Star Trek: The Original Series: The Rings of Time

“I’ll explain later,” he promised.

The quip had been intended to lighten the mood on the bridge. So far, the mysterious probe did not seem to pose any immediate threat, but every member of his crew knew that such discoveries had proven dangerous in the past. Take the Nomad probe, for example, or Balok’s radioactive warning buoy.

“Increase power to the deflectors,” the captain ordered. Their screens were already in place to ward off stray debris from the rings, but the probe might have greater potential as a threat than random chunks of ice. Kirk pressed a switch on his armrest. “Go to yellow alert.”

“Aye, Captain,” Chekov said.

Amber indicator lights flared around the bridge. The yellow alert signaled every crew member and department to go to an advanced stage of readiness. Emergency crews and systems were placed on standby.

“I’m attempting to hail the probe,” Uhura reported. “No response.”

Kirk was briefly tempted to ask if she had tried every frequency, but he knew that would be redundant. Uhura had hailed more alien vessels and planets than probably anyone else in this sector.

“Analysis, Mr. Spock?”

“Insufficient data, Captain. Although there are indications that the probe is many thousands of years old and perhaps running low on power. Meteoroid scoring has pitted its hull. Its energy signatures register as both erratic and fading.”

Kirk nodded. “Is it emitting any harmful radiation? And what about weapons?”

“It appears to be unarmed, Captain.”

“But why is it here? Why now?” Kirk frowned; he didn’t need another mystery right now. “And what does this have to do with the anomalies affecting the rings? And the vortex on the planet’s surface?”

“It is difficult to say,” Spock stated, “without a closer examination of the artifact.”

“I have to agree,” Qat Zaldana added. “It might be useful to inspect the probe itself. We could learn something that would help us save the colony.”

Kirk had to smile. He suddenly felt as if he had two science officers at his disposal. That being the case, he would be foolish not to listen to them.

“Kirk to transporter room,” he ordered via intercom. “Prepare to lock onto that object and beam it aboard. Employ standard safety and decontamination procedures.”

“Aye, Captain,” a female voice responded. A glance at the duty roster informed him that Lieutenant Mascali was manning the transporter this shift. “Ready to proceed at your order.”

“Wait for me. I’m on my way. Kirk out.”

He rose from his chair. “Mr. Spock? Qat? Care to join me?”

“After you, Captain,” Qat Zaldana said. She tucked her data slate under her arm.

He headed for the turbolift. “The bridge is yours, Mr. Sulu. Notify me at once if that thing out there so much as burps.”

“Aye, sir,” Sulu promised. “You’ll be the first to know.”’

The two scientists followed Kirk into the turbolift. Crimson doors whooshed shut. Kirk took hold of the handle. “Transporter room,” he instructed the lift. “No stops.”

They found Scotty waiting for them behind the transporter controls. “Thought I should do the honors myself, considering we don’t know exactly what we’re taking aboard here. Better safe than sorry.” He glanced at Lieutenant Mascali, who stood by to assist him. Dark hair and olive skin hinted at Mediterranean roots, although Kirk believed she hailed from Alpha Centauri. “No offense, lassie.”

“None taken, sir,” she answered. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Kirk appreciated Scotty’s initiative, too. Nobody aboard could operate the transporters as well as the ship’s resident miracle worker.

“All right, then. Let’s take a closer look at our surprise visitor.”

Scotty nodded. “Locking onto the object.” He pulled the levers down. “Energizing now.”

The telltale whine of the transporter beam con-firmed Scotty’s report. A scintillating column of golden sparks manifested above a transporter pad, then coalesced into the shape of the probe. The radiance faded away, leaving only a hint of static in the air and a huge object resting on the platform. The image on the viewer had not quite prepared Kirk for the sheer size of the probe. At least twice as large as the conn stations on the bridge, the probe took up most of the transporter platform. Only sturdy Starfleet construction kept the platform from buckling under its weight. It lay sideways across the platform, resting on the rims of dishes at both ends, which crumpled slightly at the bottom. The glowing ring around its equator dimmed and slowed to a stop. Lights flashed intermittently here and there. Patches of melting ice clung to its hull. They dripped onto the transporter pads.

The probe had obviously seen better days. Its surface was badly scorched and corroded. Pitted metal testified to hundreds of microcollisions. The bronze plating was charred and melted in places. Kirk wondered what had inflicted the damage. Merely time and erosion, or had the probe had a run-in with an ion storm or something even more destructive? The probe’s battered condition made it hard to guess how old it was. Hundreds of years? Thousands?

Millions?

“Remarkable,” Qat Zaldana said. “Where do you think it came from?”

Kirk imagined her eyes widening behind her veil. He wondered how the probe appeared to her sensors. What else could she see?

“I’d like to know that, too,” he said. “Mr. Spock?”

A tricorder was slung over the science officer’s shoulder. He scanned the probe with the device. “Batteries low on power and fading. Unable to access its memory banks.”

Kirk cautiously approached the probe. “Any reaction to our transporter beam?” He was concerned that the artifact might regard the act as hostile and respond in kind. “Has it activated any defenses?”

“Not that I can determine, Captain.”

Kirk was glad to hear it. Perhaps the probe was merely an unmanned exploratory vessel from some distant civilization that had nothing to do with the crisis threatening Skagway. Or was that too much of a coincidence?

Qat Zaldana tilted her head to one side. “What are those markings on its casing?”

Markings? Kirk had not noticed anything of that nature, but evidently, her sensor veil was indeed more perceptive than his eyes. He stepped onto the transporter pad to get a closer look. Squinting, he saw what she was talking about. Beneath the scorch marks and corrosion was a string of alien hieroglyphics, partially eaten away by the damage to the hull. Kirk frowned. What was left of the symbols looked disturbingly familiar. He had seen markings like them before, but where?

Suddenly, it hit him.

“Spock,” he said urgently. “Is it just me, or do those symbols look like the ones we found on that obelisk a few years ago?” His throat tightened at the memory. “You know the one I mean. The one the Preservers built.”

Painful memories flooded Kirk. The obelisk in question had been constructed by an enigmatic alien race to protect a primitive world from an oncoming asteroid. While investigating the obelisk, he had been struck down by an unexpected energy discharge and separated from the rest of the landing party, who were eventually forced by circumstances to leave him behind. Suffering from amnesia, he had been taken in by the people of the planet, a tribe of transplanted Native Americans, and had eventually married a lovely young woman with whom he’d soon conceived a child. A deflector beam from the obelisk, of unimaginable power, had ultimately diverted the killer asteroid, but Kirk’s bride had died at the hands of her own people when they turned against her and Kirk. Her tragic death, and the loss of their unborn child, still haunted him.

Miramanee…

If Spock was aware of just how agonizing this subject was, he was professional — and Vulcan — enough not to acknowledge it. Still, he seemed to choose his words even more carefully than usual.

“There is a resemblance, Captain, although the damage to the casing makes a detailed comparison difficult. It may be necessary to reconstruct the missing and obscured portions of the symbols before a definitive identification can be made.”

The lack of certainty frustrated Kirk. “But I thought you said this probe did not match any in our computer banks?”