From the Captain’s Log, Star Date 4201.6:
My suspicions, unfortunately, were correct; we are being herded into a trap. The sensors indicate a mass of heavy ships ahead of us, dispersed hemispherically with the open end of the cup toward us, and our pursuers are now deploying to form the other half of the sphere. We shall eventually be at its center, where conditions are obviously going to be a little uncomfortable at best.
We are on full battle alert. By the time the Klingons manage to destroy the Enterprise, they are going to wish that they had decided to let us quietly through, instead. It will leave a proud record for Captain Kirk, if he is still alive, to bring to his next command. I shall drop the Log by buoy just before the engagement.
It was true; the village was around them, not ruined now, but just as Kirk had remembered it, even to the people — and even to their complete lack of curiosity about the three uniformed starship officers, which had once been so puzzling. Kirk knew now that all this too was an illusion, for the Organians actually had no bodies at all, and no need of dwelling; but since it was — in contrast to the hallucinations that had preceded it — one generated by the Organians themselves, it was decidedly reassuring.
“They’re still alive, and still here, Mr. Spock.”
“So it would appear, Captain. Shall we proceed?”
“By all means.”
They entered the building which had once been designated to them as the meeting hall of the temporary Council of Elders — just how temporary (for the Organians had no rulers and no need of any) they had then had no idea. It, too, was as it had been before. The Council room proper had whitewashed stone wall, decorated with only a single tapestry and that not of the best, and was furnished with a single long, rude wooden table and even cruder chairs.
The putative Elders were there, an even dozen of them. They were modestly robed, white-bearded, benign, almost caricatures of paternal god-figures, smiling their eternal smiles — but were their smiles a little dimmed this time? Among them were three whom Kirk recognized at once.
“Councilor Ayelborne,” he said formally. “And Councilors Claymare and Trefayne. We are pleased to see you again, both personally and on behalf of our Federation. Do you remember me, by any chance?”
“Of course, Captain Kirk,” Ayelborne said, extending his hand. “And your non-terrestrial friend Mr. Spock as well. But we have not previously had the pleasure of meeting your second companion.”
“This is Mr. Scott, my engineering officer, who is really the main reason we are here, both for our sakes and yours. But first, if you please, sir, will you tell me just how much you know about the present situation, both on Organia and elsewhere?”
Claymare’s smile was now definitely shadowed.
“Surprisingly little,” he admitted. “Without warning, we found our world surrounded by a force-field of novel properties which not only prevented us from leaving, but which had most distressing effects upon our very thought processes. Until very recently, we also did not know by whose agency this had been done, or for what purpose, though of course we had several plausible hypotheses.
“Then an equally mysterious living entity somehow penetrated the screen and landed on our planet in a small spacecraft. We at first took him to be your Mr. Spock here, but we quickly discovered that he was instead an order of organic being quite unknown to us previously. Even his neural currents flowed backward; we could neither understand their import, nor decide what steps we ought to take about his presence.
“Finally, you three appeared, and we were able to determine from your thoughts that you knew what had happened, and that you had come to be of help. But the malignant creature who had arrived in the spacecraft had a mind as powerful as Mr. Spock’s — truly remarkable for an entity dependent upon a substrate of matter — and one which, furthermore, seemed to work well with the effects of the thought-shield, whereas ours were much impeded by them. We sent out impulses which we hoped would guide you to us, but until that creature was eliminated — which you have now managed to do, and for which we congratulate you — your course was necessarily somewhat erratic.”
“Aye, an’ thot’s for sooth,” Scott said feelingly.
“We now further see from your thoughts,” Trefayne added, “that the Klingons are responsible for the shield. They should be properly penalized. But we find ourselves nearly as helpless as ever.”
“Perhaps not,” Kirk said. “That’s why I brought along my engineering officer. It’s his opinion that the screen is generated by a machine which was deposited on your planet by a pilotless missile. Had it been manned, you would have detected the pilot’s thoughts. It’s probably hopeless to try to locate the generator itself, let alone the missile, but Mr. Scott believes that be can build a counteracting generator.”
The councilors of Organia looked at each other. At last Ayelborne said, “Then by all means, let him proceed.”
“I fear it’s no sae easy as a’ thot,” the engineering officer said, with an odd mixture of embarrassment and glumness. “You see, Councilor, it wasna possible tae bring much wi’ us in the way ‘of tools an’ parts. Since we didna ken where we were goin’ tae wind up, nor what we were goin’ tae encounter, we traveled light. We’ve got beltloads of miniaturized components an’ other leetle gadgets, but it’d be sair helpful to have some bigger bits an’ pieces with mair wallop to ‘em, if you follow my meanin’.”
“Quite without difficulty,” Claymare said. “Unfortunately, we have no — hardware? — of that sort…”
“Aye, I feared as much. An’ it’s oft before, lang an’ lang, that I’ve cursed the designer who thought it’d be cute to put no pockets in these uniforms.”
“…but we know where the malignant creature’s spacecraft is now stored. Would that be of any assistance?”
“The gig!” Kirk shouted. “Of course it would! Provided that the replicate entity didn’t booby-trap it; that is, rig it so that it would destroy itself and us if touched. But we’ll just have to take that chance.”
“It would also be interesting,” Spock said reflectively, “to study how he managed to equip a shuttlecraft with a warp drive.”
“Yes, but later,” Kirk said with a little impatience. “Scotty, would the parts and so on in the gig solve your problems?”
“One of them,” Scott said, even more embarrassed. “Y’see, Captain, I canna answer exactly, because my mind’s sae bollixed up by the screen itsel’, an’ by all the weirds I’ve had tae dree since I began walkin’ across this fearsome planet, that I hardly ken a quark from a claymore any mair. ‘Tis doubtful I am indeed that I could do useful work under such conditions. Equally likely, I’d burn us all up for fair an’ for sure.”
Claymare, who for an instant seemed to think that he had been addressed, frowned and held back whatever he had perhaps been about to say, but Ayelborne smiled and said, “Oh, as to that, we can protect the few minds in this present party against the screen. It is always easier, at least in principle, to raise an umbrella than it is to divert an entire cloudburst, even in the realms of pure thought. However, clearly we shall all have to proceed without delay. We are all suffering seriously, and ever more progressively, under the pressure of the screen — our own population included. Have you a decision?”
“Yes,” Kirk said. “Act now.”
“Very well. Since you need your renegade spacecraft, it is…”
“…here.”
The meeting chamber dissolved, and with it nine of the other councilors. Kirk found himself and the remaining five entities — one other Earthman, a Vulcan hybrid, three Organians whose real appearances would never be known — in a deep cavern, indirectly lit and perhaps no more than half as big as the hangar deck of the Enterprise. He did not know how he knew that it was far under the surface of Organia, but there was a direct feeling of a vast weight of rock above his head which he accepted without question as real mass, not any sort of hallucination. The air was quite dry, and motionless; the floor smooth, and cupped toward the center.
In the exact midst of the cup was the stolen shuttlecraft. It looked familiar and innocuous.
Spock obviously did not regard it as an old friend. Head cocked, eyes narrowed, he scanned it from nose to tubes with his tricorder.
“Anything out of the ordinary, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked.
“Nothing that I can detect, Captain. There does not appear to be any unusual pattern of energy flow in the circuitry of the combination to the main airlock, though that is the first point where one would logically establish a booby trap — and the easiest. Nor can I think of any reason why the replicate, having decided not to interdict
