Stardate: 5609.3
Reports of a series of unusual happenings from the newly established science reclamation project located on Heelias V has brought us to the outermost regions of explored Federation territory. Seeing the--benign nature of this assignment, a landing party consisting of Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, myself and two security guards is being dispatched to assist in determining the cause of these mysterious mishaps.
The sparkling effects of the transporter beam dissipated and Captain
James T. Kirk found himself standing on the barren, oil-black ground
of Heelias V. Above him, lumpy sulfurous yellow-brown clouds swirled
through an ugly red hued sky. According to recent findings, this had
once been an earth-like planet, lush with the colors of life. But now
no greens or any other vivid colors of living plants could be seen,
only grayish heaps of twisted metal and blackened crumbling concrete.
He grimaced, looking down at the ground. Ugly, dark-greenish water oozed
up into puddles then seeped back down into the ruined soil, only to
repeat the action again and again.
The familiar whir of tricorders scanning, almost in unison, sounded
and Kirk glanced back at Spock and McCoy, then to the two security crewmembers
that accompanied them. He looked around, his eyes finally narrowing
on the musty, dull orange sun glowing through the bilious clouds. Damn
it, he thought. Their contact party was nowhere to be seen.
Kirk sniffed, noting the irritating taint of old chemicals still coloring
the newly cleaned air. It showed the scientists were making progress,
but it would be a long time before the artificial oxygen/nitrogen mix
regenerators would be turned off. Processed, as it was, at least the
machines kept the atmosphere tolerable, which was more than he could
say for the landscape.
This planet was indeed a mystery. Recalling Spock's data findings, the
archeological information indicated that the inhabitants suddenly made
tremendous strides in advancement. To go from preliminary industrialization
to technological destruction in less than two centuries smacked of prime-directive
violation. But whose?
Kirk inwardly shook his head. It wasn't for him to figure out. At least
not by Starfleet's design for him. He frowned and said, "Findings,
Mr. Erlan?"
The large, blond male Reglan replied, "Scans show no one in the
area, sir." And he let the tricorder drop from his three-fingered
claw to hang at his side.
"Spock?"
"My readings concur. However, I am picking up some thermatic indications
on the western vector."
"Could be an old chemical dump for all we know," McCoy added.
"It's hard to believe the chemists-ecologists are even goin' to
try to resurrect this junkyard planet."
"I agree," Kirk said, wrinkling his nose again. "But
with mega-corporate backing, anything can be attempted." He pulled
out his communicator, flipping open the grid. "At this point, why
wonder." He keyed the device. "Kirk to Enterprise."
"Enterprise. Lt. Uhura here."
"Lieutenant, check our coordinates. Make sure we're on the designated
meeting point."
"Aye, sir. Please stand by." After a moment, the communications
officer came back. "Aye, sir. Mr. Scott has double-checked the
numbers. You are where Chief Director West said he'd meet you."
Kirk felt his jaw set. He didn't want to be here in the first place.
Now this delay. "All right. Thank you, Lieutenant. Kirk out."
He snapped the device back into place. "We'll split up and search
the immediate area. Spock, Erlan, Mi'shiga, you go that way," he
said pointing in a westerly direction. "Bones, stay with me."
The acknowledgments came as Spock, and his party headed out. Kirk waited
until they had disappeared behind a cluster of hideous rocks, then pivoted,
heading the opposite way. McCoy followed him through some ugly orange-and-purplish
brush-like growth that didn't quite classify as plant life.
The silence was almost as heavy as the atmosphere. The more Kirk thought
about this assignment, the madder he got. He let go of a frond that
swung back rather hard.
With quick reflex, McCoy caught it.
"Sorry," Kirk muttered.
McCoy scowled. "You wanna talk about it?"
"About the branch?"
"No. About what's stickin' in your craw."
"You mean this assignment?" Kirk iced over his emotions. "There's
nothing to say. This is a routine assignment. Nothing more. Nothing
less. Come on, we're wasting time."
"Like hell." McCoy fell into step behind him again. "Any
scout ship commander could've handled this in and you know it."
"Yes, I do."
"Could this have something to do with our five year mission coming
to an end and you're--"
"Damn it, Bones! What do you want me to say? With the offer from
Starfleet, the decision I make will affect the rest of my life. I want
the promotion, but want to stay out here too." He stopped, looking
at his friend. "I think Starfleet is giving me the small jobs until
my final stardate is logged on the Enterprise's computers. They want
to bore me into acceptance. I feel like a war-horse about to be put
out to pasture."
"Maybe they want to make sure we reach the end of the mission.
Maybe they want to give you the opportunity to consider the offer rather
than have you chasing all over the galaxy."
Kirk had no answer for the physician.
Suddenly a wicked reverberating screech resounded through the area like
a banshee suddenly come to life. Static rasped so loudly from the communicators,
the hair on the back of Kirk's neck stood on end.
"Captain," Spock' s voice crackled over the small speaker.
"…under attack. Require you...assist…"
Kirk was already moving, his phaser drawn and ready. The harsh gibbering
screech intensified making his ears ring as he and McCoy headed for
the beam down point. The sound abruptly stopped as they entered the
clearing. Nothing but silence filled the area.
"Spock!" Kirk shouted.
"No use, Jim." McCoy had his tricorder going on wide beam.
"I can't detect a thing. I can't even get through to the ship for
emergency beam up."
Just beyond the mounds of rocks and ugly brush plants a large misshapen
silhouette shifted. It was definitely humanoid. Kirk and McCoy simultaneously
aimed their phasers.
Standing over an unconscious Spock, the creature half-turned, tightly
clutching the edges of its tattered cloak of faded silver, a hood half-hiding
its face.
A heartbeat passed as Kirk caught a glimpse of its face and he hesitated
as his eyes met two crystal clear gray, ones. Startled, the creature
stared back, then quickly turned away.
"Stop!" Kirk shouted. "Whoever you are-"
Clouds of smoke and showers of sparks rose into the air blinding the
men. When the acrid air cleared, the creature was gone. A sense of dread
filled Kirk as he tried to look beyond the weird blue-and-orange growth.
Slowly, cautiously, he and McCoy went to the rocks.
Kirk steeled himself for the worst. There, on the ground, was their
missing landing party contact--Dr. West. He watched as McCoy knelt beside
the fallen man.
"He's dead, Jim. It's like something drained the life out of him."
He grimaced, further searching the hideous landscape. Not far from them
the bodies of Erlan and Mi'shiga were sprawled across the ground, but
there was no-sign of Spock anywhere.
Dust sprinkled down from the craggy rock ceiling of the ancient cave.
It might as well have been cement and this place a tomb. Its sensors reached
out scanning the all-too-familiar room. Pirated parts from the old ship
had provided many makeshift luxuries, but machines will last for only
so long and this had been home for many years...many long lonely years.
At one time there had been many. Now there was only one of his friends
left to care for him. It was a mutual dependency.
His treads had long since worn out and his joints were almost rusted solid.
The last five decades had been spent as an immobile presence in this dark,
dismal place, surrounded by ancient memories of what had been and where
he had come from. Ah, he thought, to live the old days once more. Lights
flashed as outdated relays clicked into place. Neural indicators said
his master was coming back and somewhere in the old computer banks the
message was perceived that there was another humanoid with him. The clear-domed
head pivoted, snapping up as the ragged blue weeds covering the mouth
of the cave were roughly pushed aside.
A bent figure staggered in and dropped its burden in the center of the
chamber. The tattered, ancient thermal blanket, its silver long since
faded, slid back revealing a face as lined and weathered as the burnt
rocks of this planet. Long snowy hair hung down around the shoulders to
blend into, a long white beard. Crystal gray eyes were still sharp and
clear as when the man was young. But that was a different time, a different
place.
The clear bubble dropped down into place, and the mechanoid intoned, "It's
been ages since we last had a visitors and this one has pointed ears."
"Yes...he's an alien, but...he's different from the rest. I sense
he's not like the others."
"You spared him. Why?"
The old one straightened as best he could, confusion clouding his expression.
"I--don't know." He harrumphed. "Anyway, what's it matter
to you?"
"It matters a lot," the robot replied. "His presence could
mean danger. First the atmosphere clears and now the appearance of alien
life forms. It's just like--"
Anger flared in the old man's words, his gray eyes flashing red. "Damn
it, will you shut up! You're always reminding me of what was. You're such
a pain. I ought to dismantle you...add you to the collection of graves
on this ugly planet."
Wincing with pain the old man shivered, pulling the old blanket closed
like a shawl. "Not used to this new air yet." The chill passed
and he finally let the cloak fall open. The faded black sleeves of his
v-neck style Jersey showed worn and patched elbows. "Blast it all.
This is my planet now," he muttered. "I inherited it! They have
no right to interfere."
"The doctor had no right either."
The old man glared at the robot. "We had no choice. We were still
lost. We were in danger and we crashed here." He paused looking down
at the stranger. "Somehow, he doesn't belong with them. Maybe...
maybe he's lost too... like us."
The robot focused his scanners on his geriatric companion. The prime life-force
energy levels were exceptionally high, much more than the radioactive
rocks from which he normally absorbed his sustenance. He then realized
what was happening to the old man. The change in the atmosphere had again
brought change inside his master. "You fed on the life forms,"
the robot said more than questioned.
"I--couldn't help it." He frowned, the anger glowing once more.
"And why not? What better way to got rid of the malevolent meddlers!"
"You cannot kill then all. More will come to take their place.
"I can try!"
"It's wrong," the robot admonished him.
The old man, came closer, looking into the clear dome. "Keep at it,
you metallic moron, and I'll turn you off!" He reached for the power
pack plugged into the silver metal hide.
The old man's inflection brought forth painful memories of a time long
gone, of a person he used to know. His one working claw/clamp reached
out, grabbing the old one's hand. "What if the alien awakens? You
might need my help."
After a moment's consideration, the old man drew back. "You! Help?"
he said, with a sarcastic snort. "You can't even help yourself "
No looked down at his unconscious captive. "But you're right. He
could awaken. I'll secure him."
He went over to the other side of the cave where the steel skeletal remains
of a large all-terrain vehicle stood. The old one stepped up on the lower
ladder rung and reached into the immediate interior. The clank of metal
sounded as he came down. He then dragged the unconscious alien over to
the ancient wreck and proceeded to manacle one of the being's hands to
the solid frame with a length of titanium chain.
"Yeah, I know," he said to someone only he could see. "Don't
worry. I'll go get the others. Just stay low. I won't lot them hurt you
as they did once before. I'll handle it right this time." he muttered.
The mechanoid inwardly sighed, the tags of pity sparking though his circuits.
Through the course of two centuries, he'd seen a lot. Because of this
place, his friends had lived beyond the normal span of humans. They had
watched a civilization thrive and die. That was the hard part. The Professor
had blamed himself for this holocaust and that grief let to his destruction
and like a chain reaction, the others followed. Now the one who had always
been closest to him was beginning the decline into that symptomatic physical
and mental degeneration and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
This "menial task' was turning into a blazing disaster. Two dead men and one missing, possibly injured or worse and here he was wasting time.
"Jim, this is incredible." McCoy hefted a corroded object. "This is an early laser gun. I've only seen pictures of these in museums. And this--" He picked up what looked like a rusty, dented pot with buttons. "--looks like an early model food rehydrator. The style is unmistakably Earth origin. I ought to know, my great-aunt Pearl had one of these in her antique collection. This is amazing. I wonder...how could such an item wind up here?"
Kirk walked over to the table. "At this moment, Bones, the only thing I'm wondering is where the hell is Assistant Director Smith?"
As if in answer, the door slid open. A short man with receding, sandy-gray hair entered. Dressed in a black suit, bordered with white, he looked like an inspector more than a director. Kirk couldn't help but think of a weasel, as he looked the man straight in the face.
"Ah, you must be Captain Kirk." The fellow proffered his hand. "I'm Assistant Director Jeremy Smith. But you may call me Dr. Smith."
Kirk felt like held shaken hands with a cold noodle. "Ah, certainly, Doctor. This is my Chief Medical Officer, Dr. McCoy."
"How do you do, sir?" Smith extended his hand.
"Fine," McCoy said, reciprocating the gesture.
Reading his expression, McCoy obviously had the same feelings about the Assistant Director, Kirk thought. "I suggest we cut the amenities short and get down to business," he said. "I need all the information you have on this beast."
"I'm afraid it isn't much, Captain Kirk." Smith picked up a recorder from the overstocked desk and consulted it for a moment. "At first, the thing was quite shy. It never ventured near us while we were confined to our environmental suits. Then, when we achieved the air purification, it became bolder. It started stealing things--food, odd, useless items and then tools, wires and circuit compacts. Several times it has tried to steal the treads off the heavy gravity cart. Most peculiar, if I may say so."
"Has it killed before?" Kirk asked.
"No, this is the first incident. If I may." Smith said and propped the recorder up to where both men could see the screen. "This is the territory it has been seen in the most often." He pointed at the grid map of the campsite and its surrounding area. "As you can see, there is a pattern." He tapped the clear plate with a slender finger, indicating a particular black dot. "This is what we call the mound, and it seems to hang around here the most. We've tried to track it, find out what it is, but it simply vanishes into thin air. And most curiously," he said, pausing a moment, his steel blue eyes lifted, "no piece of sophisticated equipment can detect its whereabouts.''
"Oh, well, it's a start. May I take this?" Kirk caught McCoy's scathing glare, choosing to ignore it for the moment.
"Most certainly," Smith replied.
McCoy scowled. "And just what do you think you're doing?"
"Get your tricorder ready, Bones. We're going 'thing' hunting."
Strange shadowy shapes came into focus as he surveyed his surroundings. Incongruent with the rough, brassy stone walls were a myriad of plastic boxes and small crates that were stacked along one side of the medium-sized cave and were half, covered with, a faded red tarpaulin. Cool air gently breezed through the den, so Spock knew there had to be more than one entrance to this small hideaway.
Bits and pieces of corroded electronic junk. were scattered all over the oily dirt floor. Over to the side were living quarters that offered all the domestic comforts, but the divider wall was made up of more stacks of crates. On the visible portion of the boxes were very distinct Terran English symbols.
The cold feel of metal clamped around his left wrist caught his attention. His eyes followed the length of chain that held him captive, finding it securely attached to what had to be an antique full-sized land rover vehicle. The old-style tractor treads were rusted and rotted and the body of the vehicle was in the worst state of disrepair. He tugged on the metal links, finding that the only thing in solid shape on the rig was the frame to which he'd been tethered. He stood and patted his utility belt, and to no surprise found his phaser and communicator were gone.
"Fascinating," Spock murmured, again studying the relic. "Old Earth, circa twenty-first century, I would presume."
"Correction, late twentieth century,"came an unexpected mechanically intoned voice.
Startled, Spock turned sharply, his eyes searching for the source of the voice that spoke in old Terran English. Suspicions rising, his gaze rested on a dull gray, barrel-shaped object that sat nestled amongst a short stack of boxes just across the room. Colored diodes flashed in sequence in the transparent bubble that could have represented a head. An accordioned arm with a vise-like claw on the end hung down limp and obviously inoperative. The other arm remained retracted.
"Who said that?"
The electrical relay activity in the clear dome suddenly accelerated.
Noting the increase, his gaze did not leave the unit. "Who are you? Identify yourself."
Still there was no answer.
"Computer, I gave you a directive. You will obey."
Seconds passed and suddenly the plastic bubble snapped up and a light flashed through an opaque frontal plate as the old computer spoke. "I am the Environmental Robot XT-2."
"Explain this place."
"This place--this place is where my master lives. We have resided here for many years."
Spock lifted an eyebrow, not expecting such a vague answer from a computer. The machine was actually being evasive. "Explain in detail. Who is your master? Where do you come from?"
His only answer was the drop of the robot's dome.
"Please comply," Spock said evenly.
"Oh, very well," it said, sounding resigned. "We are from Earth, the last of the Andromeda expedition. One hundred thirty-seven solar years ago we crash-landed on this planet. The events that--"
"Robot!" a harsh voice rang out. "Stop!"
Spock turned toward the mouth of the cave, looking up at a hunched figure. It was definitely a biped and it wore a cloak made from a worn silver thermal blanket. Carefully, the man-being moved toward the immobile mechanoid. The hood that hid the stranger's face dropped back, revealing what had to be the oldest Terran male Spock had ever seen. He was old, but it was obvious he was definitely was not feeble.
"You tin-plated traitor!" the old man shrieked, and shook a fist. "Betraying our secrets again, I see." He stepped over to where the robot's chassis rested. "I ought to take you apart." And he reached for the square pack on the machine's side panel.
"If I may intervene," Spock said, "I was the one who ordered the robot to respond."
Startled, the old one spun around, looking as if held heard a ghost. "You--speak English."
"To be more precise, it is called Terran."
The man's bright blue-gray eyes narrowed, as he cautiously approached. "Terram? Sounds more like English to me. But I haven't heard a living voice for--for--so long. Just his." He indicated the robot, then suddenly paused and stared at Spock.
Weatherworn, wrinkled hands clutched the edges of his cloak drawing them closed. "But you aren't human, you're an alien--just like all the others we've encountered." He studied Spock a moment longer, his eyes gaining an unearthly glitter. He straightened as best he could, cocking his head curiously to the side. "Oh, yes--I know--I'll be careful. After all this time, I always am. Remember, I've changed--learned from the past."
A little perplexed, Spock observed that the old man seemed to be talking to something, or maybe someone, only he could see. Or rather thought he could see, as Spock could detect no other intelligent force in the cave. All he could sense was great emotional pain emanating from the old man.
Angry, the old man spun toward Spock. "Stop it!" he ordered angrily. "After all these years, don't you think I can tell when an alien is putting out feelers."
"I meant no offense. It was merely to find out to whom you were speaking."
The old one smiled enigmatically, the wrinkles around his eyes growing deeper. "Oh, well. Why didn't you just ask? It's my family, of course. Everybody thinks they're dead, but I know better." He paused, once more scrutinizing Spock. "They had the 'gift' too, you know. We all had it. You see, they changed, but I didn't." His expression melted to nothing. "I've been here a long time--and sometimes I wonder why."
"Because they are dead and you are not!" the robot chimed in. "That's why."
"That'll be enough out of you!" he replied, his eyes not leaving Spock. "You know, I was right to spare you. I sensed something--maybe that you can help me. Yeah, that's it." A strange kind of happiness brightened his face. He pulled the hood over his head and strode toward the exit. "I must tell the others. Wait right here, I'll be right back." And he disappeared out of the mouth of the cave.
More perplexed than before, Spock looked at the now-quiet robot, whose only response was the abrupt drop of its bubble dome.
"Damn it," McCoy grumbled. "On a barren waste-planet, you'd think we could detect one lone Vulcan."
"Several factors could be affecting our sweeps," Kirk said. "Besides, we're nearly at the mound. Hopefully we'll find some answers."
"Hell, it may as well be a haystack." McCoy grabbed Kirk's elbow, making him stop. Somberly, the physician said, "For all we know, Spock could be dead."
"No, I don't think so," Kirk replied, starting again down the mucky, oil-contaminated path. "He's alive and that creature has him. I know it."
"That thing killed three men! Why would it not kill Spock?"
"I have no logical answer, Bones." Memory played back to a few short hours ago when all this had begun. He saw the creature standing over Spock, its face half hidden by the hood. He remembered the strange feel of the aura it radiated. "I don't know. It's--a feeling. This creature is intelligent." Just ahead of them appeared the target landmark--the mound.
"Oh, and is this another feeling?" McCoy asked.
"Observation. That thing looked at me, Bones, and I saw human eyes." The next thing Kirk heard was the buzz of the mediscanner next to his ear. He halted, glaring at the doctor. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Making sure your I.U.V. sun-screen is holding up. Sounds like you've been out in this sun too long." McCoy slipped the device back into his pouch. "Come on, Jim, 'human eyes.' A human couldn't breathe in this place barely 30 solar days ago, let alone live."
"Those plants adapted--mutated."
"Conjecture--pure conjecture."
"Nonetheless, our only hope of finding Spock is finding that creature. Come on." And Kirk continued onward, McCoy reluctantly falling in step behind him.
Shortly, they came upon the Mound, and they stopped at the base. Only the whir of McCoy's tricorder could be heard in the arid stillness. Kirk stared up the gentle, shallow slope, noting how odd it was for a sand mound like this to be nestled amongst ugly, jagged columns of rocks and boulders. It looked like someone had dropped a huge mud-pie from the sky into this superficial hollow. "Strange, this surface is so smooth," Kirk said, looking at the coarse grayish dirt. "This looks so out of place."
"Stranger yet," McCoy said. "I'm picking up titanium and steel readings just beneath the surface."
"Titanium?" Kirk asked. "And steel?"
McCoy nodded.
"An alloy most common in our solar system," Kirk mused. "Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice." Hands on hips, he looked over the small area. "Let's save some time, Bones. You take the left side and I'll take the right. Keep a channel open. If your tricorder even hiccups, let me know."
"And if I find the creature, you want, me to say hello for you?"
"No," Kirk replied, "Standard procedure will do."
Obviously annoyed, McCoy huffed then trudged away. Kirk proceeded in his chosen direction, holding out the tricorder. The device hummed, telling of the odd silica hydrocarbons that made up the round heap of gray grit. Not even the mutant weeds grew on the slight slopes. It was completely barren.
Shortly, he rounded the bend, meeting up with McCoy again. "Anything?" Kirk asked.
"Nothing," the doctor answered and turned off the tricorder, letting it hang down at his side. "Bare as a baby's bottom."
"One thing is certain."
"What's that?"
"This thing is perfectly round." At that moment Kirk's communicator beeped. He pulled out the device, flipping the grid open to acknowledge when suddenly a portion of the mound began to tremble. Both he and McCoy stared open-mouthed as the grayish sand tumbled away, slowly revealing a square, black hole in the middle of the grade.
The interior had been stripped all the way down to the floor mounts. The main body's multi-paneled transparent plexi-crylic was clouded and in some places looked melted. He peered down at where the rung should be attached at the floorboard level, but saw no access. Freedom would not be gained this way.
Finally the mechanoid said, "Your efforts are futile. You may as well relax. He won't release you until he's good and ready."
"I do not even remotely understand why he spared my life. Why would he suddenly release me? His actions are illogical and erratic."
"And he grows worse every passing day. Ever since the atmosphere changed, so has he."
"What is his name?"
"Override 6543. I forbidden to reveal that information."
"You mentioned the Andromeda Expedition earlier. Can you tell me what transpired here?"
"My memory banks are worn and my circuits aren't what they used to be, but I'll tell you what I can." The robot's only working arm retracted. "Approximately two hundred ten years ago, the Expedition left earth. Our mission was to proceed to the Andromeda Galaxy and seek a habitable planet as Earth's population was reaching a critical point. Upon reaching our goal, we were to contact Alpha Control so other colonists would follow."
"Intriguing. Information pertaining to Earth's 1990 period is very sparse. The time you stated would place your departure right before the Eugenics Wars-"
"Eugenics Wars? Then even if we had not gotten lost there would have been no one to answer our communications beacon."
"That is a distinct possibility," Spock replied. "However, how did you come to land on Heelias V?"
"Our fuel was accidentally jettisoned. The Professor tried to bring us in low. He managed to get us in unobserved by the local population, but it didn't last long. This planet changed every one and we unintentionally changed the planet." Suddenly the robot's bubble popped up. "Warning! My master is approaching!"
A loud scrabbling noise sounded in the cave's entrance. The ugly blue brush parted as the old man hurried into the den. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trailing down into his snowy white beard.
Fear radiated from the old man, tears brimming his reddened eyes. "I can't believe it. I hid it so well but the aliens--the two dressed just like you--they found it. I can't let this happen again. I promised them I'd protect them--not let any more harm come to them." And he ducked through to another chamber, the whisper of his silver cloak fading with distance.
"I hate it when he gets like this," the robot said.
The old man came back with a big box and dumped it on top of the crate beside the robot.
"Please, don't do this," the robot pleaded with his master.
"I must."
"You said no more killing!"
The old man stopped, his hunched shoulders dropping even lower, head bowing. "Yes, I know. But this can't be helped. I've got to do this. A promise can't be broken. I gave my word no one would disturb them." After rummaging through the junk, the old man turned around.
Spock's sight riveted on a mint-perfect antique laser rifle the old man held in his hands.
"All these years, I've kept it protected just in case." The old one tested the sights, checking the weapon's charge pack. He stepped down and contemplated his predicament.
As of this moment there wasn't much he could do. His gaze rested on the silent robot, the questions about his curious host resurfacing.
Apparently satisfied, the old man again looked at Spock. "I'm sorry, but I can't let them do this. So many times we were almost killed by the likes of you. Please, try to understand that I must stop them." And then he was off and through the brush-covered entrance.
Desperately, Spock went over the options in his mind. Unfortunately, his choices were not many. The old terran was going to kill Kirk and McCoy and here he was chained like a sehlat to a troika tree. He looked at the pile of items the old man had left on the crate and saw three more lasers. The problem was, the length of chain was not long enough for him to get to them.
Suddenly, the robot's bubble popped up, his only working arm extending to maximum toward the laser weapons on the top of the crate. The angle was difficult but the mechanoid strained, the skreek and scrape of rusted bearings trying to move once more cutting the air. The smell of burning, overloading circuits spread through the cave, the spark of fire flashing within the computer. The shriek of corroded metal giving way against metal sounded and the robot reached the rifle, clamping onto it and flinging it across the room toward Spock.
It slid to a stop at Spock's feet and he quickly picked it up. Checking the charge, he aimed it at the chain and fired. A bright red beam cut the titanium like butter and the chain fell freely to the ground. Spock spun, going to the old robot and knelt down.
"The mound... to the left--straight ahead. Please help my friend. Please...no more killing..please...help...." A surge of power flashed from inside, violently jolting the unit, smoke curling from broken seams of its body. "Urrrrrrrr...."
Spock touched the robot's shell, knowing it had burned itself out. Why it had sacrificed its existence was as puzzling as the old man. He stood, hurrying out the exit. Time was at a premium.
"Professor John Robinson," Kirk read. "Beloved husband of Maureen. Father of Judith, Penny and William. Explorer, scientist and commander of the Jupiter II." Kirk straightened, the name of the ship ringing a bell in his knowledge of history. "Jupiter II?"
"I've read that name somewhere," McCoy said, snapping his fingers. "Wait--the first colonization missions."
"The Andromeda Expedition!" Kirk replaced the blanket. "This explains the prime-directive violations." He frowned, trying to piece events into chronological order. "Wait a minute, the planetary time frame is wrong. Even with the space/time factor, these people should have been dead long before this civilization self-destructed."
"Key words, alien! Should have died."
Kirk and McCoy spun toward the voice. There on the lift stood the creature, a laser rifle in its hands. The tattered cloak fell open, the hood dropping back to reveal the face of an old terran man. Wrinkles deeply creased the pale skin around his gray-blue eyes. A beard and a head full of snowy white hair glistened in the weak light.
"But we didn't! No, Dr. Smith bargained for more than he imagined." Bitterness rang in the old man's voice. "Ha! That was just the beginning. We all caught the 'gift' from him, and because of him, my father suffered greatly."
"Father?" Kirk said more than asked. "John Robinson was your father?"
"Not was. Is."
"You're William Robinson," McCoy said.
The old man glared at McCoy as if held committed a great sin. "Don't ever call me William," he snapped, then added low voice. "Dr. Smith always called me that." He raised the laser rifle, the red charge indicator gleaming like a beacon in the grayish light. "Why have you come back? Haven't you taken enough from us?"
Kirk showed his open, empty hands in a gesture of peace. Softly, he asked, "Er--Bill, what are you talking about?"
The old man stepped off the platform, his blue-gray eyes shining with anger. "That's it, play dumb. Well, you don't fool me. You know I go by just plain 'Will.' And you know very well what I'm talking about--the neutronium!"
"That's a very dangerous radioactive element."
"Yeah, tell me about it. You wanted more and more! Well, you got it!" His defensive stance eased a fraction, the rifle muzzle lowered a little bit. "We tried to tell you, tried to make things right, but you just wouldn't listen!"
Ignoring McCoy's worried look, Kirk took a step closer. "I'm listening now, Will."
"It's too late. Too late." Shoulders slumping, his gaze fell to the floor. "So alone all these years. My Dad tried to turn Smith over to the authorities and negotiate our safety in exchange." Tears slid down his craggy face. "He wanted to work with them to save the planet…but he died at their hands and then…the planet died too. You all killed my mother, then Judy. Don died trying to save her. The mob was so angry. Penny and I tried to reverse the effects, be we were too little…too late. Everything and everybody died--because of me.... I should have never listened to that bastard Smith. God damn him all to hell! He said the neutronium was contaminated--unstable. The ship would explode and we'd all die in space. I thought I was saving my family. That's why I jettisoned it."
Grief saturated his voice, more tears glistening in his blue-gray eyes. "I can still see that switch, feel it cold in my hand ... see the fuel indicators go red ... red as a fire. Dear God, I didn't mean for any of this to happen." Anger twisted his expression, and through clenched teeth he said, "Damn you, Smith, I hope you burn in hell!"
With caution, Kirk edged closer, coming within arms reach of the old man. "How did you survive here, Will? What kept you alive?"
"The 'gift'--it allows you to live anywhere--any environment. It's not a gift--it's a goddamned curse. So tired--I just want to go home."
"We can take you home, Will. Would you like to return to Earth?"
A far away look came into the old man's eyes and his voice was a hoarse whisper. "Home…all changed. All I ever knew is gone as well." The tears flowed and his sorrow visibly transformed into anger. "All gone! A trick of the mind! You aliens! You're all the same. We were friendly! We needed help and all you did was take advantage of us!" He swung the laser rifle up and around, his finger locking around the trigger
Kirk lunged, grabbing the laser rifle, but Will hung on to it. Deadly energy fired through the air, exploding against the far wall. Will twisted, pulling with an amazing display of strength for an old man. The gun slipped from Kirk's grasp and Will brought the stock end up.
Stars of pain flashed bright inside Kirk's brain as the rifle butt struck the side of his head. The next thing he knew he was down on the floor. Dazed, he looked up at the old man, who was standing over him, just as he had Spock. An eerie current flowed up and away from Jim Kirk, a weird fatigue suddenly overtaking his body. Not since the Salt Vampire had he felt anything like it.
"That's another thing about this 'gift,"' Will said, his eyes taking on an unearthly azure glitter as he stared down. "It lets you absorb energy of any kind."
Kirk's eyes locked with Will's, an empathic kinetic connection plunging deep into Kirk's core. In a heartbeat, faces of the people in Will's life flashed in succession in his mind. The smile of his father John and the serene beauty of his mother Maureen. The love of his sisters Judy and Penny surrounded him. Don West, dark haired and afraid of nothing, the pilot of the Jupiter II was a brother to him. Thoughts, remembered voices swept through him as vivid as reality. A mechanoid spoke in a not quite monotone voice, 'Affirmative.' The feelings of love grew, then suddenly rapidly changed to guilt, and self-blame.
An angry mob surrounded John Robinson, the snow of what looked like a nuclear winter falling down around them all. Will screamed, but no one heard his voice over the roar of the sea of people. Dr. Smith coward at John's feet and the people surged forward, tearing the two humans apart. Grief, and hatred filled him as he witnessed Don reaching for Judy. Stones and clubs raining down on them as they too fought an angry mob. Their blood pooled on the slimy wet ground where the fell. More tears fell as Maureen fell before a crowd while protecting Will and Penny, giving them enough time to run away and hide. Loneliness engulfed him as the scene switched, and he was looking down at the broken body of his sister Penny. She had not seen the ledge and had gone too close to the edge. The fragile ground crumbled and fell down the mountain embankment. Her death had been quick.
Astonishment blossomed into fear, not Kirk's but Will Robinson's.
"No--oh, no! You--you're human!"
Suddenly, bright beams of fire crossed, connecting with their target. Will Robinson screamed, his body stiffening as a brilliant blue aura exploded around him. Like an electrical shock, feedback jolted through the still air, violently snapping Will's connection and he collapsed on the floor.
Kirk's trance broke, a wave of gray dizziness offsetting the white blindness. He blinked, and a sense of relief mixed with confusion as he looked up. On the ladder was Spock, very much alive and holding an old laser rifle, its tip still glowing from being fired.
McCoy put his phaser away and headed over to Kirk, pulling his mediscanner. The doctor knelt down, immediately checking him over. "Damn it man, the five year mission is almost over and you pull a fool thing like this. You could've been killed." McCoy loaded a hypospray, administering it directly to the side of Kirk's neck.
Strength gradually seeped back into his limbs, the fog clearing from his mind. By now, Spock was beside him, helping him to sit up. He shook his head, rubbing the side of his neck. The ghost of Will's emotional pain echoed in his heart as he tried to understand what had transpired. "Will...."
"Captain, are you all right?" Spock asked.
Still somewhat dazed, he whispered, "Yeah, I--felt him stop." His hands went to his head, fingers massaging his temples in attempts to concentrate and clear the images burned in his mind. "His mind--his thoughts--were of--his family--of earth ... home. I saw what happened to him. And what happened to his family." Worried, Kirk looked up at McCoy. "Is he all right?"
McCoy looked up and shook his head. "Sorry, Jim. He's dead."
"I don't understand. I used a stun setting," Spock said.
"Evidently, the combination of laser and phaser energies were too much for him to assimilate," McCoy answered softly. He clicked off the med-scanner. "And his body functions were failing. You only hastened the inevitable."
A feeling of sadness and pity came to Kirk as he gazed down at the old man. Even though blue-gray eyes stared back, the old man's expression was now one of peace. To live so long with such pain and such a burden, Kirk thought. But that was finally over for Will and he knew that at last the Robinson Family was no longer lost in space.
In his hand, he held an old leather-bound diary, its pages yellowed and spine cracked with age. Solemnly, he shook his head, trying to comprehend the capacity the human soul held for such a destructive emotion as greed. It was truly amazing.
The lift hummed and Kirk and McCoy came up from below. Their conversation did not falter as they joined Spock at the pilot's position.
"It had to be natural to this planet," McCoy said. "From what I can tell, once they were infected with the immunovirus it changed their DNA structure giving them complete adaptability. We're in no danger because the strain that Will carried had run its course and was no longer infectious. Since it had no other hosts to infect, when the planet died, so did this 'gift.'" McCoy paused a moment. "I'd still like to know how this planet got so messed-up."
"A member of the Robinson's party gave the Heeliasians the equivalent of fire, Doctor," Spock said.
"What?"
"The neutronium?" Kirk asked. "But I thought Will jettisoned it all."
"Not quite all. Evidently, the one called Dr. Smith made sure a pod of it was not destroyed," Spock replied. "This Dr. Smith is mentioned in Professor Robinson's daily log quite frequently. When the Jupiter II crashed here, the Professor and the ship's pilot, Major West, determined that the ship was irreparable. Since they were on an inhabited planet that was just beginning to industrialize, he wanted his family to quietly assimilate into this society and live out their lives. But this Dr. Smith proclaimed himself as an extra-terrestrial sent by another planet to be the Heeliasians' mentor in exchange for wealth and power."
Spock opened the old book. "One of his last entries explains it." He read out loud, "'my worst fears have come to pass. Dr. Smith has given the Heeliasians the knowledge of the power of neutronium, of which this planet has an abundance. Already, I can see the imbalance. the rapid, reckless growth that if left unchecked could destroy this beautiful planet. This society is not mature enough to handle such a dangerous power source. I must do what I can to stop them from taking this road to destruction."
He closed the book. "Needless to say, Dr. Smith exposed the whole Robinson family as extra-terrestrials and managed to instigate a war between the major societies. In the end, this Dr. Smith was captured and executed as a war criminal and the Robinsons were blamed for his actions and persecuted. But the damage had already been done to this world's ecosystem. All they could do was watch as the world perished around them."
"And Will blamed himself for all of it," Kirk said somberly. "Spock that old robot you had brought here--are you sure you don't want to pull its memory banks?"
"Quite positive, Captain," Spock replied, thinking of the old machine. "Illogical as it may sound, I believe it best to leave things as they are. He would have wanted it this way."
"This family was ahead of its time," Kirk commented in a low voice. "To leave Earth and know you'd never see home again .... They did boldly go where no one human had ever gone."
Spock noticed the odd look in the Captain's eyes as he spoke.
Kirk took a deep breath and pulled out his communicator, flipping up the grid. "Come on, gentlemen, let's leave the past to finally rest in peace." He keyed a button and said, "Kirk to Enterprise."
"Enterprise. Uhura here, sir."
"Lieutenant, please recall that pending communiqué to Starfleet and send it back to my quarters. And notify the transporter room, three to beam up." He ignored the acknowledgment as he replaced the device.
"So you're finally gonna reply," McCoy said.
"Bones, after a disaster such as this, as a bureaucrat I can't do any worse."
Spock sensed an uncertainty radiate from the Captain and it aggravated his own.
Evidently, Jim Kirk had come to a decision about his life after the five year mission and that meant he, too, would soon have to decide. Gently, the sparkling effects of transporter energy washed down, surrounding him and his friends. Silently change was closing the chapters of the past and ushering in a new chapter of the future.
And for Will Robinson and the Robot XT-2 he knew they had finally found their peace. As he dissolved into the transporter beam, he wondered if he would ever find his own.
