Chain of Attack (18 page)

Kirk grimaced. "It was a good try. And we'll still have at least twenty-four hours. Ahead, Mr. Sulu, at maximum attainable warp factor. And Scotty—" He stopped, the grimace turning to a faint grin. "You know the drill, Scotty."

"Aye, Captain, I do." Scott's voice came from the engineering deck. "I'll do what I can."

Even before the
Enterprise
dropped out of warp drive, it was obvious there had been changes on the planet in their absence.

"The antimatter power source detected earlier is now fully operational, Captain," Spock announced.

"Weapons?"

"None detected as yet, Captain."

"Mr. Sulu, put up what deflectors we have and proceed on impulse power."

"Aye-aye, sir."

"Lieutenant Uhura, any subspace activity?"

"None, Captain."

"Continue monitoring all frequencies but maintain radio silence. Mr. Sulu, maximum magnification. Zero in on the spot directly above the energy source."

"Done, sir."

On the screen, the planet looked no different from before, no different from dozens of the other devastated worlds they had seen. Virtually airless and drenched in radiation, its surface was fused like something that had long ago emerged from some cosmic blast furnace. Not a trace of the original surface was visible through the planetwide scar tissue.

"Sensor activity, Captain," Spock said, leaning closer over his instruments. "We are being scanned by devices at least as sensitive as our own."

"All stop, Mr. Sulu! Spock, still no indication of weapons?"

"None, Captain."

"Could they be shielded? If their technology is superior to ours, could they have phasers or other weapons, undetectable behind shields?"

"Possible, Captain, but I detect no shielding of any kind at this time. Nor can I detect any openings in the five kilometers of rock above the power source. However, the sensors are now picking up definite life form readings."

"Similar to your earlier readings?"

"Negative, Captain. Those readings would not have registered at this distance. The present ones are quite—normal."

"How many? What type?"

"Impossible to tell at this range, Captain."

"And the sensors that are scanning
us
—whatever is down there is definitely aware of us?"

"Definitely, Captain."

"The gate people, sir?" Chekov wondered, glancing up from the navigation board.

"Or the ones who destroyed these worlds in the first place," Kirk murmured.

"Or both, Captain," Spock said. "Anyone possessing the technology to build the gates would in all probability also possess the technology to obliterate those worlds."

"Ever the optimist. Very well, they know we're here, so we might as well see if they want to talk. Lieutenant Uhura?"

"Transmitting on all frequencies, sir. No immediate response."

"Sensor scans strengthening, Captain," Spock said and then paused, his eyebrows arching minutely. "Their sensors appear to be affecting our own."

"What? In what way?"

"Our own readings are becoming more precise, Captain. It is as if our sensor probes were, in some way I cannot explain, being enhanced by theirs. Or, perhaps more accurately, ours may actually be riding on theirs to some extent."

"Could it be a trick? Could they be modifying our sensor probes? Feeding us false information?"

"It is conceivable, Captain, if their level of sophistication is sufficiently greater than our own. None of the enhanced readings, however, contradicts any information in the original readings."

"What
do
they tell us, then?"

"Nearly one thousand life forms are currently indicated, all roughly humanoid. There is still no evidence of weapons, nor of any shielding that might hide any weapons with which I am familiar."

"But it would at least be possible for them to hide weapons, not by shielding perhaps, but by falsifying the information our sensors are supposedly picking up?"

"Anything is possible, Captain," Spock said, not taking his eyes from his readouts. "And I now detect transporter activity, originating on the planet ahead."

"What?" Kirk's eyes darted toward his first officer. "We're still far beyond transporter range, Mr. Spock."

"Far beyond
our
transporter range, Captain."

"Mr. Sulu, get us out of here!" Kirk snapped, realizing angrily that he had wasted valuable, perhaps crucial seconds with his almost automatic response to Spock's announcement.

"Aye-aye, sir."

But even as Sulu's fingers danced across the controls, Kirk knew that, this time, the seconds he might have gained would not have made any difference. These transporters, whoever was operating them, could not be escaped so easily. They must have been locked on virtually the instant Spock had detected them. Already he could feel not only the beginnings of the all-over tingle that indicated the transporting process itself had begun but something else, a chilling dampness he had never experienced before. And in front of him, the forms of Sulu and Chekov were already beginning to fade.

A moment later the entire bridge vanished into a swirling haze.

 

THE COMMAND CHAIR no longer beneath him, Kirk tumbled to an all-too-solid, plastic-smooth floor, only inches away from Sulu and a pair of crewmen he didn't recognize. Catching himself, he leaped to his feet, grasping for his communicator even as images of the huge, cavernous room that now surrounded him registered in his mind.

But the communicator was gone, as was the universal translator which, since the first encounter with the Hoshan, he had kept clipped to his belt as well.

In front of him, Sulu and the two crew members were scrambling to their feet, but even as they did, more began to materialize, but not in the silvery snowfall that was the trademark of Federation transporters. Instead, they appeared first as a hazy swirl of smoke, not unlike a condensed or focused version of the billowing mists that had marked the appearances and disappearances of Gary Seven, and for a moment the thought darted through Kirk's mind that perhaps the still unknown race that had trained Seven and sent him on his benevolent mission to twentieth-century earth might be involved here, not only with whomever or whatever was doing the transporting but with the gate that had brought them here in the first place.

But that possibility, he realized an instant later, was only speculation, something to blunt the shock of what he was seeing. A dozen feet away, Spock was slowly solidifying, and beyond him, Lieutenant Uhura, and to the left, Scott and Chekov. And in all the space between, dozens more of the crew were appearing, many lurching and crashing into one another as they tried to keep their balance. Just to Kirk's left, an ensign from security appeared, his empty hand extended in front of him as if holding a phaser, and in the distance, before his view was obscured by dozens more of the materializations, he spotted Lieutenant Tomson.

Virtually the entire crew was being snatched from the
Enterprise
, leaving it a derelict! Or, worse, under the control of whomever was operating these transporters!

Automatically, Kirk took in his new surroundings, hoping against hope there would be something he could use, something that would give him even a hint about who was doing this and what he could do to counteract it.

Overhead, in the center of the otherwise featureless, arched ceiling nearly a hundred feet high, was a circular, faintly glowing formation that might have been part of the transporter equipment. Other than that glow, he couldn't locate the source of the relatively dim light that filled the entire room. Everything was visible, but, as if it were an overcast day on a planet's surface, there was no single source of light and not a single shadow anywhere.

"Spock!" Kirk called loudly while most of the massive room was still gripped by stunned silence. "McCoy! Uhura! Chekov! Scott! Tomson! Over here!" There was, he noted automatically, virtually no echo or reverberation, despite the hugeness of the room and the high, arched ceiling.

Everywhere in the room, faces turned toward Kirk's voice, but for the moment, except for those whose names he had called, there was only dazed silence in response. Spock and the others threaded their way through the disoriented crowd toward him, Spock slowing once to more closely observe another crew member—Ensign McPhee, it turned out—as he materialized less than a yard in front of him.

"Do any of you have a communicator?" Kirk asked when they had all gathered around him. "A phaser? A translator? Tricorder? Any equipment at all?"

Hands darted to belts but came away empty. Apprehensive or angry frowns creased all brows but Spock's, whose arched eyebrow was as eloquent as any of the other words or expressions.

"We seem to be on the receiving end this time, gentlemen," Kirk said when it became obvious that none of them had retained a single piece of equipment through the transport operation. "Whoever brought us here has separated us very neatly not only from the
Enterprise
but from anything we could use to defend ourselves, analyze our surroundings, or communicate with anything or anyone other than ourselves."

"Apparently, Captain," Spock said, looking slowly around. By now, the materializations seemed to have stopped, and the faint glow had disappeared from the massive transporterlike formation in the ceiling. The crew members—the entire four-hundred-plus ships' complement, from the look of it—were beginning to regain their voices.

"The question is," Spock went on, raising his voice to be heard above the growing din of hundreds of other incredulous and puzzled voices, "where are the ones who brought us here? Who are they, and what do they want? And of even more immediate concern, are they now controlling the
Enterprise
, and if so, are they aware that its damaged deflectors make it virtually defenseless or that portions of the Hoshan and the Zeator fleets will in all likelihood arrive within less than one standard day?"

"Brilliant, Spock," McCoy grated. "I don't suppose you've got any answers to go along with the questions."

"Not at this point, Doctor, but if you will be patient—"

From somewhere in the mass of milling people, an angry, incoherent shout cut Spock off in midsentence. Kirk, frowning as he turned toward the sound, heard a second shout, and then a scream.

Suddenly, there was silence everywhere except for the continued shouting—the cursing, Kirk now realized—from the one area. Wordlessly, he strode toward the distant voices, Spock and the others following, the crowd largely evaporating from his path as they recognized him.

As he neared the site of the disturbance, he caught the word "Crandall," sounding very much like an epithet itself, and he increased his pace. Crandall must have been picked off the
Enterprise
along with the regular crew members, and now, deprived of the protection of his detention cell, he was obviously fair game for those who, rightly or wrongly, blamed him for their present predicament. Within seconds, Kirk and Lieutenant Tomson were forcing their way through a tightly packed ring of more than a dozen angry men.

"Break it up, gentlemen!" Kirk snapped, and at the sound of his voice there was sudden silence.

Inside the ring, two ensigns had a flushed and battered Crandall between them. One was gripping Crandall's green tunic front and lifting him until he stood on tiptoes. "This yellow son of a—" the other began, his voice stiff with fury, his balled fist drawn back to strike again, but Kirk cut him off sharply.

"That's enough, mister! Both of you, let him go! Now!"

"But Captain—"

"I said
now!
"

With obvious reluctance, the one lowered his fist and the other untwined his fingers from the crushed fabric of Crandall's tunic front.

"We will deal with Dr. Crandall once we are safely out of here," Kirk went on, "and not before. For the moment, he is in the same boat as the rest of us, and I won't have any more of this undisciplined behavior! All our efforts—repeat,
all
our efforts and concentration must be focused on understanding the situation we're in. Otherwise, we may never have a chance to get safely out of here and back to the
Enterprise
. Is that understood, gentlemen?"

"But he's the one who got us into this mess in the first place! What if he—"

"Dr. Crandall has acted foolishly, perhaps maliciously, and he's caused us problems, including damage to the ship. He is not, however, solely responsible for our being here, perhaps not even partially responsible.
We
will keep an eye on him from now on.
You
—all of you!" he said, raising his voice to a shout that carried throughout the huge room. "All of you will observe and listen and, above all,
think!
Is that clear?" For a long moment there was total silence, but then, first from the two men directly in front of him and finally, like a rush of murmuring echoes, from everywhere in the room: "Yes, Captain, we understand."

Grasping Crandall's arm, Kirk marched him out of the now dissolving knot of spectators, bringing him to a halt in the middle of the group of officers a dozen yards away.

"As for you, Dr. Crandall—"

"Why didn't you let them finish me?" Crandall asked, an odd tone of defiance in his voice, anger in his bruised features. "It would have saved you a lot of trouble!"

"You may be right, Dr. Crandall," Kirk said coldly, "and if you try to pull anything else, I
will
let them finish you. In any way they see fit. Understood?"

For a moment, the defiance from Crandall's voice seemed to glitter from his eyes, but then he slumped and averted his gaze. "I understand, Captain," he said, his voice as subdued as his new posture.

"I hope you do, Crandall, I sincerely hope you do," Kirk said. "Lieutenant Tomson, don't let him out of your sight."

"Captain!" A single voice, high-pitched and excited, pierced the newly rising hum of voices that was beginning to fill the room. "Our phasers and communicators—everything's over here!"

The one who had called—a young ensign, her assignment on the
Enterprise
her first post out of the Academy, Kirk remembered as he saw her—was waiting eagerly at the edge of the huge circle of
Enterprise
personnel. Beyond her—beyond an edge defined by the transporterlike circle in the ceiling—the cavernous room extended another fifty even more dimly lit feet. "Ensign Davis, isn't it?" he said automatically.

"Yes, sir," she said, freezing under his gaze, momentarily positive that, somehow, by just looking at her, he would become aware of her earlier disloyalty, her foolishness in believing, even for a few days, the insidious hints and half truths that Crandall had tricked her with.

"There," she said, breaking the grip of the guilty delusion as she turned abruptly and pointed into the dimly lit emptiness. "They're out there, but I can't get at them! There's some kind of barrier!"

"Good work, Ensign," he said as he looked in the direction she was pointing and saw, in a recessed area of one wall, where the light was the dimmest of all, hundreds of pieces of equipment—communicators, phasers, tricorders, medikits, planetary survival equipment, universal translators, virtually every portable item from the
Enterprise
and some never meant to be portable. They appeared to be suspended in midair in the recessed area, as if lying on invisible shelves.

Frowning, Kirk took a cautious step toward the equipment.

Immediately, he felt the barrier. Obviously a force field of some kind, it felt not like a wall but, at first, like a gentle wind in his face.

"Keep back," he said, motioning the others away. "Spock, be ready to pull me out of this thing, if it looks like I'm in trouble. I'll keep up a running account as I go."

"As you wish, Captain," Spock said, experimentally extending one arm to reach past Kirk, deeply into the field, then withdrawing it.

"Jim!" McCoy protested, but fell silent as he saw the determined look on Kirk's face. "All right," he said after a second, "but just remember, all my medical equipment is back on the
Enterprise
. Except for the tricorders and medikits, which appear to be on the other side of this invisible wall."

Nodding his acknowledgment, Kirk moved another short step forward and began talking.

The wind, no longer a gentle breeze, mounted with each inch, until it was no longer a wind but a steadily increasing pressure, mounting until it felt like a smooth, nonviolent version of the pressure air exerts against a hand that's extended out through the window of a moving vehicle. The pressure was not against any single point or group of points, but uniformly against every square centimeter of the front of his body. Getting enough breath to describe the sensations became harder with each inch he moved forward.

Abruptly, he stopped trying to move, and in the instant that he did, the pressure vanished. "It's gone," he said. "The pressure, whatever it is, went away as soon as I stopped pushing against it."

"Fascinating," Spock said. "Obviously it does not work on the same principle as our tractor or repulsor beams."

Slowly, Kirk lifted his arms, but when he tried to reach forward with one hand, the pressure returned abruptly and fully, not just against his hand and arm but his entire body. With each inch his hand was extended, the greater the pressure became; and as the pressure increased, he began to have even more difficulty breathing, as if it really were a perfectly steady but extremely strong wind blowing in his face, taking his breath away.

"Fascinating," Spock repeated. "And, Captain, notice that your sleeve is apparently not affected, nor is the material of the rest of your uniform. The force would appear to act directly on one's body but not on one's clothing."

Spock was right, Kirk realized instantly. Otherwise the sleeve of the extended arm would have been forced halfway back up his arm. Lowering his arm but continuing to lean into the pressure, he looked down at his uniform and saw that the folds in the material, the trouser legs that flared out over his boot tops were likewise untouched by the pressure.

For a long moment, he stood still, relieving the pressure and catching his breath. Finally, he sat down and removed one boot and, pushing against the sole, slowly slid it top first along the floor into the barrier. As before, the pressure built up against his hand and body, but not against the boot, the top of which extended a good thirty centimeters beyond the farthest point he could force his hand.

Retrieving his boot, he started to slip it on. "Any thoughts, Spock? Anyone?"