Star Trek - Log 8 (10 page)

"Yes, sirr," she acknowledged. "But what arre you going to do, sirr?"

Scott let out a resigned sigh. "What do you think, Lieutenant? Whatever it wants me to."

M'ress filed into the lift behind Arex, turned, and started to say something. The closing doors cut her off soundlessly.

He was alone on the bridge with the alien invader.

The front end of the creature waved back and forth, like an elephant sensing the air. It slid forward and placed Scott in the command chair—gently and right-side up, the chief noted with thanks—and then turned its featureless front to stare at him.

"Now look," Scott began, "supposin' you and I talk this over?"

No response from the slug.

"You can talk, can't you?"

Silence, and that continuing eyeless gaze.

"If you can't talk, how do you communicate?" He tried Federation sign language. "Well, what can you do?"

The creature turned and began examining the control consoles nearby, beginning with navigation and working its way around to Spock's library-computer station. The tail end touched several switches, and the multiple screens at the station lit and began pouring forth a torrent of information. Scott couldn't even identify the sections the creature was studying, much less follow its progress.

"Listen, you've got to be careful here," he explained patiently. "This is the control room of a—hey!"

The tail had reached out and lifted him again, then replaced him in the chair. If this was the alien's method of indicating one should be silent, it failed to impress Scott. The chief was growing increasingly nervous as the alien continued to touch this or that control.

"Now, look," he began as the Lactran switched off the library and moved around to face the helm and navigation consoles, "just keep your grubby little whatever-it-is off things you don't under . . .
no, don't touch that!
"

Too late. The multitipped tail was moving across the consoles with blurring speed, far too fast for Scott to follow. It touched switches, pushed buttons and levers, activated telltales, and checked readouts, while its front end slowly weaved back and forth from one console to the other.

"Listen," Scott howled desperately, "if you keep that up, you'll send us runnin' off to the back of wherever!"

His attention was diverted by the already altered picture on the main viewscreen. It was anything but reassuring. It showed a rapidly shrinking green and white globe, Lactra VII, become a pinhead circle instead of a screen-filling orb.

Seconds later the warp-drive was engaged. An enraged, horrified Scott could only stare and hurl Highland imprecations at the gray hippo before him. His horror sprang from the knowledge that any idiot could activate the
Enterprise
's warp-drive engines; but the matter of navigation, of determining where those engines were taking the ship, was a chore for experience and expertise.

And he had the sick feeling that the voiceless mass in front of him had neither.

The two Lactrans abruptly turned from the enclosure to converse with each other. Simultaneously, Kirk's body relaxed. His face was pale and his tunic drenched with perspiration. As the others watched anxiously, he rolled over, sat up, and let out a long
whoosh
of exhaustion.

"Have they stopped, Jim?" McCoy finally asked, when he felt Kirk had recovered enough to answer. The captain looked like a man who had just come out of an eighteen-hour sleep. "How are you?"

"They've left off . . . for now," Kirk told them. "I think I'm okay, Bones. But I'm tired . . . so tired."

"Understandable," McCoy agreed. "Spock, what do you think of . . . Spock?" McCoy turned, to see Spock staring as if frozen at the pair of concerned Lactrans. He was startled to see three more of the full-sized aliens sidling up to the first two. It seemed the alarm had been raised.

At least, he thought grimly, they had succeeded in getting their captors to notice them.

Spock left his trance and glanced down at Kirk. "I am not certain, Captain, but I believe they have concluded that they cannot break into your mind on an individual or even a dualistic basis. They are surprised."

"Good!" McCoy exclaimed. "Maybe they won't try it again."

Spock turned a somber gaze on him. "On the contrary, Doctor, they are now readying the mental strength of five of their number in a more powerful attempt."

A wild, faintly desperate tone underlined Kirk's reaction. "I can't hold out against that many. It's not possible. I don't know why they stopped the last time. You've no idea, Bones, what it's like." He turned an anxious stare on the gathering of Lactrans.

"I don't know if I'll come out of another attack like that last one, let alone one of more than twice the strength."

"Every one of us must help the captain," Spock instructed. "Concentrate on him, try to become one with him, a part of his mind and thoughts. Perhaps we can create some kind of screen, or at least—"

But Kirk was already on the ground again, spinning in pain and screaming for something to leave him alone.

"It's tearing—!"

Their concern was too great for those surrounding him to erect anything like an effective mental screen, if such a thing were even possible. Kirk rolled about for several minutes until his body quit. He lay still, only a quivering of arms and legs and an occasional jerk of his head indicating that his spread-eagled form was still fighting back.

His continued resistance was as obvious as the fact that he was slowly weakening. More minutes passed. Kirk rolled onto his face, limp as a rag doll now, his form twitching from time to time as if touched by a live cable.

A number of wholly alien feelings were approaching eruption inside the
Enterprise
's first officer when a familiar and unexpected glow appeared in the air inside the force screen, as if someone were shining a colored light on a rippling sheet of clear silk.

Two figures began to emerge. "The Lactrans are coming into the enclosure," Markel began, "but why in this fashion if—"

He broke off as the shifting hues solidified. One of the two figures was Lactran, all right. But the other . . .

It was a surprise to see the small Lactran reappear, but it was a positive shock to see Chief Engineer Scott held firmly in its tail-grip.

The surprise and shock worked equally on the five Lactrans outside the field. Their concentration was shattered by the appearance of the small one, and the results were immediately apparent as Kirk finally ceased his helpless spasms.

The adolescent put Scott down gently. As soon as the chief had moved off a bit, two of the larger Lactrans—not even Spock could tell if they were the original two—reached in and drew the smaller one outside the boundary of the force screen. Rather roughly, McCoy thought, as he turned his attention back to the still supine Kirk.

The others were already gathered around him. He turned onto his back, and McCoy saw his eyes were glazed. Slowly, he tried to sit up, but nearly collapsed. McCoy bent to help.

"No, I'm all right, I'm okay," he muttered thickly. But he did not reject the support of McCoy's shoulder after he had struggled to his feet. His eyes were clearing rapidly.

"Whew! I feel like my brain's been pulled through a wringer." He looked around at the assemblage of worried faces. "You've no idea what it's like, Scotty." He blinked. "Scotty? What are you doing here?"

The chief jerked his head to indicate the activity behind them. "My alien acquaintance brought me."

Spock looked incredulous, though his words were as evenly modulated as ever. "You succeeded in making contact with it?"

"Not exactly." The object of sudden startled attention grinned. "It made contact with me. I gather it was a tremendous effort for the poor child to slow down to my level."

"You were right, Mr. Spock. Our attempts at communication were properly directed, only at the wrong members of this society."

"What did you learn?" Kirk asked.

The chief engineer considered the question carefully. "Some of it doesn't translate verra easily into human terms," he explained slowly. "But I did succeed in grasping a few definite concepts.

"For one, our small friend is the emotional and physical Lactran equivalent of a human six-year-old. Mentally, however, it is considerably superior to any of us. The first thing it did on appearin' on board was pick the nearest mind for useful information.
Mine!
Then it went on and absorbed all the knowledge in the ship's library computer, science center, and general storage facility. Bein' a curious laddie—or lassie—it decided to play around with its new toys. That included operating the ship's helm. Sent us tearin' right out of orbit."

Kirk, who saw the
Enterprise
gallivanting all over known space at the mercy of a playful alien infant, swallowed hard. "How did you convince it to come back?"

Scott turned introspective. "I think it was my concern for the rest of the crew that persuaded it. That, and the fact that I never showed any hatred toward it." He shrugged. "I suppose any child can tell instinctively when a threat is present and when it's not. And there was my willingness, the willingness of another, uh, child, to chat with it."

"Infant-to-infant communication," Spock observed, showing no resentment at being likewise classified. "My congratulations, Mr. Scott."

"Anyhow," the chief continued, "I managed to convince it that I wasn't anybody's pet, and that we're no mere grubbers in the dirt. And that it would be a sight better for all concerned if it would bring the ship back into orbit around its own home world. From there, it wasn't too hard to convince it to reenter the transporter so we could return home. By that time the youngster was pretty sure I meant it no harm. What finally reassured it was my readiness to come along too. I think they can sense friendliness in another's thoughts as readily as they can much more complicated concepts. If we could only—"

Spock cut him off softly. "A moment, please, Mr. Scott." The
Enterprise
's first officer shook his head irritably, like a man trying to throw off the first assault of an advancing migraine. "I believe . . . they are trying to contact us directly. I can . . . make out . . . something. It is very difficult. The adults . . . so concise, so fast in their mental formulations . . .

"They are . . . trying now . . . to slow down for us. Communication involves the insertion of many transitional concepts they have long since discarded as superfluous. The . . . child . . . has explained to them. Adults are attempting to rephrase their normal thoughts into . . . baby talk." The evident irritation and minor pain gradually faded, while his attitude of attentive listening remained unchanged.

"There . . . it's better now. The child has learned much from us, particularly from Mr. Scott. It has also acquired an enormous volume of information about us, and is relaying this to its parents . . . though I can recognize only glimpses and snatches of what it is relating. It is like trying to follow every ripple in a fast-flowing stream." A pause; then: "It has concluded, Captain. Already it has told its parents all about the Federation and the many aspects of its composition, including all the races it comprises."

"Already," gulped McCoy, wondering not merely at a youthful mind capable of delivering a torrent of material so rapidly, but also at those more mature minds able to absorb and assimilate it.

At the moment, however, there were other concerns tempering Kirk's admiration of the Lactrans' mental calisthenics.

"All that information ought to include enough facts about ourselves to convince them we're not common animals. How do they look at us now, Mr. Spock?"

"It would appear that they have indeed revised their initial opinions of us," Spock replied, swaying slightly as he struggled to codify the Lactrans' rapid flow of thoughts. "Apparently we are now classed as simplistic life forms in the process of evolving rapidly into a higher order."

"Vulcans included?" McCoy couldn't resist the opportunity.

Spock's intense concentration didn't keep him from sounding slightly annoyed. "Yes, Vulcans included." He frowned as the Lactrans continued to relay information.

"They are confused now."

"That's a hopeful sign," Kirk murmured. "I was beginning to wonder if they were infallible."

"It would seem not, Captain. Several of them are arguing that on closer inspection we may prove in certain unexpected ways to be equal or even superior to them. I cannot follow all of the discussion, but much of it involves the efficacy of instinct as opposed to pure thought."

"No need to ask which of those we're supposed to represent!" McCoy snorted. "I don't know if they're flattering us or insulting us."

"It is purely a zoological question to them, Doctor," Spock explained. "The question of value judgment does not enter into it."

"I can see why they're using you as their go-between." McCoy murmured, but so softly that no one else could hear. Aloud, he observed, "So they think that as far as we're concerned, equality is just around the corner?"

Spock nodded absently, as usual taking no notice of the doctor's sarcasm.

"At the moment I'm more interested in getting back on the
Enterprise
than in reaching their mental level," Kirk declared pointedly. To McCoy's professional gaze the captain appeared and sounded fully recovered from the withering Lactran mind probe which had almost rendered him comatose.

Kirk had no time to consider the speed of his recovery. It had occurred to him that, despite the Lactrans' apparent reconsideration of their human captives, they might find other reasons for not releasing them.

"How do we manage that return—or do we?"

Another pause followed while Spock listened to intense Lactran babytalk and strove to comprehend. If such delays were merely irritating to Kirk, to Markel and Bryce they seemed interminable.

"It appears that we do," the first officer finally informed them. Bryce began to smile. "Under one condition." The smile died aborning.

"While we are still classified as beneath Lactrans on the scale of evolution, they do concede that we do not belong in their zoo. We grade high in certain abilities and low in others. This apparent contradiction continues to puzzle them."