Mudd's Angels Read online

Kirk flung himself to Sulu's console. "Where he goes, we go. Follow him!"

  They dived into the center of the cluster, Sulu's brow was beaded with sweat; all his helmsman's skill was called into play, instantly reacting to the information that was reaching him in furious cascades of numbers. Suns whipped invisibly past, red and blue and white, the ship shuddering as the computers compensated for gravitational attractions and the vast amount of radiation.

  "We're losing him, sir."

  "Warp Factor Seven."

  "He's too far ahead, and gaining," said Chekov. "He's headed away from the plane of the Galaxy, Captain! He's accelerating toward the Barrier!"

  "Mister Scott—warp factor eight!" Tight-lipped and grim, Kirk snapped the order.

  "Captain," said Spock urgently. "Are you sure this is wise? We can't take the risk of meeting the Barrier."

  "I'm going to get that rotten jailbird of the Galaxy if it's the last thing I do!" Kirk's eyes were slits of determination.

  "Captain, you may be taking the Enterprise on a disaster course," said Spock very quietly.

  The ship plunged on in the wake of Harry Mudd and the dilithium crystals, the protesting voice of Scott rising in pitch along with the sound of the engines.

  Kirk relaxed slightly. "All right, Spock. I admit he gets my goat—but we have orders to recover those crystals. What do you suggest we do, crawl back to Command and tell them we were scared to chase him? It's not just the Enterprise at stake, it's the whole Galaxy!"

  "If we become lost in the Barrier, sir, it won't save the Galaxy."

  "We're gaining, Captain! We're gaining on him!" said Sulu.

  Kirk looked straight at his First Officer. "Get him!"

  The shuddering of the ship had lessened. They were streaking through the clear, dustless space between the last sparse stars of the Galaxy—and the Barrier of incomprehensible energies that encloses it. Mudd's ship was plainly detectable. The whirling arms of the Galaxy lay far above them…

  Sulu waited for orders, his hands poised for immediate action. His console showed the pinpoint light of the Enterprise rushing toward the blazing red warning diagram of the Barrier sphere—where starships are unnavigable, and the mind of man breaks down with overloaded senses. ["By Any Other Name," Star Trek 6; "Is there No Truth, No Beauty," Star Trek 10; "Where No Man Has Gone Before," Star Trek 8, Bantam Books.] The tiny light of the Superstella reached the red zone, and winked out.

  "Warp Nine, sir? The ship canno' take much more!" said Scotty from the Engine Room. "Are you sure, Captain?" The ship's motion was no longer smooth; a high whine was drilling into their skulls.

  Voices clamored at Kirk, anxious, worried; Scott, Spock, McCoy, all doubting him, wanting to turn back, to abandon the precious cargo carried by that pirate Mudd—

  The light on Sulu's screen reached the corona of the Barrier…

  "Khabadar!" Chekoy leaped from his chair, charged across the bridge, his arms rising and falling. McCoy seized him. "What's the matter, Chekov? Here, hold still!"

  Chekov slammed him across the shoulders, knocking him off balance. "You filthy dog! You presume to lay hands on me?" He turned his back on the stunned McCoy, as though the doctor had ceased to exist.

  "A council, a council. We march on Herat this night. Bring wine, you." He slapped Uhura's thigh. "And cover yourself, Nubian, before these pigs."

  Uhura goggled at him.

  He strode to Kirk and, taking the Captain by surprise, threw him off the command chair. "You presume. Togluk," Then he smiled ingratiatingly. His eyes glittered with a strange light. "But I will overlook it, since you have so keen an eye… Where is the woman? I thirst." He lay back in the command chair as the crew stared.

  "What's got into him?" said Kirk.

  "I don't know," said McCoy, rubbing his shoulder. "But he sounds like he did under hypnosis. Hey, Chekov, wake up! Pavel Andrevich, wake up!"

  "Remove that noise." Chekov waved a languid hand. The ship shuddered. "I am tired. Bring sherbets, or you die."

  "Who does he think he is?" said Kirk.

  "I haven't the faintest idea. I told you it was delicate—damn fool idea…" McCoy began tiptoeing silently toward the muttering Chekov. "Now we've got a psychotic navigator—at a time like this!"

  "To council!" roared Chekov. "The horses will circle from the East, at sunrise and evening star. Arrows, Greek fire… Aha! You creep up on me, excrement? Take that!" Chekov swung wildly at McCoy, as—

  The pinpoint of light silently pierced the scarlet zone;

  The Enterprise bucked wildly;

  Scott tried to dodge the herd of elephants in the Engine Room;

  Yeoman Weinberg's tricorder kissed him;

  Lieutenant Uhura looked out of her receiving screen at the bridge;

  Eighteen crewmen suddenly understood the meaning of meaning;

  The viewscreen flared and went blank;

  Spock thought of giving flowers to his mother;

  Twin suns of fulminate of mercury set behind Kirk's eyelids, plunging him into darkness…

  … which passed immediately. He picked himself up and ran to the navigator's console. "McCoy, are you all right?"

  McCoy wriggled out from under the weight of Chekov. "Just bruised. Looks like I have a patient here, though." He pulled out his medical tricorder and bent over Chekov. He shook the instrument. "Blast and damn. What happened?"

  "I don't know," said Kirk. "We must have hit the Barrier."

  "The tricorder's gone wrong. I'll have to see what. I can do without it." He felt Chekov's pulse, and lifted his eyelids. "He's all right, I think. Come on, Pavel, wake up. Come on, boy…"

  Chekov groaned and opened his eyes. "What happened? The ship—where are we?" he said groggily.

  "God knows," said Kirk grimly. "And if you're with us again, Chekov, we need a navigator."

  "Yes, sir." Chekov staggered to his chair.

  "I think we're going to be getting a lot of work in sickbay," said McCoy. "I had better get down there." Slowly, fallen bodies on the bridge were stirring.

  "Oooh, my head."

  "Doctor, my leg!"

  "Yeoman Weinberg, get off my lap." Voices rose. Officers and crew began feeling themselves for injuries.

  Kirk pulled himself back to his command chair, feeling a strained muscle across his back. "This is the Captain. Report damage, all sections."

  Reports came in slowly from shaken voices. "Deck Levels seventeen and nineteen, two crewmen wounded here by collision with bulkheads… Life Support Section, four crewmen here, condition uncertain… The pool's flooded the corridor of Deck Twenty-one—Transporter Room entrance warped in closed position… Messroom not functional… Sludge Tanks Twenty-four and Thirty-eight exploded…"

  "Twenty minor casualties, eighteen broken bones, one man still unconscious," said McCoy, returning. "I am sorry, Captain, but the unconscious man is Scotty."

  "That's why the reports from Engineering are so incoherent! Take over, Spock, I'd better get down there. And hope the men on duty are capable of giving some idea of the situation."

  Engineering was in chaos. Men bent over machinery, murmuring in tense voices, tapping, passing tools. The flickering lights showed overturned chairs, tools strewn in untidy heaps on the floor. There was a smell of hot lubricant, and an ominous hum.

  "Status report," said Kirk tersely.

  One of the engineers detached himself from a group and moved through the intermittent gloom. "It's hard to say, sir. Power doesn't respond, and we seem to have an energy leak. We're trying to locate it now. Refrigeration and heating units are all right. But life-support systems are out on decks ten to thirteen—or else the monitors are out. I hope everybody's out of there."

  Kirk stopped him and ran to the intercom. "Security, get a detachment in suits to Decks Ten to Thirteen—possible life-support failure." He turned back. "All right, Engineer, go on."

  "Seventy percent of internal power units working, sir. The drive units—I dunno, Captain. The crystals are acting fun
ny. Wish Scotty were here —is he all right, sir?"

  "He's in sickbay, Crewman, still unconscious. Doctor doesn't think he is seriously injured, though, as far as he can tell."

  "Thank you sir. Shall I—" The crewman gestured back to the group.

  "By all means. Carry on. Report to the bridge at intervals."

  "Yes, sir." Kirk groped to the doorway, which groaned as it opened, and made his way back to the bridge.

  "Spock, where are we?" Kirk threw himself into his chair.

  "I have established that, sir, while you were below. It would appear that we have been thrown entirely outside of the galactic sphere, right through the Barrier. If you look at the screen, you can see our Galaxy."

  As though a gigantic hand had scattered diamond dust on powdered ink and stirred it once, the great spiral filled the lower right quadrant of the screen. In its incandescent heart, swirling arms met, embraced, and fused in a blur of light, seeming to throw off a spattered nimbus of glittering drops of frozen blood. Piercing the diamond dust, countless sharp points of blue spoke of the fierce fusion processes of young suns.

  "Ah," said Kirk. "That's not so far, then, Spock."

  "Captain, this is our region," Spock pointed to a tiny speck far down on the screen. He moved it into increased magnification and pointed to one of the smaller points of light. "The Federation is about here."

  "Can we get back?"

  "That, Captain, is an interesting question. We are now inside the small neighbor galaxy known as Nubecula Minor—the Small Magellanic Cloud. The Federation is about one hundred sixty-five thousand light-years from us. We could start back now, and reach Federation Territory in roughly four hundred sixty-six years, seven months and twenty-three days, assuming that the Barrier does not present an insurmountable difficulty. Of course, we would perhaps have sufficient time to develop a way to penetrate it under control."

  "Four hundred and sixty-six years?"

  "That is correct."

  "Standard years?" said Kirk, grasping at straws.

  "Yes, Captain. Unless this intergalactic journey has conferred immortality upon us, it does not seem that we will be able to deliver dilithium crystals to Star Fleet Command for some time."

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE BRIDGE WAS silent as each officer absorbed the facts.

  Finally, Kirk said quietly, "And Mudd?"

  For answer, Spock adjusted the main viewing screen. The Superstella floated quietly in its center. "He is within tractor range now, if you want him."

  Uhura said dully, "I think he's calling us."

  " . . Well, it's about time, laddie. I thought you'd never answer. You can have the whole cargo for a mere twenty-five thousand, per ton if you take delivery immediately…"

  "He's still haggling?" said Weinberg, wonderingly.

  Outside the ship, a star pulsated. Its light was growing noticeably brighter. A woman's form tumbled past the screen, illuminated by its flare. The ship quivered slightly. Mudd's voice was indistinct through static.

  "A variable star," said Spock coolly. "We are rather close, Captain, and this one appears to have a short period. Perhaps we should withdraw."

  "We can't," said Kirk helplessly. "The power's out. What was that woman?—Or was it a hallucination?"

  "… Sorry about that, laddie. Eighteen thousand, positively the last offer…"

  "Mudd, who was that woman?"

  "… and not a minicredit less…" said Mudd. Uhura screamed. The screen was filled with her face, mouth stretched in a silent shriek of agony. The face turned away, and veils floated over the stars.

  "Uniombee kwa Mungu! What was it?" cried Uhura in terror.

  "Tha android! He's thrown her overboard!" said Weinberg.

  "Lieutenant Uhura, re-establish contact with Mudd immediately. That's an order."

  "Yes, sir," Uhura replied faintly, her trembling hands uncertain at the console.

  Now the space outside the ship seemed filled with the falling forms of girls, lit by the brightness of the pulsing star. Blondes, redheads, dark and light, moving sluggishly in the vacuum of space.

  "Security, can we pick up those androids?"

  "I think so, sir."

  "They seem to be conscious. Bring them in." Kirk watched as grapples reached and seized the androids and drew them out of sight.

  "Engine Room reporting, sir. Chief Engineer reporting for duty."

  The welcome burr reached Kirk through the intercom. "Scotty! Are you well enough?"

  "Ye didna' expect me to lie aboot in bed with the Engine Room in trouble, Captain? There's a fey problem down here. We canna' pull power— but the engines are in working order. There's something amiss wi' the crystal supply."

  "And a whole shipload of crystals just out there," said Kirk. "Uhura, are we in contact?"

  "Yes, sir." Mudd's face appeared, mouthing silently. The sound slowly faded in.

  "… And, laddie, on second thoughts I'll give it to you, fifteen thousand a ton only, clearance sale, and I take a loss…" His expression was strangely anxious. He kept glancing behind him.

  "Captain," said Spock, "we're getting increasing mass and radiation readings from that vessel. Something must be happening aboard his ship."

  "… Thirteen thousand, Captain, a giveaway, the transportation alone…"

  "Why have you jettisoned your crew, Mudd?" said Kirk.

  "Not in the mood for love, laddie. I'll tell you what. You can have the whole lot for a flat fifty thou. You couldn't get a better deal this side of Andromeda."

  The Engine Room called for Kirk's attention. "The dilithium crystals, Captain; I dinna ken the reason, but they're growing! The storage bins are beginning to give way. I dinna like it, Captain…"

  Spock said, "With your permission, I would like to inspect this phenomenon." Kirk nodded.

  "Mudd, what does it take to change your one-track mind? Don't you know we're both five hundred years from homeland your merchandising is—irrelevant? For the last time, get those crystals over here on the double—or nobody has a chance at all. And you can stop throwing those girls off your ship. We're picking them up."

  Spock returned, looking very serious. "Captain, the crystals aboard are indeed increasing in size and emitting high-spectrum radiations. The trip through the Barrier must have altered their lattice structure—they have become unstable."

  "Is that why we have no power?"

  "It may be, at least in part. But the crystals can no longer be trusted to channel the matter-antimatter particles under control, and the reaction is increasing geometrically. There seems to be some relationship with the pulses of that variable star."

  "Captain!" called Scotty. "Request permission to jettison crystal stockpile. They just burst out o' the bins!"

  "Spock?"

  "I think we'll have to, Captain. The crystals seem to be resonating with the star pulses—and there's about an hour to go before it reaches its explosion point. When the star goes, the crystals may respond—drastically."

  Kirk gave the order. If they didn't get Mudd's freight now, all hope of repairing the drive would be gone. Not even five hundred years would get the Enterprise back to the Galaxy. "Lieutenant, get me Mudd!"

  "Captain," said Weinberg, "Mudd's cargo went through the Barrier too. Maybe that's why he's —look!"

  In the diastolic light of the star, furniture, cases, instruments were emerging from the Superstella to tumble through the vacuum.

  "If that's so," observed Spock, "it's only a matter of time before his ship ruptures. The crystals will simply—envelop it."

  "… Ten thousand…" came a harassed voice, faintly.

  "And he'll be trapped in a mass of dilithium crystals?"

  Spock nodded.

  "I'm tempted to leave him to it, Spock."

  "A crystal planetoid, with Harry Mudd embedded in it," mused Weinberg.

  "Unfortunately his fate would soon be ours, Captain. We're too close to escape being drawn into it."

  "Bury the dog alive!" said Che
kov with satisfaction. "One more after two thousand, what price?"

  "… Two thousand? Are you mad, laddie?"

  "Seventy thousand heads lay round the walls of Ispahan, and there was no more talk of rebellion. Enough, I say! What hour came the Mamelukes?"

  "… Did you say seventy thousand…?"

  "Chekov's off again," said Sulu. "Shall I call Doctor McCoy, sir?"

  "What! The chicken-legs? Summon me no leeches, chore-boy, I will have blood!" Chekov lunged from his chair, teeth bared and eyes feral. "Eh, you'd creep up behind me like a scorpion! I'll draw your sting, traitor!" He whirled on the approaching security guard and chopped him across the windpipe. The man choked and staggered. The other guard, at Kirk's signal, seized him and held his flailing arms.

  Chekov struggled, snarling and biting. "Treachery in my own camp! Filthy scum! I am Khan and King, son of Jenghis and heir to Iakander, and you defile My Person with your paws!"

  "Tamerlane!" said Weinberg suddenly. "Now I place it. Riches and power-hungry, all right, all mixed up with the Tartars in ancient Russia. This is fascinating! We must have evoked an ancestral strain…" He peered at the raging Chekov and scrambled among his instruments.

  "What's going on?" said McCoy, entering at a run. "Ohhh, I see." Hastily he administered a tranquillizing spray to Chekov, whose face slowly smoothed back to its normal pleasant expression.

  Weinberg was disappointed. "I wanted to study him."

  "Ensign Weinberg, we have greater matters on our minds than the study of ancient Terran history. We are, in case it has escaped your notice, marooned in another galaxy. We have no power. Our navigator's mind—" Kirk stopped and looked at Weinberg. "Yeoman, I am afraid that when we get back to Star Fleet I shall have to recommend that you are assigned to another branch of the Service. Your attention seems to wander in a crisis."

  "When we get back, Captain?" Sulu's voice, though very quiet, sounded loud as a knell.

  The star's light flared again. "Lock the tractor beam on Mudd. We'll have to try and get him out. Deflector shield, report status."

  "All clear, Captain."

  The tractor beam flashed out. Mudd's ship accelerated into the distance.

  "What's wrong?"