By Nathan Warner
Captain Christopher Pike and his new Lieutenant, a Mr. Spock, must investigate a gas mining operation in a Gas Giant planet that is under threat by a mysterious force.
“Get us out of here!” Captain Christopher Pike bellowed. To port, a mysterious object was still in the process of colliding along the length of the Enterprise. A simple nod was all Ensign Rigby could muster as he plied his hands across the helm controls, keeping his eyes on the gas-mining rig less than 200m to starboard – it wouldn’t do to fly into that duranium structure in their haste to get away from whatever was stuck to them. The U.S.S. Enterprise strained to answer his command, rising slowly up through the dense troposphere of the massive gas-giant planet. It had a dull sounding name on the charts: B4-LLM – but the local gas-miners called it Devil’s Brew, Clootie’s Tavern, or just Brew-1.
Pike listened carefully to each protest his ship made as the thrusters pushed against the massive planet’s gravity. They were about 50km into the atmosphere, and it was thick with ammonia and hydrosulfides, obscuring the richer hydrogen, helium, and methane deposits down below 100km. These resources were what drew the miners.
Years ago, large buoyant harvester-ships had been towed into orbit – built in the nearby Kintoo Asteroid belt of the Bansdo System by the Off-world Mining Guild. Manned by a couple dozen rig-handlers, they’d descend down as far as they could get, striving against the mounting pressure, before lowering collection booms into the richer atmosphere, drawing up resources for colonists worlds away. It was a profitable business.
“Estimated time to orbit?” Pike asked tensely.
“Ten minutes, Sir,” Rigby replied. Pike ground his teeth. They’d only been in the troposphere for a few hours. Their mission had been to find a missing rig – the Gillhound – with its crew of 24 miners. The mysterious affair had all begun yesterday with a distress call from the Off-world Mining Guild’s division head – a Mr. Calverous, who was visiting B4-LLM with an inspection team due to some reports of “unusual” atmospheric instability.
“We were in the process of investigating, when number 13 rig went down – that’d be the Gillhound,” Mr. Calverous sighed mopping his thick, bushy brow. “We can find no trace of them, Captain. We could use your starship’s resources to aid in the search.”
“We are on our way,” Pike nodded to the screen, not even hesitating to divert the Enterprise from its scheduled destination at Cerpatian 4 where they were planning to attend a geoengineering summit.
A very grateful Mr. Calverous transmitted mining records and sensor readings for the past week – the time-window when the mysterious atmospheric “events” had begun. Pike watched as his Science officer, a very green Lieutenant named Spock, sifted through the information. As of several days ago, half a dozen automated rigs had been damaged, but that had all changed when the larger and manned Gillhound had vanished. After a few minutes of reviewing the data, the Vulcan turned in his chair.
“If these logs are an accurate rendering of the situation, I can only conclude that a mysterious force of great magnitude has manifested on B4-LLM,” he said, raising his eyebrow as if attenuating his words where no emotion was allowed. “The mining operation is most certainly in jeopardy.”
“Yes, it would seem so,” Pike nodded, and then shook his head. “But why is this force so localized?”
“Sir?” Spock answered.
“Look here and here,” Pike said punching his finger into the display showing where the damage had been recorded. “Don’t you find it strange that it all seems to be occurring in a narrow band at the equator, at a similar depth, and in a progressive pattern from east to west?” Spock raised his eyebrow again.
“I suppose one could speculate that there is an unusual pattern here,” he said, “but that would preclude the possibility that the planet has never exhibited these patterns before. For all we know, this could be normal across the planet’s life-span.”
“Perhaps,” Pike said inconvincibly. The pattern was there, and he saw it clearly. It seemed almost organic.
At warp 3, they arrived a couple hours later in the Bansdo star system. Dropping down into impulse, Pike leaned forward in his seat to take in the sight. Outside, the central star cast a slightly blue sheen that lit off several planets.
“Take us in, Ensign Rigby,” Pike motioned. The Enterprise gracefully slipped past the comet zones and crossed the orbits of the outer planets before approaching the 8th planet in, the afore-mentioned B4-LLM. It reminded Pike of his own Jupiter back home, except it was pale – As white as a sheet, but with dark banded highlights, showing the roiling layers below.
Ghostly, Pike thought, but said aloud, “Standard orbit, Rigby.” As they pulled in, the enormous planet dwarfed the Constitution Class until it was less than a speck of dust. From the readouts, at least three major storms were residing permanently in the atmosphere. Like Jupiter, these storms had been ongoing since Starfleet had charted the planet 50 years ago. At that moment, they were passing in front of the third and largest storm, which had an “eye” twice the size of Vulcan.
“It’s a monster!” Ensign Qi muttered, taking in the sight from Ops. Pike couldn’t disagree. The colossal hurricane could swallow several Earths, and he couldn’t help but imagine his home planet, swirling like a fishing bobber in its powerful eddies.
“Sir, we’re receiving from the orbiting station,” Lt. Chambers reported, breaking over Qi’s reverie from his post behind the Captain. As he spoke, Pike could see the Administrative Satellite approaching in its orbit. This was where the Guild’s managers watched over the operations down in the atmosphere.
“Patch them through,” he nodded backwards to Chambers. Mr. Claverous’s round, red face popped on the screen. His relief took Pike by surprise.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Captain!” he gasped, distractedly glancing around as spurts of steam shot off around behind him. “We’ve got our hands full here – our reactor’s sprung a coolant leak and we’re trying to stem the loss, so your presence is most timely in assisting our search for the Gillhound.” Pike nodded. These mining operations used yesterday’s tech by Starfleet’s standards, but he could still remember the idiosyncrasies of those old fusion reactors from his first command.
“We’re happy to be of service,” he said. In reality, he just eager to get to work. The call to action was relaxing, and the higher the pressure, the calmer he became.
Unbeknown to Pike, this is what had earned him the Enterprise in the first place. When his name came up for review, Pike’s psychological evaluation was flagged.
“Give him a vacation and his stress pumps through the roof,” Counselor Beaudry had reported to Admiral Lassater, “But throw him in a hopeless situation and he’s relaxed as a rutabaga. The man is dangerous. He thrives on danger and will likely put himself, his crew, his ship, and the Federation in harm’s way for the sake of his sanguinity.”
Admiral Lassater gave Pike the commission in the end for those exact reasons. “It takes a man of action to function for good out there on the Frontier,” he had explained to the committee, “A man of principled action – calm under pressure, relaxed under fire, and serene when facing down death. The Federation is not yet an empire of desk jockeys who make calm, reasoned judgments from the safety of an arm-chair. No, it is precisely because of who Christopher Pike is – the alloys of his being – that make this “danger” or “threat” as you put it our best resource out there in the field. If you knew anything about the Frontier, you’d know men like Pike are who you want to be with when things go bad, as they invariably do out there on the edge of known space. Its precisely why his crew is so loyal to him, and that – the loyalty of his crew – is the best recommendation a Captain can have in his file. Its why I’m giving him the Enterprise.”
This “alloy” of his being was why Captain Pike was anxious to get to work from the Bridge of the Federation’s flagship.
“We’ll get on it,” He concluded to Mr. Claverous.
“Much thanks to you!” the administrator nodded. “Let us know if you need any assistance.” The screen returned to a view of the station, but a moment later, it switched to the equatorial band of the planet with sensor overlays of the mysterious readings and the last known coordinates of the Gillhound, courtesy of young Lieutenant Spock.
Pike leapt from his seat and joined Rigby at the helm, gazing at the lay of the land.
“Alright, let’s do this, gentlemen,” he said with the same assurance his men had come to rely on. “Plot a course to the Gillhound’s last known location and take us in.” With a few taps to the helm, the Enterprise gracefully adjusted its heading to take in the planet. The magnificent Constitution class surged fearlessly into the grip of the deathly orb. Within seconds, they rapidly approached the ionosphere.
“Deflectors to maximum,” Pike commented, “but keep us at ¼ impulse.” Rigby glanced up in surprise.
“But, Sir, at that speed, we’ll produce some serious shockwaves in the atmosphere!” he warned.
“I’m counting on it,” Pike smiled, turning to Mr. Spock. “Lieutenant, I want our sensors to monitor any returning echoes from Ensign Rigby’s shockwaves.” Spock raised his eyebrow.
“But Captain, wouldn’t our EMF sensors be a better resource?” he asked.
“Certainly, Mr. Spock,” Pike replied, “however, I suspect standard sensors are going to have a hard time peering into that highly ionized gas bag. So, we’re going to use an ancient sensor concept called echolocation – something pointy-eared bats and human naval vessels used to locate objects in fluids.”
Spock raised his eyebrow again. “Ingenious, Captain,” he said simply. Pike was making a splash, and like ancient sonar, they were going to use the sound waves to reflect off any nearby objects.
The Enterprise shuddered as it struck the Ionosphere. Outside, the deflector array busied itself shaping the faint air around the ship into an aerodynamic shape. Suddenly, the ship pitched a degree to starboard and Pike steadied himself on the helm as the inertial dampers adjusted. They had just punched into the thermosphere. Pike took the opportunity to clear his throat.
“Park us in the lower Stratosphere, Ensign – 0.1 bar,” he said, just to make it clear there was a stopping point to this rollercoaster. It was a good low pressure to level out at before proceeding with more care into the lower structures of the planet’s atmosphere.
“Sir, we are entering the Stratosphere now,” Rigby said. Almost before he’d finished speaking, the Enterprise bucked several degrees to port. Pike had been gearing himself up for the shock, but it still caught him off guard. He stumbled aside, but steadied himself on the railing.
Outside, the Enterprise broke sound barriers, sending shockwaves radiating out into the atmosphere. Rigby frantically played cross his console, leveling the ship out with bursts of thrusters as they slipped down through the Stratosphere.
“Approaching station keeping nav point,” he reported a little breathlessly, shaking his black locks out of his eyes.
The Enterprise slowed to a stop, now waiting patiently for echoes of interest to return. Pike paced a few orbits around the bridge before Mr. Spock cleared his throat.
“The data is in,” he said flatly, “at least as much as will be useful.”
“Explain?” Pike asked turning quickly on the lieutenant’s post.
“With sound waves, the resolution dissipates the further it travels,” he replied, “thus, all echoes will provide us less information the further they travel and the longer their return journey.” Pike knew as much.
“Very well,” he said, “so what do we have?”
Spock gestured to the scope. “We have located most of the gas mining platforms within 100 kilometers of our position,” he said, “and we’ve picked up some faint signals deeper in the atmosphere.” He gestured to a few faint “blips” on the screen. He pointed to one near the center of the screen. “This particular signal appears near the last reported location of the Gillhound.”
“It’s a good wager,” Pike replied, but before he could turn to Rigby, Spock interrupted.
“What does a reference to gambling have to do with the presentation of scientific data?” the young Vulcan asked in an almost injured tone.
“Well, Mr. Spock, it is a human expression for acting in uncertainty,” Pike replied carefully. “There’s always a certain amount of uncertainty in every decision, and more so when there is less information – and that uncertainty could mean the failure of the mission, the death of many miners, or the loss of this ship. The information you have presented seems like the best course to follow up, but there is still a high degree of uncertainty.” Spock nodded through his furrowed brow.
“So, you are evoking a metaphor to illustrate your difficulty in determining a suitable first course of action?” he inquired further. Pike smiled at the awkward wording.
“Yes, something like that,” he answered and then swung on Rigby. “Ensign, plot a course for the coordinates of Mr. Spock’s mysterious ‘blip,’ if you would.”
“Aye, Sir,” Rigby replied. “Estimated time to arrival is 40 minutes.” The Enterprise slowly sank deeper into the outer haze of the atmosphere. In only a few minutes, the visual screen was a complete white-out. Pike glanced uneasily at the readouts showing the shrinking envelope that their sensors could penetrate effectively. Soon, they’d be flying in the “dark.” It was a bit unnerving sailing through a dense mirk not knowing if you were about to crash through a glass ceiling, or more likely, a gas rig.
He’d once read about ancient earth sailing vessels getting lost in fog, and the fear of crashing on shoals and reefs. He’d never known that feeling until now. Spock cleared his throat loudly enough to break into Pike’s concentration.
“Yes, Mr. Spock?” Pike turned.
“Sir, perhaps your echolocation method can be reapplied now, but with greater efficiency, to aid our present sensory deprivation.”
“I was wondering when you’d think of that,” Pike smiled, hoping Spock could sense the humor. If he did, it went over his head.
“Yes, Sir. I am will endeavor to increase my efficiency,” he said, and then continued. “I’ve continued accessing the technical information on these gas rigs, and I’ve discovered that they use an active echolocation technology based on primitive deflector technology. I believe that we could do the same thing with our main deflector, and our entire deflector array.”
“How so?” Pike asked.
“We would create a rapid pulse sequence that would send compression waves through the atmosphere – ranging from low to high frequency. In this way, we could tune it to give us maximum resolutions for our target of interest.” It made so much sense that Pike was almost speechless that he hadn’t thought of it before.
“How long will it take to employ?” he asked. Spock ran a few mental calculations.
“Less than 20 minutes, Captain,” he replied.
“Let’s do it,” Pike decided, a little alarmed that the darkening haze outside was the only sign the mighty starship was continuing to sink deeper in the atmosphere. As the Lieutenant got to work programming the deflector, Pike stood from his seat and strolled around the bridge, checking all stations as the minutes crept by. Finally, Spock turned in his chair.
“We are ready to proceed, Sir,” he reported. Pike returned to his chair.
“Bring it online,” he ordered. Spock tapped alive the modifications to the Deflector. Pike felt the sudden vibrations in the deck plating as the dish began pulsing into the atmosphere. Within a few minutes, sensors began picking up some returns.
“There is an object Bearing 15, Mark 330,” Spock announced, peering into his scope.
“Beneath us,” Pike nodded with approval – it was expected and simply confirmed that everything seemed to be working. “Range?” he asked.
“Approximately 12 kilometers,” Spock answered without looking up from his scope.
“Transfer coordinates to the helm,” Pike ordered.
“I already have, Captain,” Spock replied, so closely on the Captain’s heels that Pike almost felt his words had been cut-off. He hesitated for a second, staring at his young Science Officer, but Spock was completely absorbed in his scope.
“Mr. Rigby,” Pike called, turning his attention to the helm, “intercept the target – thrusters at maximum.”
“Aye, Sir,” Rigby replied, wondering how Spock got away with talking “down” to the Captain. The Enterprise renewed its descent with vigor. Slight pockets of atmospheric turbulence sent vibrations through Pike’s chair as he completed his Captain’s log. At long last the report came in.
“Arriving at destination, Sir,” Rigby announced. Pike’s eyes fixed on the screen. Nothing was visible except swirling clouds of ionized gas.
“Range?” he asked.
“About 100 meters,” Spock replied, stealing Rigby’s words right out of his open mouth.
“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” Pike said curtly, “but I was asking my helm officer.” Spock looked up from his scope for the first time, sensing that some sort of human “emotion” must have gotten in the way of the situation. This seemed to happen from time to time, but he was never quite sure what happened.
“I was merely attempting to be efficient,” Spock replied.
“I know, Lieutenant,” Pike answered, “but on a Starship we also must observe protocol. If efficiency was our only goal, you would be doing all the talking.” Spock shrugged. He took this as a compliment, even if he knew it wasn’t meant to be. He returned to his scope.
“Mr. Spock,” Pike stressed the name deliberately, “please overlay your echolocation signal on the viewscreen.”
“On the main viewer, now,” Spock reported almost instantly.
A fuzzy, somewhat circular image appeared on the viewscreen – an artificial projection of the returning sound waves reflecting off the mysterious object ahead. The resolution wasn’t good enough to determine what they were looking at.
“Helm, take us to within 50 meters,” Pike ordered, then turning to Spock, “As we near the target, incrementally increase the frequency of the deflector’s pulses – that should improve the imaging resolution.” Spock nodded knowingly.
“I have already programmed the sequence, Captain,” he said evenly. Pike fought down a sense of irritation at Spock’s presumptuousness, which the Lieutenant was maintaining as efficiency. However, he couldn’t fault him, because, so far, he had been on point.
“Steady,” he commented, as Rigby was approaching the object with a little more thrust than was necessary.
“75meters…65meters…62meters…50 meters, Sir,” Rigby reported, bringing the Starship to a halt exactly where they needed to be. At that distance the computer processed the returning high-frequency soundwaves into a clear, sharp image. As the picture came into focus, Pike sighed.
“Well, it’s not what we’re looking for,” he said, staring at what appeared to be an older gas storage station that had sunk deeper into the atmosphere. “Any signs of life?” He figured that at this range, Spock had activated the ship’s sensors.
“Negative, Captain,” Spock replied, “It appears to have been abandoned some time ago.” Pike sank back into his chair.
“Well, one mystery solved,” he muttered, turning to the helm. “Rigby, take us back up, and…”
“Contact, Captain,” Spock interrupted. “Object to port – 1,000 meters, moving in on our location.” Pike whipped back to the viewscreen.
“A mining rig?” he asked.
“Unclear,” Spock returned. “Please turn the ship to port.” It sounded like a command, and Pike almost said something, except that time was precious and Spock’s “order” was correct. Pike was learning that sometimes with Spock, his rational mind got well ahead of the command structure.
“Mr. Rigby,” Pike ordered, “Please line our deflector up with our guest, if you please.” The Enterprise pivoted on its thrusters. At first, the screen was nothing more than a pixelated soup of noise, but then a shape emerged. It was moving quickly, and it was moving towards them.
“Back us off!” Pike bellowed, alarmed as the space between them shrank rapidly. It was too late.
“Sir, we’re going to collide!” Rigby cried.
Almost before the words finished coming out of his mouth, the Enterprise was struck hard from the front on the port quarter. The inertial dampers hesitated and Pike was flung from his seat into the forward console. The ship listed to starboard as the deflectors strained to prevent the sheer momentum of the collision from reaching the hull. Pike picked himself off the ship orientation screen and nursed his badly bruised arm.
“Report!” he called above the alarms.
“We have a hull breach on deck 4,” Spock replied evenly, no emotion betraying his voice. Before he could finish, the deck swayed down and Pike struggled to keep his footing. But before he could inquire, the deck pivoted up and then swayed side to side. The inertial dampers were able to mostly compensate, but Pike could still feel the forces on his ship. He looked to Spock with a face that would have killed for answers.
“We appear to still be in contact with the object,” Spock reported. “It may be attempting to dock with us!”
“A boarding party?” Pike asked, mostly to himself, and then he spun to the helm. “Get us out of here!” he bellowed. Rigby nodded affirmation and kicked the thrusters on. The Enterprise strained, rising up slowly through the atmosphere, towing with it whatever had latched on. The ship shuddered against the drag. Suddenly, whatever had adhered to them gave way and the Enterprise righted itself, kicking up its heels and bolting to the heavens. Pike stumbled back as the ship accelerated and was thankful his chair was behind him as he collapsed into his seat.
“How are we doing, Rigsby?” he asked.
“We’re clearing the Stratosphere, Sir!” the Ensign reported. On the viewscreen, the atmosphere began thinning and a few stars poked through the dense haze. Then, in a moment, the Constitution class punched up above the gasses of the Thermosphere.
“We’re clear,” Rigby reported.
“Standard orbit,” Pike ordered, rising from his seat. “Ensign Qi, you are with me – let’s see how bad the damage is. Mr. Spock, when I return, I want some answers about what happened down there.” Spock raised an eyebrow.
“I will endeavor to comply,” he answered. Pike turned and waited in the turbolift as Ensign Qi made his way from the con. The ride down to Main Engineering felt longer than normal, but when they arrived, they quickly found Chief Engineer Dredre and headed for the Shuttlebay. There, they found the Da Vinci prepped and ready. The new Class F shuttles were a marvel of engineering. The Da Vinci still had that “new shuttle” smell, which Pike found simultaneously irritating and invigorating. Ensign Qi took the pilot seat and almost before Pike could sit, the craft lifted off and cleared the outer bay doors – before they had finished opening.
“I’m a fan of getting the job done efficiently, Ensign,” he commented, “but efficiency borders on carelessness. Please follow protocol on the rest of this mission.” Qi nodded, sheepishly.
“Aye, Sir,” he replied. “I guess I’m just a little eager.” Pike softened.
“I’m with you there, son,” he said. Outside the window, B4-LLM majestically filled the view to port. Qi banked the shuttle to starboard and came about 180 degrees until the Enterprise appeared ahead and B4-LLM now lay to starboard. Pike caught himself smiling. The Constitution Class was a beautiful thing to behold from space.
“There!” Engineer Dredre cried, jabbing his finger at the window towards the port quarter of the ship’s saucer. Pike could see some irregular markings on the hull plating.
“Bring us within view of the dorsal saucer,” Pike ordered the Ensign. The Da Vinci pulled up close to the Enterprise and pivoted on its starboard nacelle until they were all leaning forward looking out at the damage.
“It’s as if the hull has been compressed in a ‘U’ shape,” Dredre commented. Pike nodded and then turned to Qi.
“Take us below,” he said. With some gentle maneuvering, the shuttle sank down and looked up at the underside of the saucer. The same pattern was visible, mirroring the top. “It is as if something latched on above and below and grabbed the Enterprise in a vice!” he mentioned to his Engineer.
“It does that!” Dredre replied. “I think a boarding attempt was being made on us, Captain.”
“But who would be attacking gas rigs down there?” Pike asked, bringing their conversation into the broader context of the missing station.
“Pirates?” Qi offered. Pike silently shook his head.
“Alright, Ensign, if you’re finished with your scans of the damage, let’s get back to the ship,” he said. “We need to present our findings to our Science Officer.”
In less than 5 minutes, Pike was back on his Bridge, handing Spock the data they had collected from outside the ship. Under his scope, Spock raised both his eyebrows.
“Fascinating,” he commented. Pike waited, but nothing more came.
“And, Mr. Spock?” he asked. Spock straightened.
“And, I believe we may be dealing with a biologic,” he said.
“A what?” Pike asked, frustrated he had to keep following up on the Vulcan’s vague statements.
“A biologic, Captain,” Spock repeated, “a living organism – a creature of enormous size.” He pulled up a picture on his monitor of a curious amphibious creature. It was long and large with a warty complexion and limbs that looked like flippers.
“What is it?” Pike asked, genuinely interested.
“This is, or rather was, a Humpback whale, Captain,” Spock replied, in the voice of a nursery school attendant. “They were a species of ocean faring mammals that went extinct on Earth in the late twentieth century.” Pike waited again unsuccessfully for an explanation.
“And?” he followed up impatiently. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Observe, Captain,” Spock said, pulling up an enhanced video of the object they saw on the viewscreen. Pike leaned forward and watched as the computer processing cleared up the image. As the contrast and detail brought it into focus, Pike strained to understand what he was seeing, then he straightened up in surprise and looked from the image of the Humpback whale to the recorded image. The thing down there had a mouth! It also had flipper-like appendages.
“It’s a whale…creature!” Pike exclaimed.
“Yes, it is a ‘whale,’ in a manner of speaking,” Spock replied, not satisfied with his Captain’s pronouncement. “It appears to be a creature adapted to navigating the incredibly dense gasses and high pressures of this gas giant’s atmosphere – a native inhabitant of this planet.”
“But, how is that possible?” Pike asked. “I mean, the Earth creature swam in water, not gas!”
“That would be a key differential in its taxonomy,” Spock replied. Pike realized Spock was basically saying, “You’ve stated the obvious.” He had a mind to clip this Lieutenant’s wings, but all he could do was suppress a smile at his own foolish question.
“Okay, Mr. Spock,” he said slowly, “tell me what we know about this creature.” Spock took a breath.
“It appears to be 800 meters in length, 250 meters wide, at its widest point, can withstand pressures in excess of 10 bar, and has a jaw capable of compressing Duranium alloys,” Spock reported. “In addition, the creature has four large flippers that propel it through the dense gasses at velocities up to 200 Kilometers per hour. It uses a form of echolocation to navigate, and likely carries the remains of the gas rig we are searching for in its belly.” Pike looked up sharply at the Lieutenant.
“How do you come to that conclusion?” he asked. Silently, Spock pulled up another screen, showing EMF energy readings taken during their encounter. Pike could see a recurring energy surge that had been recorded over the background radiation.
“We observed this frequency as the creature neared us,” Spock replied.
“It’s a distress beacon!” Pike realized.
“Precisely,” Spock nodded. “The frequency matches the specifications for the Mining Guild’s ship operations, and we triangulated it to be originating inside the creature.”
“Do you think there could be any survivors in there?” Pike asked. “I mean in the belly of that thing?”
“It is possible,” Spock said, “if the crew made it to the emergency Lifeboats and if they are still intact, they should have another 24hrs or so of air. Furthermore, it is doubtful that any known naturally occurring digestive enzymes or acids would damage the Duranium alloys of all standard Lifeboat construction.” Pike stood up and took a few steps back.
“Okay, okay,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Setting aside the rescue aspect of this mission, what do we know about the creature’s behavior and motivation? Why did it attack us? Why is it hostile?” Spock raised his eyebrow.
“Its motives remain unclear, Captain,” he replied. “As is the question of whether its nature is hostile to begin with.”
“I’d say that is pretty clear, Spock!” Pike replied hotly gesturing to the ship. “I have some pretty clear damage out there to the Federation’s chief flagship!” Spock frowned at his Captain’s emotional outburst.
“Consider, if you would, Captain,” he said, putting the tips of his fingers together at the base of his chin, desperately trying to restore rational calm to the discussion, “that the creature was most certainly attracted to our presence by the echolocation we were using, which is similar to the forms used by the miners. This then is the only logical reason for the attack on both the miners and the Enterprise. For all we know, we could be calling this creature, antagonizing it, or initiating a mating call.” Pike couldn’t stop a smile from breaking across his face.
“Yes, I suppose that could be true,” he laughed, shaking his head. He chuckled at the idea that the Enterprise might have an overly amorous suitor.
“It’s going to be an interesting Captain’s log to record tonight,” he mused and then turned back to the business at hand. “Okay, Mr. Spock, what is your suggestion as to how we should proceed?”
“As you know, Captain,” Spock began, “most every object travelling in a fluid produces a wake – a region of turbulent disturbance that translates to sound energy. Starships use our deflector technology to cancel this phenomenon out, but creatures of nature have no such ability. In addition to the active echolocation that ancient earth warships utilized to locate enemy vessels in water by producing sound waves that bounced off the hulls of vessels, they also used a form of listening device called a passive sonar array to listen stealthily for enemy vessel sounds – most notably the wake of the vessel as it moved through the water. In this way, passive sonar allowed a vessel to track an enemy without being detected themselves.” Pike straightened.
“As fascinating as this history lesson is, Mr. Spock, what is your point?” he asked impatiently.
“My point is this, Sir,” Spock replied with the tiniest hint of snark, “I believe I have isolated the sound of the creature’s wake, meaning we can detect it and track it passively, rather than with active means, which give our position away by producing the sound for echolocation. However, we will need to find it first and get close enough to ‘hear’ the wake of the creature. Captain, I think perhaps the Enterprise should call it again,” Spock said. Pike understood his Lieutenant’s drift, and he nodded his approval.
“I agree, Lieutenant. I think the first date went a little rough,” he smiled. “Perhaps a second try is in order?” Spock bent his brow in confusion.
“I beg your pardon, Captain?” he asked. “What does the date have to do with anything?” Pike grinned.
“Its just a little humor, Mr. Spock,” he said with a shake of his head. “You wouldn’t find it funny.”
“Indeed,” Spock nodded in agreement, but Pike had already moved off from his station.
“Mr. Rigby!” he called. “Please lay in a course back into the atmosphere. Find me that rig we left down there.” The Ensign looked up in complete bewilderment.
“Go back…down there, Captain?” he stuttered.
“That’s what I said,” Pike answered. “We’re going to hunt ourselves a whale!”
“Uh…Aye, Sir!” Rigby answered, exchanging questing glances with everyone on the Bridge. “What’s a whale, Sir?”
“A whale, Ensign, is just a big fish,” Pike said, raising his hand to silence Spock behind him, who he knew would want to correct the taxonomical error. “It is a fish big enough to swallow a ship whole.”
“Oh, okay…thank you for explaining, Sir,” Rigby said with a shiver. “I guess we’ll just, you know…go back down there and hunt this…whale, then.” The Enterprise began its descent again into the atmosphere, but this time they were flying mostly blind as Pike didn’t want to attract attention until he was ready for attention to find him. And this was why they sank more slowly into the murky depths of the planet. It took a little over an hour to find their way back to the decrepit storage facility.
“We are approaching the coordinates of the Mining rig,” Rigby reported, uneasily. He was barely able to remove his eyes from the Viewscreen, fearing if he looked away, an enormous mouth would come leaping out at them from the murky depths. He was even more afraid that it would happen while he was staring into the screen. Despite the Ensign’s concerns, their arrival back to the scene of their brush with “something” went smoothly without incidence.
“Slow to 100 meters per second, Ensign,” Pike ordered, turning to Spock. “Alright, Lieutenant, call the creature, if you would.” Spock turned on the echolocation program and piped it through the main deflector.
“We are operating within normal parameters,” Spock reported. Pike stared at the screen, which was showing objects up to 4km distance. He could hear the sound “pinging” out into the vast sea of methane. Nothing so far. Then, suddenly 3 kilometers to port something massive appeared on a course for them, moving at an incredible speed.
“Fifteen seconds till impact,” Spock commented from his station.
“Steady, Mr. Spock,” Pike said slowly, counting the seconds through his mind. “Mr. Rigby, prepare for a ventral thruster burst. I want Z+ 500 meters.”
“Aye…Sir,” Rigby grimaced, realizing the Captain was playing chicken with a monster. “Thrusters on standby!”
“Five seconds,” Spock commented calmly.
“Cut the echolocation!” Pike bellowed. “Thrusters now, Mr. Rigby!” The Enterprise shuddered under their feet as the thruster burst kicked the ship up 500meters in only a couple seconds. Spock was listening to the sounds propagating through the dense gasses around them.
“I believe I have it, Sir,” he reported. “It is passing directly beneath us.” They all waited breathlessly, wondering if the ship would pitch suddenly from an impact. Nothing came.
“It has passed below us and is moving off to Starboard,” Spock commented.
“Mr. Rigby, keep us steady on its tail,” Pike ordered. “match its speed and direction – and keep a close eye on it for changes!”
“Will do, Captain,” Rigby replied. They waited tensely for a few minutes, but the minutes passed uneventfully and the creature continued a slow meandering path at this depth with the Enterprise hunting it through the atmosphere. At last, Pike rose from his chair, satisfied that they were in as steady a state as they would ever be.
“Mr. Spock, if you would be good enough to accompany me,” he gestured to the turbolift, and a few minutes later, the two of them were nearly suited up in evac suits in the main Transporter Room.
“We will need to close to 100m for the transporters to punch through the atmospheric interference,” Spock commented. Pike shrugged his shoulders.
“No worries,” he smiled, “Ensign Rigby can keep his fingers from touching when he clasps his hands.” Spock stood upright, holding his gravity boot questioningly and considering the odd image Pike had painted in his mind.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” he began, “but what does that have to do with…”
“Never mind, Lieutenant,” Pike smiled. He was beginning to enjoy having Spock around. His lack of humor was oddly refreshing. “Alright, we’re ready.” He climbed onto the Transporter pad with his flashlight, Tricorder, Phaser, and field bag, followed by Spock.
“Energize,” he ordered Chief Engineer Dredre, who stood grimacing from behind the controls.
“I don’t know about this, Sir,” the Engineer groaned, shaking his head. “It’s going to be tough getting you in the right spot – you could materialize halfway into the beast’s liver or bile ducts.”
“It’s a risk we’re going to take – just get us there.”
“Aye, Sir…Energizing,” Dredre reported, running his sliders up the console. The Captain and Lieutenant shimmered, faded, and then were gone from the Enterprise. “I do so hope they didn’t end up in the Bile ducts!” Dredre moaned.
Pike felt an odd oppressive feeling as he transmitted through the dense atmosphere of the planet. It was as if his pattern was being compressed by the pressure. Regardless, he and Spock materialized safely in the dark confines of an alien environment. It wasn’t the dense atmosphere of the gas giant, nor was it the bile ducts of a monstrous whale. The ground felt soft and they were up against a wall of some sort. Pike turned his light on the scene and suppressed a gasp. They were standing in a broad “forest” of branching, root like structures that rose above their heads. They resembled trees in a way as each trunk rose from the floor and branched many times into smaller and smaller segments that branched again and again, until ending in millions of tiny little filaments that formed a canopy above their heads. Each “tree” swayed gently back and forth as if caught in a breeze.
“Fascinating,” Spock commented, his voice breaking in on Pike through the audio speakers in his helmet. “Captain, I believe Engineer Dredre has put us in the creature’s intestines, and that these structures are its villi.” Pike nodded knowingly and then turned to Spock after a few seconds passed.
“Biology was never my strongest subject, Lieutenant,” he said. “Explain to me what villi are, again.”
“Certainly, Captain,” Spock replied in that annoying daycare-voice again. “Villi are the tissue protrusions from the intestinal walls that collect nutrients entrained in the stream of broken-down matter proceeding from the stomach.”
“Of course they are,” Pike grumbled. “So, what is the creature digesting?” Spock raised his Tricorder and began sampling the surroundings.
“The atmosphere in here is thick with Methane,” Spock reported, “but the gas itself does not seem to be the food source.” He tuned his Tricorder for a moment and scanned the Villi closest to him.
“Fascinating, Captain,” he said. “I believe that Methanotrophs have colonized this planet.”
“I’ve never heard of them before,” Pike said. “Are they related to Allasomorphs?” Spock lowered his Tricorder and considered his Captain carefully. He could never tell when humans were “joking” and when they were serious. As a Vulcan, Spock had no choice but to take him seriously.
“There is almost no similarity,” Spock answered. “Allasomorphs are sentient shapeshifting beings, while Methanotrophs are microbial organisms that feed off methane as their primary energy source.”
“I knew that,” Pike smiled. “I just wanted to see if you did.” Spock did not reply. He decided the wisest course of action was to continue with his analysis.
“My scans show a considerable concentration of partially digested Methanotrophs in the atmosphere of this intestinal chamber,” he reported. “That much is good news. It would not take considerable digestive powers to break down these organisms for nutritional value.”
“Why is that good news?” Pike inquired, instinctively raising his hand to run it through his hair, only to find his helmet in the way.
“Because, Captain, it means that any material we find in here from the missing mining rig should be hardly damaged at all,” Spock replied.
“So, the chances of rescuing any surviving miners just went up,” Pike concluded.
“Precisely,” Spock said evenly.
“Alright, then,” Pike sighed. “Let’s get on to finding them, if they are here.” They both raised their Tricorders, tuned them to locate Duranium, and began scanning the surroundings. “I have something this direction,” Pike motioned to his left. Spock nodded as his readings agreed.
“That would be heading towards the creature’s stomach,” he commented. Pike took a deep breath and raised his phaser.
“Who’s hungry for dinner?” he asked. They made their way slowly across the soft ground, guided by their lights and Tricorders, weaving between the trunks of the tall Villi structures. Finally, after nearly 5 minutes, they came to a large oval aperture in a wall of fleshy texture. It appeared to be dilated and was blocked on the other side by rubble of some sort.
“Captain, I believe we have found the miners!” Spock announced, holding up his Tricorder. Pike took another look at the blockage and then he saw it.
The “rubble” was the jumbled wreckage of the mining station and the hulls of several lifeboats. Their indigestible material had jumbled up against the opening to the intestines and almost completely blocked it. Pike surged forward and reaching the first Lifeboat, he climbed up to the hatch and then gave a sharp cry over the intercom.
He was face-to face with the skeletal remains of four men, slumped over in their harnesses inside the Lifeboat. The hatch was open and showed signs of damage, seeming to have malfunctioned when they ejected from the rig. “What do you see, Captain?” Spock asked calmly. Pike turned back.
“Four funerals,” he replied sadly. Spock did not seem to notice the morbid pronouncement as he continued to scan the aperture.
“It is unlikely that the creature will survive with this blockage here,” he said. “The nutrient flow to its intestines is too low for long-term health.” Pike fought down a surge of anger.
“And what of the miners?” he asked sharply. Spock lowered his Tricorder, realizing he had inadvertently violated the human custom of reverence for the dead.
“Of course,” Spock began, “we should recognize that they…”
He was cut off as the ground suddenly began shaking and Pike steadied himself against the Lifeboat.
“What was that?” he asked, but before Spock could answer, a “wind” kicked up from ahead of them – further up the stomach of the creature. Pike shone his light ahead as he fought to stay standing in the blustery onslaught. He could see the atmosphere was getting denser around them.
“The creature is feeding!” Spock announced.
Suddenly, the small protrusions all along the stomach wall swelled and then sprayed a fine mist into the air that filled the enormous chamber with a thick fog. Pike analyzed his Tricorder. As he suspected this “mist” was a digestive compound. It condensed on his helmet faceplate and he wiped it clear with his hands. He glanced down and froze. All around the chamber, something was happening. It looked as if small black soot was coagulating on the floor, but with motion and articulation. Writhing shapes began to emerge – surely those weren’t mandibles!
“S-p-o-c-k!” Pike said slowly, backing away from the writhing shapes. “What is this?” The Lieutenant had climbed up through the rubble next to him and had been taking readings through the entire event.
“Fascinating!” Spock commented, tilting his head in genuine interest.
“Yes, and!” Pike demanded.
“The Methanomorphs appear to have developed a macroscopic defense mechanism to the digestive enzymes of this creature’s stomach,” Spock reported.
“Use your words!” Pike cried, backing into the mining wreckage as the writhing shapes continued to grow in size. Spock looked quizzically at his Captain, and then realized with surprise that he wanted it broken down even more.
“Like nanites, these microscopic organisms are colonizing together to better defend themselves against the creature’s digestive process,” Spock replied. Pike continued to back away towards the hole in the wreckage that led back to the intestines. The “colony” of Methanomorphs grew still larger into an ever-shifting shape of somewhat familiar forms, writhing in pain from the digestive mist. Pike could swear he saw tentacles, which then morphed into arachnid legs before transitioning to a crustacean’s claw, and then back to an enormous mandible capable of snapping a man in two. The swarm was now almost 6 meters tall. Spock shone his light on it, and it suddenly took notice of them. In a terrible contortion, the colony surged at them. Tentacles, legs, and mandibles all stretching out towards them. Pike stumbled back to the opening and raised his phaser.
A blast of red light leapt from his hand and struck the swarm in its central bulk. The colony shivered for a moment, held back by the energy surge and then it dispersed in a vaporized cloud of hot gas, which rose rapidly to the ceiling.
Suddenly, the ground quaked – Spock and Pike collapsed to the floor and were tossed around like bean sacks. A faint light appeared up ahead and then vanished. Gradually, the rumbling convulsions ceased, and as they did, Pike’s communicator chirped in his helmet. He climbed off the floor and tapped the control on his head.
“Pike, here,” he answered.
“Glad to hear your voice, Captain,” Chief Engineer Dredre called. “But whatever you need to do, you better do it fast – the creature has begun a deep dive and the Enterprise won’t be able to keep up for much longer.” Pike looked sharply to Lt. Spock.
“Understood, Dredre,” he replied. “How much time do we have?”
“I’d estimate…3 minutes, Captain,” he answered. Pike nodded.
“Very well, Pike out!” he said, clicking the communicator off on his helmet and leaping up into the wreckage. He reached one of the three remaining Lifeboats and banged sharply four times on the outside hull. Almost immediately, they heard banging and faint hollering from inside – an answer that some miners were alive and safe.
“I am Captain Christopher Pike of the Federation Starship Enterprise!” he called. “We are here to rescue you! Hang tight and we’ll get you out of there!” Muffled replies seemed to answer that they understood. Spock stood stoically aside behind his raised Tricorder.
“I am detecting life signs in the remaining Lifeboats as well, Captain,” he said. Pike fished around in his kit.
“Very well, Lieutenant,” he said, handing Spock some Veridian patches. “Let’s tag them and call in the Transporter.” In a matter of seconds, they had slapped the patches onto the outside of the pods. Pike tapped his coms open.
“Dredre, do you copy?” he called, instinctively looking up at the fleshy ceiling far above his head. A moment of static answered him, but then the Engineer’s voice broke through.
“Aye, Sir!” he replied. “Have you attached the Veridian patches?”
“Yes!” Pike yelled, “Now beam us all out of here!”
“I’m not picking them up, Sir,” Dredre replied. “Must be some compound in the creature’s epidermal layers that is absorbing the radiation.” Pike began to feel the first hints of panic on the horizon.
“Well, increase the gain on the Transporters!” he suggested. Spock shook his head softly.
“It is not working, Captain!” Dredre answered. Spock opened his field bag and searched inside.
“Captain,” he said slowly, holding up his phaser, “we are going to have to exit this creature to be beamed to safety.” Pike stared at his Lieutenant.
“We’re not blasting through it, if that is what you’re getting at, Mr.,” Pike chided. Taking the life of sentient or indigenous life was out of the question, unless a direct and hostile threat to Starfleet personnel.
“That is not what I had in mind, Sir,” Spock said. “If we ‘sour’ the creature’s stomach, logic would dictate that it will expel the contents that are causing the discomfort.” Pike straightened.
“I’m listening,” he said.
“I believe that what we experienced before when you discharged your phaser was nearly just such an expulsion,” Spock theorized. “You may recall the faint light source we observed momentarily – likely a reflection down the esophagus from the outside atmospheric environment. In all likelihood, the creature was gagging and opening its mouth.”
“Yes, let’s assume you are right,” Pike replied, “how do you propose we get it to go all the way?”
“Captain, I suggest placing a phaser on overload in this wreckage pile,” Spock continued. “The blast should vaporize some of the smaller constituents, creating a noxious gas, while not harming the Lifeboats. In theory this would be enough to expel us.”
Pike felt a surge of panic and doubt flow over him with this risky plan, but then he buried it in the moment, as he was apt to do and stepped up to the wreckage.
“Let’s use two,” he said, putting his phaser on a 10 second overload and placing it in a particularly dense and twisted segment of wreckage. Spock followed suit and then they both ran for it.
“We need to be at least 30 meters away for safety,” Spock commented.
“No, Lieutenant,” Pike answered breathlessly, “we need to be as far ahead of the blast as possible, so we don’t get caught up in the debris field when we’re expelled.”
“A wise precaution,” Spock nodded, and Pike took pleasure in the faint admiration in Spock’s voice, but before he could fully appreciate it, they were both knocked to the ground by a terrific blast. Shrapnel and debris scattered around them. Pike looked back to see an enormous fireball of smoke and vaporized Duranium rising to the ceiling of the creature’s stomach. Suddenly, the ground heaved beneath them and they were both cast up into the air. Ahead of them a light shone down the tunnel of the creature’s esophagus, gleaming off all its ridges. Pike felt himself propelled forward through the tunnel towards the light. It was the strangest sensation, Pike had ever experienced – far more visceral than when he’d passed through a wormhole for the first time last year.
The light at the end of the tunnel grew brighter and wider, until in a sudden moment, they were swimming in a sea of dense Methane gasses, staring back at the enormous mouth of the whale-like creature. Pike marveled at its size! He noted that it had no teeth, only a gummy jaw. It pivoted on its massive flippers and Pike felt the “gust” from them sweep over him and push him down. The creature arched its head up and continued to heave. Suddenly, far above them, they were joined by a sea of debris as the whale vomited the rest of the wreckage. Pike squinted – one, two – all four Lifeboats popped into view above them. The creature shook itself and then dove straight for them.
“Spock!” Pike bellowed, closing his eyes. The creature missed them by only a few meters. Its massive body pulsed down in front of them, sinking at an incredible velocity. Its skin became a blur that seemed like it would never end, but suddenly, it did, and they were both sucked down after it, entrained in the creature’s wake. They descended with it rapidly, spinning out of control, until with a powerful stroke, the creature’s back flipper gave them the energy they needed to escape the wake.
Pike was gulping air. “Spo…Spock!” he called.
“Right beside you, Captain,” Spock answered. Pike whipped around to look behind him.
“Oh, there you are!” he said, desperately trying to catch his breath and share in the stoic response of the Vulcan to nearly being eaten by a whale.
“The Enterprise!” he gasped, looking up sharply, but nothing came in sight, and he tapped his com system open. “Enterprise come in!” he called. A few too many moments of static filled the interval.
“Captain….” Dredre’s voice broke through momentarily.
“Dredre, beam the Lifeboats to the cargo bay immediately!” Pike yelled.
“Will…do,” Dredre sputtered over the coms. “But, Captain…falling away…can’t locate you.” And then the signal went dead.
“Captain!” Spock yelled above the wind, grabbing him firmly by the arm. “Captain, we are sinking down through the atmosphere under the planet’s enormous gravity.” Pike glanced around for the first time and felt the gas speeding by them as they rapidly descended. Spock held up his Tricorder.
“Based on the increasing pressure, we are now travelling at 50 meters per second,” he reported. Panic flooded Pike again, but he suppressed it deep down inside. Spock set up a beacon on Pike’s Tricorder to broadcast a signal powerful enough for the Enterprise to pick up – at least as long as they were within a couple kilometers of each other. Nothing happened.
“We appear to have fallen out of range,” Spock said evenly.
“I’m open to suggestions, Lieutenant,” he said. Spock opened his field bag and produced a small package. He held it up.
“This is a flexible membrane I replicated before the mission,” he announced. “I thought it might come in handy.”
“Good for you,” Pike answered. “I hope the two of you are happy together.”
“No, Captain, it is a balloon!” Spock said with the first hint of irritation that Pike had ever heard in his voice.
“I still don’t follow, Lieutenant,” he replied. Spock had ceased trying to explain and had opened up the package, producing a large flexible balloon with rigging straps flapping around in the wind at its sides. The light around them was getting darker and Pike was beginning to feel a squeezing sensation growing around his suit. The pressure was continuing to rise. Soon, not even the transparent aluminum plate of his helmet glass would withstand the sheer force that would crush him like a can.
He was vaguely aware of Spock tying a strap around his waist.
“What are you doing?” he called. Spock did not answer. He tied the remaining strap around his waist, and once this was secure, he handed the balloon to Pike.
“Connect this adaptor to the oxygen port on my suit,” he ordered.
“If it will make you happy,” Pike said, seizing the balloon from Spock and shaking his head. “What are we trying to do, Lieutenant?”
“We will use our oxygen reserves to fill the balloon,” Spock replied. In that moment Pike remembered Oxygen was a good deal lighter than Methane. If they could begin filling the balloon, it would become more buoyant than the surrounding atmosphere and arrest their fall. Pike quickly attached the adaptor to Spock’s Oxygen port, and it clicked satisfactorily into place.
“There,” he said, “How much should I let out?” he asked.
“All of it!” Spock answered. Pike withdrew his hands.
“But you won’t have any air to breath, Spock!” he cried.
“On the contrary, I intend to share your reserve,” Spock replied, busying himself with attaching Pike’s emergency line to his own Oxygen line. Pike nodded to himself. It was actually a brilliant idea. He rotated the valve on Spock’s oxygen tank and instantly heard the hiss of the gas escaping. At first there was no perceptible change in the size of the balloon, which still flapped and flailed around them in the draft of their fall through the atmosphere. The outside pressure was beginning to be painful around his arms and legs. The suit was squeezing him like an anaconda! Finally, he began to see the balloon expanding a little, but it was still fairly limp when Spock’s tank ran out of oxygen. Their fall through the atmosphere had slowed considerably, but they were sill noticeably sinking.
“It was worth an attempt,” Spock said, appearing to give up. Pike felt that panic seeping up again like the tide. Had they really run out of ideas? Was it really going to end like this – crushed to death in the atmosphere of a gas giant – their bodies unrecoverable for their funerals back home? No! Pike refused to believe his time was up. And then he remembered something.
“Wait a minute, Mr. Spock!” he said, rummaging around in his field bag. “I have just the thing.” He produced a tiny phaser. “My backup piece!”
“Congratulations, Captain on your preparedness,” Spock said drily, “but I see nothing around us worth blasting away at like a nineteenth century ‘cowboy’ from Earth – unless you intend to shoot me, that is.” Pike smiled at what could almost be mistaken for a joke from his Vulcan associate.
“Now, wait just a minute there, Mr.,” he said, “If you’d actually cared to read any of the cowboy stories, you’d know that not every ‘cowboy’ was a trigger-happy gunman itching to shoot everything that moves. Some cowboys rely on their knowhow, not their ‘shoot-now’ instincts. Observe.” Pike set the phaser to as wide a beam as he could manage and lowered the power to its lowest setting. He then aimed it up at the balloon limply quivering over their heads and fired. A cone of gentle radiation bathed the balloon in a red light. Nothing drastic happened, so Pike risked raising the power levels slightly. The hum audibly increased and the balloon began to swell as the Oxygen inside began to heat up. Spock had visibly raised his eyebrows to the top of his helmet.
“Fascinating,” he said, analyzing Pike’s work. “By heating the gas, you are creating more distance between the atoms in the gas, thus lowering the density and increasing the buoyancy!”
“What did I tell you, Lieutenant?” Pike smiled. “Not every cowboy is as empty headed as you sophisticated gentlemen.” Spock assented to the comment and graced it without a denial. They had begun to rise now, gaining altitude rapidly, dangling like ornaments from the enormous balloon. Pike took a deep breath of relief as the pressure relaxed from his body, and then caught the look in Spock’s eyes at his wasteful use of the precious Oxygen they were now sharing.
“Sorry,” he mouthed. Up above, the balloon was beginning to swell as the outside pressure reduced. Pike eased up on the heat from his phaser. He’d just have to watch it as it cooled, but he was afraid of a run-away effect – an uncontrolled ascent that would result in the balloon popping and the whole journey down beginning again. Spock was monitoring his Tricorder.
“We are nearing the last recorded altitude of the Enterprise,” he said. Pike’s Tricorder was still broadcasting its beacon. Pike managed to slow their ascent until they were nearly motionless, save being carried along laterally by the wind. The minutes passed without a sign. Every now and again, he hit the balloon with a short phaser blast as they slowly began sinking again. But the Enterprise was nowhere to be seen.
“Isn’t that nice,” Pike muttered. “You’re gone for a couple minutes and your crew forgets about you.” As the words were on his lips, a massive shape appeared straight ahead fading into view through the dense clouds.
“Better not be that whale!” Pike grumbled, raising his little phaser. “I’m done playing Jonah for today!” He squinted at the dark contours and then lowered his phaser with a cry. “They found us!” he bellowed, so loudly that Spock almost removed his helmet, but then was caught up in the moment as the gorgeous Constitution class starship drew under them. It was such a graceful creature that Pike caught himself reaching out to try and touch the beautiful hull as it gently came to a stop. Dredre’s voice came over the coms.
“Captain, can you read me?” he asked.
“Loud and clear!” Pike laughed with joy. “Get us out of here!”
“Sure thing, Captain,” Dredre replied with hesitation. “Its just we’re having trouble differentiating your pattern from whatever that thing is you’re both tied to – not sure we’d want that enormous bag beamed into the Transporter room with you.”
“Understood,” Pike answered. “We’ll help you out there. Just keep the Enterprise level!” He began to untie his strap to the balloon.
“Hurry, Spock,” he said. “If one of us lets go first, the other is going to go shooting to the heavens!” The image was sufficient motivation for Spock to speedily undo the strap from around his waist. They both clung to the loose straps, dangling above the Saucer, which was hovering roughly 5 meters below them.
“On the count of three, Spock.” Pike said. “One…”
“What happens on the count of three?” Spock asked, genuinely curious. Pike looked at him in surprise.
“You let go, Spock!” he cried. “On the count of Three, you let go! Understand.”
“I understand,” Spock replied, sheepishly. Pike shook his head and mumbled something inaudible.
“Okay,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“One, two, and…three!” They both let go at the same time and collapsed on the hull of the ship. Pike rolled on his back and watched the white balloon rise up and up away from them, until it disappeared behind a tall cloud. He stood up with Lt. Spock and gazed around at the amazing sight of the finest ship ever built in a heavenly sea of clouds. Give him a beach chair, and Pike would be in paradise.
“Have I died and gone to Heaven?” Pike whispered.
“I believe,” Spock answered, drily, “the theological concept of Heaven is a bit more elaborate and complex than…”
“Spock?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Shut up, Spock.”
“Very well, Captain.”
And then, Pike felt the familiar tingle of the Transporter beam around him and the majestic scene faded in a sea of shimmering sprites. They both materialized safely on the Main Transporter pad. Pike removed his helmet.
“Mr. Spock,” he said, extending his hand. “it’s been an honor climbing around inside of whales and floating around out there with you. Let’s not do that again any time soon.” Spock nodded and shook his hand.
“Agreed, Captain.”
They stepped off the Transporter and were pulled back into each other by their conjoined Oxygen lines snapping taught.
“Spock!” Pike’s voice echoed outside the hallway.
Within the hour, Pike was back on the Bridge and the Enterprise was back in orbit of B4-LLM. The 12 surviving crewmembers of the Gillhound were safely recovering in Sickbay. Dr. Amadeus was confident that they would all make a full recovery. The four dead were beamed aboard the Administrative Satellite to be transported to their homes for burial.
Pike shook his head. He did not envy Mr. Claverous’ role of calling on the families with the news. He hated bearing sad tidings of deaths among his crew. It happened too often out here on the Frontier.
They had also transmitted their detailed findings about the whale creature to Mr. Claverous, dubbing it, Whippomorpha Terra Incognita, or just “Clootie’s Whale” for short. It was an incredible discovery, and not one that could be ignored, even by a profit driven industry. Scientists from the Federation were already enroute to study the beast, and there were high hopes that it was not alone, but that a pod or more lived on the planet.
The Off-world Mining Guild agreed to adapt their mining operations to accommodate the native creature. Their manned rigs would no longer use the aggravating echolocation for navigation – instead, they would rely on passive sonar, utilizing inexpensive echolocation buoys in the atmosphere to sound out the depths when needed. This way, if the creature did attack again, it would only damage the buoys and not endanger any lives. Furthermore, the buoys were programed to switch off if a rapidly approaching contact was detected. The design came courtesy of Mr. Spock.
Pike smiled at the thought of their little adventure. He’d come to rely on the Lieutenant more than he cared to admit. They made a good team, and together they’d manage to wrangle out of any situation the Universe threw at them. Speaking of the Universe!
“Where to, Captain?” Rigby asked, looking up expectedly from the helm. Pike took in all the faces of his crew. They all were eager to get back out into the open frontier of space.
“You see that star there, Mr.?” he asked, pointing out the screen. Rigby squinted.
“Which one, Sir?” he asked.
“That’s right, Ensign,” Pike smiled. “Which one? Pick one and take us there!”
"Aye, Sir!" Rigby smiled. "One unknown star coming right up!"
Outside, the Constitution class was feeling its oats. The starship pivoted on its Engineering hull and pointed to a small corner of the heavens with its Main Deflector warming up. The warp engines came online and the Enterprise rapidly disappeared from sight – a shimmer of white sailing into the vast unending sea of night – a glimmer of hope to all who meet it.
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