That made his decision simpler, if not more pleasant.
“And if I refuse?”
A phaser beam darted out of nowhere as Kirk rose in the command chair. No, it issued from… the automatic bridge defense system! The beam impacted on his force-field squarely and knocked him stumbling into a bulkhead.
“OBEY ME!” the alien thundered from all speakers.
Kirk tried to dodge out of the phaser’s line of fire and searched frantically for cover. But he couldn’t dodge the beam of the phaser anymore than one could escape sun in a desert. As for finding cover, the automatic defense system was very thorough. It had been carefully designed to permit a hostile intruder no cover.
The beam cut off for seconds, shot out again, and slammed him against a wall. It pinned him there like some shriveled, colorful insect. His force-field flared pink, then red, turning slowly to a deep crimson. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. Though it hadn’t broken through, the intense concentration of heat was starting to hurt like blazes. He felt himself weakening, slumped against the wall.
“Captain!”
Spock ran toward him, stopped. The beam left Kirk for a split second, affording him little relief. It moved to Spock. But when the science officer remained frozen in place, it swung back to batter again at Kirk’s shield.
Spock took a heavy, metal-spined reference manual from a shelf and stepped quickly toward the bridge defense module. As he threw, the phaser beam looped around and struck at his ankles. The thrown book fell far short, bounced over the command chair. Moving higher the powerful beam shoved Spock back against the base of the library computer. Then it shifted slightly and he was washed down the floor along the wall like a leaf in the grip of a powerful hose.
It finally pinned him upright against a far bulkhead, holding him there until his force-field also flared pink, red, and crimson.
Kirk put a hand to his singed chest and rolled over slowly. He staggered to his feet. The first thing he saw was Spock, pinned up against the wall. Swaying, he took a step toward the science officer. It was the shock of the near-fatal phaser assault that had affected him, more than any actual physical damage. He knew what an uncontrolled phaser of even mild strength could do to something as fragile as a human body.
At that moment there was a deep red flare, almost black, from Spock’s life-support belt. Then his force-field was gone, overloaded by the concentration of energy from the phaser. Immediately the beam stepped down to low power. It continued to focus on the center of Spock’s chest. Kirk could have continued to advance, but now dared not.
From somewhere in the depths of the ship, from all around them, the implacable alien consciousness spoke.
“OBEY ME!”
It was Kirk’s turn to scream.
“You’ll hurt him!”
“REMOVE THE STATIC SHIELD FROM THE DRIVE CONTROLS AND NAVIGATION PANEL! DO IT NOW!”
No hint of compassion—not even a mention of Spock. There was absolutely no doubt in Kirk’s mind that the creature would kill Spock slowly, without thought.
The subject lying under that threat still had his voice, if not his mobility.
“No, Captain!”
The phaser beam intensified ever so lightly. No cry of pain escaped Spock’s lips, but he writhed. A tensing in the knuckles showed what he was feeling. Inwardly, Kirk slumped.
“I will obey. Let him go.”
As quickly as that, the phaser beam was gone. Spock stood leaning against the wall for a moment longer. Then his legs gave way under him and he collapsed to the floor. Kirk took a step in his direction, but that damnable, all-seeing voice interrupted again, bellowing.
“NOW! IGNORE THE FALLEN BIPED AND PROCEED WITH THE FIELD REMOVAL!”
He turned and started reluctantly to the helm-navigation console. McCoy moved to Spock’s side. There was a small but neat hole in the center of the science officer’s shirt. McCoy dug out a tiny spray vial and began to work on the injury.
Kirk thought furiously. It was the end of everything—unless…
He looked down at his chest, where he’d been lightly burned… lower, to his stomach. His hand slipped slowly ever so slowly, down to his life-support belt.
“It’s too fast for us, Doctor,” Kirk said quickly. “So don’t try deactivating the defense module with one of your sprays.” McCoy looked up, puzzled.
Had the alien learned enough to read a human expression?
It had not. McCoy’s response was to look at Kirk. In doing so he automatically brought the spray vial away from Spock, and up. The phaser shifted to cover McCoy and the almost awake Spock.
In that brief, unguarded instant Kirk whipped free his life-support belt with one hand, hit a switch on the console with the other, and dropped the activated belt across a certain unshielded section of it. He jumped clear as the panel erupted in sparks and fiery flashes.
He’d been gambling that the creature wouldn’t turn off the bridge life-support systems and risk killing them all. He was right.
But the phaser beam swung to burn an opening in the floor. Desperately he rolled to get away from it. It eventually caught up with him at the other end of the helm console. Stopping, the beam focused just a few centimeters to one side of his head. He could feel the deadly heat on his cheek. The beam had been raised to killing force.
V
“REPAIR THE WARP-DRIVE CONTROLS! OBEY ME!”
The now maddened voice had risen to a tremulous shriek.
Kirk got to his feet slowly, cautiously, making sure he made no rapid gestures that might be misinterpreted by the trigger-happy alien. As he rose the beam stayed centered parallel to his skull. He walked to the command chair.
“Mr. Scott.”
“Yes, sir?”
“The warp-drive controls have burned out. Commence repairs immediately. Install the auxiliary bypass system.”
If Scott suspected anything, he gave no sign.
“Aye, Captain.” He looked around, his gaze coming to rest on the somnolent bridge defense mechanism. It was as good a point to direct his voice to as any.
“I’ll need some cuttin’ and repairin’ tools.” He pointed to a nearby locker. “I can get what I need in there—if you’ll allow them to energize.”
“YES, YES!” came the anxious voice, “BUT MAKE NO WRONG MOTIONS. I HAVE THE ENTIRE WARP-DRIVE AUXILIARY BYPASS SYSTEM AND REPAIR PROCEDURE FROM YOUR OWN COMPUTER RECORDS. HURRY!”
“Do as it says, Mr. Scott.”
“Aye, Captain,” Scott replied, keeping a determined pokerface. Not that he knew what Kirk had in mind, but he suspected the captain was up to something. And it was up to him to give Kirk as much time as possible to prepare for it.
He walked slowly to the locker, at the same time being careful not to move unnaturally and thus make the creature suspicious. There was a nervous moment as he energized the precision microwelder. Small as it was, it could still easily burn a hole even in a bridge defense module—if given the time.
However, the alien apparently felt secure in its control. It permitted him the necessary small tool. He walked to the fused section of helm, examined it, and shook his head like a doctor clucking over a sick patient.
Then he moved to the back of the bridge, near Uhura’s station, and a small wall panel that needed to be removed. Controls and switching points were revealed within. There were also several long coils of fine cable.
As he brought the activated welder close and began to make the necessary connections, the voice again reverberated around the bridge.
“ANY ATTEMPT TO SABOTAGE THE AUXILIARY WARP-DRIVE CONTROLS, CHIEF ENGINEER MONTGOMERY SCOTT, WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE DESTRUCTION OF ALL OTHER BRIDGE PERSONNEL. I WOULD RATHER NOT RESORT TO THE USE OF INFERIOR, SECONDARY PERSONNEL TO CARRY OUT MY COMMANDS—BUT I WILL NOT HESITATE!”
“I’ll be sure to try and keep that in mind,” Scott mumbled, concentrating on the delicate work at hand.
Spock was on his feet again. He touched his chest once, looked at M
cCoy.
“A fine, professional job, Doctor. Fortunately, your medicine is more effective than your jokes.” For once, McCoy didn’t feel up to a reply.
The science officer walked over to stand next to Kirk. Both faced casually away from the bridge defense system’s video pickup. Apparently the creature’s abilities did not also include mind reading. It had divined nothing of Kirk’s series of delaying actions beyond their immediate practical effects.
The defense sphere’s sound pickups were not designed to detect whispering. It was primarily a visual device. Normal ship noises would have drowned out soft talk and only confused an efficient mechanism. So the two men felt reasonably secure in conversing.
“Let’s have it all, Spock. You’ve had enough experience with this creature’s actions to have formed some solid opinions about it, at least. What are we dealing with?”
Spock rubbed his chest again. “Beyond its undeniable belligerence, Captain, we know nothing about its mental composition. We can theorize more thoroughly about its physical makeup.
“It seems to be some form of pure energy organism, without much actual mass, and it is essentially electromagnetic in nature. At the same time, it appears capable of a strong parasitic relationship with a solid host body. A starship could provide such a body, it seems.
“It appears to utilize the electronic network of the Enterprise the way a man or Vulcan uses the nervous system of his body. It has, in effect, become the Enterprise. We, on the other hand, are only marginally beneficial organisms in its structure, like the white corpuscles in human blood. That is, some of us are. Apparently it regards most of the crew as unwelcome growths—germs—simply to be disposed of as rapidly and with as little effort as possible.
“And, Captain, the computer library still operates. It has indicated that the flux readings are growing in strength. The longer this being has to adjust to its new body, the stronger and more secure it grows.”
Kirk dropped his voice even lower. If the alien could somehow pick it up and understand it, then all was lost. But it had given no sign of being able to so far. And devilish subtlety did not seem to be one of its characteristics. They had no choice but to try. Spock was looking at him expectantly and Kirk remembered that he couldn’t read minds, either.
“The slingshot effect, to throw us free of this gravity and out of orbit—can you do the necessary math in your mind, Spock? I’ve got reasons for not using the navigation computer.”
Spock nodded. “I see. Yes, the alien would know. I believe I can, Captain. Soon I will have to aid Mr. Scott, but my mind and hands can operate on different projects at the same time.”
Kirk turned and raised his voice as he addressed the rotating sphere of the defense mechanism.
“The chief engineer will need assistance from my first officer to complete repairs. Is this permitted?”
Circuits continued to open and close. Human diaphragms operated somewhat slower. Otherwise there was little motion on the bridge. Spock strode slowly, cautiously, to where Scott was working. Kirk kept a wary eye on the dormant phaser, but no punishment, no warning was forthcoming.
“I guess it is,” he murmured.
“WHEN REPAIRS ARE COMPLETED,” came the voice suddenly and, as usual, without any warning, “YOU WILL LEAVE THIS ORBIT AND PLOT A COURSE THIRTY-SIX POINT THREE TWO ONE FROM OUR PRESENT LOCATION.”
Sulu spoke up.
“That’s the heart of the galaxy, Captain!”
“Set the course, Mr. Sulu.”
Sulu looked back at him incredulously and made no move to obey. Spock glanced over from his work and spoke.
“Captain, we’ve seen this creature separate itself into different parts. If it can divide and grow, it could take over every starship we meet. It could control entire computer centers—perhaps whole planets.”
“I am aware of that, Mr. Spock. But we have,” and he looked downcast, “no choice, I’m afraid.”
“COMPLETE REPAIRS!” screamed the voice, “OBEY ME!”
“Set the course, Mr. Sulu! That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.” Sulu’s reply held a hint of bitterness.
Scott and Spock unwound two small cables from the recess in the wall and ran them along the deck to the burned-out navigation console. Working with the microwelder and Spock’s assistance, Scott proceeded to install a small metal box to one side of the melted panel.
The box’s face contained a basic, simplified version of the ruined warp-drive controls. The engineer made a last connection, wiped his forehead with the back of a hand, and took a deep breath.
“Auxiliary controls ready to activate, Captain.” Everyone on the bridge was staring at Kirk.
The Captain looked up at the sphere, hardly daring to breathe and yet forcing himself to maintain a normal tone of voice.
“The auxiliary controls can only be opened manually.”
At that, the memory banks of Spock’s computer-library station suddenly hummed into operation. No one needed to be told what was taking place. The creature was checking Kirk’s statement against the operations manuals stored deep within the ship.
Eventually the lights at the computer station returned to normal. There was a short, screaming silence. Kirk willed himself not to sweat.
“THAT IS CORRECT, OPERATE THE MANUAL CONTROLS. OBEY!”
Kirk breathed an unseen sigh of thankfulness and offered prayer to all supernatural deities who looked after starship skippers. Then he nodded slowly to Scott.
The engineer moved back toward his own station. Kirk rose and walked calmly to the auxiliary control box. He placed his hands on the simplified device. It was only illusion, but the smooth metal controls and knobs felt hot.
“Control activated.” He paused, started toward another set of switches. “Setting cour—” His hands moved in a blur.
The Enterprise’s engines slammed into emergency drive. Not away, toward the beckoning mist of the Milky Way, but down, down and in, toward the devouring black maw below.
Sulu jerked in his seat as the dark bulk of the dead sun grew suddenly enormous in the main viewscreen. He spun to face Kirk.
“Captain, we’re falling out of orbit! We’re falling into the star!”
“APPLY FULL POWER—REVERSE ENGINES!” Shrieked the disembodied alien, “OBEY ME, OBEY ME!”
The bridge defense phaser came on, swung around to touch Kirk’s back. He jerked and hung grimly to the controls. He had no force-field to protect him now, with his life-support belt fused to the original controls.
Picking up speed with every microsecond, the Enterprise rushed toward the destroying gravity below. The phaser abruptly cut off—and Kirk cursed silently. The creature had guessed what he was trying to do. If it killed him while he was hanging onto the controls and failed to cut his hands free in time…
It tried something else, and for a few seconds Kirk was forced to fall away. The entire console section and even the deck around the manual control unit began to glow with heat. At the same time the walls of the bridge began to fluoresce an angry, pulsing green. The vivid color deepened and dimmed in indecipherable, distorted patterns. The voice of the alien rose to a terrible, frightened scream.
“NO, DECELERATE! DO NOT DESTROY THE SHIP! OBEY—OBEY—OBEY!”
Kirk had glanced down at his hands, then back at the glowing console. If the alien realized that at any second it could now safely kill him and induce another member of the crew to operate the controls…
He threw himself back on the metal box and its burning knobs and dials. There was a sizzling sound and the odor of burnt flesh filled the bridge. Uhura screamed. Tears streamed from Kirk’s eyes, but his hands stayed frozen on the controls.
“Stand by to activate warp—drive!” he gasped. Spock instantly took the vacant assistant helmsman’s place next to Sulu… in case.
“NO… DON’T!” came the terrified voice. The Enterprise dove toward the extinct solar furnace. It filled the viewscreen now, as complete a grave as any man could wish
for. Its surface was alive with brilliant discharges of electricity.
The starship glowed all over with a soft green aura. This rapidly coalesced into a single, bright blob of beating, living light. On the bridge the green luminescence of the walls suddenly faded and seemed to sink into the metal. The phaser beam of the defense sphere abruptly cut off.
That was the first sign. Now for the final blow.
“Activate warp-drive!” Kirk managed to cough out. The white heat of the panel had vanished at the same time as the phaser beam, but the metal was still fearfully hot. If it was a last, desperate ruse by the creature to get him away from the controls, it failed.
“Activated, Captain,” came Spock’s prompt reply.
The ship shuddered briefly as the titanic warp-drive engines cut in. There was a last faint pulse of green radiance—then it was gone. A final, despairing cry, shrill and weak now, came from the speakers.
“PLEASE… DON’T!”
Suddenly the Enterprise seemed to leap toward the black sphere, toward the very horizon of the sun that was no more. It seemed impossible that it could miss that sucking, grasping target. It must strike, vanish in a blank flash of instant annihilation. The image of the starship wavered as it reached the critical point of that bottomless pit of gravity, seemed to flow like a liquid… and disappear.
An instant later the combination of emergency overdrive and the tremendous pull of the star had flung the Enterprise far beyond any threat—far beyond any clutch of its relentless tug.
For a few seconds the star wore a ring of incredible thinness. A tiny narrow band of soft green circled the black sphere, revealing a last, hopeless grab for a ship safely out of its reach. Forever out of its reach.
Then the green ring contracted, shrunk in on itself, to become a single bright, emerald blob of incandescent life—an amorphous mass of now harmless malevolence.
“You can let go now, Captain,” said Spock gently.
“Let… go…?” Kirk mumbled. His eyes glazed. Spock reached over and gripped the captain’s wrists. They pulled easily but that death grip was not so simply broken. Spock reached around more firmly and pulled, pulled again, hard. This time both hands came free of the controls.