Star Trek - Log 6

  Something was occluding that brightness . . . something gigantic.

  A huge, highly reflective mass of constantly changing shape billowed from the open hatch. Light from the starship's running lights and the surrounding stars gleamed in that expanding metal skin. It drifted behind the Enterprise, still growing rapidly, as the cargo doors closed.

  "Keep your scanners on that, Lieutenant—Mr. Sulu, you stay with the Romulans."

  Acknowledgment was prompt from both consoles. "What in heaven's name is going on now?" McCoy wondered.

  "Your guess is probably better than mine, Bones," Kirk confessed. "You've experienced the computer's whimsy longer than anyone."

  "Maybe . . . but I never saw anything like that before."

  They stared in rapt fascination at the image conveyed by the scanners. It became apparent that the monstrous shape was steadily inflating.

  "It looks like some kind of metal balloon, Jim. But what on Earth's it for?"

  "If the cargo doors open again and a gigantic pin starts to come out, we'll know," ventured Sulu. "It'd be in keeping with the computer's actions so far."

  "I fail to see the connection, Mr. Sulu," a curious Spock observed.

  "Sulu's supposition is wrong, anyway, Spock," Kirk told him. "There wouldn't be any noise."

  Spock did not appear enlightened. "Noise? Captain, I confess I am puzzled by . . ." He stopped abruptly, peering hard into his own viewer.

  "What is it, Spock?"

  "Odd . . . the inflatable object is acquiring an outline which superficially resembles a ship."

  "I see it now," Sulu agreed excitedly. "It looks like one of the old Federation dreadnoughts—the class that was never built because all that weaponry was never needed."

  "Whatever it is, it's about twenty times our size," noted Kirk.

  "Captain, we're changing course again," Sulu said. "We're pulling away from it slightly."

  "What have the Romulans been doing? We've been within range of their scanners for several minutes now."

  "I believe they started toward us several minutes ago, Captain," Spock declared, checking readouts, "but their subsequent movements have been erratic. They have presently terminated all signs of approach. Undoubtedly the sudden appearance of a warship twenty times their size has occasioned some hasty discussion among the Romulan command."

  "I'll bet," Kirk agreed, smiling despite his own ignorance of what the computer was up to.

  McCoy was less amused. "It may look like a dreadnought now, but if they approach within visual pickup range they'll obtain a detailed fix on it and see that it's nothing more than inflated foil—and they won't think it funny."

  "For the present, though, you must admit that the Romulans have halted."

  "So it's an effective bluff—I see that, Spock. But it won't last long. It'll only infuriate them more." He shrugged. "More cybernetic madness."

  "Unless there's a message in it," Kirk whispered thoughtfully.

  Spock's brows contracted. "If you would elaborate, Captain."

  "Yes, Jim," McCoy wondered, eyeing him steadily, "who's madness are you talking about?" He eyed Kirk in such a way as to indicate that perhaps the central computer wasn't the only brain on board that had gone a little dotty.

  "Bones, sometimes to understand madness you have to think like a madman—no, don't be alarmed," Kirk added at the look that suddenly appeared on the good doctor's face. "I mean that this is a time to look for the inner logic.

  "All that's happening is that the Enterprise is pulling her biggest practical joke so far—only this time it's on the Romulans."

  "Are you suggesting," Spock asked, "that the Enterprise is capable of experiencing a desire for revenge?"

  "What else? She's going to make fools of them by inducing them to attack a balloon, and the Romulans fear disgrace even more than death."

  "It is still not possible, Captain. Revenge is a purely emotional action."

  "What would you think of a Vulcan who displayed a desire for revenge, Spock?"

  "Why, we would try to cure him of his madn—I see, Captain. Your point is well taken. And I confess I have no alternative explanation for the computer's present actions." His gaze returned to the sensor image of the drifting cruisers.

  "However, I am most interested just now in the effect of the ploy and not in the motivation behind it . . ."

  The alien triumvirate of destruction hovered well outside combat range and considered the colossal apparition that had appeared alongside their target.

  On board the heavy cruiser which formed the vanguard of the Romulan task force, an impatient Commander scratched his arm and studied the gargantuan image, trying to imagine how the Federation had concealed a warship of such size from Imperial spies. It didn't seem possible . . . yet there it was.

  As soon as it had appeared, the Enterprise had started off on a new course back toward Federation territory—but slowly, almost challengingly. It was almost as if Kirk were daring him to pursue, trying to lure him into attacking.

  He would have to make a decision soon, or their intended prey would make good its escape. To have failed the Plan once was bad enough. To have the quarry return to tweak the Imperial nose and saunter off at cruising speed was infuriating.

  One drawback to renewed pursuit, however, was the apparent indifference with which this new vessel squatted in midspace and regarded the Imperial force. It showed no inclination either to attack or retreat. Despite its size, he felt certain his three smaller vessels could outmaneuver it.

  Outgunning it was another matter entirely.

  "No response to our calls, Commander," his communications officer reported.

  "They have refused surrender. Very well. Large it may be, but foolish is its commander. We will not permit so great a prize to escape." He called to his helmsman. "Notify the others—we will attack according to the fourth helical scheme."

  "Yes, Commander!"

  The order was passed. Weaving in and about several common points designated by their battle computers, the three Romulan cruisers advanced at assault speed. At extreme range they opened fire in a carefully integrated sequence. Photon bombs which had already proven so effective against the Enterprise were flung ahead in a complex half-predetermined, half-random pattern that no ship's defenses could avoid.

  The object of this triple barrage did not. Several of the powerful explosives struck the anodized skin and blew gaping holes in the false mass. With no outside pressure to collapse it, the bloated construct of micron-thick foil held its shape. Held it firmly enough for the gaping wounds to show that it was completely hollow inside.

  As he ingested this unexpected development, the Romulan commander's eyes grew almost as large as the cavernous gaps his expensive explosives had ripped in the thin metal.

  "Fooled . . . tricked . . . insult, insult!" he howled, apoplectic with anger. "Gravest offense . . . most heinous perversion of martial chivalry. Contact . . . contact the Enterprise!" he sputtered at his communications officer.

  That worthy hurried to comply. "We have made contact, sir," he reported seconds later.

  "Put them through."

  The link was cleared—and immediately a high, wavering sound washed over the Romulan bridge. One did not have to be a specialist in Federation emotional utterances to recognize it as laughter.

  Of course, the Romulan commander had no knowledge of its true source . . . but it was enough for him to know that it came from the Enterprise.

  All pretense at caution vanished under that teasing giggle.

  "Full pursuit speed!" he roared. "I want that ship reduced to dust, to particles, to its component elements."

  "Honored Commander," the helmsman protested timidly, "they have some distance on us, and they are no longer within the neutral zone."

  Laughter continued to roll across the Romulan Bridge. "Extinguish that! And pursue!"

  On board another Bridge the same laughter still echoed, though it was beginning to subside. "Captain," Sulu noted,
"the Romulans are giving chase."

  McCoy let out a long whistle. "They must be a little crazed themselves to follow us this deep into Federation territory, now that they can't surprise us like they did before."

  "I don't care about that. I don't even care about the Romulans," Kirk cried. McCoy's expression narrowed. There was an alien, uncharacteristic fearfulness in the captain's voice. "I just want to avoid that energy field.

  "Helmsman, do you have a fix on its present position? For nova's sake, stay away from there!"

  Everyone had spun to stare in disbelief at Kirk, who sat all but trembling in the command chair, slumped low into the seat.

  It looked to Sulu as if the captain were shivering like a man frightened half to death. In fact, this sudden transformation of the indomitable captain into a seeming basket case was so startling everyone was struck speechless.

  "I have it plotted, sir," Sulu was finally able to reply . . . since some sort of reassurance seemed to be necessary. "Our present course takes us nowhere near it."

  The relief in Kirk's shaken countenance was almost palpable. "Thank God," he muttered shakily, "I couldn't face that traverse again."

  "Sir, if I may be permitted," Sulu continued, unable to keep the tinge of chastisement clear of his tone, "the damage we incurred during the actual passage was mini . . ."

  A traitorous feminine voice cut him off. "Why should the thought of making another passage scare you . . . there is no reason for it. I sustained only minimal damage in making the actual passage."

  "It's not that . . . not that," Kirk replied in evident terror. "It's the idea of having your body, every cell and nerve, lanced through and through with radiation we know nothing about . . . the thought of what that might do to one's internal make-up . . ." He actually shuddered. "The thought petrifies me."

  "How very interesting," the voice murmured sweetly. The whine of gyros sounded.

  "Sir . . ." Sulu worked uselessly at his instrumentation. "We're changing course again. The energy field lies on the periphery of our long-range sensors, but we seem to be heading straight for it . . . again."

  "No!" Kirk was shaking so hard he could barely lean forward. "We can't be . . . not again."

  Laughter reverberated around them . . . laughter that was neither human nor sane.

  "Reverse direction, Mr. Sulu!"

  The helmsman made a futile effort to provoke some response from his console, then looked back and shrugged helplessly. "I can't, sir. Controls are still frozen. Sir, if I may say, we've nothing to worry about so. We know . . ."

  "I can't take that again," Kirk babbled, "I can't take that again . . ."

  The view ahead began to shine as the first effects of the radiant cloud made themselves felt. Barely perceptibly at first, then unmistakably, the deck commenced to oscillate underfoot. Vibration intensified until it was just shy of being severe.

  Now the scanners stepped down the overpowering panoply of color to where it was bearable by human eyes.

  Kirk remained cowering in the command chair, his hands clutching tightly to the arms. Appropriate discussion would have continued about the captain's startling collapse of nerve, only there was plenty to do at the moment to insure that the Enterprise held together during its passage through the field.

  There was no real reason for concern. After all, they had made this difficult passage once before. Presumably they would do it again. But this time, it would be better to remain intent at one's job, welded to one's instruments—what with the central computer out of control and the captain apparently paralyzed by fear.

  Plenty of time for Dr. McCoy to treat the commander once the ship was safely through . . .

  So, while the matter never strayed completely from their minds, everyone remained glued to his post and ignored the quivering figure which shook in the command chair—ignored also the ripples of mirth that steadily issued from the Bridge speakers.

  Another set of vibrations commenced not far behind them, as the maddened Romulans—their caution overcome by fury—entered the energy cloud in engine-straining pursuit.

  The Enterprise's abrupt course change, which had brought it swooping around within near firing range, was puzzling and unreasonable enough to puncture the Romulan commander's suit of anger. Already deep within Federation territory and with a clear lead, what profit could the Enterprise's commander see in a swing back toward the neutral zone and his pursuers?

  It unnerved him more than he cared to admit. One thing the Romulans had learned not to despise in their dealings with the Federation was the fiendish subtlety of high-ranking humans like Kirk.

  So he consulted with his officers and with the commanders of his other ships. They dumped their worries into their computers and frantically hunted for a rationale behind the inexplicable maneuver. The cybernetic shrugs that resulted did little to alleviate their concern . . .

  The Romulan helmsman held tightly to one arm of his chair while his other fluttered helplessly over his abruptly unresponsive console. Assured of its new ineffectualness, he turned and caught the eye of his already brooding commander.

  "Sir, our sensors are useless while in this field. We've lost all contact with the Federation ship."

  That was the final ubuz as far as the commander was concerned. "First the Enterprise alters a heading on which it had a fair chance of escaping or of contacting help, in order to return within range of a superior force. Then it draws us into this mysterious field. Now it appears they cannot be located." What unknown weaponry, what new insult might Kirk be preparing to unleash on them?

  The combination of uncertainties was too much for the already jittery commander. His ship was being subjected to a battering which was strong, but not dangerous, as yet. The operative word was "yet." It offered a chance—maybe the last chance—to withdraw with some shred of honor.

  Also, his liver was bothering him.

  "We must clear this field before our ships break up. Bring us about on a new heading, navigator, for home."

  "You're going to let them get away, sir? After the way they've taunted us, insulted us?"

  "If we can no longer locate them," the commander replied dryly, not wishing to fight with his own officers, "that strikes me as a reasonable evaluation of our present circumstances. I suggest attending to your duties, Varpa. These require you to obey orders . . . no more. Do so."

  Varpa started to say more, suddenly became aware a proximity mine field was an inauspicious place to dance a polka, and shut up.

  Pleased by the silence, the commander began to compose his report to Fleet Headquarters: Surreptitious Operations Bureau. As he did so, he regarded the fore viewscreen, which offered a picture of the scintillating, radiant energy field . . . now shrinking rapidly behind them.

  Hopefully, somewhere within its magnificently colored distortion of space and matter, the thrice-cursed Enterprise was already tearing itself to pieces . . .

  The Enterprise, however, was holding together very nicely, thank you. So far it had resisted the corrosive efforts of both the radiation and the Romulan invective.

  More concern was felt over the coherence, or lack thereof, of its captain. But his terror seemed to fade slightly when an awkward fluttering cracked the steady laughter still issuing from the speakers.

  He began to look normal again when the unsteady chuckling started to waver noticeably.

  "Tricked," the computer voice abruptly claimed. "Not fair . . . not fair . . ." Laughter and peevish overtone were beginning to fade rapidly now.

  "What the . . . what's happening to it?" McCoy queried, holding tightly for support to the back of the command chair.

  The final giggle sounded . . . an unintelligent, choking cough. Then all was quiet.

  When Kirk spoke again, it was immediately clear that his fear had vanished along with the laughter. "Bones, the worst thing you can do to a practical joker is to play a practical joke on him." His tone was grim but no longer anxious. "Although this is one joke whose successful outcome had some
thing more than a laugh riding on it."

  "We're clear of the field, sir," Sulu informed him.

  "Good. Change course two degrees up. Same heading. Resume standard cruising speed."

  The helmsman looked doubtful, but proceeded to try and comply. His expression and voice brightened the moment he touched the first controls. "All instrumentation is responding normally now, Captain. No indication of any interference with helm functions. Engine response is normal, too."

  "And I am receiving standard response in all computer modes," Spock declared. "Higher logic and intuitive reasoning functions check out normal . . . with no intimation of a desire to operate on their own." He glanced approvingly across at Kirk.

  "That last pass through the energy field apparently reversed the damaging effects of our initial incursion."

  "So that's why you were so vocal in your horror of another ride through," McCoy exclaimed as understanding dawned. "And all the time you had us thinking you'd slipped your helm."

  "Something radical had to be tried, Bones. Frankly, when it first occurred to me, I didn't think the idea made much sense . . . which made it seem perfectly appropriate, in light of the way the computer was acting."

  "A well-conceived and efficiently executed deception, Captain," complimented his first officer.

  Kirk grinned wanly. "Not entirely deception, Mr. Spock. I was frightened . . . not of another passage through the field, but of what the computer might try next. Its sense of humor was becoming increasingly sadistic."

  "Amen to that!" McCoy commented fervently.

  "What I had to do," Kirk continued, leaning back in the command chair, "was redirect the anxiety I was feeling and let it run away with me."

  "You are too modest, Captain," Spock commented. "You had everyone fooled—all of us, besides the computer. I could never have carried off the same masquerade myself."

  "Needless to say," needled McCoy.

  Spock ignored him.

  "The effects of the field on our computer circuitry and operation have been thoroughly documented by independent means," Spock continued, studying his library console. "They will provide much material for dissection by Federation cybernetics experts. I envision many hours of investigative perusal myself."