STAR TREK - TOS - 13 - The Wounded Sky

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Star Trek - TOS 013 - The Wounded Sky
By DIANE DUANE
One
The problem with waiting around in space to see a starship go by is that, when a ship is in warp drive,
she's hardly there at all. The otherspace in which the warp field embeds her is just that-other; a
neighboring alternate universe in which natural laws are different, and light moves many thousands of
times faster than in the universe to which the six hundred eighty-three species of humanity are native. A
starship in warp carries a shell of that otherspace with her, so that within it she moves at many multiples
of lightspeed through the analogue universe, without really being in our universe at all, or running up
against its intractably low speed of light. Within the ship, of course, sensors are calibrated to edit out the
slight strangeness of the other-universal starlight, that all the humanities find so unsettling. Outside the ship,
all there is to be seen of her passing is a tremor of starlight as space itself is shaken, wrinkles, and slowly
smooths out again. At the heart of the shimmer, there might be the faintest, palest ghost of light, not even
an image. An impression, a hint, maybe an illusion.
It is a long wait before the many-colored fires that are the stars begin to tremble in one small patch of the
endless night. Far out there, behind the tremor, is a wake of light too faint for all but the keenest-eyed
species to perceive unaided-disturbed radicals, fragments of elementary molecules floating free in space,
excited to higher energy-states and glowing hot. The tremor-wrinkling gets closer, covers more area.
Drifting lazily in its path is a cold comet, far out from its primary-a dirty, dormant snowball. The tremor
runs at it, unconcerned. Sensors have confirmed that there's no traffic of any kind for parsecs
around-which is as well, considering that a warp field and a physical object can meet and retain their
mutual integrity only under carefully managed conditions. Those conditions are not met here. The ship in
warp runs, in otherspace, right through the comet, unharmed, barely noticing.
In this universe, however, space writhes and wrenches, its fabric strained; the comet contained in it
shatters into a cloud of stone splinters, ice fragments and twinkling water-vapor snow. Yet after a little
while the troubled space quiets, the ripples flow away-and the remains of the comet, not having been hit
by anything in this universe and thus taking no acceleration from the "impact," continue on along the same
orbit through the long night.
Three hundred and a few years from now, two sentient peoples formed up for battle will be watching the
skies for the comet which has since time immemorial been the gods' signal to them to begin killing one
another. Instead of the comet-banner blazing across their sky, however, what they will get is a dazzling
rain of stars. Tremendously relieved, they will rejoice at the long-prayed-for sign of an armistice in
Heaven, go back to their homes, and beat their swords into plowshares. Here and now, an unseen
something fleets by so swiftly an observer would probably never perceive her at all. A flicker, a shimmer,
a passing thought in the endless silent ruminations of the universe, the USS Enterprise cruises through on
patrol.
No matter how many times they rebuild this ship, thought James T. Kirk, they'll never put in enough room
to pace properly...
The Enterprise's captain, multiply decorated for courage in the face of threatening circumstances, and
commended for calm in the most nerve-frazzling situations, was pacing up and down in his inner office
and scowling at everything. The holos of previous Enterprises on the walls; the small collection of native
art of several planets, bright colors and raw rough shapes in wood and metal, boxed in inertrogen and
veriglas; the impeccably neat shelves and tables and the immaculate desk-all of them brought scowls. The
desk in itself was a particularly bad sign. Jim Kirk never cleared the clutter of cassettes and pads and
report-chips off his desk unless he was at the end of his commandatorial rope about something. The
word was out, of course; all over the ship, departments that had been letting things slide a little were
shuddering hurriedly into optimum shape, and desks in them were not only being cleared off, they were
being scrubbed.
None of this made Kirk feel any better, though he was pleased that his people respected him enough to
handle their departments so that he didn't have to handle them. Right now he would cheerfully have
traded all the holystoning going on in the downlevels for one particular piece of good news.
He scowled at the wall screen, which with its usual mulishness was refusing to do what he wanted. Try to
get the damn thing to keep quiet, he thought, and it announces Klingon invasions, sector-level disasters,
mysterious distress calls. Now look at it, sitting there like so much scrap. His mouth quirked in
annoyance, unrepressed for once since his crew couldn't see.
The screen stayed predictably silent. Finally Kirk grimaced at himself and resorted to the old cadet
exercise of "making-it-worse"; he stood there and considered all the reasons he had to be mad, and
concentrated on getting madder and madder. Six months now, this business of the drive has been going
on. Every time they're about to announce who gets it, they postpone the announcement because of the
damned political infighting going on over who gets the credit, who gets the publicity-plum of having their
sector's starship test it. No consideration of ship or crew merit- and that was the part that was very easy
to be mad about, for James T. Kirk knew that if merit were being considered, his ship would sail away
with the drive, no contest. Months of squabbling over destination of the first test mission, arguments over
petty details-who gets to be on what committee determining who gets what parts-and-supply contract,
who gets to pick who to do the paperwork, damn, damn, DAMN!! He got mad, and madder. He
ground Ms teeth. And as usual, the mad abruptly vanished, replaced by a sense of the profound silliness
of the situation-a seasoned commander, standing here gritting and twitching over what couldn't be
hurried, helped or fought.
He laughed out loud at himself and went to the wall for a uniform tunic-pulled out a gold-colored one,
idly wondering how long this generation of uniforms would last. They said the announcement would be
today, he thought with rueful humor, and they've said that seven times before. Or is it eight? The hell with
this; Fm going down to Rec to look at Lieutenant Tanzer's forest.
And the wall screen whistled at him, startling Jim so badly that he spent a fraction of a second crouching
toward an attack-or-defense stance before he realized what the sound was and straightened up again.
"Screen on," he said, lowering his hands out of pickup so the white knuckles clenching on the tunic
wouldn't show.
The screen came on, revealing the Communications board, and Uhura's beta-shift
communicator-in-training, Lieutenant Mahase-a craggy-featured homi-nid, gray-skinned and gray-haired
and gray-eyed (even to the "whites"). "Your pardon for disturbing you, sir," he said in the usual mellow
Eseriat drawl. "I have a squirt from Starfleet for you, with maximum-security scramble and Captain's Seal
on it. Shall I transfer it to your terminal?"
"No need," Kirk said, and reached over to touch the combination of controls on his desk that would
allow the main computers access to his personal command ciphers. "Implement, and read it."
Mahase nodded, putting his transdator in his ear with one hand, touching various controls at his own
console with the other. Jim listened to Ms heart hammering. Finally, "Nonstandard transmission, code
groups 064-44-51852-30," Mahase said. Kirk exhaled, and held the swearing in very tight-for there was
the 064 group that was one-flag-officer-to-another code for very bad news. Dammit, someone else got
it, how could that have happened, we were the logical choice even by their standards! Even Spock said
the odds were-
"Begin message. To: James T. Kirk, commanding NCC 1701, United Systems Starship Enterprise, in
Coma ? patrol corridor. From: Halloran, R.S., Vice Admiral, Starfleet Command, Sol Ill/Terra. Subject:
T'pask-Sivek-B't'kr-K't'lk Elective Mass Inversion Apparatus. Body: You are directed to abort present
patrol, which will be assumed by USS Henrietta Leav-itt. When relieved you will proceed with all due
haste to shipyards at Hamal/alpha Arietis Fbur/StarBase Eighteen for installation of prototype apparatus
in Enterprise, maintaining class-four silence while in transit-'"
MY GOD! MY GOD! WE GOT IT-
"'-specialty personnel to be involved in mission have been notified. Roster rendezvous at StarBase
Eighteen to be complete by stardate 9250.00-'"
Kirk let the straightness in Ms spine loosen up a touch. " 'Roster follows-,' and they add it, sir. It's in the
computer for you." Mahase paused. "There's an addendum after the seal and verification, Captain."
Jim nodded at the lieutenant. "It says, 'Jim: for me, it was bad news. I wanted it for Raptor. Happy
hunting, you lucky bastard, and give the Galaxy next door my best. Regards, Rhonda.'"
"Thank you, Lieutenant Mahdse," the Captain said. "Please put the message in the department heads'
network and flag it on Mr. Spock's and Mr. Scott's terminals." He kept himself looking like the picture of
calm, with just a quirk of pleased smile added, as if doubt were entirely foreign to him. "And tell the
Heads we'll be meeting later this afternoon. I want this ship ready to head out of the Galaxy in five days."
"Aye, sir," Mahase said, as calmly as if he would be able to manage the whole business himself. "Bridge
out."
"Screen off," Kirk said, and waited a long breath or two, to make sure the screen was dead. Then he
glanced at the door to be sure it was sealed. He took another breath.
"YEEEEEEHHHHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"
On the Bridge, Mahase winced, and smiled, and took the transdator out of his ear. "I think he'll be all
right now," he said. No one paid him much attention. The Bridge people were busy with screaming of
their own, pounding of backs and clapping and hugging, and in a few cases, settling of bets. In the helm,
Sum sat still as a statue of some bemused old-Oriental god, saying nothing, but wearing a small and
delighted smile on his face-
Down in Engineering, Scotty glanced away from the~ barely-tamed lightning of the matter/antimatter
plasma mix cylinder to see Ms computer-link pad flashing at him. He picked it up as gingerly as if it were
alive, read it, and then began whooping with delight and ordering his people to dismantle the Hubert field
torus they had just spent two weeks assembling-
-on the observation deck, in meditation under that water-wavery, bizarrely-colored starlight that most of
the humanities avoided so scrupulously, a still form in Science Department blue sensed meselectronic
relays shifting states in his pad, and diverted enough attention to read the message that formed on its
surface. A half second later, Spock turned his eyes back up to the unnerving blankness that trembled
with its troubled fires above him. He seemed unmoved; but one who knew him well might have noticed
that his dark eyes seemed to reflect a bit more than they had, as if the universe had suddenly gotten
larger-
-all over the Enterprise, people of all the ninety-two kinds of humanity represented among her crew
hollered, cheered, ritually grimaced, bowed to one another, shook hands, applauded, and broke out
private stores of food and drink to celebrate with. Even for the Enterprise, a ship almost inured to
wonders and terrors, this was an occasion worth celebrating.
They had been to the stars. Now they were headed beyond them.
"Coming up on alpha, Captain," Chekov said, watching the star's computer-corrected spectrogram shift
into the blue on his board.
"Status, Uhura."
"Engineering's secure-"
"Crew departments report all secure-"
"Defense departments, aye-"
"Ship's secure, sir."
"Go sublight, Sulu."
"Aye aye." Sulu's hands moved with their usual quick care over the board, double-checking the intrinsic
velocity and vector the Enterprise would be carrying when she dropped out of warp. Even computers
developed bugs, after all, and Sulu had no desire to run a starship full tilt into a planet or a sun-at least,
not while he was piloting it. He checked one last time, was satisfied, and touched the control that struck
the warpfield-
-from outside, it seemed as if a great patch of star-pierced sky had gone mad. Stars veered and wobbled
in it, changed colors wildly, bloomed and faded like burning flowers. And suddenly whiteness was there,
with hard sharp edges, and the stars went sane again-the ones that could still be seen. Between the stars
and the local traffic loomed a great graceful shape, braking down fast as she skimmed by-upper
primary-hull disc, lower secondary-hull cylinder, the two slender nacelles on their outward-angled
supports rising from the secondary hull. There she went, no ghost any more, now almost too real to bear:
a silvery blaze, blindingly plated with the fiery orange-gold light of alpha Arietis, a class ?? giant star. The
only part of the ship that didn't shine was the black charactery on the upper and lower sides of her
primary hull. The letters were thick and squared, Terran-Roman letters-for she was one of the
twenty-two "heavy cruiser" starships of Terran registry, the flagship of Earth's fleet and the pride of the
oxygen-breathers in that part of the Galaxy. Slowing down, easing her majestic bulk into a long lazy orbit
around alpha until Base orbital control could give her a docking vector, Enterprise made starfall at
Hamal/alpha Arietis in a yellow blaze of splendor.
And far out beyond any sensor's range, undetected in the cold dark wastes, something stretched, and
strained intolerably-and slowly began to tear....
Two
StarBase Eighteen, in orbit two hundred million kilometers from Hamal, could be seen from a long way
off; and the sight was lovely. At distance, what one saw was a golden-tinged oblong, rounded at the ends
like a cigar, and shimmering delicately as it end-over-ended through space. Closer, though, the size of it
became apparent-other starships, light cruisers and cutters in for repair or scheduled maintenance, were
nested among the innumerable spikes and struts and spires of its outer surface. The whole structure
glittered in a thousand shades of blinding gold as StarBase Eighteen tumbled on around Hamal,
ponderous and beautiful and a bit amusing.
"We have our vector, Captain."
"Good, Mr. Sulu. Take us in."
Kirk watched with satisfaction as Sulu's fingers flickered over his board. Thank God, no more mail runs!
Jim thought. No more boring Starfleet errands for a while! Something big, to stretch my people-to stretch
me, he added to himself after a breath. Lately the feeling had been creeping up on him that the Galaxy
was getting ordinary, that the commonplace was settling into it-one planet, one new species-, one crisis
with the Romulans was beginning to feel like all the others before it. Do I need a vacation? And where
the hell do I go, when the fringes of the known universe are getting boring?
-well, that's getting handled-
The screen changed views, and the flicker brought Kirk's attention back to it. Mr. Sulu had gone over to
Base sensors and was picking up their image of the Enterprise coming in. Kirk smiled at her, loving the
stately lady for the thousandth time-and then was surprised when she abruptly went mischievous, a
thousand kilometers out from the Base. The world stayed right-side-up as usual inside the ship, but the
Base sensors showed her rolling slowly, luxuriously, on her longitudinal axis-one victory roll, then
another, while overexcited ions screamed light in her wake.
"Belay that, Mr. Sulu," Kirk said, at some pains to sound stern. "This is serious business."
"Aye, sir," Sulu said, looking soberly up and suppressing his smile as well. He knew the Captain had seen
him setting up the maneuver and had said nothing. After all, look what ships were at Eighteen, some of
them prime contenders for the drive, some of them old friends of the Captain's, or old friendly rivals: USS
Milton Humason, USS Eilonwy, USS Challenger; and smaller ships that had worked with Enterprise
before, or crossed her path-Condor, Indomitable, QE HI, Lookfar... Sulu touched a control here, one
there, and made the ship straighten up and fly right.
Kirk let his own smile go no farther than his eyes, and watched their approach, which was so close now
that Enterprise was blotting out most of the Base sensor's sky. "Back to our visual for a moment, Mr.
Sulu," he said. The screen changed again, to show one unspiked end of the huge structure irising open for
them, revealing a portal that could have swallowed twenty starships side by side. All about the opening
door, mirror-polished stanchions and spires glittered fiercely golden and hatched the surface and one
another with razor-edged shadows. Kirk winced as Base navigations guided them into the heart of the
light.
"Cut the intensity on that, would you, Uhura?" he said, averting Ms eyes, then glancing back when the
brightness was handled. There was something about the great silver and gilt interior that drew the eye,
and at the same time made the watcher nervous. Well, it's the old thing about alien architectures. The
place isn't Terran-built... If "built" was even the right word; for the exterior "skin" of the base was really
only a tight fine mesh woven of what seemed, at this distance, delicate threads of mirror-finish steel-and
were actually long single-crystal extrusions, each two meters thick. From the "skin" substructures hung,
tethered by cables or jutting out on odd-shaped supports, looking like packages dangling or stuck on
poles; they were offices, service bays, living quarters. All along the interior of the structure, little drones
glided along twisting rails or sailed by on chemical propulsion, flashing suddenly if they happened into a
sunbeam piercing the interior through one of many oddly-placed apertures. Motion, haste, an impression
of life that was quick and glittering and very alien, that was what Kirk got-along with a slight uneasy
feeling at being closed in. But what am I thinking of? he chided himself a moment later, considering the
folly of trying to understand much about another species just from its artifacts. He recalled the
conclusions the Tegmenir had come to about Earth-humanity from the single chair they'd found, and
cautioned himself against judgments.
Still, it was hard to believe they were only seventy-five lightyears from Earth.
"It's a lovely place they've got here," Scotty said from where he stood beside the helm. On the screen,
shadows slid and flickered as Hamal's fierce golden fire shone through and was occluded by the outer
webwork of the StarBase. "I'd like to meet the designers."
On the other side of the helm, Spock stood straight and still with Ms hands behind his back, looking
unmoved and calm as always; but Ms eyes were for the screen as much as Scotty's. "You may have that
chance, Mr. Scott. Two of the Hamalki members of the Base design team are also involved with the
development of the inversion drive."
"Thanks for tellin' me, Mr. Spock," Scotty said, looking very pleased and anticipatory. Jim smiled to
himself. A brief stint at a desk job with the Federation's Bureau of Planetary Works had only served to
increase Scotty's absolute worship of excellence in design hi everytMng. Meeting one of the Hamalki
designers- famed as among the finest in the known universe- would probably be akin to a religious
experience for him.
"How are we doing, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk said.
"A pilot's coming out for us, sir. ETA to dock is five minutes."
"Sir," said Uhura from her post, "Base Operations just called. Commodore Katha'sat's respects, and it
would ??? to see you in its office along with the Chief Engineer and whatever other department heads will
be involved with the installation proper."
"Fine. Acknowledge, and tell it we'll be along immediately docking is complete."
"Here comes the pilot, sir," Sulu said. "They'll be belaying us in on tractors."
"Uhura, advise all hands-"
"Done, sir."
Sulu touched his controls again, and the view changed once more on the screen as the Enterprise eased
to full stop, hanging there at the heart of the immense silvery structure. From off to one side something
small and bright shot out of a crevice in the shining weave. Someone in a powered pod? Kirk thought,
having his doubts-the pod was hardly a meter wide. The little gleaming egg fired itself along at the
Enterprise with such force and speed that for a moment Kirk feared for his outer hull-yet barely a few
meters from it, the egg snapped to a stop as sharply as if it had come to the end of a tether, and then
inched delicately forward to touch the leading edge of the secondary hull. A moment later it backed away
again, leaving attached to the hull the bright, pearly line of something Kirk had heard of but never yet
seen, one of i the new "tactile tractors" that were also of Hamalki make. Spinning its glowing line, the egg
headed back toward the semi-spherical docking bay that was the far end of the Base, and actually towed
the Enterprise-behind it-inch by inch at the start; then with more? speed, a slow glide.
Kirk found that looking at impossibility made his mouth dry. Scotty, beside him, was near spluttering s
with delighted perplexity. "That canna be done, I don't care wha' motive force you're using-"
"Yet there it is, Mr. Scott," Spock said. "Once again, size proves deceptive. The operating principle is
called 'elective mass'; it is one of the assumptions that makes the inversion drive possible." He tilted Ms
head to one side, watching the little glittering seed in utter calm. "Certainly it looks unlikely. So do the
equations involved, I assure you. Many of their elements trespass into what we have for some time
considered impossibility. Yet the drive works...."
"Makes your head hurt, does it?" Jim said, shooting an amused sidewise look at the Vulcan.
Spock breathed out, shifting his shoulders a bit. "My somatic responses are hardly germane to the
situation, Captain. It would be more accurate to say that there are facts I have yet to assimilate entirely."
"There are?" Scotty said, grinning. Spock didn't deign to answer that one, merely gazed at the screen as
they all did. The silver ovoid with its tractor pulled Enterprise deeper into the Base. Abruptly, between
the rounded far bay and the ship with its tug, light sprang into being, lines of it. Lines making angles with
one another, defining chords within the immense circle of the Base's "hull"; twenty-four radial lines
segmenting that circle, all meeting in the center; and woven among the radials, one by one, a dazzling
confusion of oblongs and parallelograms of light. Straight at the glowing network the little silver egg led
the Enterprise, and finally, with only the tiniest jolt, right into it. Kirk let go the arms of the helm, which he
had been gripping. As he did, the framework of light came loose from most of its anchor-lines and
dropped slowly about the Enterprise, wrapping itself closely about both hulls, clinging wherever it
touched. The silver ovoid slipped through the mesh and darted away, leaving behind it a starship bound
tight in lines of pearlescent white fire that dimmed somewhat in brilliance, but still pulsed, very much alive.
"That," Kirk said, getting up from his chair, "has to be one of the weirdest dockings I've ever had. Let's
go see the Commodore. Uhura, you have the conn."
Kirk and Spock and Scotty headed for the lift. As its door whooshed closed behind them and Uhura slid
into the command chair, Sulu turned to Chekov at the command console and gave Mm a wicked, merry
look. " 'Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly-'"
Chekov rolled Ms eyes at the ceiling, and idly began working out the initial parameters for a
search-and-discover spiral in the next galaxy over.
The StarBase's office complex was a little less exotic than its shimmering outworks. When the world
came back after the transporter's glow was gone, Jim found himself standing in a very average
transporter room. Not quite so average was the Sulamid chief engineer handling the console. He stood
three meters high, a sheaf of constantly moving rose and violet tentacles, with eight restless stalked eyes
peering about from the top of Mm. Lieutenant-commander's stripes manifested themselves in the skin of
the barrels of several of his larger handling tentacles-Sulamids being color-changers of great skill.
"Sirs/madams welcome be," the Sulamid said with a graceful flourish and wreathing of tentacles, knotting
several of them in a gesture of respect. "Downhall left three doors lift, four-level down, two leftways, exit
rightward, six doors right, waiting Commodore Katha'sat eagerly; introductions/ briefing/legal intoxicants.
Sirs/madams guide?"
"Thank you, mister," Kirk said, having doubts about the "mister" even as he said it-all twelve of the
Sulamid sexes claimed to be male, especially the ones who had the children. "I think we'll manage."
They did, though Kirk was astonished again and again on the way down by how many of the nonhominid
kinds of people were on station. Hamal was close to Sol and Terra, but it was also within the boundaries
of the great Majoris Congeries, an intragalactic "open" cluster of twenty stars that was home to as many
wildly diverse species, from methane-breathers to one winged species that found the atmospheres of
stars congenial. There was a branch of Starfleet Academy here, to service this sector of space, and a
library secondary only to that of Alexandria II. The stable population was around eight thousand
sentients-crewmen on assignment, and their dependents, and civilians on vacation, for some of the Base
was a resort, privately financed and operated. The halls were noisy with translated and untranslated
conversation, as various kinds of people chirped, squealed, laughed, grunted or howled about their
business. Kirk found himself smiling as he went, for there was an excitement in the air abnormal for even
such a place as this, and his ship was at the heart of it.
The Commodore's office door was open when they came to it. Kirk tapped twice on the doorsill and
walked in, finding Katha'sat getting up from behind its desk. It was a best, off Rukbah V-a tall being, so
slender as to look skeletal, with greenish-bronze skin stretched taut over a basically bipedal form. Hesrv
had extra knees and elbows, and looked a touch peculiar to Earthly eyes when they stood or sat. Their
long gaunt faces were adorned with large gentle eyes, green or golden, that gave their faces a perpetually
wistful look. Jim knew that look painfully well. Katha'sat had used it on him often enough at poker, with
great success.
"Commodore," he said, reaching out a hand and then putting it behind his back again in the hestv fashion.
"Good to see you again."
"Under these circumstances, I believe it," Katha'sat said in its whispery voice, matching Kirk's gesture,
and then reaching out to clasp hands with him. "Perhaps you would make me known to your officers?"
"Commander Spock," Jim said, and Spock bowed, all reserved Vulcan courtesy. "Chief Engineer Scott-"
and Scotty copied Kirk's gesture, which Katha'sat returned with the round-mouthed smile of its people.
"No shortage of good company," it said. "Captain, I have some truly astonishing nhwe I've been saving
for some worldshattering occasion; perhaps you gentlefolk would join me?"
There were all kinds of racks, supports and chairs in the office. It took a few moments to find ones that
fit, but as soon as they had, the Commodore was passing around glasses and a crystal flask half-full of
the dark blue nhwe. Kirk was glad to see it, and poured himself a generous splash. Nhwe might taste like
machinists' oil, but it also contained a neuropressor hormone that in most hominid chemistries enhanced
whatever emotional state the drinker was presently experiencing-hence its slang name,
"More-of-the-same." Jim took a long drink, and got more cheerful than he had been, and watched Scotty
get more excited. Spock sipped his carefully, and became more serenely unreadable by the moment.
"Getting things started in a hurry, are we?" Kirk said. "Is Fleet pressuring you, respected?"
"No, no. The chief of the installation team, however, has asked to meet you as quickly as possible and
get permission to start her work immediately." The Commodore hooted softly, a hestv laugh. "She says
she's waited eight hundred years to get out of the Galaxy, and she won't wait a day longer than necessary
now that the problem is handled...."
Kirk went over the additions-to-crew roster in his head. "That would be the Hamalki, then-"
Something scrabbled politely at the door. "Are they here? High time," said a voice that didn't so much
speak as chime, a sweet liquid-brittle chattering, staccato yet melodic.' The person who went with the
voice came scuttling into their midst in a swift flow of delicate, much-articulated legs, twelve of them, that
were attached to a rounded central body. The being was an arachnoid-a big one, standing about a meter
high on those legs, her body about a meter across and half a meter thick. That body was transparent in
most places, translucent in others, made of an analogue to chitin that was clear as glass. Most places the
creature's surface was polished to mirror smoothness; the exception was the upper side of the
"abdomen," where clear needle-fine spines made a fur that glittered like grass on a dewy morning. The
abdomen had a slender, nubbly ridge or crest running atop it from "front" to "back," and in the ridge
twelve eyes were set-four clustered at one end, four at the other, four studded along the ridge. At first
glance they seemed expressionless--like a shark's, Jim thought, and repressed a shudder. Yet they also
burned like blue-hot opals, full of shifting fires; and when one cluster of them fixed on Jim, he felt the
personality behind them like a blow, and was impressed. This is a power, he thought as he rose to greet
her. And then added to himself, irrationally relieved, My ship is in good hands-
"Captain K'rk, please sit," the windchime voice said, as the Hamalki settled on the floor in the middle of
the group and tucked her legs in around her, folding them out of the way. "A great pleasure, I've heard
many good things about you. I'm K't'lk."
"Thank you," Kirk said. "I only wish I were sure I could pronounce your name as well as you just
managed mine, and without even a voder."
"No problem. Get the consonants right, and the vowels will take care of themselves. We only have one
vowel anyway-" and she pronounced it, an E above high C, surrounded by shivery harmonics-"-and all
the rest of the language is a matter of pitch; the same as yours, more or less." The fiery eyes turned their
attention to the First Officer, and K't'lk lifted the two forward legs on that side to describe a swift gesture
in the air. "Mehe nakkhet ur-seveh, Mr. Sp'ck-"
He lifted Ms hand in the Vulcan salute. "May you also live long and prosper, madam. And may I
compliment you on your accent?"
She laughed in surprise, a merry chiming. "If it warrants it, yes indeed! Evidently that correspondence
course I took to read all those Vulcan engineering journals was better than I thought." She looked over to
Scotty. "And greetings to you also, Mr. Sc'tt; well met indeed! A long time now I've wanted to meet the
man who so many times has pulled the estimable Captain's nuts out of the fire."
Jim put up an eyebrow. Scotty reddened, and held his grin back from becoming a laugh. "I thank ye,
lady," he said, "though it's not often been so dramatic."
"The idiom, though, would be 'chestnuts,'" Spock said, utterly deadpan.
"Oh? Thank you."
"Where's your manners, Mr. Spock?" Scotty said in feigned shock. "Correctin' a lady-"
"Oh no, the correction's welcome, Mr. Scott," K't'lk said. "After all, language is what we build with, the
tool that builds the tools. Inaccuracy there is as deadly as it'd be in a warp drive whose computer feeds it
inaccurate mix ratios-Architectrix keep any such fate far away from you! Which brings me to the point:
my technicians are lined up in the cargo transporters waiting for your permission to begin installing the
inversion drive. May we?"
"Permission granted, of course; I'll give the orders," Kirk said, amused by the Hamalki's cheerful
intensity. "A question, though, before you go. Katha'sat mentioned that you'd been waiting eight hundred
years for this?"
"Eight hundred sixty-three standard," K't'lk said. "Towed your ship in myself so that no fool would I
damage it somehow and slow things down-"
"Are you Fleet personnel, then?" Kirk added, not much liking the idea of a person without Starfleet oaths
f in force touching his ship. "Or civilian?"
"Both," K't'lk said. "I comprehend your concern, Captain. In this life I'm long retired from Starfleet,
though I have a reserve commission as full Commander. If you wish to reactivate it, I'm willing to serve
with you. Though the presence of stripes won't significantly affect my performance."
Kirk nodded. Scotty looked confused. " "This life?'" he said.
K't'lk gazed up at Scotty with what Jim would have sworn was a humorous look. "Yes indeed. I had to
be hatched four times, each time with the previous life's memories added on, to get all this work done-the
equations for the inversion apparatus and so forth. This last lifetime, the theory just suddenly began to put
itself together; so I went and talked to the Vulcans, and among us we worked out the hardware for the
drive. Now that that's done, I want to get out there and accept the consequences of my work-or,
preferably, enjoy them." The Hamalki stood up, rubbing two back legs together in what looked like an
impatient gesture. "Captain, I desire your better acquaintance, and there'll be more leisure for that once
the apparatus is installed and we're on our way to the Lesser Magellan-ic-"
"Of course," Kirk said gently, amused.
"Then I'd like to have the company and guidance of your officers in this business, if I might. I know your
ship from stem to stern from her plans, of course, but you gentlemen-"she fixed those blue-hot eyes on
Spock and Scotty-"will know where the bugs are."
Jim nodded at them in dismissal. K't'lk was out of the room in three quick leaps; Spock and Scotty went
after her, having to move fast to catch up. "I read that article of yours in Acta Mega-Astrophysicalis last
month, Sp'ck," the Hamalki's voice said in a hasty, good-natured chiming that dwindled down the hall.
"The one about kinematics of nuclear regions in barred-spiral galaxies. Where did you get that figure for
the radial motion? The Tully-TLaea relation would seem to preclude-"
Spock's unruffled voice could be heard beginning a reply as the doors to the Commodore's office slid
shut. Kirk leaned back in Ms seat and pursed his lips in the gesture he knew Katha'sat would read as a
smile. "I may not be seeing much of my First for a while, if that was any indication," he said. "Looks like
he's found someone who'll understand what he's talking about when he gets mathematical."
Katha'sat tilted its head to one side in hestv acquiescence. "I hope so. The Hamalki have been claiming
that the Vulcans' assistance made the inversion drive possible-but the Vulcans deny it categorically and
insist they barely understood what the Hamalki were talking about. Understandable, I suppose; I can't
imagine Vulcans being very easy about any science called 'creative physics.' Yet they got together, and
now we have the drive.... How do you feel about it, Jim?"
"Going extragalactic?" He took another long drink of the nhwe. "Excited. Pleased. A little annoyed about
the politics..."
"That our worlds have leisure for politicking," Katha'sat said, round-mouthed, "is an indication
摘要：

StarTrek-TOS013-TheWoundedSkyByDIANEDUANEOneTheproblemwithwaitingaroundinspacetoseeastarshipgobyisthat,whenashipisinwarpdrive,she'shardlythereatall.Theotherspaceinwhichthewarpfieldembedsherisjustthat-other;aneighboringalternateuniverseinwhichnaturallawsaredifferent,andlightmovesmanythousandsoftimesf...

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