Worlds in Collision (75 page)

“What makes sense?” McCoy asked. “That thing out there doesn't make a bit of sense.”

“Where are you going?” Kirk asked the One.

“To get food.”

“Where?”

“There.”

Kirk was certain he had solved it. “It's in communication with the seeder drones on Talin's moon. It has to be. And the way they damaged the
Enterprise,
they must have subspace capability, as well as radio.”

“But how can you know they're in communication with each other?” McCoy asked.

“When I asked the seeder drone where it was, remember what it said. It said ‘here.' When I asked this planet creature where it was going, it said ‘there.' Simple concepts for simple, basic, rudimentary minds.”

Chekov called for Kirk's attention. “Keptin, I am picking up a configuration change. The creature is…altering itself.”

On the screen, the random gray tendrils of the massed drones were forming into a central vortex which covered half the area of the sphere's visible side. The outer edges of the gray cloud spun out ahead of the rest like clay on a potter's wheel while the inner surface became sharply concave, dipping in toward the hidden surface.

“Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked as a pale red glow began to appear in the deepest section of the growing planet-size whirlpool.

“The covering of drones is thinning, Captain. Our sensors are beginning to penetrate to whatever lies below.”

The apparition on the viewscreen was no longer a solid sphere. It had opened up, the edges of it stretching outward like straining tentacles. The glow from the interior was brightening steadily, red and pulsing.

“It's trying to eat us,” McCoy said, unusually restrained. “It's opening its mouth.”

“Still accelerating, Captain,” Sulu announced.

“Stay ahead of those tendrils,” Kirk ordered. He turned to Spock. “What do the sensors show, Mr. Spock? What's inside that thing?”

Spock turned away from his scope, and to Kirk it seemed as if the science officer were abandoning it. “Captain, there is no doubt that the creature is alive.” Spock sounded hesitant. The deep red tunnel which had formed within the creature, large enough now to swallow a world, flashed with odd purple bolts of energy. But the bolts arced and branched in lines which followed smooth and perfect curves, not the jagged streaks of ordinary energy discharges.

“And the lining of the creature's tendrils does have the capability of consuming and metabolizing the algae that grows on Talin IV,” Spock continued.

“The lining of the tendrils?” Kirk said. On the screen, the tendrils appeared to be made of red glowing gas or shaped energy. “Are the tendrils solid matter?”

Spock stood by the railing, eyes fixed on the screen. “Not as it exists in our universe, Captain. It contains subatomic particles similar to our quarks, but the ways in which those particles interact are…different.”

“Is the One from another dimension, Spock?”

The science officer shook his head without speaking and Kirk wondered what had so deeply affected him. Then he heard the impulse engines reset to a higher power curve as the creature accelerated again.

“All other extradimensional manifestations that we have observed have shared the same basic laws of energy and matter interaction established in the first nanoseconds of our universe's beginning,” Spock said. “But this creature does not share those laws.”

McCoy turned to Spock. “Are you saying that thing's from another universe, Spock?”

“An earlier universe, Doctor. One that preceded ours.”

Kirk stared at the thing on the screen—now a mad, spinning maelstrom of…hunger. A primal hunger billions of years old. A simple, basic lifeform that had evolved over uncountable eons to acquire the ultimate survival trait—the ability to live beyond its universe.

“How?” Kirk whispered. He suddenly knew how Richter felt. So little time to understand.

“Captain, for a being to be able to maintain itself during the heat death of a universe…for it to be able to withstand the infinite compression of a universal collapse of energy and matter…and for it to then survive the creation energies of the Big Bang…there is nothing in our science which would even begin to suggest how such a thing might be possible.”

Kirk had Uhura open the channel to the One. “What is your age?” he asked, not knowing if the creature would comprehend.

“Hunger,”
it answered plaintively. On the screen, it twisted as if in agony, reaching hopelessly for the constantly retreating ship it wanted to consume.

“Where do you come from?”

“Consume need consume need. Faster. Faster.”

“Why?” Kirk asked.

This time, the translated voice gave no answer.

“Instinct,” Kirk said with finality as he stared at the screen. “As Spock said, it's like asking a paramecium why it absorbs food. It is not a conscious decision. And this is not a conscious life-form.”

Spock and McCoy watched as Kirk returned to the conn.

“Well, Doctor,” he said as he sat back in his chair, “at least now you know how the One, and the Many, had enough time to develop such complex behavior. If it could survive the collapse of one universe…it could survive the collapse of billions.”

McCoy, for once, was speechless.

“Mr. Sulu,” Kirk said decisively, “take us back just beyond the distance we were when Chekov first noticed this creature change course.”

The straining maw of the One receded on the screen, slowly folding closed, again encasing itself within its living cloud of insulation against the harsh environment of interstellar space. When the
Enterprise
had matched her earlier distance from it, Sulu reported that the creature resumed its original course—bearing directly for the Talin system.

“Keptin,” Chekov said, “we have passed out of phaser range. Shall I arm the photon torpedoes?”

“If it can withstand the Big Bang, Mr. Chekov, I don't think there's much we'd be able to do to it,” Kirk said.

“It could not have survived in that form,” Spock said. “As it exists now, it
is
vulnerable to our weapons.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spock, but our weapons won't be necessary. Uhura, cancel red alert.”

McCoy stormed down to Kirk. “Not be necessary? Good Lord, Jim. That thing is in contact with the drones that destroyed Talin. It's probably planning to eat the entire planet by the time it gets there.”

“It's not
planning
to do anything, Bones. It can't think.”

“Neither can a shark,” McCoy muttered.

Spock stepped down beside McCoy. “In any event, Doctor, at the slow speed with which it is traveling, Starfleet will have ample time to return and either capture or destroy the creature.”

Kirk shook his head. “Starfleet's not going to capture or destroy that creature, Spock. What purpose would that serve?”

“To pay it back for all the other worlds it destroyed with the drones,” McCoy said.

“To preserve the worlds which it might destroy in the future,” Spock added.

Kirk turned to McCoy. “Bones, it can't be paid back. It didn't decide to destroy worlds any more than the shark knows the difference between eating a fish or a swimmer.” Kirk looked at Spock. “And there are lots of planets out there, Spock. If those drones were able to mindlessly convert Talin IV into a suitable planet for their host in less than two decades, just think what the Starfleet corps of engineers could do in
six
decades to prepare one of the Talin gas giants for it.” Kirk put his hands on the arms of his chair and gazed at the screen, watching the swirling gray mass shrink to a dot. “It's a big universe, gentlemen. With worlds enough, and time for everyone.”

Kirk looked back at his friends. Neither one looked satisfied but that reaction pleased him. It meant he could be sure that he had made the right decision.

There were no enemies here. Only mysteries.

The
Enterprise
came about in space. Her mission, at last, continued.

In standard orbit around Talin IV, the
Enterprise
resonated with the activity of her newly returned crew. Kirk moved briskly through the corridors as if drawing life from the energy they brought back to the ship. His ship. The new gold command shirt he wore made him feel as if he had returned home. He had.

In the main branch corridors leading to the cargo transporters, an earnest-looking lieutenant with a Starfleet Command insignia on his blue shirt jogged up behind Kirk, carrying a fat sheaf of printouts and a screenpad. He was balding and the last remnants of his curly brown hair were mussed and unruly, like the hair of someone who had been up all night. Kirk didn't care. He guessed that at least half of Command hadn't had any sleep for the past two days.

The lieutenant caught up to Kirk and had to walk quickly to keep the rapid pace. “Captain Kirk,” he said breathlessly, the voice of a man in a hurry, “I'm Peter Bloch-Hansen, sir. Starfleet Emergency Rescue Office.”

Kirk kept moving, no time to waste. All through the corridors other crew members ran or jogged, carrying equipment and supplies. There was so much to do. So much time wasted. He thought of Richter then, still in the
Exeter
's sickbay. He knew what drove the man.

“Has the order come through yet?” Kirk asked brusquely.

“No sir, Captain,” Bloch-Hansen said.

Kirk didn't bother to correct the lieutenant. Until the order did come through, he was still “mister.” But no one doubted that Nogura's order was not already blistering through subspace to the Talin system. Too much had happened for even Starfleet to ignore. And when that order came, it had better include full apologies for each member of the
Enterprise
Five.

Kirk guessed it would be an easy apology for Command to make. Only Uhura's case would require Starfleet to go to the trouble and potential embarrassment of an official review board to withdraw all charges of contempt and to reinstate her. Because the rest of the Five had resigned, regulations allowed them to rejoin Starfleet service at full rank and pay anytime within six months. With a bit of bureaucratic juggling, Starfleet could even manage to keep the resignations out of the official records, as if they had never happened.

“But I do have the new figures for you, sir,” Bloch-Hansen continued. He shuffled his printouts as he and Kirk weaved rapidly around the other rushing crew they passed in the corridor. “As of twenty minutes ago, there were five hundred and twelve vessels in stacked orbits around Talin IV. They'll be working in shifts to transfer their relief supplies to the
Enterprise
and the
Exeter
for mass beaming to the surface. The time/ton transfer schedules are here….” He offered Kirk his screenpad.

Kirk ignored it. He kept walking. “Tell me about the Talin. Was Spock right about the survival rate?”

The lieutenant efficiently produced a printout from his bundle. He was prepared for anything. “Mr. Spock
was
right, sir. The figure is astonishing. As long as they escaped immediate blast and fire injuries, their autonomic cocooning reflex would have dropped their metabolism right down…uh, the life readings show just more than two billion Talin remain alive on their planet, ninety-five percent in hibernation.”

Kirk stopped and looked at Bloch-Hansen with relief. That was far higher than anyone, even Spock, had hoped.

The lieutenant continued. “I estimate a complete revival program should take three years, but by that time the seeders' growth will be scavenged from the oceans.”

“How's the drone contact team working out?” Kirk and Bloch-Hansen turned the corner into the final corridor. The entrance to the cargo transporter room was jammed with people, some crew, some civilians.

“The task force will arrive on Talin's moon to begin relocating the drones within a week, sir. The Talin ambassadors have given permission for them to begin seeding the gas giant, Talin VIII. It will be converted into a food source well within the next sixty years.”

Kirk shouldered his way into the crowd. “Good work, Lieutenant. Let me know when the order comes in.”

Bloch-Hansen stopped at the edge of the crowd. “Oh, you'll know when it comes, sir. You'll know.”

As people realized who was pushing up against them, they quickly made way to let Kirk through. He passed the processing desk with a nod from the volunteer coordinators and stepped out to the open area immediately in front of the honeycombed crystal pads of the cargo transporter grid.

Nearby, Chekov and Sulu stood with Christine Chapel, checking a crate of medical tricorders. Kirk could hear the two ensigns telling the others about Lieutenant Styles's new assignment—ferrying the impounded
Queen Mary
back to Starbase 29. There was much laughter as Sulu explained how the gravity generator on the Orion ship had mysteriously been broken. It could only put out a three-gee field now, and it was tied into the warp drive so it couldn't be turned off. “I am certain the lieutenant will wery much enjoy his weighty new position,” Chekov said.

Kirk looked around for Spock among the confusing stacks of boxes and knots of people. As he turned around, he bumped into McCoy. The doctor was back in his science blues.

“Have you seen Spock?” Kirk asked.

“No. He's probably hiding from me.” McCoy reached out without warning and jammed a spray hypo against Kirk's arm. “There,” he said when the longer-than-usual spray was done, “now you can eat plutonium for breakfast.”

Kirk rubbed at the tingling spot where the radiation stabilizer had entered. “Is that going to work on the Talin?”

“It needed some modification, but M'Benga's already got the first batch processing.”

“Good work, Bones. Or do you prefer ‘Black Ire' now?” Kirk chuckled at McCoy's sudden look of discomfort. “How'd you ever come up with that one, anyway?”

McCoy frowned. “Someday I'll tell you about my illustrious ancestors. If I live that long.” He tried to change the subject. “Has the order come in?”

Kirk looked around the huge room. It was filled with at least twenty different conversations and the hum of antigravs as boxes were received and stacked through the doors leading to the cargo hold. “Not yet,” Kirk said. He suspected there would be pandemonium when it did come through. “Why do you think Spock's—”

Suddenly he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned to see Anne Gauvreau. Her flight jacket had a new crest proudly sewn on the front. The writing on it was in Talin splatterscript.

Kirk looked at the crates on the transporter grid. Most were marked with bold red crosses. “Is this from the
Shelton?”

Gauvreau patted one of the crates. “Sure is. Starfleet Emergency Rescue didn't want to wait for the official word. They're buying all the medical supplies that everyone's brought in. If the supplies aren't used here, they say, then they'll still be useful somewhere else.”

“These supplies
will
be used on Talin,” Kirk said. There was no doubt in his voice. “So…until things get settled here, I suppose you freighter captains are going to be leaving this system with empty holds.”

Gauvreau smiled brightly. “Not this time.” She looked at McCoy and winked. “Thanks to Dr. McCoy, the T'Prar Foundation has hired me to transport twenty-six Orion females to a reorientation village on Delta Triciatu.”

“Delta?” Kirk asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Seems Deltan males aren't affected by the Orion females' pheromones, so it's a good place for them to be helped to start their own lives again. And besides…I've always wanted to go there….” Gauvreau blushed. “Look, I've got to break orbit to let another ship get into transporter range.” She leaned closer and kissed Kirk on his cheek. “Thank you for making me feel I was back in Starfleet again.”

“Thank you for bringing me back,” Kirk said, then watched her move off into the crowd by the door. He hoped he would see her again.

Kirk turned to McCoy. “Whatever happened to those pirates?”

“In the brig on the
Exeter.
Last I heard Krulmadden was trying to buy it from her captain.”

“I'm glad he's not on this ship talking to Chekov,” Kirk said. He looked up with sudden interest as another crew member jostled him as she walked by with an antigrav pallet of visual sensors. It was Carolyn Palamas.

“Welcome back, Captain Kirk,” she said. “The herbarium roses are in bloom again. I checked.”

Kirk stumbled over a reply as she continued on without waiting for one. When he turned back to McCoy, he was greeted by a soppy smile. “Don't you start,” Kirk warned.

Then McCoy looked puzzled and Kirk saw why. Spock was approaching. Like the doctor, the science officer was wearing his uniform again, tricorder hanging at his side. But he was also carrying a familiar-looking green bottle.

“Mr. Spock,” Kirk said with a bemused expression, “is that whisky?”

Spock held the bottle up to read the label, as if confirming that it was true. “Yes,” he admitted. “It was given to me by Mr. Scott.”

“Did he say why?” Kirk asked.

“He said it was my…birthday present.”

McCoy looked surprised. “It's not your birthday, Spock.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I explained that to Mr. Scott, but he was quite emotional about it. He said, and I quote, ‘Och, it dinna matter one wee bit.' And then he asked me when the party would be.”

McCoy held a hand out. “Tell you what, Spock. Why don't you just give me the bottle as a token of apology and then you can stop trying to hide from me.”

“Doctor, not only am I not trying to hide from you, I can think of no action on my part for which I might possibly owe you an apology.”

McCoy feigned great shock. “Spock, I said there were aliens, remember? When we were talking in the shuttle at the outpost, and I said that it was obvious that the Talin were under observation by other aliens but you said, nooo, there were no other aliens. There's nothing of value in this system, you said. And meanwhile those drones
were
creating something of value—that purple sludge of theirs—right under your big pointed ears. But you didn't see it and I did. I said—”

Kirk held his hands up as if threatening to cover McCoy's mouth.

“Bones, you keep going on like that and we're all going to have to hide from you.”

McCoy folded his arms and smiled smugly. “I don't care. All that matters is that I was absolutely, inarguably right and—”

“As I recall,” Spock said dryly, “you suggested there were Klingons with Romulan cloaking devices lurking about.”

“I said
aliens,”
McCoy insisted.

“You said—”

“What
about
the aliens?” Kirk asked Spock. “Any results from the FCO's computer analysis of our sensor readings?”

Spock and McCoy didn't break eye contact. “A classic symbiotic relationship, Captain. It appears Dr. Richter was correct when he said that life everywhere was the same—even when it originates in different universes. The computers have modeled a logical relationship between the two life-forms: The seeder drones prepare planets with the purple food organism which then converts the entire biosphere into a highly radioactive algae analogue. When the One arrives in the system, it enfolds the planet and ingests the converted biosphere. In return, it carries some of the drones from system to system, providing energy to them so that they can survive the journey between the stars. Other drones it sends ahead on a smaller clump of accelerated matter, somewhat like plants spreading spores.”

“How do they decide which planets to go to?” Kirk asked.

“I do not think ‘decide' is the term to be used, Captain. The selection of planets for seeding is most likely an instinctual response, done without consciousness. I suspect that we may find that colonies of drones lie dormant in thousands of systems throughout the galaxy, waiting to be awakened by the first electromagnetic pulses resulting from an atomic explosion. That would indicate that fusion warheads will soon be developed on a given planet and that the planet's inhabitants could therefore be manipulated to devastate their biosphere with radiation, making it a suitable world for the growth of the algae. As the drones come to life and begin their instinctive behavior to create tension on the target planet, they send out signals to the One, informing it that a new planet is about to be seeded.”

McCoy fidgeted with his tricorder and medikit. “I still don't see how anything could survive the death and birth of a universe.”

“Especially if the physician present at that birth were—”

Kirk broke in again. “Perhaps, gentlemen, we should simply accept that there are still mysteries in the universe. Or the universes.” He smiled at them. “Let's leave something for another ship to do, all right?”

Before either McCoy or Spock could answer, the page whistle of the ship's intercom system sounded. Instantly, every conversation in the cargo transporter room stopped. Only the background whir of the equipment could be heard until Uhura's voice came on.