Authors: Alan Dean Foster
Kneeling uncertainly, Kirk reached out and shoved with both hands. Once again the multiple folds of jawanda parted—but this time a gleam appeared in the opening thus produced. It was the most welcome sight Kirk had seen in a long time.
Widening the gap with his hands and with McCoy's help, they were soon able to slip back into the comforting closeness of the emergency lock. Undamaged, the jawanda reformed behind them, shutting out the universe once more.
Spock activated the lock and it cycled shut behind them. Atmosphere was automatically pumped into the chamber as soon as the airtight telltale went on, and the all-clear sounded a second later. Gratefully, Kirk deactivated his life-support belt, as did Spock and McCoy. The doctor opened the inner door.
A large, cylindrical mass the color of lead filled the corridor beyond. Kirk still could not tell when the young Lactran was standing or sitting—or if those terms had any referent to Lactrans. He had the impression that the youthful alien was regarding them attentively.
"It apologizes, Captain," Spock announced.
"Apologizes?" Kirk wondered if the surprise was as clear in his mind as it was in his voice. "Its parents just saved our lives." He returned the creature's eyeless stare. "We are more grateful than we can—"
"Nevertheless, it persists in its apologetic attitude, Captain. The sudden disengagement of the jawanda which carried us away from the ship caught it and its parents by surprise."
"They weren't the only ones," Kirk countered feelingly.
"They are sorry for the delay incurred in directing the ship to us, and hope that our simple minds have not suffered any damage as a result of this negligence."
"Tell them our primitive cognitive apparatus is functioning normally," Kirk replied with a grin. "If they hadn't acted when they did, we wouldn't be functioning at all."
Making a strange weaving motion with its multiple-digited front end, the Lactran adolescent turned and scuttled off down the corridor.
"It begs to be excused, Captain. It wishes to visit its parents. The strain involved in reaching across such a distance has weakened them. We must return to the hunt, they insist—with the foreknowledge that this time they may not be able to help us."
"From now on we're going to stay inside the ship," declared McCoy. "You can tell them that, Spock." He turned to Kirk. "What now, Jim?" he asked as he set his life-support belt in its proper rack, making sure the recharge light was on.
"Back to the Bridge, Bones. From there . . . I don't know. Any ideas?"
Neither McCoy nor Spock had come up with the hoped-for miracle solution by the time the turbolift deposited them on the bridge. Kirk acknowledged the warm yet restrained welcomes of the crew as Spock moved to his science station. McCoy relaxed nearby.
"I have a small theory, Captain," Spock announced, sitting down in his chair.
"Pursue it, Mr. Spock." The first officer's theories often turned out to be more solidly grounded than many supposed facts. Spock bent to the library-computer console with a will.
Glancing at the main viewscreen, Kirk was rewarded with the expected picture of dull blackness occasionally enlivened by scratchy streaks of maroon-and-emerald lightning.
"Status, Mr. Sulu?"
This time it was not necessary for the helmsman to check his instrumentation. "The jawanda has once more enveloped the
Enterprise
, Captain. As soon as we learned that you were safely back aboard, Mr. Scott deactivated the drive again." Sulu gazed uncertainly back at him. "What do we try now, sir?"
"I don't know, Lieutenant." Kirk considered. "For our purposes the creature reacts favorably to physical pressure, but I can't have hundreds of people out on the hull shoving and pushing. Energy weapons are useless against it—in fact, they probably strengthen it. A photon torpedo might have some effect, but we can't very well explode one against the creature when its body is only millimeters from the ship. Besides, we want to capture it whole, not chop it to pieces. The devil of it is, we have the jawanda right where we want it. Only we can't use the warp-drive engines to carry it and ourselves back to Lactra."
"A moment, Captain," Spock requested, as Kirk was trying to think of a way to utilize the jawanda's docility under physical pressure. The first officer was bent over the main readout from the library-computer console.
"I am concluding certain calculations. There." He looked up, staring for a moment into nothingness, before turning to Kirk and informing him, "The Lactrans also believe the idea is feasible, though dangerous. They refuse to support or to reject the proposal."
"What proposal?" Kirk wondered guardedly.
"To impel the jawanda to release us by providing too much of what it wants. In a word, we shall appeal to its sense of gluttony."
"I'm not sure I understand what you're driving at, Spock."
"Consider, Captain. When we collided with the creature we were moving, according to final readout, at warp-four, coming up to warp-six, which we never fully attained. If we suddenly fed a sustained burst of emergency power to the engines, the equivalent of warp-factor seven or eight, it is possible that the surfeit of energy—of food—would dangerously strain the creature's absorptive capacities.
"It would have two choices: to burst from overconsumption or abandon its hold on the
Enterprise
. If the former happens, we will at least be free to search for another jawanda, with our knowledge of its abilities and habits enlarged. If the latter, we may be able to engage the Boquian mechanism before the engorged creature can escape."
"It sounds good," admitted McCoy hopefully. "Why are the Lactrans leery of trying it?"
"Their reasons are twofold, Doctor. Should the jawanda
not
be overloaded by the surge of energy, we run the risk as stated by Engineer Scott of losing our warp-drive capability altogether. This would leave us with only impulse power on which to recross a considerable amount of space." His gaze momentarily checked a figure displayed on one of the science station's several screens.
"On impulse power it would take us approximately three hundred and sixty-five standard years to reach the outskirts of our galaxy, with the Federation a good deal farther away. That is assuming the engine components last that long."
"Let's hope we don't have to try it," Kirk said. "What about our guests' other concern?"
"It has already been mentioned, Captain," Spock declared. "They worry about damage to the specimen."
Kirk forbore formulating his first thoughts. It wouldn't do to insult someone who had just saved your life.
"Any other proposals, Spock?" he asked, hoping for an alternative that carried less of an air of finality.
"I am afraid not, Captain. This course of action seems to offer our best hope of breaking clear."
Kirk sighed and activated the armchair pickup. "Engineering?"
"Scott here. What is it, Captain?"
"Scotty, this creature drinks radiant energy. Since we can't pull away from it, we're going to have to try to convince it to let us go—by generating a cosmic bellyache. Somehow we've got to overfeed it. I'm going to want maximum emergency power from the converters for as long as you can provide it."
"Aye, Captain," the chief engineer assented reluctantly. "I dinna know how long we can maintain it, the way that monster drains our production."
"We want it to drain us, Scotty—until it's sick of it. Keep the converters functioning for as long as you can. This
has
to work."
"I understand, Captain," Scott replied solemnly. "Engineerin' out."
Kirk clicked off and looked forward. "Mr. Arex?" The Edoan navigator acknowledged, his bony-ridged skull turning three soulful eyes on the captain.
"Yes, sir?"
"If we do succeed in breaking free of the creature, we're going to want to come back for it . . . monumental pain in the stern that it's been. We're liable to break completely free at warp-seven or warp-eight, so you'll have to try to retain a position fix on it."
"I'll manage, Captain."
"I know you will, Mr. Arex." He studied first the living dark matter covering the scanner, then the viewscreen, while searching for a flaw in Spock's reasoning and finding none. How many times, he mused, had he found himself betting his existence and that of his crew on a cut of the deck by Fate.
His
record for turning up aces was unblemished . . . so far. It was time again to try to extend the streak: "Mr. Sulu, all ahead warp-factor seven, emergency power."
"Engaged, Captain," came the response from the helm.
A steady whine began to sound, more felt than audible. It rose to a pitch just shy of setting everyone's teeth on edge, then held steady. Instead of the normal rush of lights across the screen, they continued to see only blackness. A minute passed, two, three . . . Angry jagged bolts of crimson and gold began to race bizarrely through that living film. Four minutes, five . . .
"It doesn't seem to be having any effect, Captain," Spock reported calmly, his gaze locked to the gooseneck viewer. "The jawanda is still wrapped completely around us."
"Increase to maximum emergency overdrive, Mr. Sulu," Kirk said. "Warp-factor eight."
Sulu hesitated the briefest instant, started to look backward, then murmured a tight "Yes, sir" instead.
The whine became a painful drone like the keening of a single gigantic bee. Kirk felt a faint throb through the metal structure of the command chair as the ship's fabric sought to remain intact under the enormous energies generated by her engines.
Six minutes, seven, eight . . . a voice shouting from the intercom, barely recognizable, "Captain, we canna hold this much longer! Converters are beginnin' to fail."
"Warp-factor seven, sir," Sulu suddenly announced. "Warp-factor six, five . . ."
Kirk snapped at the intercom, "Scotty, maintain full emergency power! Never mind protecting the converters now, we need everything you can—"
"That's what we're givin', Captain," the chief engineer countered. "I'm tryin' to tell you—the energy's not bein' translated into thrust. That thing's sucking up everything we can generate and searching for more."
"Warp-factor four," Sulu declared worriedly. The bone-grating whine of emergency overdrive had long since faded, along with its comforting throb of power.
"We must make a final decision immediately, Captain," exclaimed an anxious Spock, "or the converters will permanently collapse."
Kirk's gaze was fixed on the viewscreen, fascinated by the now continual display of lightning so brilliant the battle compensators were hard pressed to sop the intensity to below pain threshold. Every hue of the rainbow was present in those unending discharges as the jawanda fought to dissipate surplus energy. Kirk wished he could be floating free in space nearby. The trailing cometlike portion of the jawanda must present a spectacular sight. Indeed, an unsuspecting observer who chanced to pass through the immediate spatial vicinity would see jawanda and
Enterprise
as a colossal oblate opal, lit with internal fire.
Kirk was about to order an end to the seemingly futile effort when the colors vanished, revealing the far plainer but much more welcome isolated lights of distant galaxies pin-wheeling through the gulf.
"We're clear!" McCoy yelped joyously.
"Disengagement confirmed, Doctor," concurred Spock, considerably less exuberantly. "It worked . . . barely."
"The creature is falling rapidly off screen astern, sir," Arex announced, in a tone almost as relaxed as Spock's.
"Warp-factor five," Sulu declared, "factor six and increasing."
"Reduce speed to warp-four, Mr. Sulu!" Kirk ordered quickly. "Don't lose our quarry, Mr. Arex."
"Not to worry, Captain," the navigator assured him, examining his own sensor readouts. "It is now by far the most obvious object in the heavens, due to the amount of energy it continues to radiate."
"Plot a return curve to bring us directly back at the creature, Mr. Arex. We can't waste time and allow it to regain its flexibility in converting energy." He voiced a quick question to the arm pickup: "Scotty—how are the engines?"
"Recoverin' rapidly, Captain," the chief engineer reported, the strain of the last minutes evident in his voice, "but it was a near thing. I wouldn't like to chance it again."
"We're going to do our best not to, Scotty," the Captain assured him, before clicking off. His stare moved repeatedly from helm to viewscreen. "What about the jawanda, Mr. Arex? Is it trying to escape?"
"It does not appear to be succeeding, if such is its intention, sir," the Edoan announced carefully. "It is moving away from us, but very slowly, and in an erratic manner."
"Bloated," McCoy decided firmly. "The overload was too much for its converters to handle. I'd venture to say that its whole system has been affected."
"The Lactrans," Spock put in, gazing momentarily at the wall before him, "hope there is no permanent damage."
"We do too," admitted Kirk, "so long as the alternative doesn't turn out to be rapid recovery."
"It is continuing to move away, Captain," Arex said softly, "but more slowly now."
"Sensors indicate it is discharging energy at an incredible rate, Captain," declared Spock. "It may be regaining some of its ability."
"I wonder—Spock, do you think it's capable of anger?"
"I don't know, Captain. But the instinct to defend oneself is basic to many very primitive organisms." He eyed Kirk expectantly. "You have something in mind?"
"Somehow, Spock, we have to distract it long enough for Hivar to engage the capture mechanism. If the creature doesn't actually conceive of us as a threat, it should at least regard the ship as a challenge. By now it should be dazed and disoriented—its present movements indicate that. I can only see one way to draw it within range of the Boquian device—and that's to tempt it into chasing us."
"Jim!" McCoy exclaimed, startled. "If it manages to envelop us again . . ."
"I know it's a risk, Bones, but we've got full motive power back. We'll have to cut it close, but if it gets too close we can outspurt it at the last moment." I hope, he added silently.