The Weight of Worlds

  Kirk gave her his full attention. “I’m listening.”

  “Under the right circumstances,” she began, “when the planes are in alignment, we can open a portal between realities big enough for small cadres of Crusaders to pass through, but our warrior-priests cannot teleport across vast gulfs of interplanetary space—and my people never developed space travel. The Crusade needs starships like your Enterprise to spread from world to world.”

  “So that distress signal was a trap,” Kirk realized.

  “Just so. And even now, Sokis and his Crusaders are no doubt attempting to take possession of your ship, using every resource at their disposal.”

  Kirk was troubled, but not terribly surprised, by this news. Sokis had obviously been up to no good.

  “He may find that harder than he anticipated,” he said, “if I know a certain Scotsman.”

  “Scotsman?” Lasem echoed.

  “Let’s just say my crew is not going to give up the Enterprise without a fight.”

  “But it is a fight they may not win,” Vlisora said. “And there is more. The energy and equipment required to keep the rift open is considerable. Another portal needs to be built on the other side, to stabilize the passage. Thankfully, Ephrata lacks the resources and infrastructure to construct more than a small portal on that side, just enough to allow a small cadre to pass back and forth, but should the Crusade reach a major industrialized planet, with greater manufacturing capabilities and a larger population to convert, they will be able to open more and larger portals, allowing them to conquer yet more worlds, and spread like a chain reaction throughout your entire Federation.”

  “A disturbing scenario,” Spock said, “but not entirely implausible.”

  Kirk took the threat seriously as well. He recalled how only a handful of Crusaders had conquered Ephrata IV and turned many of the quadrant’s brightest minds into faceless, unthinking zealots. If the Crusade seized control of the Enterprise and used it to spread their insidious Truth from planet to planet, building portals large enough to bring entire armies through . . .

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s talk.”

  He was still deeply uncomfortable with the idea of leading a revolution here on Ialat, but clearly he needed to stop the Crusade and protect the Federation, no matter what.

  “So how do we close that rift?”

  EIGHT

  “Put the intruder in the brig,” Uhura ordered. “And keep him under close guard.”

  Maxah remained sprawled on the floor of the bridge where she had decked him with the slate. He did not appear to be playing possum, but a pair of grim-faced security officers took no chances as they dragged him off the bridge. Uhura was relieved to see him go.

  She had enough to deal with now.

  The captain’s chair was empty, waiting for her. She experienced an understandable moment of trepidation, wishing for all sorts of reasons that Scotty had not gotten himself injured, but she did her best not to let her nerves show. She was in charge now. She needed to step up and do the job, just as Starfleet had trained her to do.

  But who was going to do her job in the meantime?

  She sat down in the chair and hit the intercom button. “Lieutenant Palmer, report to the bridge immediately.”

  Elizabeth Palmer was the relief communications officer. She could take over Uhura’s post until things got back to normal.

  If things got back to normal.

  The doors to the bridge slid open and Doctor McCoy rushed onto the bridge, clutching his medkit. The sight of Uhura in the captain’s seat provoked a momentary double take that passed as soon as the doctor caught sight of Scotty lying wounded on the floor. The unconscious engineer was losing color beneath the burns on his face and hands. Even out cold, his scarred face was twisted in pain. Low moans escaped his lips. His breathing was shallow and erratic. He looked as though he was going into shock, if he hadn’t already.

  “Good Lord!” McCoy rushed to his patient’s side. “What in God’s name happened here?”

  “He was caught in an explosion,” Charlene Masters explained. She flinched at the memory. “He got a bad shock, and was flung across the bridge.”

  Making room for the doctor, she returned to her own post at engineering. A repair crew was already working to bring the station back on line, swapping out fused and cracked components for replacement units. Stabilizers were placed on fractured or severed conduits. Masters joined in the repairs, still holding on to the alien baton she had captured from the intruder. Uhura made a mental note to have the baton examined at the first opportunity.

  She watched anxiously as McCoy examined Scotty with a handheld medical scanner. The compact device whirred and hummed as it passed over the unconscious engineer, emitting worrisome beeps far too often for Uhura’s liking.

  “How is he, Doctor?”

  McCoy did not look up from his patient. His worried expression warned Uhura not to expect an encouraging diagnosis.

  “Electrical burns, internal bleeding, a fractured skull.” McCoy placed a portable respirator over Scotty’s nose and mouth, then administered a hypospray to his shoulder. Uhura didn’t ask what it was for. “You and you,” he said, commandeering two hefty crewmen. “Step lively. We need to get this man to sickbay, stat!”

  His voice sounded raspier than usual. He looked flushed and feverish. A dry, hacking cough rattled his body and he tottered slightly as though dizzy. He sneezed loudly.

  “As if my sickbay wasn’t full enough already,” he muttered.

  Uhura remembered the Therbian fever outbreak that had knocked so many crew members off their feet. Plus, she had to imagine that Scotty wasn’t the only casualty of the Enterprise’s violent battle with the gravity beam. She was tempted to ask McCoy for a full report on the injured, but decided that could wait for later. Fixing Scotty took priority.

  Striking a delicate balance between care and speed, McCoy and his newly deputized orderlies moved Scotty into the turbolift. McCoy lingered on the threshold, visibly torn between the immediate medical emergency and the larger crisis. Uhura assumed he had plenty of questions about the recent commotion.

  “You done tossing the ship about?” the doctor asked. “Or should I expect more customers in sickbay?”

  “I wish I knew,” Uhura said honestly. “But this isn’t over yet.”

  The turbolift doors started to close, but McCoy reached out and held them open for one more minute. “And the captain . . . and Spock and the others?”

  “I’ll keep you posted,” she promised. “As soon as there’s anything to report.”

  That was good enough for McCoy. He withdrew his hand and the turbolift whisked Scotty and him away to sickbay. Uhura took a moment to hope that Scotty would be okay. The usually hearty engineer had not looked good when he was being carried off the bridge.

  Take care of him, Doctor, she thought. The Enterprise wouldn’t be the same without him.

  Moments later, the same doors opened and Lieutenant Palmer dashed onto the bridge. Her blond bun was slightly undone, as though she had put herself together in a hurry. A fresh bruise on her forehead and a slight limp suggested that she had taken a tumble during the recent turbulence. Her hazel eyes widened when she spotted Uhura in command.

  “Reporting for duty . . . sir?”

  “Mister Scott has been injured,” Uhura explained quickly. “I’m going to need you to take over for me at communications.”

  Palmer grasped the situation at once. “Understood, sir.”

  She took her post, leaving Uhura one less thing to worry about. Settling into the big chair, Uhura tried to figure out what do next.

  “Mister Ferrari,” she said. “What is the status of the . . . gravity beam?”

  “Still holding on to us,” he reported from the science station, which was mercifully still intact. “They’ve got us on a tight leash.”

  “Can’t we get out of the line of fire? Perhaps by moving to the other side of the planet?”

  He shook
his head. “Not as long as we’re stuck in this geostationary orbit. We’re orbiting in synch with the rotation of the planet, so whatever is projecting that beam is always going to be right beneath us.”

  So much for a strategic retreat, Uhura realized. “What about the ship’s phasers? Can we target the source of the beam?”

  “Not with any sort of precision, Lieutenant,” Chekov said. “That unusual gravimetric distortion on the planet is still interfering with our long-range sensors. We’d have to target the entire Institute to be sure of hitting the target.”

  Which would mean killing hundreds of people, Uhura realized, and probably the landing party as well.

  She wasn’t willing to go there, not even to free the ship.

  “Lieutenant Palmer,” she instructed instead, “send an emergency transmission to Starfleet. Apprise them of our situation.”

  They were too far away from the rest of the fleet to expect any immediate reinforcements, but the sooner the brass knew about the crisis the better, if only to warn other ships to stay clear of the Ephrata system.

  “No luck, sir,” Palmer reported. “I can’t contact Starfleet. Some sort of interference is blocking the signal.” She scowled at the negative readings on her console. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  Uhura sympathized with Palmer’s frustration. She’d been in the same position too many times before. It was an awful feeling.

  “Just keep trying.”

  She briefly considered launching a recorder buoy containing all relevant data and logs up to this moment, but decided against it. Chances were, the buoy would get caught in the same gravity beam holding the Enterprise. At worst, it might get yanked down into the planet’s atmosphere, where it would burn up on entry.

  Besides, she thought, we still have more questions than answers to report. We don’t even know who we’re dealing with, or what’s become of the landing party.

  “Lieutenant Uhura!” Palmer announced. “We’re being hailed from the planet.”

  “The captain?” Uhura asked, not letting herself get her hopes up. She was still smarting from the way Maxah had tricked them before. She wasn’t about to be fooled again.

  Palmer shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe it’s the commander of the aliens.”

  Uhura remembered the “they” Maxah had ranted about. Could this be them?

  “Put it on-screen,” she ordered. The familiar command sounded strange coming from her lips. “Let’s get acquainted.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Palmer patched through the transmission, as Uhura had many times before, and the high-altitude view of Ephrata IV’s northern hemisphere was replaced by the head and shoulders of a somber-looking humanoid that clearly belonged to the same species as Maxah. Uhura noted that his “beard” was much fuller and more impressive than the younger alien’s, while his garments appeared fancier as well. The top floor of an observatory, complete with a towering subspace telescope, could be glimpsed behind him. Uhura assumed that it was part of the Institute.

  “This is Lieutenant Nyota Uhura of the Starship Enterprise,” she identified herself. “To whom am I speaking?”

  “I am Sokis of Ialat, warrior-priest of the Crusade.” His deep voice gave him an undeniable gravitas. “And I speak for the Truth.”

  “And what truth is that?” she asked.

  “The Truth that has brought our Crusade across the veil of reality to liberate you from falsehood and annihilation.”

  She had no idea what that meant.

  “Can you be more specific? Why are you holding our ship?”

  “Your vessel belongs to the Crusade now. Lower your shields so that we may take possession of it . . . and spread the Truth to all your worlds.”

  All right, she conceded. That’s more to the point.

  “And if we don’t comply?”

  “Our mighty gravity cannon will drag you down from the heavens!”

  Uhura feared that wasn’t an idle threat. An image of the Enterprise plunging into the planet’s atmosphere, burning up like a falling star, flashed before her mind’s eye. The prospect chilled her to the bone.

  But she knew what Captain Kirk would say.

  “No dice. We’re not turning over the Enterprise to you or anybody else. You can forget boarding us.”

  This was not the answer Sokis wanted. His spines bristled.

  “You dare risk our wrath?”

  “Risk is our business. Haven’t you heard?”

  Angry black eyes glared balefully from the screen. “Perhaps a further taste of our power is in order.” He gestured to an off-screen subordinate. “Let the weight of the Truth pull you down from your arrogant perch!”

  The ship’s prow dipped sharply forward, diving toward the planet below. Uhura didn’t need Ferrari to tell her that the gravity beam had been ramped up in a big way. A flashing red light between the helm and nav controls signaled danger.

  “Sir!” Fisher reported. “We’re going down!”

  “Show me!” Uhura ordered.

  An orbital view of Ephrata IV took over most of the screen, consigning Sokis to a small window in the upper left-hand corner. Was it just her imagination, or did the planet already look larger and closer than before? Uhura grabbed onto her armrests to keep from tumbling from her seat. She braced her heels against the chair’s elevated footrest.

  “Maintain shields!” she ordered. “Full reverse!”

  Straining engines thrummed loudly as the Enterprise fought the gravity beam like a fish on a line, being drawn inexorably to its doom. Ordinarily, the bridge always felt to be on an even keel, no matter its orientation in space, but now Uhura was staring down at the viewscreen while her usual station was above and behind her. The tilted deck was vertigo-inducing.

  “It’s no good!” Fisher hollered back, shouting over the din of the engines. “I’m barely slowing us down!”

  “Can we survive atmospheric entry?” she asked.

  “At this angle and velocity? Unlikely,” Masters predicted. The engineering station was still under repair, so she hastily performed the necessary calculations on a handheld data slate. “If we’re lucky, the shields might hold . . . until we slam into the planet.”

  Ephrata’s upper atmosphere loomed larger on the viewer. Uhura tugged on her collar. Was it already getting hotter on the bridge or was that just her? Just my luck, she thought. I’m in command of the ship for all of fifteen minutes before it crashes.

  It was not exactly the note on which she hoped to end her Starfleet career.

  “Hull temperature at two thousand one hundred seventy degrees!” Masters reported. “Structural integrity at risk!”

  “You can still save yourselves!” Sokis boomed from his section of the screen. “Surrender your vessel to the Crusade. The Truth demands it!”

  He sure seemed to want the ship. Uhura wondered why.

  “Mister Ferrari, are there any other vessels in the vicinity?”

  He peered into his scanner. A blue glow tinted the planes of his face.

  “Not that we can detect, no.”

  I thought as much, Uhura mused. Could it be, then, that the “Crusade” was stranded on Ephrata IV? If that was the case, would they really risk destroying their only way off the planet? Certainly this wouldn’t be the first time some planetbound adversaries wanted to hijack the Enterprise for their own purposes. Maybe this Sokis was like the Kelvans, or those androids on Mudd’s world.

  She decided to call his bluff.

  “Save your breath, mister. Starfleet doesn’t take well to ultimatums.” Uhura put on her best poker face, the one that had once broken the bank at that casino on Ishtar Station. “You want to crash this ship, be my guest.”

  She heard a few startled gasps around her. Glancing about the bridge, she recognized the anxious looks on her fellow crew members’ faces. It was the same one she’d worn whenever Captain Kirk had played chicken with some seemingly intractable foe, like that racist duochrome cop from Cheron. In the past, the bad guys
had always blinked first.

  She hoped that history would repeat itself.

  “Are you mad as well as ignorant?” Sokis said, with a definite edge of frustration in his voice. His mane flared outward. “Do not test me!”

  Uhura stuck to her guns. “Consider yourself tested.”

  By now, Ephrata IV filled practically the entire viewer. Roiling plum and magenta clouds waited to envelop the Enterprise, which was on a collision course with the planet. Its single continent could be glimpsed through the cloud cover. Vast plains, mountain ranges, and rivers could be made out below them, which meant the ship was much closer to the planet than it ought to be. It would be a hard landing, if they didn’t burn up in the atmosphere first.

  “Hull temperature twenty-five hundred degrees and climbing!” Masters reported.

  “Four minutes to impact!” Chekov announced.

  How far was Sokis going to push this? Uhura sweated out the seconds, in more ways than one. Had she misjudged the enemy’s resolve?

  Did I make the right call?

  “Maximum shields!” She used her intercom to alert the entire ship. “All hands, brace for impact!”

  So much for my short stint in the captain’s chair, she thought. Her biggest regret was that Chekov and Palmer and the others were going to perish as well, but she wasn’t sure what else she could have done. Surrendering the Enterprise had never been an option.

  “Lieutenant!” Ferrari yelled. “The gravity beam! It’s slacking off!”

  Hope flared inside her. Maybe Sokis had blinked after all.

  “You hear that, Mister Fisher?” she called out to the helm. “Pull us out if you can!”

  “Aye, aye!”

  To her relief, the planet began to recede slightly. Within moments, she could glimpse open space beyond its circumference. Ephrata IV’s sole moon could be spotted in the distance, out beyond the Enterprise’s orbit. The system’s sun was still shining on the cloud-covered continent in the foreground. Uhura estimated that it was still daylight at the Institute, where the landing party was.