  "He thinks we've been destroyed and he was
trumpeting his triumph an the way back to Klingon
Imperial Headquarters!"
  "Commander Kor is exhibiting the typical
  egocentrism of . . ." Spock stopped,
observed that Kirk, Sulu and even Arex were now
sharing in Uhura's laughter.
  166 STAR TREK FOUR
  A steady high-pitched noise of a less ominous
sort now permeated the bridge.
  "I had thought that if such information inspired emotion
in you," he said uncertainly, "it would have been of
anger and not amusement."
  "Don't you see, Spock?" Kirk turned
to him, trying to retain his composure.
  "See what, Captain?" The first
officer was still confused.
  "Consider what Kor is reporting, is
claiming, Spock . . . and then try to visualise
his face when the Empire's emissaries in the
Federation send back word that we are still in excellent
  condition!"
  Spock glanced around the usually efficient,
smoothly running bridge. It had taken on the
air of a carnival He turned back to his
console.
  There was a certain problem in abstract
  mathematics he had been working on. He would
return to a consideration of it now. But first he
reviewed Kirk's explanation. The incongruity
of the situation he perceived, of course. But he would not,
if he lived to be a thousand,
  understand how it could produce in normally sensible
human beings a state of transitory imbecility.
  In response to his request, the computer laid
the details of the problem before him once again. Bending
his gaze to his hooded viewer, he found relief from
the surrounding hysteria in the cool perfection of higher
calculus. He was not, however, isolated in his
reaction to the situation.
  Had he known, it is guise likely that
  Commander Kor would not have been laughing, either . ..
  PART Ill
  MORE TRIBBLES,
  sttilde ORE TROUBLES
  [Adapted from a script by David
  Gerrold)
  Xl
  The call came in a few days later.
  "Message from Starbase Twenty-three,
  Captain," Uhura announced. "Indication is
priority signal, but not confidential."
  "Put it on the main screen then,
Lieutenant."
  "Very good, sir."
  Dim with distance, a face appeared ahead a pore
trait of a young and rather harassed-looking communications
officer. "Captain Kirk, my name is Massey.
I'm with Emergency Interstellar Relief . . .
Communications Section."
  "So I see," Kirk replied.
  From what Kirk had seen, members of the IRS
wore expressions akin to this Massey's nearly
constantly. The nature of their work, naturally. The
young officer's gaze, however, seemed especially
mournful.
  "We've been trying to contact you for ages,
Captain. Uh ... how did your mission into the
Delta Triangle go?"
  Word certainly gets around in Starfleet, Kirk
reflect ted.
  "Standard exploration," he replied blandly,
ignored a muffled choking sound from the
  region of the helm. "In this case, if it had
taken us a day longer, you would have spent those ages
trying to contact us."

  170 STAR TREK LOG POW
  The Su tilde lieutenant looked uncertain,
aware that Kirk was trying to tell him something and
thoroughly unsure how to interpret it. A hand wiped
wavy brown hair from his forehead.
  "Glad to hear that, sir," he mumbled in
response. "You're familiar with the operations of the
Relief Service?"
  This one was even younger than he looked, Kirk
mused. Had he ever been that young? "I have some
familiarity with the functions of Starfleet peripheral
organizations," he deadpanned. "What can we do for
you?"
  Missing the sarcasm completely, the
  Sub-lieutenant turned crisply
businesslike. "Do you know the location of Sherman's
Planet?"
  Kirk glanced over a shoulder. "Mr. Spock,
could you ... ah, never mind. I remember." He
looked back to the screen. "A newly settled world
on the periphery of the Federation. Population is mixed
human andEdoan." Arex nodded in confirmation. There
were few comworlds where the Edoans felt comfortable outside
of their home system. Sherman's planet was one of
them.
  "I have a cousin in that colony, Captain."
  That lent whatever difficulty Massey was about
to delineate a touch of immediacy, as far as Kirk
was concerned.
  "I.recall that Sherman's Planet is a
fairly successful venture. Not a paradise world,
maybe, but certainly a tame one."
  "Quite true, Captain." The youngster was nodding
vigorously. "It gave every promise of being a rich
agricultural world, capable of exporting a wide
variety of staples to the rest of the Federation.
Records indicate that the initial seedings of the
colonists would produce a first crop beyond anyone's
expectations." His expression became more
doleful.
  "Unfortunately, it seems that the first survey
team overlooked something. Occasionally, new worlds have
surprises locked inside them that are not revealed
at once. Sherman's Planet looks to be one of
them.
  STAR TREK LOG POUR 171
  "We're still not sure what the basic cause of the
trouble is. A shifting deficiency in the soil,
maybe the presence of a cyclic virus in the
atmosphere. Whatever it is, it's deadly where
mature grains are involved. As I say, we
don't know yet. But the initial crop seems to be
a complete failure.
  "The soil chemists mink they can solve the
problem, develop a defense against it. But that will
take a minimum of six standard months. The farmers
on Sherman don't have six months. It's not a question
of export now it's a question of survival.
  "What they do have is a double growing season,
thanks to the planet's lushness and long summer.
We've turned up a hybrid seed grain on the
plains world of Kansastan. According to tests, it ought
to be impervious to what's been hitting the
  Shermanites' crops.
  "Two large cargo drones loaded with the hybrid
seed are in parking orbit around KS. You are
to proceed there, pick up the drones, and escort them
to Sherman's Planet. At standard cruising speed
you should get them there in plenty of time for the colonists
to get the seed into the ground.
  "If they don't get the seed, they'll face the
coming winter without any crop at all. This is
supposedly an established colony. They have only
minor emergency supplies left. No crop and
they'll face widespread famine. Predictions
run as high as ten to eighteen percept
fatalities. And the colony proper might never
recover."
  "The grain will get there. Don't worry,
Massey. As you say, we've plenty of time." The
best catastrophes, he reflected, were the ones that
could be prevented.
  "Enterprise out, Lieutenant Massey."
  The Sub-lieutenant managed a weak grin as
much of a smile as the people in his business could mount and
signed off. Probably to turn his attention to some
new disaster, Kirk mused. It took a special
kind of person to stand up under the kind of anguished
reports the IRS had to handle daily.
Kirk did not envy the young man his job.
  172 STAR TREK
  "Mr. Arex, Mr. Sulu . . . set a
course for Kansastan."
  "Aye, Captain," sounded the simultaneous
acknowl- edgment.
  They had no difficulty in securing the drone
grain ships. Each was somewhat smaller than the
Enterprzse, but nearly as powerful. High-speed,
bunk carriers, their sole purpose was to convey
enormous loads across the plenum in the shortest
possible time.
  The monitoring officer on the small space station
orbiting Kansastan was garrulous to the point of
boredom, so Kirk was glad when linkup was
completed, giving him a chance to depart.
  Tin, he couldn't help feeling sorry for the
fellow. He was assigned to a world whose people went about
their Federation business efficiently and with little fanfare.
They didn't get many visitors.
  And that monitor might serve in that isolated post
until his retirement without a single promotion.
  The journey to Sherman's Planet was passing
uneventfully. So uneventfully that when they were "com
three-quarters of the way to the outpost
colony, Kirk was considering beaming the nearest
Stardeet base for further orders.
  Instead, he sighed, activated the recorder in the
and of the command chair.
  "Captain's Log, stardate 5526.2. Having
been assigned to escort two robot grain ships
to Sherman's Planet, the Enterprise is now
approximately . . ." He looked to Arex. The
navigator nodded, turned to his readouts and
recited a figure. Kirk repeated it into the
recorder.
  "... from the colony. Upon completion of delivery
of the quinto-triticale seed, the Enterprzse will
proceed to . . distilde ,
  "Captain7 Captain." Sulu's tone was
anxious.
  Mildly irritated, Kirk put the Log on
hold. "What is it, Mr. Sulu? You know
better to interrupt when [m making an official .
. ."
  "I'm sorry, sir, but I've just picked up
some kind of smaller vessel. A one-man scout
or an independent trader . . . can't be sure at
this distance. It's running an
  STAR TREK tilde POUR 173
  evasive course, sir, at top speed with a
Klingon battle cruiser in close pursuit."
  Kirk thought rapidly, lifted his finger from the
hold button. "Changing course to investigate the
pursuit of a small ship of unknown origin by a
Klingon ship of the line. Ou." He looked to the
front.
  "Mr. Arex, alter course to put us on an
  intercept route with the smaller craft."
  "Changing course, Captain," the navigator
answered promptly.
  Kirk drummed fingers on a chair arm, studied
the screen impatiently. "Any confirmation of
identity on either ship, Mr. Sulu?"
  "Not yet, Captain." Sulu was bent over a
  gooseneck viewer.
  "Captain?" Kirk looked around.
  "Yes, Mr. Spock?"
  The first officer looked over from the library computer
console. "Among the information
  received by high-beam code transmission from
Starfleet Science Center in the past several days
was an item that it has not been necessary to mention until
now. There are rumors from
  Federation agents that the Klingons have a
new weapon, abilities unknown.
  "Your timing is remarkable, as always, Mr
Spock," Kirk commented, straight faced. "The
Klothos didn't have it."
  "NO, Captain. Had she, it seems certain
  Commanda Kor would have employed it."
  "Cruiser is closing rapidly on its
target," Sulu announced, forestalling any further
discussion of new Klingon potential. Spock
turned to his sensor readouts.
  "Initial scan indicates the smaller vessel
is a one-man scout ship of common design.
["ederation manufacture and registry probable but
not yet certain."
  "I think I can get the other ship on a
  high-resolution scope, Captain," Sulu
offered. He worked at his instrument board.
  A second later the new picture appeared on
the screen, showing the small scout with unusual
sharpness,
  174 STAR TREK L00 POW
  considering the range. A sudden burst of light
flashed across the screen, disappeared, as if something had
arced for a microsecond between the Enterpnse and the
fleeing scout.
  Kirk already guessed the explanation. "Mr.
Sulu, shift pickup, please."
  Sulu figured it out only seconds later. His
tone was one of puzzled amazement. "They're firing
on him, Captain."
  He adjusted another switch. A different
  scanner took over from the first. The new view
showed the little craft's massive pursuer, clearly
recognisable as a Klingon battle cruiser. As
they watched, multiple ripples of light flared from
the warship's prow as she let go with her secondary
disrupter batteries.
  Again Sulu changed views. This time the scout
ship eclipsed the disrupter bolts and they passed on
its far side. Kirk doubted the Klingon gunners
would miss again. The scout vanished from the screen and from
then on some instrumental calisthenics were required of
Sulu to keep it on the screen.
  The pilot was going all out to avoid being hit,
Kirk noted. He was good, and his ship was mobile;
but it couldn't dodge a warship's electronic
predictors forever, couldn't continue to escape
disrupter fire that could obliterate much larger prey.
  A bigger question was the sanity of the
  Klingon's commander. His ship was so far within
Federation space there was no possibility of
navigational error. Unless he and his executive
officers had gone completely mad, they knew
exactly what they were doing and what chasing the scout
ship this far implied. To risk such a blatant
violation of Federation borders was a sign that someone
desired to destroy that tiny ship very much, indeed.
  Territorial intrusion took clear precedence
over escort duty. "Ahead, warp-six."
  Sulu and Arex coaxed response from the ship's
engines. Kirk activated his chair intercom.
  "Transporter room, report." A crackle
of opening
  STAR TREK [equals FOR 175
  channels, and then a familiar burr.
"Transporter room ... Scott speakin"."
  "Scotty?" Kirk's brow furrowed in mild
surprise. "What are you doing there? Where's Chief
Ky'e?"
  "On his second off-shift, Captain. I thought
I'd take it for him. I've been gain' crazy
tryin' to figure out how the Elysians picked you and
Dr. McCoy off right through our defensive screens
and . . ."
  "Never mind that now, Mr. Scott,"
Kirk
  interrupted quickly. "You haven't taken the console
apart,
  hope?"
  "No, sir." Now it was Scott's turn to sound
sur- prised. "I intend to eventually, but right now
she's fully operational. Why? What's
happenin'?"
  "We've run into a Klingon battle cruiser
chasing a solo scout and . . ."
  "A Klingon? This deco inside Federation . . .
?"
  "I know, Scotty, I know. She's firing on
the smaller ship. We're going to try and rescue
its pilot."
  "Aye, Captain!" There was a pause at the
other end, then, "He's nothin' in the way of a
screen, sir, but at this distance it'll take some time
to scan the pattern of whoever's on board. I dinna
want to bring him in in pieces."
  "Get to work on it, Mr. Scott. When you
lock in on him, don't hesitate. Bring him
aboard."
  "Aye, sir."
  Kirk turned his attention back to the
screen. Another set of light waves passed
close by the scout. The cruiser vas still firing.
Someone muttered that the Klingons couldn't shoot worth
a damn.
  At the tail end of the mutter, a last bolt
struck the ship a glancing blow. A tiny white
cloud billowed from it as escaping atmosphere froze
solid. The scout continued to move, but it was clearly
disabled now.
  Still no word from Scott. He spoke over his
shoulder.
  "Open general hailing frequencies,
Lieutenant."
  Kirk waited a moment, giving Uhura time
to comply, then spoke into the pickup once more.
  "EU-INGON battle cruiser ... identify
yourself. This is
  176 STAR TREE
  Captain James Kirk commanding USS
Enterpfise speaking. You are violating Federation
space. Identify yourself . . . halt firing on
scout ship."
  Sulu switched the forward scanner back again from the
weaving scout to the cruiser. It did not take long
to tell that the Klingons had no intention of
altering their course or ceasing their attempts
to destroy the fleeing scout. Several more disrupter
bolts darted from the prow of the warship.
  "Doesn't even bother to acknowledge," Kirk
muttered. A certain amount of hesitation on the part
of an interloper could be tolerated. Such outright
contempt for a major treaty could not.
  "Mr. Spock," he ordered, his voice lowering
meaningfully, "you will note this violation and enter it
offlcially in computer records. Mr. Sulu, arm
an phasers. Deflector shields up. All
hands to battle stations."."
  After Uhura activated the alarm, the
Enterprise became a hive of instant activity.
Dropping whatever they were doing when that klaxon sounded,
each moved to his or her position of readiness.
  "All stations report battle status,
Captain," Uhura reported a few moments
later.
  "Phasers armed," Sulu announced. "Shields
up."
  Several other switches were snapped over. "Ship
is battle status." Kirk nodded, spoke to the
mike in one last try.
  "Klingon battle cruiser, this is your
last chance. Identify yourself." Only the faint
static of distant suns sounded back over the
speakers. "Ahead, warp-eight .. . range,
Mr. Sulu?"
  "Closing, sir." Again the view foreward altered,
back to the scout ship.
  "The injured vessel is losing speed rapidly,
Captain," informed Spock.
  Kirk studied the image worriedly, spoke to the
intercom. "Scotty, have you got that pilot yet?
We're running out of time up here."
  "Workin' on it, Captain," the chief engineer
replied distractedly.
  SEAR TREK LOG POW 177
  Another disrupter bolt flashed past the scout.
A see" and. The third didn't miss. There was a
brief dare of radiation from the superheated hull and the
tiny vessel melted away like disintegrating butter,
faster than a splinter of magnesium in a
firestorm.
  In the transporter room four lights all
  commenced blinking at once and several gauges did
unnatural things. Lieutenant Commander Scott,
after several abortive attempts to alter the reading
above one particularly significant
dial, launched into an impassioned diatribe
concerning the Klingon's ancestry, origins, probable
Spiritual destination, morals and general lack of good
taste. His outburst did nothing to improve the
readouts, but it was decidedly therapeutic.
Scott's only disappointment was that the Klingons could
not listen in.
  Actually, if they had been able to, it is
doubtful Scott's aspersions could have made them any
madder than they were already.
  "They got him," Sulu muttered angrily.
  ""Maybe not." Kirk bent to the intercom.
  "Scatty? Scout's gone . . . disrupter
bolt. The pilot?"
  Scott's voice came back full of confusion.
"I don't know, sir. That blast must have hit his
ship at the crucial second. You should see some of
these instrument readings, Captain. In college we
once did an experiment which involved dropping an
egg from a thousand meters up onto a
  concrete platform. That's kind of what the
integration parameters look like now, sir.
  "I think I got him out in one piece. The
trick now's gain" to be puttin' him back that
way."
  "Scotty, you pro . .."
  "Captain!" Kirk turned at Sulu's warning
shout. His gaze went to the screen. The Klingon
cruiser was turning, turning in a wide arc and heading
directly toward the Enterprtse. It began
to accelerate.
  Spock raised an eyebrow. Kirk's eyes
widened.
  "They're confident of something," Spock
  theorised. There was a beep from his own
  console, and he glanced back to study a computer
readout.
  "Silhouette and class identification confirmed,
Caps
  17g STAR TREK [tilde POW
  fain. Imperial battle cruiser Debtor,
Captain Koloth commanding."
  The Klingon warship continued to close the distance
rapidly. But just before it entered effective phaser
range, it sheered off, keeping the distance between them. A
strange blue halo formed at the ship's bow, faint
at first but growing steadily in size. It thickened
until it had the consistency of blue smoke. There was
a sharp flash, and the tenuous blob leaped away from the
Devisor toward the Enterprise.
  Arex stiffened in his seat as the screen was filled with
expanding blue cloud.
  "The new weapon. Mr. Spock?" Kirk
asked.
  "Some kind of solidified field effect,
Captain." He was studying sensor readouts. "It
will contact us in precisely four seconds." His
hands tightened on the console edge. "It appears
capable of producing a most remarkab . . ."
  There was a lurch as the Enterprise rolled
forty-five degrees on her port side. It
swung upright again. All on-board lights had gone
out momentarily. Now they flickered dimly on,
operating on stored power.
  "dis. . disruption," Spock concluded.
  External hull scanners revealed that the
Enterprise was now cloaked in the wavy blue
field.
  Disruption of another kind had affected the main
transporter room. Both the instrumentation and Chief
Engineer Scott were producing some startling effects.
  Sulu was working controls hurriedly. His face
wore an expression at least one part panic.
"Captain, our engines are dead."
  "We have been struck by some kind of
projected stasis field," Spock reported
evenly. "Our matter-antimatter generators are
disabled. So are the impulse end Sines. We seem
to be completely paralyzed. Most remarkable.""
  "I'm not feeling in an admiring mood," Kirk
shot back. "All phasers . . . fire."
  Sulu attempted to respond. His worried
frown knotted tighter. "Phasers don't work either,
sir."
  .
  STAR TREK LOG FOUR 179
  "I might note that my admiration does not
preclude
  a desire on my part for retaliation,
Captain," Spock ex-
  plained. "I must observe, however, that the photon
tor-
  pedoes will probably not respond, either. It
appears
  that this field is capable of neutralising all
high-order
  field and warp functions."
  "We could always throw rocks," Uhura
  suggested.
  "This new Klingon weapon must be one of
surpris
  ing power if it can so thoroughly immobilize a
large starship like the Enterpnse," Spock continued,
speaking
  to no one in particular. "The energy drain must be
  enormous. Almost insupportable, I should think."
No
  one was listening closely
  Kirk was at the com. again. "Scatty, did you
re- trieve that pilot yet?"
  "He's still in the beam, sir, but I can't
integrate him.
  All transporter systems have been
interrupted."
  "You sure you've got him, though?"
  comThe chief engineer glanced to the transporter
alcove. comA familiar shimmering of multicolored
particles contuse fued to hover there, outlining a
rotund, vaguely hu- manoid form. And that was
all it did, growing neither
  stronger nor weaker.
  "Gauges indicate seventy-three percent
  solidification
  attained, Captain. But I need at least
another eighteen
  percent to assure successful final integration.
We're
  going to need more power for that, sir."
  "Hang onto him, Scotty." Por what?
They were at
  the mercy of the Klingon ship, unable even to run.
He
  hammered the arm of his chair once, twice.
"Captain," Uhura broke in, adjusting her
earphone,
  "message coming in."
  "Put it through, Lieutenant."
  He forced himself to relax. EITHER-VEN managed a
half
  smile ... which lasted all of two seconds. But
at least he was able to keep himself from shouting angrily
as the image of the Klingon bridge formed on the
screen.
  Most of it was blocked out by a single figure.
  The Klingon commander turned from speaking to someone
off-screen to smile ingratiatingly into the
  180 STAR TREK LOG FOUR
  pickup. He was fighting natural instincts
to achieve a patina of politeness.
  "This is Captain Koloth of the battle
cruiser Devzsor. Have I the honor of addressing
the renowned Captain James Kirk, who . . ."
  "You're not calling to laud my reputation,"
Kirk interrupted him firmly. "Release my
ship."
  "Of course, Captain, of course. Gladly,
  happily." He positively oozed good
fellowship. "There is only one small thing we
require. You must turn over to me tile pilot
of the little ship we were escorting."
  "Didn't look like you wanted to escort him very
far," Kirk observed. "In any case, I
haven't got anybody to give you. Your last bolt
dissolved him along with his ship."
  Koloth assumed a sad smile. "I beg
to differ with you, Captain Kirk, but our sensors
distinctly recorded certain powerful energies at work
on board the small ship at the moment of
  disruption. Computer analysis identifies same
as a transporter beam of a type well known to be
mounted on your class cruiser.
  "As there are no other ships of your class in this
immediate area save yourself, I must therefore assume the
beam came from your ship. This in itself is not an arguable
thing, but sensors further indicate a
probability of better than half that the pilot of the
scout was successfully removed before his vessel
unfortunately self- destructed."
  "You lie about as well as you navigate,
Captain Koloth," Kirk countered. "In any
case that ship was of Federation registry, operating
well inside Federation boundaries something you might also
take notice of. The pilot is under our
protection."
  Koloth's face turned the color of a bad
apple. He appeared to be trembling slightly.
Somehow the captain was maintaining an iron control
over his emotions. Something vital was necessary to force such
restrictions on him.
  It was.
  "Captain, this person has committed
ecological sa
  STAR TREK POW 181
  borage against the Imperium. If I have to take
him by force I will."
  "Temper, temper, Koloth. The first Klingon
to step aboard this ship uninvited will be the last
Klingon. Mr. Spock, full internal security
alert."
  For some reason, Kirk's final
refusal seemed to calm Koloth. Even to widen his
smile. "I'm afraid, Captain Kirlc, that
you'll find your hand weapons do not oper- ate any
better than your major armament."
  Uhura had noticed something on her board and
leaned over to whisper it to Spock. "Mr. Spock,
I'm losing contact with our robot grain ships.
They are not held by the stasis field and so they are
continuing on course."
  "What was that?" Kirk asked, looking over at the
science station.
  "I repeat, Captain," Koloth continued, "you
must turn over to us the . . ."
  --"A moment, Captain. This situation calls for
consul
  comtilde tation with my officers."
  Koloth looked disgusted.
  "Ah, your archaic democratic principles7
You have a few minutes, Captain, no longer. My
patience is growing thin. If by that time you have not beamed
the pilot over to us we will destroy your ship
piecemeal as it sits helpless within our field."
  "All right, Koloth, all right. You've made
your point. Just give me a few minutes to talk this
out." He rose from the chair, turned
to Uhura
  "Lieutenant, cut off reception."
  "Yes, sir." She complied as Kirk walked
over to stare at the readouts above her.
  "As you can see, sir," she commented, gesturing at
the monitoring gauges, "they're moving off."
  "Then they still have power. Can we control the ro- bot
ships, Sulu, in our present state?"
  "Afflnnative, sir," the helmsman replied
a moment later. "Our remote guidance system is
a low-order field effect and not affected by the
Klingon stasis."
  "Koloth made no mention of them. There's a chance
  182 -- STAR TREK L00 POW
  he's so concerned with us he has forgotten about there.
Bring them back, Mr. Sulu and have them ram the
Klingon ship."
  "Captain . . ."
  Kirk looked over at his first officer.
  "You cannot afford to lose that grain," Spock inset
ted. ""The situation on Sherman's Planet .
. ."
  Kirk cut him off. "I can afford even less
to lose the Enterprise, Mr. Spock. Once he
gets what he wants, do you think Koloth
will let us go to report this serious violation of
Federation territory? Why should he, considering where
he's got us?"
  Sulu was working furiously at his instruments as
Kirk took his seat again. "Open the hailing
frequency again, Lieutenant Uhura." The
screen cleared quickly. "Captain Koloth7
We've reached a decision." He paused a moment
for effect and to give the robot ships a few
seconds more to gain on the Devisor.
  'Tomorrow going to give you one last chance to
  release the Enterprise."
  Koloth assumed an expression of incredulity.
"You're going to give me one more chance?" His voice
dissolved in Klingon laughter hacking,
unmelodious, unamusing. Apparently someone
off-screen said something equally unamusing, because
Koloth abruptly was listening hard and looking to his
left. He was frowning when he turned back
to Kirk.
  "It won't work, Captaim."
  Koloth's face disappeared and the screen went
blank. Kirk was not sorry to see him go. He
smiled slightly himself. The threat was working,
otherwise Koloth would still be there, gloating.
  Their counterattack was crude and primitive and
would have appalled the men who had
  designed the Enterprise's offensive weaponry.
This didn't change the fact that it was working. Either of the
robot ships could make a very thorough mess of the
Devisor.
  Sulu expanded their field of vision. At the
same time, two new azure bubbles began to form at
the Dev tilde sor tilde s bow. They grew
rapidly in size.- Again ttIG
  STAR TREK LOG FOR 183
  brief flare splitting them off from the mother ship and
then they were moving away in opposite directions,
toward the onrushing robots.
  "Incredible," Spock was murmuring, "utterly
incredible . . . the amount of energy that must be
required to maintain those fields."
  Sulu switched to a deeper pickup to follow one
of the blue fogs as it headed toward an approaching
grain carrier. As they watched, it suddenly seemed
to flutter, uncertain as an albatross coming in for a
landing. Flut- tered, wavered .. . thinned . . .
dissolved.
  So did its companion cloud. So did the major
field surrounding the Enterprise. The
starship gave a little shudder as it was released from
paralysis.
  "I thought so," commented Spock with barely a hint
of satisfaction in his voice. "They couldn't
maintain it. They didn't have enough power. Even a ship
twice the size of the Devisor . .."
  comKirk wasn't really listening. "Keep
phasers locked on
  target, Mr. Sulu. But hold your fire
until they fire first.
  comGive them a chance to back off."
  "Aye, sir." The helmsman kept his face
turned away so his Captain wouldn't see the
undiplomatic, predatory gleam in his eyes.
  Clashes of a deeper blue erupted from the
Devisor's prow ... her main disrupter
batteries this time. The Brat barrage destroyed the
propulsion units of one of the robots, missing the
huge cargo module. A second attack missed
the other carrier, badly.
  "Apparently their battle capacity is way
down," Spock observed. "They only damaged one
ship. Missing two unscreened drones at this
range indicates a definite lack of offensive
power for the moment, at least.",
  As if in confirmation, the Devisor turned away
from the Enterprise in a sweeping curve, away from the
re- maining charging drone.
  "Veering off," Sulu noted formally, locked
to his
  COIIIIO-LH
  Spool; was bent over his hooded viewer.
"Sensors in
  184 STAR TREK were -- FOR
  dicate their power cells are almost exhausted. I
doubt they possess more than minimal deflector
capability. We could destroy them at will."
  Kirk nodded. "Yes, and I bet Koloth
knew
  exactly what he was asking of his ship. He
took a tremendous gamble, and he lost.
  "Right now lam more curious in finding out just what he
felt was worth the loss of his ship and an interstellar
incident bordering on an act of war. Something has
made them awfully angry. They really wanted that
pilot." He relaxed as the Devisor passed out
of disruptor range and turned to the com.
  "bar. Scott . . . can you integrate that
pilot now?"
  "It will still take a few minutes,
Captain," came the tired reply. "He was
scattered to hell and gone, but he's locked in
solid. I JU-STILL need a little time to double-chwk
integration."
  "We'll be right there, Scotty. Kirk out."
He rose from the chair. "Lieutenant Uhura,
call Dr. McCoy to the transporter room. In
addition to anything. incurred in delayed transport,
we don't know what injuries this person may have
suffered before we took him off his ship."
  "Very well, Captain." She turned to contact
Siclc Bay.
  "Mr. Spock . . . ?"
  X11
  Both men were silent as the elevator took them
toward the transporter room. But their thoughts were
similar. Each wondered what had made the
Lmpire send a warship so far into Federation
territory. TO
  STAR TRBRI tilde OG FOUR 185
  the Klingons placed a great deal of importance
on re- venge. But that hardly seemed a sufficient
explanation. Though for a moment, Captain Koloth
had been as an- tilde y as any Klingon officer
Kirk had ever seen.
  Ecological sabotage, he had said. WelLike
to a Klingon that might mean any number of offences which
did not really merit destruction. They would find out
exactly what was going on in a very few seconds from
the object of the Klingon's wrath.
  McCoy was waiting for them as they entered.
Kirk's attention was drawn immediately to the
transporter al- cove. A sharp silhouette
there still shimmered with colon
  - "Haven't got him yet, Mr. Scott?"
  A "Just finalising him now, sir. I've been
integrating
  very slowly. No tellin" what a long delay in
transport
  vill do. It's almost fail-safe, sir, but there
are still histo- tilde ies of peculiar aberrations
bein' produced when such delayed folks were rushed
back."
  Kirk held his impatience and stared into the chamber.
The vibrant glow began to fade and a human shape
to emerge. Or . . . was it? There seemed to be a
multiple form. No . . . one human, all right.
Very stout, round. One human surrounded by lots of
little round stout things, very unhuman. Quite a number of
little round stout shapes.
  The last of the transporter hue started to fade out
and the pilot became recognizable along with the other
beings.
  Spock raised an eyebrow uncertainly. "It
would appear to be . . ."
  Kirk recognised it ... them, too. Wished
fervently oh, how fervently he did not. His words
were measured, reluctant. "I think we know that
man."
  McCoy broke in.
  "I don't want to think about it!" The doctor
bestowed an anguished look on the chief engineer.
"Scatty, what you said about delays in transport
producing aberrations I-didn't think you meant
anything quite this hideous."
  186 STAR TREK POW
  Scott had also recognized the figure and was
under- going mild shock himself. "Not agl" he finally
howled.
  "Cyrano Jones." Kirk finally said it out,
making the name sound like a curse. And in a sense that
pudgy, falsely Falstafflan figure surely
was.
  Cyrano Jones smiled at them. He beamed.
He ex- panded, fairly radiating good
humor, hands relaxed on hips. Faint mewing
sounds issued from the region of his ankles.
  "And he's got tribbles with him," Scotty
groaned.
  When the cylindrical transporter effect had
ceased, the tribbles Jones had clustered around him
immedi- ately spilled across the alcove floor.
Kirk and Spock
  glanced at each other, exchanged telepathic
sighs.,,,- Kirk moved to the subsidiary console
and punched the switch that would tie him in with the log.
He needed a couple of minutes of enforced order before
he could begin to deal rationally with this situation. As i!
anyone could deal rationally with tribbles. However . . .
  "Captain's Log, supplemental. Our
rescue of the pilot of the one-man ship being pursued
by the Klingon cruiser Devisor has given us
important knowledge of a new Klingon weapon as yet
unperfected.
  "It has also inflicted on us for as short a time
as possible the presence of Cyrano Jones,
interstellar trader and general nuisance."
  "General trader and interstellar nuisance,"
Scott cor- rected grimly.
  Nudging tribbles out of his path, Jones
made his way toward Kirk. "Ah, Captain
Kirk. My old friend, Captain Kirk!" He
extended his arms to clasp the captain in a
fraternal embrace. Fortunately, Kirk had the
transporter console between him and Jones.
  Kirk turned to the goggle-eyed ensign who had
been assisting Scott at the transporter's
backup instrumenta- tion. "Seal off this area,
Mister, and I mean tight."
  "Aye, sir," the man acknowledged, moving
to comply.
  STAR TREK LOG BOW 187
  Kirl tilde s feet suddenly felt
unnaturally warm. He looked down and the reason
became apparent. Two large tribbles had sandwiched
his right ankle. They were rubbing against him from both
sides, cooing and pumng
  He took an angry step to the side. Both
tribbles fumbled to follow him, distracting his attention
from the mewing horde which had quickly spread throughout the
room from their landing place in the transporter
alcove.
  Kirk moved up close to confront their owner. His
indignation would have been helped greatly if Jones had
possessed a face and disposition more like
Koloth's and less like that of a beardless St. Nick.
Even so, Kirk managed to work up a good dose of
righteous anger.
  "You know the law about transporting species
proven harmful, Jones."
  "Harmful, Captain?" The trader was a fount of
innocence. Kirk made an angry gesture to
  encompass the room.
  "tilde Well then, what would you call these?"
  "Tribbles, Captain."
  That was the last straw . . . or hair, in this
case. Kirk had just endured the trauma of saving his
ship from a previously unknown and nearly fatal
weapon to save someone whom he almost wished he had
never met in the first place.
  "Don't get smart with me, Jones. Believe
me, I'm not in the mood;"
  "Captain, really, I assure you. I wasn't
being smart at your expense." Kirk eyed him
warningly. "These aren't harmful. These are safe
tribbles."
  McCoy stood nearby, watching and listening. He
had knelt and scooped up a straw-colored,
furry ball. It immediately tried to crawl up his
arm, rubbing and purnug. He used his other
hand to pluck it off, shook it threateningly at
Jones. The abused tribble purred indignantly.
  "As you are well aware, Jones, there is no such
thing as a sale tribble."
  188 STAR TREE L tilde POW
  "A safe tribble," Spock amplified, in his
best professional tone, "is a contradiction in
terms. I am surprised, Mr. Jones, that you would
attempt to fool us with so obvious a lie
particularly us, to whom tribbles are well
remembered for their dangerous reproductive
proclivities."
  "And they breed fast, too," Jones admitted.
"Don't you see? Gentlemen, that's why these
tribbles are safe." He was pleading with them. "They
don't reproduce."
  Pour stunned faces stared back at him.
McCoy was the first to voice the skepticism all
felt. "Don't reproduce? Who ever heard of a
tribble that didn't . . ."
  "I've had them genetically engineered for
compatability with humanoid ecologies," the
trader added quickly. "A simple gene
  manipulation coupled with some selective
  breeding. See how friendly and lovable they
are?"
  Of course they were friendly and lovable. Tribbles were
as well known for being friendly and lovable as they were for
reproducing at astronomical rates. And this
bunch was every bit as affectionate as any Kirk had
seen before. They rubbed and purred and mewed and cuddled
with boundless enthusiasm. And as he looked around the
room, he had to admit he didn't see a hint of
tribbles reproducing.
  Not that there was anything for them to
  reproduce on, but he had seen tribbles
seemingly multiply out of thin air. There did not
appear to be any more now than when they first
  materialised.
  "Not a baby in the bunch," Jones pointed out
proudly. "You know what great pets they make,
Captain. Profitable, too."
  Something had been nagging at the back of Kirk's
mind while Jones had been spouting his smooth
sales spiel. Now he had it.
  "Jones, how did you get away from Space
  Station K-Seven in the first place. You were
supposed to take care of all the tribbles there.
Regardless of what genetic engineering you claim to have
done on these, the tribbles on K tilde
even were definitely not altered for non
  STAR TREK Coo POW 189
  reproduction. You couldn't have cleaned them off in
such a short time."
  Jones was fumbling at his copious pockets.
"Quite so, Captain. But I managed a short
parole and found myself some help. Ecologically
sound, efficient, unoffensive help."
  The thing he took from his pocket was red, had
numerous arms or legs or both, and looked
decidedly unfrly.
  "This, Captain, is a tribble predator. It's
called a glommer."
  "Interesting, if true," commented Spock, studying
the creature and reserving judgment. "Is the name
derivative or descriptive?"
  "See for yourself," Jones said, winking.
  He put the glommer on the floor. Making
  rumbling sounds like a toy volcano, it
hesitated, orienting itself. It froze stiffly, then
started creeping toward the nearest tribble. Pausing a
short distance from a moderate-sized specimen, it
tensed. Kirk thought he could see the thick hairs
on the creature's appendages stiffen slightly.
With- out a sound and with surprising suddenness, it
sprang at its prey like a wolf spider. The
tribble never had a chance as the glommer landed on it.
  It spread its body surface wide, engulfing
the tribble completely. There was a harried series of
barely audible slurping sounds accompanied by a
violent quivering. Then the predator relaxed.
  But only for a moment. In addition to being efficient,
it was also apparently ravenous. Its metabolism
seemed geared to continual
  consumption. Bottom hairs tensing, it stalked
off after another tribble. Not even a hair was left
of the first.
  McCoy was impressed. "Neat, too."
  But Kirk, having satisfied himself that Jones
apparently was not a fugitive from K-seven, was
interested in something much more important than glommer
hygiene. Even McCoy looked away from the
interesting glommer-versus-tribble drama to listen
to Jones' answer.
  . .
  19OSTAR TREK L tilde FOR
  "Jones, just why were the Klingons chasing you?" The
trader looked at the walls, the ceiling, his
tribbles anywhere to avoid meeting Kirk's waiting
gaze.
  "Well," the Captain prompted, "are you going
to ted me you don't know?" Given any possible out,
Jones leaped at it, nodding vigorously.
  "That's it exactly, Captain! I don't. The
Klingons have notoriously bad tempers, you know."
  "While it must be admitted that the Klingon mental
state tends toward the bellicose," Spock
observed, "they still retain a sense of proportion when
exercising their animosities. I do not see a
Klingon cruiser captain entering Federation space
to attack a Federation vessel in a fit of pique.
Nor for mere recreation, or because his liver was bothering
him."
  "You're right about their temper, though," Kirk
added. "Captain Koloth seemed oddly upset
over something he called ecological sabotage."
  Jones' eyes took on a rotundity that matched
his belly. "Me? A saboteur? I ask you now,
Captain, do I look like a saboteur?" He
assumed an air of outraged dignity,
  "Captain Koloth was pretty emphatic about
it," Kirk continued, watching the trader carefully.
  "Pm not responsible for Captain Koloth's
  perverse imagination," Jones insisted.
  "If it was imagination." Kirk's tone
turned coaxing. "Are you sure, Cyrano, that you
didn't. . . ," and he held up a hand with thumb
and forefinger squeezing a centimeter of air, "dis . .
maybe accidentally perhaps possibly perform some
teensy weensy little act that might have caused the
Klingons to overreact like this?"
  Jones glanced reluctantly at Spock, then
at McCoy and saw no relief from that quarter.
He looked at the floor.
  "Actually, it was such a little thing. I can't understand
why they got so upset. You
  understand, don't you, Captain?"
  Kirk's tone indicated there was an outside chance
he did not:
  STAR TRBR L tilde POW 191
  "What did you do?"
  Jones tried to look nonchalant, even managed
a slight laugh. "Nothing at all, really. I
only sold ... them . .. some .. . uh . . .
tribbles ..."
  Kirk's voice dropped dangerously. "You
sold tribbles on a Klingon planets"
  "Well," the trader protested lamely, "I
didn't know it was a Klingon planet."
  "What species were the inhabitants,"
Kirk pressed relentlessly.
  "Oh, mixed. You know, a mongrel world.
Tellerites, Sironians, a few Romulans
Klingons, too."
  "How about outside the customs port." This from
Spock. Jones pretended not to hear.
  "I beg your pardon, Mr. Spock?"
  "I believe you heard me correctly, Mr.
Jones. The population outside the free customs and
reception sta- tion. What did it consist of?"
  Jones watched the glommer continue to devour
tribe bles at an astonishing rate. "IJ-HAVE
... Klingons ... mostly."
  "What was that? Speak up," Kirk ordered.
  "Klingons . . . they were all Klingons!"
Jones exploded. "But where I set down it was a
mixed populace, Captain. So how could I tell
for certain it was a Klingon planet?"
  Kirk had had enough. "Jones," he began, as
though he were lecturing a five-year-old, "tribbles
don't like Klingons. You know tribbles don't like
Klingons. Didn't you think they might object
to your selling tribbles to visitors at their landing
station?"
  "Ah well, Klingons like tribbles even
less," Jones confessed, ignoring Kirk's question.
"It was lucky you came along and saved me when you
did, friend Kirk. I couldn't have outrun them much
longer."
  "I'd estimate about another two seconds,"
Kirk theo" nzed, wi/lly. Jones nodded in
somber agreement.
  - "You snatched me from the jaws of death at the mo
  ment of judgment, Captain. I should have known that
  192 grAR TREGG'C L tilde POUR
  in a desperate situation, our life-long
friendship, the high regard in which you hold me, your
unrelenting desire to see justice done . . ."
  Trying to control his stomach, Kirk switched
to less emotionally charged subject matter. "I am
sure, Jones, that a quick scan of our files will show
that you stand in violation of three Federation mandates and
forty- seven local laws plus various attendant
paragraphs "hereunto appended. I am formally
placing you under arrest."
  That pronouncment was sufficiently impressive
to draw from Jones a stunned gasp. Although anything was
preferable to being either obliterated by or turned over
to the tender mercies of the Klingons, Jones was not
enamored of Federation mind-wipe
techniques. Federation criminal psycho-engineers were
an espe- cially dull lot. They tended to remove
one's most interesting memories.
  - "You're confined to quarters until we
  complete our
  current mission. Then we'll proceed to the
nearest Starfleet base and turn you over to the
proper authorities."
  Jones was thinking furiously. "Captain, couldn't
we talk this over?"
  Kirk's reply was a look of such overpowering
silent fury that even the trader was cowed.
  "I didn't think so," the trader mumbled.
  Kirk turned to the ensign at the door. "Mr.
Hacker, keep an eye on our visitor. Call
security and have them prepare suitable accommodations
for him." He nodded in Jones' direction.
  The ensign moved to the com. to comply.
  "Bones, let's take a couple of these
so-called altered tribbles down to your lab and check
out Jones' claims. If there's any truth to them,
it'll be a first."
  "All right, Jim." McCoy busied himself
gathering up suitable specimens.
  They headed for the elevator. Kirk
looked back to Jones. "If these turn out to be
normal tribbles, Jones, I'm personally going
to order you placed in solitary
  STAR TREK TOG FOI'R 193
  with tribble mewing played round the clock into your
cell at a dozen times normal volume."
  "Really, Captain, do you think I would lie to you
about something as important, as vital, as
incriminating as th"...'9
  "Yes," Kirk replied without hesitation.
"Let's go, gentlemen." He paused as the
elevator doors opened, had a last thought. "Oh,
Mr. Hacker?"
  The ensign looked back. "Sir?"
  Kirk spoke as he nudged a tribble out of the
elevator with his foot. "Don't listen to anything
he says. And above all . . . don't let him
sell you anything."
  ""Yes, sir."
  At McCoy's request, they all met in the
main briefing room an hour later. The doctor
had spent much of that time putting the sample tribbles
through every test he could thing of. He had also spent much
of the time going hmmmm a lot.
  Tribbles were the most interesting things
to study. And these tribbles offered some surprises.
He picked up one specimen an unusually large
tribble, Kirk thought and gestured with it as he
spoke.
  "I'm afraid Cyrano Jones was right, Jim.
These tribbles don't reproduce. They just get
fat."
  "Are you sure, Bones?"
  "Absolutely. Any excess food turns
into flesh instead of stimulating reproduction." He
put the corpulent tribble on the floor. It
immediately crept over to Kirk and crawled up and down
one boot, rubbing and purring.
  "So I don't think we have anything to worry
about."
  "Not as far as the tribbles are concerned, anyway,"
Kirk agreed. "This new Klingon weapon is
another matter. Koloth was adamant about getting his
hands on Jones. We may not have seen the last of
them." He reached down and pulled the tribble off his
boot, tossed it into a far corner as gently as
possible, it seemed to Scott.
  "It is an energy-sapping field of great
strength, Captain," Spock commented. "It totally
  immobilises a ship
  194 STAR TREK [tilde FOR
  and its weapons capacity. But it appears that when
extended to its ultimate limits, it also
immobilises the attacker as well."
  "Aye," agreed Scott. "If that's true then
it's a weapon that leaves them as helpless as it
leaves us."
  "I believe I just said that, Mr. Scott,"
observed Spock.
  There was a pause while everyone present
  considered this information.
  "The practical advantages of such a weapon
would seem to be limited," Kirk concluded.
  "Limited perhaps," put in Spock. "But that
does not obviate its initial, overwhelming
effect." He considered another moment, then went
on. "The key question is, how long does it take them
to recharge? They'll probably attack us again as
soon as they're back up to full power.
  "If Captain Koloth has any ability in
tactics, he will undoubtedly begin by destroying the
  remaining robot ships to prevent us from using the
same trick again. That would put us in a difficult
position, indeed." He looked unusually somber.
"They must want Cyrano Jones very
badly indeed."
  "He really doesn't seem the saboteur
type, Jirbled" McCov commented.
  Kirk stared at the fine grain in the wood
table-top and wished his thoughts were as straight. "Yes
. . . yes. And yet, I get the impression
there's something he's not telling us. He is still holding
something back." He took a deep breath, looked
up. "That will be discovered in due time. Mr.
Scott, let's see a status report on the
damaged grain ship."
  Scott hit the necessary switch, and the triple
tablescreen popped up in front of them. Further
manipulation of controls produced pictures which
illustrated his commentary.
  "Well, sir, in the past hour we've managed
to transfer all the seed grain aboard. And mind,
Captain. it wasn't easy finding room to store it
all. We filled the shutHe-craft hangars,
all our extra holds, and we've
  STAR lllButgg'C LOG POW 19So
  even got containers of that quinto-triticale in the
less frequently used corridors of the ship.
  "fortunately, it was modular instead of bulk
packed. Otherwise we would have had
to repack every grain in smaller containers to fit on
board. As it is, not only does the grain hamper
movement throughout the ship, but there are a number of
activities that will have to be limited, or even
curtailed, until we deliver it to Sherman's
Planet. For example, we can't use the
Shuttle Bay at all."
  "What about the possibility of repairing the
damaged grain carrier?"
  "Not a chance in a million, sir," Scott
replied, shaking his head firmly. "Her engines were
ninety-percent destroyed. She needs to be
rebuilt, not repaired." He sighed deeply.
"And we've still got that other robot ship to escort,
too. I don't like it at all, sir."
  "Nor do I, Mr. Scott. But we'll have
to manage with the grain on board, somehow. Sherman's
Planet needs it desperately."
  "Aye, sir, aye . . . I know." The chief
engineer sounded resigned. "It's just that everything
seems to happen at once sometimes, sir. Tribbles
on the ship, quinto-triticale in the corridors,
Klingons in the quadrant. . ."
  He shook his head at the injustice of it ale
"Why, sir, it's enough to ruin your whole
day."
  "Let's hope the worst is over, Scotty."
Kirk rosa "This meeting is adjourned;
gentlemen." He reached under the table to deactivate
the triple viewer. What he got for a response
was a loud mew.
  "They appear to be fond of you, Captain,"
Spock observed with a straight face.
  "I'm not flattered." Kirk disgustedly removed
the curious tribble from the control panel and hit the
proper switch.
  For a little while it seemed as if Kirk's wish
might come true the worst of their difficulties
might be past. Nothing happened in the next several
hours that ape preached crisis proportions.
  196 STAR TREK L tilde FOR
  That did not mean, however, the Enterprise was without
interesting activity. Down in a dimly lit
corridor the glommer forgotten by an
  introspective Jones was stalking another
tribble.
  The glommer got within range, tensed,
  leaped and was bucked off. Growling in
  surprise, it hopped after the retreating tribble.
Quickly overtaking *ence tribble, it
proceeded to ingest the effort producing rather more
  commotion than ever before because the tribble it had pounced
on was larger than a man's head. That tribble was
almost more than the glommer could handle almost.
  The g10rnmer paused a moment, belched, and
sat recovering its strength. Discharging another
deposit of converted tribble it promptly stalked
off in search of further prey, now wobbling a little
unsteadily from side to side.
  The calm on the bridge did not last nearly as
long as Kirk had hoped. He had hoped for five
days of it, time enough in which to reach Sherman's Planet.
  Instead, he had had only the few hours
  following McCoy's briefing before Spock
broke the stillness. "Captain, sensors are
picking up an approaching Klingon cruiser." A
brief, hopeful pause, then, "It appears to be
the Devisor."
  Kirk had been standing talking to Sulu, now moved
quickly to the Science Station for a personal check of the
sensor readouts. Damn! Damn Cyrano Jones
and damn tribbles and damn the Klingon's persistence!
He strode back to his seat, shoved the
twenty-kilogram tribble off.
  "Deflector shields up stand by all
Chasers."
  A sudden thought struck him and he eyed the tribble
care fully . Wait a minute a twenly-kilo
tribbl e?
  "How fat do these things get, anyway?" He
hadn't noticed any this size when Jones had first
come on board. Anyway, McCoy was not around
to answer, and Spock was occupied. A second
later Sulu removed all thoughts of tribbles.
  STAR TRBR LOG POUR 197
  "'Klingon cruiser approaching rapidly, sir,
on interception course. Phaser range in thirty
seconds."
  "Coming in fast," Spock commented with his usual
objective detachment. "Obviously they can
recharge their power cells in a matter of hours.
Interesting, if true." He did not explain his
cryptic final comment, and Kirk was too busy
to ask about it.
  "Mr. Arex, Mr. Sulu . . . use the
robot ship as a decoy. Have it change course and
move off due west, up seventy degrees. We
can use it to give the Klingons more trouble, since they
can't paralyze more than one ship at a time with their
field."
  The Devisor continued to approach confidently as
the remaining robot grain carrier peeled off on a
new course. As soon as she was far enough off, Sulu
activated the helm and the Enterprise also changed
course.
  "Commencing evasive tactics," he reported
crisply.
  Governed now in part by her battle computer, the
Enterprise began an erratic weave designed
to leave the Klingons with the minimum possible target.
The Klingon ship adjusted its path
correspondingly, but not to pursue.
  "revisor is veering away," Spock observed.
  The battle cruiser fired a single powerful
disrupter bolt not at the starship, but at the remaining
drone. The bolt neatly severed the clumsy cargo
module from the dual propulsion units.
  "My error, Captain," Spock corrected.
"They were not veering away. They were moving to attack the
grain ship."
  Sulu checked his gooseneck viewer. 'glut
they didn't destroy it, sir." Kirk relaxed a
hair. "They only wrecked the propulsion units.
The cargo pod is intact." He looked up from the
viewer. "Maybe we should modify our
opinion of Captain Koloth's marksmen."
  "It appears they are quite accurate," Spock
concurred, "when Sring on undefended cargo
drones."
  "They've changed course again," Sulu
reported. "They're coming in after us."
  198 STAR TREK L tilde POW
  "Stand by Chasers," Kirk warned.
  "Phasers armed and ready, sir." Sulu's hand
hovered over the firing switch. Arex shifted their
position so that the main batteries would have an
unobstructed line of fire on the Devisor. On
the viewscreen, brilliant blue flares erupted
from the cruiser's nose.
  "Disrupters," Spock announced calmly.
  A second later the bolts impacted on the
Enter- priseeonly to sputter harmlessly on their
shields. They felt a mild lurch as the ship
reeled with the absorption of the tremendous destructive
energy, but no one was knocked from their seat.
  "Damage report, Mr. Sulu."
  "No damage reported, sir," said the
helmsman quickly. "Shields holding firm."
  "Fire at will, Mr. Sulu."
  "Firing. sir."
  The battle continued for several minutes long
by intership standards as the Enterprise and Devisor
wheeled about a common center which shifted every second.
Disruptor bolts alternated with phasers, probe
ing for a weakness in the absorbing screens.
Multiple barrages glanced off, were handled
by opposing defenses.
  The repetitive rattling caused only minor
damage on the two cruisers. The Enterprise
suffered slightly more than the Devisor because the
temporary cargo she was carrying in her corridors
and holds was not secured for battle running.
  Succeeding jolts broke open one grain
  container after another. Of itself, the damage was
minor. The containers could be easily repaired, the
grain recollected.
  Except in a couple of corridors,
corridors no one was watching because all were at
battle stationsecorridors where a concerted mewing and
cooing suddenly rose appreciably in volume.
  Like a fuzzy glacier, clumps of tribbles
started creeping rapidly toward the protein-rich
kernels of quinto-triticale.
  Some of the tribbles were no longer very small . . .
  STAR TREK tilde FOUR 199
  X111
  Now was the time, Kirk decided, to see if his
strategy had paid off. By this time, Captain Koloth
was hopefully convinced that the Enterprise was armed
only with phasers and he had adjusted his defences
accordingly. They had one chance to catch him napping.
  "Photon torpedoes, Mr. Sulu. Fire."
  "Torpedoes away, sir."
  All eyes moved to the screen, where
  computer-guided deep-space scanners held the
Devisor fixed on the screen like a bug under
chloroform.
  "Three, two, one ... impact," Sulu
counted down. Then, "Torpedo miss."
  But the image of the Devisor was starting to shrink.
Spock checked his sensors, frowned. "They appear
to be running away, Captain. Most odd. They
did not use their stasis weapon at all."
  "Maybe you were right, Mr. Spock, and they could
only partly recharge their power cells, only enough
to manage a conventional attack."
  "Then why break off the engagement?" Spock
wondered aloud. "I detect no sign of serious
damage. Unless their attack achieved some
unimaginable purpose."
  "They disabled the robot carrier, was Sulu noted.
  "Before they engaged us," mused Kirk. "No,
Spock's nght. It doesn't make sense.
Koloth knew his battle capabilities before he
attacked." He shook his head, feeling they were
missing something.
  "Well, put a tractor beam on the disabled
drone. We'll have to try and take it in tow."
  "Now that could be their intention exactly,
Captain,"
  200 STAR TRQGG'C L tilde PI
  Spock suggested. "Towing the drone will be a drag
both on our available power and
  maneuverability. We're already carrying the
extra mass of the first carrieis cargo. Captain
Koloth's engineers have undoubtedly calculated how
much energy this will sap from our battle capacity."
  "We can't do anything about the extra mass on
board, Mr. Spock, but we could break the tow
instantly in the event of another attack."
  "That is true, Captain. But the Devisor could
attack and run, attack and run. If Koloth
is aware of the situation on Sherman's Planet he
knows we are operating within certain time restrictions.
Eventually his chances of catching us with the
second drone under tow will
  crease."
  "That seems logical," Krk admitted.
  "Thank you, Captain."
  "Well, bIr. Spock?" he said, after a
short pause.
  "Well what, Captain?"
  "You've already correctly analyzed the
  situation. We cannot tow the damaged robot ship
indefinitely, nor can we abandon it. And there is
no room for more quinto-triticale on board. I
assume you have some sigh gestions as to what we can do."
  Spock paused in thought, Vulcan gears turning
at top speed. "Yes, Captain, we can throw
tribbles at them."
  K tilde rk's expression underwent a
succession of variations. Are tilde c's reaction
was mostly internal, but much the same.
  "I thought Vulcans didn't have a sense of
humor," he finally ventured.
  "We do not, Captain. Allow me to think this out."
  Kirk regarded his first officer with a gaze of honest
confusion.
  Down in one of the lower storage holds a door
had burst, flooding the deck with
quinto-triticale. Instantly the hillock of
golden-brown seeds was inundated by a horde of
tribbles of impressive bulk.
  At the base of the broken door the glommer was
  STAR TREE L tilde FOR 201
  traggling with one of the tribbles. This particular one
had the dimensions of a large, furry hassock. It
ignored the furious, frustrated glommer on its
topside and continued to munch contentedly on the sudden
nutritious bonanza.
  As Scott was returning to the bridge, he made
a quick trip back to Engineering Central for a first-hand
check on the amount of power the cargo drone tow was
drawing. A harried security sergeant confronted
hen in a corridor, tried to babble an explanation
of what he bad seen. His story was enough to detour
Scott temporarily from the bridge.
  He was still talking when the elevator doors opened
to the low deck. Scott needed less than two
minutes to evaluate the situation and head for the
bridge at top tilde do.
  - "Captain," he said, walking directly to the
command
  chair, "we've got broken cargo pods in all
the corridors,
  and some of the storage holds themselves have burst.
  The tribbles have gotten into the grain. No need
to tell
  you what they're doing." He paused to catch his
breath.
  'mating, I should suppose," observed Spock
blandly. He glanced at the base of the navigation
console significantly, where a fifty-kilo
tribble had appeared. The enormous fur ball was
rubbing at the legs of an irritated Sulu. Then
Spock began making some quick computations at his
console.
  "Given the exceptional nutritive value of the
hybrid grain, I should say that at their estimated
rate of conversion these altered tribbles will . . ."
  "Altered!" Kirk stopped listening to Spock.
"Get Cyrano Jones up here on the double,
Scotty."
  "Aye, sir." He headed for the elevator again
while Uhura notified the brig.
  Kirk rose and walked to the helm-navigation
con- sole, nearly tripping over an elongated
tribble in the process. Glancing up occasionally at
the main viewscreen for signs of the Divisor, he
examined cer- tain readouts.
  202 STAR TREK LOG FOUR
  "Any sign of Captain Koloth's ship?"
  "Nothing yet, sir," Sulu reported.
  "Keep scanning. They'll probably come at us
from a different quadrant this time."
  It wasn't long before Scott reappeared, pushing
a puzzled Cyrano Jones urgently before him.
  "Ah, Captain Kirk. What can I do for you?
Prom the attitude displayed by your chief engineer,"
and he looked reprovingly at Scott, who
returned the favor with a glance suggesting that he would have
liked to display Jones in the nearest converter,
""I gather that it is a matter of some gravity."
  "Not gravity grain," Kirk corrected him
  furiously. "Your shribbles are all over my
trip . . . your tribbles are all over my ship."
Easy, James T., easy. "My security
personnel can't find them all, despite the
fact," and he kicked at a hundred-kilo tribble
where an eightykilo tribble had been only moments
before, "that they're hardly inconspicuous anymore."
  The tribble cooed, tried to rub against his ankle.
  Jones shrugged. "You need better security men
then, Captain. As you say, they shouldn't be hard
to find." He looked interestedly at the
apparition Kirk had just kicked.
  With enormous effort, Kirk held his emotions in
check. "Mr. Jones, you are in enough trouble already.
Feeble attempts at humor will only exacerbate
your situation." He returned to his station.
  com"...Oh, Captain," Jones protested, "a
harmless little tribble. What can they hurt?"
  Kirk put his shoulder to the hundred-kilo tribble
sitting in the command chair and shoved it out. "Harmless?
Maybe. But little? In any case, the main problem
is that they're eating the quinto-triticale."
  "The what?" Jones looked confused.
  "The grain."
  The trader looked troubled for the first time.
"Captain, you have grain on this ship?"
  "What?" Kirk was staring at the screen.
  Naturally the DevTsor would show up any
second. "Yes . . . grain
  STAR TREK L tilde POW 203
  Seed grain, to prevent a serious famine on
Sherman's Planet. It won't be prevented if
your tribbles continue eating at the rate they are."
  "But they're hungry, Captain," Jones
protested, spreading his hands in a gesture of
helplessness.
  "So are the people on Sherman's PlanetI"
Kirk countered tightly. His shout echoed across the
bridge. The gigantic purple tribble he had just
pushed out of his seat mewed uncomfortably and edged
away a little.
  "A little tribble, Jones, doesn't eat much.
A big tribble does. And these are getting bigger."
  That's when it came to him.
  "Jones, is this the ecological sabotage the
Klingons are so mad about? Is this why Captain
Koloth is willing to risk his ship to get you back?
The Klingons have a lot of pride, Jones. No
wonder they want you."
  The trader started to object, but a sudden shout from
Sulu's station shattered the conversation.
  "Captain, the Devisor is coming back."
  There, he knew it was too much to hope for. Now
he understood why the Klingons wouldn't break off the
engagement.
  McCoy chose that moment to enter the bridge.
Both hands were full of tribble. "Jim, there's
something about these tribbles . . ."
  "Later, Bones," Kirk interrupted tiredly.
He started to sit down, paused. The tribble in it
weighed at least one hundred and forty but
otherwise it was just like the one he'd shoved out a minute
before.
  Which raised another interesting question. How fat did
the tribbles grow . . . and how fast?
  One crisis at a time. Panting, he shoved the
tribble out of his seat once more, sat down.
  "Mr. Sulu, release the tow on the robot
carrier. AD deflector shields on full.
Stand by phasers and photon torpedoes." He
paused and looked first at Jones and then McCoy.
"And all non-combatants off the bridge."
  McCoy nodded, took charge of Jones. But first
he dumped the overflowing tribble he had been
holding.
  Everyone's attention was fixed on the screen, which
  204 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  now showed the approaching Devisor once again.
Kirk diverted his attention long enough to thumb a
certain switch under his right hand.
  "Captain's Log, supplemental," he recked
a soft voice. "The Klingon battle cruiser
Devisor, under command of Captain Koloth,
appears about to force us into another battle for custody
of the trader Cyrano Jones." He cut off.
Elaboration would have to wait for leisure
tune.
  On screen, the Devisor continued its relentless
ape preach with little recourse to subtlety.
Apparently this was to be another head-on attack like
the first.
  "Contact in thirty seconds," announced
Spock.
  "Ready photon torpedoes, My. Sulu."
  The Devzsor now filled the screen. An
OminQuSo cloud of fluttering azure began to form
at its prow. Apparently the stasis projector was
back in operation. And this time they had no robot
ships to throw at it.
  "Fire one, fire two."
  "One and two away," Sulu announced.
"Three, two, one ... impact." Seconds
pause, then, "Minus one, minus two . . .
something's wrong, Captain. I show imp pact but
no reaction."
  "Are you positive, Mr. Sulu?"
  "Absolutely, sir. We show definite ..
."
  "I-think I know what has happened,
Captain," said Spock. "Both torpedoes
impinged on the stasis field the Devisor
is building. Considering the known power of such a
field, I have no doubt that the drive and detonation
mechanisms of the torpedoes were paralyzed when they
reached it."
  "Evasive emergency maneuvers, Mr.
Sulu," was all Kirk could say.
  "Aye, Captain."
  Too late the field enveloped the Enterprise
even as Sulu directed a convoluted course across
the starfield. Enveloped them in a rippling miasma
of brilliant blue.
  The Enterprzse gave a sickening lurch. Kirk
groaned inwardly. That had not done the weakened grain
con
  . .
  STAR TRER L tilde POW 205
  tainers below any good. Little could be done to repair
them while me ship remained on battle status.
  And so in numerous corridors and holds, me
tribble orgy continued unabated.
  "That's done it," cursed Scott, looking up from
his engineering console in anger and alarm. "We're
caught again.,"
  "message coming in, Captain, over
ship-to-ship hailing frequency,"
Uhura announced. Kirk sighed. He already had a
fair idea of what the message would contain.
  "Put it through, Lieutenant."
  "Yes, sir." Moments later a picture of
Captain Koloth a broadly grinning,
self-satisfied Captain Koloth appeared once
more on the main
  viewscreen. Kirk noted the clarity.of the
image though he would not have objected to some distortion
blotting out some of his smile.
  Visual and aural communications were
  low-order field functions, of course, and thus
were not affected by the stasis field, as were . . .
  Something was trying to fuse in the back of his head.
He could not spare the time to study it. Koloth wouldn't
give it to him.
  "Captain Kirk. I am so glad to see mat
you have not suffered any injury yet, nor," he
looked to left and right, "have any of your crew. This
pleases me. We will take control of your vessel
intact, it appears."
  "Not if I can help it," Kirk said grimly.
Koloth's smile disappeared and barely controlled
fury colored his cheeks.
  "You cannot help it and I want your
prisoner, Captain."
  "Control yourself, Koloth, or you'll burst a
blood vessel. Much as it pains me to admit to it,
Cyrano Jones is a citizen of the Federation, and
therefore is entitled to Federation protection. I am
afraid I must refuse your request." He thought,
added, "You have no idea how much it pains me
to refuse your request."
  "I regret any emotional upset it has
caused you,"
  206 STAR TREK LOG POUR
  Koloth continued with biting sarcasm. "If it will
allevi ate your agony any, Captain Kirk,
let me assure you this is not a 'request."" For
an unguarded moment he sounded almost
  regretful for a Klingon.
  "Don't force me to take steps we will both
regret."
  ""Not a chance," Kirk snarled. Stasis
field or no, he had taken about all he could
handle of Koloth
  "Close channel, Lieutenant," Kirk
ordered, pacing near Sulu.
  "With pleasure, sir." She hit a switch and
Koloth's image abruptly faded from the
screen.
  Kirk started back to his seat ... and stopped,
his lower jar descending slightly. Even a friend would have
been hard put to interpret his expression.
  A contentedly mewing tribble occupied the command
chair. It weighed two hundred and fifty kilos
if it weighed a gram. Folding his arms, Kirk
turned to stare at the viewscreen again.
  "Aren't you going to sit down, Captain?"
Spock quired.
  "I think I'll stand for now, Mr. Spock
haven't you got some important computations to do?"
  Spock hesitated, started to say something and thought
better of it, turning back to his console.
  Meanwhile, Captain Koloth and his first officer
revere deep in a strategy conference. The next
move was theirs. Koioth finally muttered to Korax,
"Initiate boarding plan C." The first officer's
eyes lit and he replied enthusiastically.
  "Yes, Exalted One!"
  Kirk was still eyeing the behemoth tribble purring
noisily in his chair when everything that had been
Boating loose in his head suddenly got together. He
walked over to Scott, who was monitoring the
engineering console and looking distraught.
  "Mr. Scott," he instructed, a slightb
dreamy, thoughtful expression on his face, "we are
going to implement Emergency Defense Plan B."
  STAR TRPGG'C LOG FOW207
  "Yes, sir," Scott answered snappily.
"Emergency Defense Plan B." A look of
uncertainty came over him and he asked
hesitantly, "Ah, Captain . . . I don't
ban
  lieve I'm familiar with Emergencv Defense
Plan B."
  "That's because it's only used in extremely
unusual circumstances, Mr. Scott."
  "Oh," the chief engineer commented.
  "And also," he added, turning away, "because I've
lust made it up thanks to a suggestion by Mr.
Spock. comStand by."
  "Standin" by, sir," Scott said, still puzzled
but ready for orders.
  Odd, Scott mused. The ship's engines and
all of their weaponry were frozen; the Khngons were
threatening to take over the ship; they were suffering under the
combined appetites of an influx of Fafnirian
tribbles and yet it had seemed as if Kirk had a
smile on his face . . .
  Korax studied his personal timer. Twenty-two
kuvits had passed since the final warning had been
given to Captain Kirk of the Enterprise. It had
taken that long to assemble the forces necessary to implement the
assault plan. Kirk would never be able to claim
he had not been given sufficient time to think over the
surrender terms.
  Now it was too late. He stood by the chief
transporter officer of the Devisor and watched the
first platoon of Klingon marines assemble in the
transporter chamber.
  The sudden appearance of a large, well
  coordinated boarding party on board might not be a
total surprise to the Federation crew . . . but it
should have no trouble overwhelming any
  resistance. The supposedly peaceful Federation
starships carried no such trained attack groups.
  He nodded to the officer in charge, who started
to advance his men to positions within the transporter
alcove. The officer took a step forward and
froze, gaping.
  Something was materialising, not only in the alcove
  208 STAR TREK LOO POW
  itself but in the room. Several marines moved
aside, hands edging nervously toward their
disrupter pistols. Had Kirk decided on the
same course of action as Captain Koloth? It
seemed wholely QU-THAT of character, and yet . . .
  The transporter effect intensified. Faint,
huge silhouettes began to form. Abruptly, the
effect faded and every Klingon in the chamber
  recoiled in horror.
  Suddenly, the room was filled with giant
  emotionally disturbed tribbles.
  And in the corridors, in storage holds, in
private rooms startled crew members were
  treated to the most unwelcome sight of tribbles
abruptly materialising in front of them, behind them,
and, in the case of one nearly suffocated dozer, on
top of them.
  Scott kept a close watch on his console and a
ready ear to the cam. Iinkup with the
  transporters. Moving the tribbles to the
  Enterprisets transporters at first had looked
like an impossible task, until someone had suggested
a method almost too simple.
  All they had to do was have any human crew member
demonstrate affection toward one of the furry
goliaths. Whereupon, cooing and mewing like any healthy
tribble, it would follow the coaxing human
to any point in the ship.
  Scott's smile widened. The Klingons, of
course, would be utterly unable to duplicate this
maneuver. No self-respecting tribble would have
anything to do with a Klingon. He didn't envy any
member of the Devisor's crew who tried.
  Chief Kyle concluded this report at the other
end of the cam. Several stats were relayed to Scott,
who surveyed them briefly, then looked over to the
waiting Kirk.
  "emergency Plan B complete, sir. Chief
Kyle reports all transporting has been
earned out as directed."
  "Open hailing frequencies, Lieutenant."
  Uhura acknowledged and seconds later the
  portrait of an as yet unruffled Captain
Koloth appeared on the screen.
  STAR TREK 209
  "Captain Koloth, are you prepared to release
my ship yet?"
  Koloth stared back incredulously. "Release
your ship? Kirk, you are monotonous. Your ship's
armament is completely inoperative and in a few
minutes you will not even have the option of surrender."
  "That's not an option I require,
Koloth," Kirk countered. "You don't know yet
then, do you?"
  "Know," said Koloth irritably. "Know what?"
  "That we have immobilised your ship worse than you
have immobilised ours."
  "I doubt that. Our instruments report nothing
except some fragmentary transporter activity and
..." He paused and a thoughtful expression came
over his face. "You could not transport any
weapons aboard, of course, and you wouldn't attempt
an assault with armed personnel, but . . ."
  A longer pause now.
  "Kirk?"
  "Yes, Captain? What seems to be the
matter? Are you feeling all right? If not, I'd
suggest . . ."
  "Tribbles, Kirk?"
  The Captain's grin grew even wider.
"Tribbles."
  Koloth started to say something, was
  interrupted as a Rlingon junior officer entered
the picture. The two cons versed below range of the
aural pickup for several moments. The junior
officer spoke rapidly, punctuating his words with
many erratic gestures. Koloth's face
went through a repertoire of expressions suprising
even for a Klingon. When the junior officer had
left the picture, the Devisor's commander turned
slowly back to face the screen.
  "Kirk, I am compelled by circumstances
to reveal an Imperial scientific secret. When
the full report of this incident is known, I shall
probably be chastized for it. I may be broken.
But under the circumstances I see no alternative.
  "Cyrano Jones stole a Klingon genetic
construct an artificially produced creature from one
of our worlds. It was designed to be a tribble
predator. It is the proton
  210 STAR TRER L tilde POW
  type, and the only one to survive many hundreds of
attempts at cross-breeding.
  "We must have it back. I am authorized to use
any means to secure its return. I hope that
includes imparting this sensitive information to you. The
Imperium is willing to chance war to gain its
return."
  "Surely you don't expect me to believe you
can't produce others?"
  "That is precisely the situation, Kirk." A
hint of desperation had crept into Koloth's
voice. No talk of surrender now. "I am
told that the production of this first success cannot be
duplicated. Apparently its creation was as much the
result of chance as careful planning.
  "This specimen can, however, reproduce
by asexual division. We must have it in order
to produce others from it. And we need those to get rid
of the tribbles Jones disposed of before they completely
overrun the world on which he left them."
  "And that's all you want the predator?" Kirk
asked.
  Koloth gathered himself. "I am prepared to forgo
my demand for the return of Jones. But we must have the
glummer."
  "Oh well," Kirk replied easily, "if
that's all." He glanced back. "hIr. Scott,
instruct Chief Kyle to transport the glommer
over to the Devisor. We do have the glommer?"
  "Aye, sir. Mr. Jones recovered it himself as
we were drivin" the tribbles to the transporters."
  Two security guards hustled Jones along
  between them some minutes later. He seemed somewhat
reluctant to part with "his" glommer. It nestled
under one of his arms. He was looking around wildly.
His gaze finally settled on SCOK, who
had come down to join Kyle for the crucial transfer.
  "You can't do this to me! Under space salvage
laws it's mine." He stroked the glommer
  possessively and itgrowled softly once.
  SCOK sounded tried. "As you well know, a
  planetary surface is not exactly covered
by free-space salvage
  STAR TREK LOG POW 211
  statutes. But if it's a matter of sentimental
attachment, that might put a different light on
things, Jones."
  The trader looked hopeful.
  "If you're that attached to the little beastie, I
wouldn't dream of separatin' the two of you."
  Jones looked wary, but still hopeful. "And that is
the case, Mr. Scott." He stroked it again,
made babying noises at it. "I couldn't bear
to be parted from my little glommer, after all we've gone
through together. It's almost like a child to me, a part of my own
self!"
  "I understand," Scott confessed. "So . . .
we'll transport you over with it."
  "Given the current situation and in the interests of
interstellar cooperation," Jones said at breakneck
Speed, "I withdraw my claim."
  Without shedding so much as a tear, Jones put the
glommer in the transporter, backed out. Scott
nodded to Kyle, who engaged the transporter.
  On the bridge, Kirk noted the subsidence of the
stasis field concurrent with the glommer's
transporting. Resumption of full power was
suitably detailed by Sulu and Arex. Almost
immediately thereafter, the Deviator was seen moving away
at high speed.
  Kirk watched it go, feeling better than he had
in some time. "At least we can submit a detailed
report on the stasis weapon . . . and although something
will have to be found as a defence against it, it's far from being
a superweapon. The power drain makes it vulnerable
to a second ship. It's main value is in convincing
us of its omnipotence, and we've exploded that
possibility."
  "Quite so, Captain,"? commented Spock
  thoughtfully. "Tribbles appear to be a much more
effective weapon."
  There was a buzz from his chair com. and he ac-
knowledged. "Yes?"
  McCoy here, Jim. I'd like you and Spock
to come down to the lab. I've made an interesting
discovery."
  After assuring himself that the Deviator was too far
away to catch them even at top pursuit speed,
Kirk took Spock and made his way down
to Sick Bay.
  Moments later they found themselves examining the
  212 STAR TREK LOG POW
  single giant tribble Bones had saved for
  experimental purposes. It sat behind a glass
wall and munched happily on leftovers from the
third shift's lunch.
  "You see, Jim, Jones" genetic engineering was
very slipshod. He fooled us at first but it's
doubtful he could have hidden the truth forever. These
tribbles don't reproduce, just as he claimed .
. . when they're normal sized.
  "But because he didn't slow their metabolism
permanently, his secret would reveal itself eventually.
These aren't giant tribbles ... they're
cooperative colonies. Like our coral, for
example, only softer."
  "Then that means . . . ," Kirk began, staring
at the hulking yellow tribble, "that . . ."
  McCoy nodded silently.
  Both of Spock's eyebrows went up.
  On board the Devisor, Koloth was
heading for the engine room. He was holding the glommer
and stroking it gently. Since glommers shared their
disposition, they didn't dislike Klingons. A
frantic, excited Korax met him in the
passageway.
  "Captain, report from Chief Engineer Kurr.
His peon ple have had to evacuate the engine room and
operate the ship on automatic because the main engine
chamber is filled with tribbles."
  "I know," Koloth replied with a vicious
smile. "We can finally do something about that. Then
we're going back after the Enterprise."
  "But sir ..." Korax was desperately trying
to add Something, but Koloth waved him off.
  "You'll see, Korax."
  Together, they approached the access door to the main
engine room. While Korax stood back
doubtfully, Koloth put the glommer on the deck
opposite the door.
  Stepping back, he activated the door and
focused his attention on the poised glommer.
  In fact, his attention was so focused on the
glommer that he did not notice the sudden alteration of
his first officer's expression, nor what had caused
it.
  STAR TREK LOG FOW213
  He spoke directly to the glommer.
"Attack!"
  The glommer seemed to lean back. And back ...
and back. It gave a funny little shake, turned and
rocketed off down the corridor in a series of
Olympian hops, making a sound like a dog with
empty tin cans tied to its more.
  Koloth abruptly grew aware of another sound,
a low, rhythmic rumbling which a Terran would have
likened to an idling locomotive. To Koloth it
sounded like approaching thunder.
  The captain turned quickly, backed away from the
source of that deep-thtoated pulsing. It was
horrible, it was ghastly ...
  It was the angry mewing of a two-ton tribble that
filled the Devisor's engine room from floor
to ceiling.
  "He did it again," he swore. "That plated,
over- bearing excuse for a starship captain did it
to us again!" He jabbed a finger at the growling
colossus.
  In such an emotional moment, even an Imperial
board of inquiry Would find reasons for absolving
Ko- loth for an instinctive reaction.
  Korax didn't stop to think, either. Instead, he
whip- ped out his disrupter pistol and fired with
admirable speed. The miniature bolts from the
powerful hand weapon contacted the furry yellow
wall. A bright flash temporarily blinded both
officers..
  Koloth felt the new pressure at his legs and
waist
  i even before vision returned. He tried to move
. . . first to his right-, then left, forward and back.
No luck. He was thoroughly pinned in place by
. . . something.
  Another blink cleared his eyes and revealed the
reason.
  The entire corridor all the way from the nearest
bend to the depths of the engine room was now hip deep
in tribbles. Not giant tribbles but large normal
tribbles. Very large normal tribbles.
  Tribbles didn't like Klingons.
  be "Let us not panic, Korax," instructed
Koloth. He
  was calm, he told himself. Quite calm. "Let us
try to move one step at a time toward the nearest
exit."
  214 STAR TREXL tilde POW
  Both men tried to move, found that even the
slightest attempt produced a frightening rise in the
volume of mewing around them.
  "I don't seem to be making any progress,
Exalted One. Should I. . . ?" He held up
his disrupter pistol.
  "Put that away, you idiot!" Koloth cursed
... but softly, softly. "Don't ever do that again.
I'll break you to sanitation engineer . . . twelfth
class."
  "Yes, sir," said an abashed Korax,
suddenly aware of what he had been about to do. He
put the pistol away slowly. Both officers stood
in the sea of nervous tribbles and stared at each other.
  After several long minutes, Korax ventured
to ask, "What now, Exalted One?"
  "Now, Korax? We wait till we are
rescued, of course. I don't know what else
to do. Have you any brilliant suggestions, perhaps?"
  "No, sir. There's just one thing."
  "WeUs, what is it?"
  The first officer of the Devisor looked down.
  "Either we're shrinking, sir, or these tribbles are
getting bigger."
  Koloth made a strangled sound . ..
  Kirk, Spock, Scott and Jones stood in the
lab and watched the giant tribble shiver while
McCoy explained what was happening.
  "A simple shot of neo-ethylene fixes
everything, j gentlemen. The catalyst drug
induces the tribble colony to break down into its
individual smaller units . . . but also enables
them to retain their engineered metabolic stability.
These really will be safe tribbles."
  Even as he spoke, the oversized tribble was
rapidly collapsing into dozens of little, normal
tribbles . . . Iike a big fuzzy ice cube
melting into chunks.
  "What about the Klingons?" asked Jones.
  McCoy thought a moment, spoke slowly.
"Unless they discover how to treat their tribbles and do so
soon the Devisor isn't going to be big enough for
all
  STAR TRER row 215
  of them. liven if they do so, of course, the
smaller tribbles will still retain their dislike of
Klingons."
  Kirk turned to leave, stopped as he spotted
something up near a Jeffries tube. "Say, here's
one you didn't get, Bones."
  McCoy came over, glanced up the tube also.
"Yes, I andd, Jim." He turned to inspect
one of the small trim bles, let it crawl up his
arm, purring.
  "But it hasn't . . . ," Kirk began. He
was drowned out by a loud, muffled flumpppp! as the
hidden giant colony suddenly dissolved
into hundreds of component Dibbles.
  Kirk dug himself out of the mound of cooing, pulsing
balls, spat out a mouthful of tribble fur and gazing
imploringly heavenward.
  "Someday I'll learn," he murmured
solemnly.
  "Aye, Captain," agreed Scotty, standing
nearby and observing the talus of the hirsute
avalanche. "But you've got to admit, if we have
to have tribbles, it's best if all our tribbles are
little ones . . ."
  The orange tribble that Kirk threw mewed
indignantly as it bounced off the chief engineer's
retreating back . . .
  WHATAUNIGG'NG LULLABY 4- A
.ured AM -- ICA'S tilde tilde C
BRAIN SAGE tilde BROOM n
lltANSYLYABIU-THAT he FILM -- lcom
His
  t.ou tilde HE t A NOV-LICCL
BY GILBERT PEARLMAN BASED ON BRIE
SCIIEENPLAY BY -- GENE WILDER and
MEL BROOKS PLUS: 18 PhGLS OF
FOLLOW PHOTOS FROM THI-THAT SblAS-LI
20th CISNTURY-FOX MOVIIBBI $1.50 .
Av.uable still your loc tilde l bool tilde
storo or nnil tho coupon b tilde . ,comcomcomcomcom
com,
  B caret ILAI tilde CJ-ISHALL
StiLE9 W PD. Box *05,
Westminster, Msryland 2115? Pleeae es
tilde t rce the foUow tilde boo tilde k
bargaluss
  I eu tilde rm ll tilde T equals
E "Which! tilde
  . 24268 Young Fn tilde kendeln 1.50
  AU-OW tbrea weeks for dollvery. Mnlllng
nnd handling .60 tilde
  I Plenea enclose check or snoney order.
TOT1LITTLE I We nre not responsthla for
orders contnstning cash
  tilde A98 P tilde T C tilde
B tilde You)
  Nt tilde ...........................'
....................................''
tilde ADD equals Ss..................
.......................................'
...''.
  I Cm fiTAT-LI . . . . .ea.zletter
  Lcomcomcomcomcomcomcom . . . . 
. . J BB
  21t74
















 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
