Actually, it took nearly 25 hours for them to penetrate the edge of the mystery sector. No giant galactic monster waited there to eat the ship whole. There were no signs of incomprehensible interstellar weapons manned by unknown races, no all-destroying automatic fortresses ready to blast them from known space.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmeboejDofM
There were, of course, stars in the sector. According to the old schematics some of them had planets. But they were few and far between. They'd been cruising inside the sector for half a day now, and nothing vaguely like a threat had come up.
"It certainly seems peaceful enough, Captain."
Sawyer nodded, tried to relax in the command chair. He couldn't, of course. It hadn't been designed to put its occupant to sleep, but rather to keep him alert.
"ETA to the so-called disappearance zone, Mr. Spock?"
"Thirty seconds, Captain."
Sawyer steepled his fingers in his lap and stared at the main telescreen. Only interstellar space, dotted with the pinpoints of stars near and far, stared back. A black ocean, hiding its threats with a sheen of dark beauty.
"All we know," he muttered to himself, "is that ships have vanished in this sector every twenty-seven star years. A long time for a pattern to hold." He glanced at the helm chronometer. The twenty remaining seconds were up.
"Lieutenant Neytiri, put the ship on yellow alert."
"Something happening, sir?"
"No, purely precautionary, Lieutenant."
Neytiri felt relieved. Not that she expected any trouble, but the regularity of ship disappearances in this area made her more than a little nervous. It didn't bother the captain, though.
Sawyer observed the cool demeanor of his communications officers and reflected how fortunate it was that his crew, at least, was not at all worried about this assignment.
"Yellow alert, aye." Neytiri swiveled lightly in her chair, manipulated controls. Throughout the bulk of the starship, proper lights changed color, necessary noises howled warnings.
If there was a lurking, malevolent entity out there somewhere capable of reacting to this gently defiant gesture, it didn't do so. Spock checked out the gratifyingly fast compliance of all decks with the order.
"All stations now operating in yellow alert status, Captain." Minutes passed. Still nothing. Sawyer began to relax a bit. He'd tensed up despite himself, but now that they were several minutes into the interference zone and nothing had happened to volatize the deck beneath him, he felt assured in easing his vigilance.
Nervousness never failed to amaze him. Hadn't he been through all this before? He sighed---tenseness was an occupational hazard.
Nobody noticed Neytiri look up sharply from her console. There was a faint distant sound in her earphones and, no doubt about it, the weird sound had begun the instant they'd crossed into the sensitive sector. But it'd been so faint at first that she hadn't been sure.
It was growing rapidly louder, however. And there was no mistaking it for a natural output of any kind.
"Incoming subspace radio signal, Captain."
Sawyer accepted this news calmly, almost expectantly. So there was something here! But a radio signal was hardly cause for alarm.
"Put it on ship's speakers, Lieutenant. Mr. Ko-Ko, any chance this wavelength might interfere with navigation?"
"It doesn't seem so, sir. It's nowhere near helm-length waves."
Neytiri adjusted her controls. For one moment there was nothing. Then a familiar, wavering tone swelled from the wall speakers and filled the bridge.
It was sensuous, haunting and unmistakably melodic. A deep pulsing beat underlay the melody, a beat that might have been drawn straight from the ancient Na'vi drums. The worldess song itself sounded vaguely like guitars and flutes.
It was lovely.
It was rhapsodic.
It was thoroughly captivating.
At least one member of the bridge complement, however, wore an expression of something other than rapture. It was only a source of puzzlement to Neytiri.
"It's much more like pure music than an intelligible message, Captain." It grew louder, and she dropped the volume to compensate for the increased power of the signal.
"Beautiful," Sawyer murmured. "Might as well let everyone enjoy it, Neytiri. Pipe it through the ship."
"Yes, sir." She didn't notice that the men on the bridge had entered into a state of musical appreciation bordering on Nirvana. They stopped just short of actually swaying in time to the alien rhythm. Even Spock had to force himself to concentrate on his computer readouts instead of on the music.
Helmsman Zaith stared at distant stars, his four hands tapping a gentle rhythm on the navigation console in counterpoint to the music pouring over the speakers.
For long moments after the first faint pipings sounded over the speakers there was nothing, nothing but the steady sylphlike strains from the instruments of unknown players. Then Spock looked up from his viewer, surprised.
"I believe someone is probing us, Captain."
Sawyer spoke slowly, the words coming with some difficulty. "From where---can you trace it?"
"One moment, Captain." Requests were put to the computer. "The signal is apparently originating in a star system some fifteen--no, twenty, light-years distant."
"Any info on it?"
Again the library went to work.
A holographed star-chart replaced the speckled blackness of interstellar space on the telescreen. Only two planetary systems were shown on the old chart. One glowed with a faint red aura all its own.
"That is the Cloo system," Spock informed him. "A small Class-G star at the extreme edge of this sector. It is the only star for many parsecs thought to possibly hold inhabitable planets. No surface survey was ever performed." The information succeeded in drawing Sawyer's attention away from the music.
"That's a mighty powerful signal to reach here from that distance," opined Gordon. He looked over from the bridge engineering station as the music's tempo seemed to increase slightly...abruptly...insistently.
"Strange, Captain, I'm ascribing it to something that's not really there---but seems to be calling out to us."
"Yes, it's odd," Sawyer murmured. "Yes, I get the same feeling myself, Tony."
Final confirmation of the signals attractive power came from an unlikely source.
"It does seem to have attributes similar to a summons," Spock concluded. Only Neytiri was unaffected. She studied the men on the bridge, thoroughly puzzled.
"I don't see any resemblance to a summons, Captain." Sawyer looked back and replied, rather curtly, she thought.
"Noted, Lieutenant. Lieutenant Zaith, set our course for the Cloo system. Factor seven."
Neytiri tried to persuade herself that nothing was wrong with any of this. True, the alien music was interesting, distinctive--an appealing little tune. But a summons? A distant call to some as yet undefined action. No.
She continued to monitor her communications console, but most of her attention was diverted to monitoring the actions of her fellow officers. All of them---Sawyer, Gordon, Ko-Ko, even Zaith, even Balus Spock---wore dream, faraway looks. She'd seen similar expressions on the faces of music lovers before. But other forces were at work here, demanding more than mere appreciation from their listeners.
Or was something wrong with her?
It was as if she was the only one who was tone-deaf at a Mozart concert.
No, surely, there wasn't anything the matter with either her hearing or her sense of musical propriety. But she had to have a second opinion. Pressing a call switch she addressed the broadcast mike softly, whispering.
Not long after her call, the turbolift doors divided and head nurse Becky Thatcher entered the bridge. She took a fast survey of the room before moving quickly to stand next to Neytiri.
"You wanted me, Lieutenant?" she asked quietly, putting a hand on Neytiri's shoulder. The communications officer had admonished her to speak softly when she arrived on the bridge - not that anyone else seemed to have noticed her arrival. "Are you feeling all right?"
"I am," Neytiri replied quietly. She nodded toward the middle of the bridge. "But I want you to observe the men here."
"I do that anyway." Neytiri didn't smile back. "What am I supposed to be looking for?"
"Just look and see if you can draw any conclusions."
Puzzled, Thatcher shrugged slightly and turned to comply with the request. She studied her superior officers.
Funny, nobody was talking to anyone else. The usual idle chit-chat that filled the bridge was absent. There was only the strange music that had begun humming from the intercraft communicators a little while ago. In fact, everyone present except Neytiri seemed transfixed by an invisible hand.
Sawyer and Ko-Ko had risen from their seats. They were staring dreamily, distantly, into empty air. Yet their eyes were open and they smiled raptly. Thatcher concluded that the music supplied more than aural stimulation.
"Beautiful images," murmured Ko-Ko, confirming her guess.
Images? What images?
Neytiri and Thatcher saw nothing. The communications officer looked up at her.
"It began the moment we picked up that signal. And it's gotten progressively worse. Look." She pointed towards the library computer station. "It's even affected Bal."
Unlike Ko-Ko and Sawyer, Spock stayed seated at his station. But he, too, was staring trancelike into nothingness.
Nothingness only to Neytiri and Thatcher.
"Fascinating," Spock whispered. "Like a Vulcan marriage drum." The shimmering phantom dancing before his eyes started to take on stronger outlines, to solidify in space as his imagination lent it form and substance.
She had shining black hair that fell in silken cascades to her feet. She was a Vulcan, that was evident by the green skin. Jeweled leotards clung to her body like a sparkling second skin. Strands of gems were entwined in that ebony mane, spitting out tiny fragments of rainbow as the light changed.
Now she languorously slid behind a small triangular drum. Her hands, delicate and pale green, opened like white flowers. She started to play an unheard rhythm on its taut surface. No, not unheard! There it was now, he could hear it---clear and vibrant as she was.
She began to sway alluringly, moving lazily to and fro as she played. Yes, he could hear it, jungle drums accented by picked guitars and delicate Vulcan tassans. But the sound was coming from the intercom, not from the drum, right? He blinked and spoke thickly. Words came slow and hard, as if he were trying to speak through buttermilk.
"I am experiencing audio-visual suggestion, Captain."
"So am I, Spock." Sawyer's tone and attitude had become something less than authoritative.
She was beautiful. Her golden hair was piled high in metallic ramparts, shading a perfect forehead. A gentle breeze nudged the flowing peignoir close to her body, where it clung with maddening intent to high curves and angles.
She leaned toward him, eyes of deep blue staring, warm, inviting. The petals of the crimson flower that lay cupped in her hands opened to him. They were shaped to form a stylized heart.
Sawyer shook himself.
"Dimensional visions, too?" He frowned. "Do you know what's causing them, Spock?"
The science officer's eventual reply seemed to come from parsecs away. He was still staring, still absorbed in the tugging alien marriage music.
"Logically, we must assume them to be a byproduct of the scanning probe." All this would have seemed totally crazy to Neytiri--if it weren't that everyone was treating it so seriously. But she couldn't keep quiet any longer.
"Sir, what visions? We don't see anything." She indicated Nurse Thatcher, who nodded assent.
Somehow Sawyer found the reserves to turn from his dancing mirage and look back at them. "Nurse Thatcher, you're sure you don't see anything, either?"
"No, sir. Nothing. What is it you all see?"
Sawyer ignored her question, turned his gaze to touch in turn on Ko-Ko, Gordon, Zaith, and Mr. Spock. All continued to stare into space, eyes blank, expressions slightly foolish. The image of his voluptuous blonde persisted, and Sawyer had trouble focusing on Neytiri.
"Tell me, Lieutenant," he murmured curiously, "have I been looking as silly as that?"
Neytiri hesitated, then spoke firmly. This was no time for diplomacy. "Every bit as vacuous, sir."
"Ummm." Sawyer considered. It was growing hard to focus. No matter how he seemed to shift and turn, the blonde stayed in his vision.
"Nurse, take a medical reading. Lieutenant Neytiri, Call Dr. Finn to the bridge.
Thatcher moved away from the communications area and swung her medical tricorder off her shoulder. Since it was precalibrated for humans, she passed over Lt. Zaith for the moment and began with a smirking Ko-Ko. No telling what he saw, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Meanwhile, Neytiri was busy at her console.
"Life Station....Dr. Finn, please report to the bridge.....Dr. Finn, please report to the bridge." She paused while Sawyer waited unconcernedly, watching her. Giving him a puzzled look, she tried again.
"Dr. Finn, report to the bridge-- Life Station, acknowledge!" Nothing. She looked first at Sawyer, then at Thatcher, and shook her head. "No answer."
"Keep trying, Lieutenant," Sawyer ordered dreamily. At the moment he didn't seem to give a damn whether Finn answered or not.
"Yes, sir."
In the reception office of the Esmeralda's central Life Station, the communicator call light winked on and off with mechanical patience, while Neytiri's voice continued to sound from the attendant speaker. "Dr. Finn---report to the bridge---Dr. Finn...."
Dr. Finn was sitting at his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he had his feet comfortably propped up on same and his arms folded behind his head. At the moment he was staring upwards, but his eyes paid no more attention to the ceiling than they did to the communicator call light. A beatific grin dominated his expression.
Dimly, some part of him was aware of the blinking green light and Neytiri's distant, urgent voice. He tuned out both with perfect equanimity, for his mind was busy with more important things.
"The mighty Mississippi flowing," he sighed. "Magnificent....such power in its waves....beautiful...."
Neytiri gave up trying to contact Finn. She had a suspicion why he wasn't answering. If she was correct, nothing short of a Condition Red would provoke the slightest response from the good doctor.
For a moment she considered giving the alarm on her own, but she was not quite ready to assume the authority. While no doubt affected by the strange music, Sawyer, Spock, and the other officers still seemed in control of themselves. She checked her exterior monitors. Unfortunately, the readings they provided were not the ones she hoped to see.
"The probe is getting stronger, Captain." Hands adjusted amplifiers. Also, the rhythmic pulsing had grown more insistent and the melodic convolutions more involved, more complex.
"Mr. Spock," Sawyer ordered, "reevaluate your scanner readings,"
Spock's reply was sleepy, but fast. "That's what I have been doing, Captain, although this signal makes normal work difficult. Readings are still inconclusive. That it appeals directly to the subconscious desire is self-evident. But how it relates to the music remains to be seen.
"It is very odd that only the men appear to be affected by this probe's hallucinatory capabilities. I suggest that perhaps ..." His voice trailed off as he stared at the main viewscreen. Sawyer was already looking that way.
The indistinct outline of a planet started to grow visible. It increased rapidly in size on the screen. Due to some anomaly in the ionosphere, the atmosphere had a faint golden hue. As it expanded further, the musical probe grew corresponding louder--and louder---and LOUDER---until it seemed to wash the entire bridge in a tsunami of pure emotion.
The constant driving rhythm defeated all Neytiri's efforts to keep it at a manageable level. It seemed to emanate now, not from her speakers, but from the walls themselves.
There was a blinding flash of light and the bridge was suddenly bathed in a deep pink glow. At the same time the music rose to a deafening crescendo that momentarily paralyzed everyone. The astonishing fusion of brilliant color and sound vanished simultaneously.
As the final tints of pink faded from outraged retinas, the probe officially stopped. After the long bolero, the resultant silence was shocking. Sawyer, Spock, and the other men continued to stare hypnotically at the screen and the small, bronze-hued planet floating there.
"Cut speed, Mr. Ko-Ko, and set us an orbit."
Ko-Ko's reply was casual. "Aye, sir." Sawyer rose from his chair and yawned.
"Mr. Spock, we'll take a party and beam down to explore the surface. Inform Transporter Chief Santos of the approximate nexus of the probe-signal generator. We'll try and set down there. Life-support belts, Mr. Spock?"
"None will be needed, Captain," Spock replied after checking his scanners. "Everything seems conducive to humanoid life. It doesn't really matter."
Neytiri nearly fell out of her seat at that. She could see that Spock's highly uncharacteristic casualness over such a vital question had shocked Nurse Thatcher, too. Nobody else seemed to think it worthy of comment.
"Tony, you have the conn until we get back."
"Hmmmm? Oh, of course, Captain." Gordon was staring cheerfully at the telescreen, but Neytiri had a hunch the fatuous grin on his face was directed at another sight.
Sawyer and Spock left via the elevator. Moments later, they ambled casually into the transporter room. Finn was already there, and the single security man Sawyer had requested, Ensign Ross, arrived shortly after.
"Engineer Santos----Engineer Santos!" Sawyer said more insistently when the transporter chief failed to respond.
"What?" Santos raised his head from cupped hands and smiled over at them. "Oh, it's you, Captain. How's everything?"
"Good, Chief, good." He moved up into the transporter alcove. "Spock call you before we left the bridge? Can you handle those coordinates?" Santos nodded, grinned at Spock as if the science officer was his long-lost brother.
The other officers joined Sawyer in the transporter. Everyone was smiling happily at each other, or at nothing in particular, or at some private thought. After several minutes of this, a touch of reality intruded on Sawyer's daydreaming.
"I don't mean to put you our, Mr. Santos," Sawyer murmured easily, "but if you've got a spare moment, could you please beam us down?"
"Sure, Cap'n. Anything for you."
Fortunately, Santos had performed this operation several thousand times before. He could have done it in his sleep---and that's just about what he was doing. His mind was not on his duty, but he manipulated the transporter controls solely by rote.
Hopefully, he wouldn't rematerialize Sawyer, Spock and the others 100 meters above their touchdown point.
On the bridge, Gordon moved slowly to the command chair and flopped into it with little grace. His brows drew together. For the briefest of moments he frowned, as if something, something, wasn't quite what it should be. Then his previous contentment returned, and a satisfied grin spread across his face. Almost indifferently, he thumbed the log activator.
"Ship's log---stardate 6394.9. Chief Engineer Gordon in command." For some reason that struck him as particularly humorous. He giggled. Neytiri's jaw dropped in disbelief.
"We are continuing to hold standard orbit around a planet in the Cloo system." The planet in question drifted on the screen in front of him, holding his gaze. This sight was continually interrupted by other phantoms which flashed across his field of vision somewhere between his nose and the viewer. They tickled his consciousness like bubbles before vanishing, leaving only a thin pleasant memory behind.
Once it was an astonishing orchidlike flower, whose center was a face of delicate elfin beauty. Another time, he saw thousands of gold coins, clinking, tinkling, and bouncing metallically off each other, blowing along a sandy beach like leaves in a high wind. A third time a carved crystal goblet spewed out an endless waterfall of brilliantly faceted gemstones. Now and then, the facets revealed faces that had nothing to do with internal mineral structure.
He continued the entry happily, almost singing the words.
"Probes and sensors utilized subsequent to the departure of the landing party indicate there was once a vast civilization here." The back of his mind wondered if it mightn't be a good idea to report this to Sawyer and Spock, down on the surface. Oh well, they should find evidence soon enough. Besides, what difference did it make? What difference did anything make?
A lithe female form seemed to rise from the contours of a mountain range now visible on the surface below. Ah, lovely, lovely!
"However, life readings of any kind were sparse and concentrated. Captain Sawyer has beamed down with others to investigate. Oh, fantastic!" His voice dropped to a whisper even the sensitive log mike couldn't pick up.
There were two people on the bridge who saw no orchid faces, heard no wind-scattered lucre, no cascade of jewels. And it worried them.
They were busy at the library computer, intent and agitated. Neytiri had been feeding the Esmeralda's brain a steady stream of questions. Now she studied the flow of words and figures that formed the reply. Each new answer deepened her frown, increased her apprehension.
"These readings just don't match up with Spock's official report," she snapped. "So far I count three sensor readings that are off---two of them dealing with the wavelengths of that probe. That's not like Spock.
She was damning herself now for now sounding the general alarm when she'd had the chance. It wouldn't do much good now. She glanced around at the rest of the bridge.
Ko-Ko was sleeping, head down, on the navigation console. Lt. Zaith occasionally patted all three hands together in the manner of a little boy, and Gordon---Chief Engineer Gordon---was ignoring the still-recording log and conducting a silent orchestra of his own. If she'd seen the instruments involved, even Neytiri might have blushed. She used a remote to deactivate the log.
No, their reaction to a general alarm would be somewhat less than devastating.
She turned back to the computer. There had to be an explanation buried somewhere in the sensor readings.
There had to be!
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The temple reminded Sawyer of a well-insulated Parthenon as viewed through a fun-house mirror. Basic architectural lines were there, but they conformed to no known earthly pattern. He couldn't even tell whether the marblelike facing, brilliant white with pink veins and black striations for contrast, was stone or metal. The top of the structure seemed to melt into a pink fog that swirled gently in the light air.
A moment before, several small mist-shrouded forms had coalesced in front of the structure to leave Sawyer, Spock, Finn and Ross standing just at its base.
It seemed they'd forgotten their life-support belts. Tch! It could have been fatal, but Spock's casual assumption as to the planet's hospitality turned out to be right. By now any outsider would be justified in questioning their sanity, but none of the men affected seemed to find the oversight worth talking about.
Spock had remembered (fortunately!) to bring his tricorder, however. The security guard had one, too, and Finn had a medical 'corder in addition to his standard emergency kit.
Their gaze never strayed from the temple. They stared in admiration at the arching columns of polished stone/metal, at the delicate, gravity-defying arches.
"Fantastic architecture," Sawyer murmured. "Only an incredibly advanced race could have built a place like this." He didn't seem to find it particularly significant that the temple might be made of stone instead of maclarium or some equally technologically advanced structural material.
His opinion of the astonishingly advanced civilization of this planet was echoed by other members of the landing party. Ross turned to Sawyer and gestured at his own tricorder. He seemed to be having some trouble speaking. What was wrong with the enlisted ranks these days?
"You want the routine post-landing checks made, sir?"
"I don't think that will be necessary, Ross," Sawyer replied easily. "Why go to all that trouble? There aren't any threats here." His assurance bothered no one. "Spock can handle any needed scans."
Fortunately the science officer's judgment was less affected than the captain's. He was already taking readings. That didn't keep him from staring at the temple, nor did it make his voice less distant and dreamy.
"There's something compelling about it, captain."
"Yes." There was no music now, no all-absorbing rhythm pounding in their ears, but Spock was right. Something was pulling at them!
Sawyer took a half-step backwards and frowned. Spock continued to work with his tricorder and abruptly he also seemed to realize something had taken an unpleasant grip on them.
"Captain, the urgency of the situation suggests that more than a mere visual compulsion is at work here. I advised remaining at a distance until I can determine the depth and significance of this influence. Life forms are indicated---concentrated at some point inside of this structure."
Sawyer's trancelike expression intensified, and the momentary feeling of unease vanished. He seemed to hesitate, looking around for---what? But when his gaze finally returned to the temple, it stayed there---fixed.
"There's no apparent danger, Spock. A belligerent life form would already have sallied out to attack us. Let's go." He moved quickly now, even eagerly, towards the temple steps.
Finn and Ross needed no urging and followed close on his heels. Spock followed more warily.
It was all very logical, of course. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that his logic was leading him down possible lanes he didn't care for. But something at work here had a way of muffling the normal lines of reason. Spock almost seemed to have cause and effect tied together, and then everything would kind of blur in his mind.
Huge, intricately carved doors were recessed into the front of the temple. As soon as the men from the Esmeralda had approached to within a few steps, the doors began to swing silently inward. That in itself should have been cause for greater caution. But Sawyer led them inside as if they'd been expected for a long, long time.
They walked down a high, narrow hall which gradually opened into a big audience chamber. Huge, hammock-like settees filled with silken cushions and high, cube-shaped tables of red-gold were set on both sides of the chamber. Various ornaments and utensils carved from single gems studded the tables and walls.
Always they moved toward a high, cushioned dais at the far end of the chamber. The aliens were there, waiting for them.
Resting on the dais itself or standing in a semicircle around it were a cluster of the most breathtakingly beautiful women any of them had ever seen or imagined. They wore long, togalike costumes which tantalized more than concealed. A few lounged on thick cushions covered with fur.
Like all else on this planet, their skins seemed tinged with a combination of gold and pink. All the colors of the rainbow gleamed in their flowing waist-length hair. Their eyes were a deep, drowning purple.
All of them stood about 2 1/2 meters tall.
When they eventually moved it was slowly, with great care and with deliberate patience. The reactions of the landing party were similar.
"Radiant … just like goddesses ... look at those eyes!" came the varied whispered comments. Even Spock was overwhelmed. Thankfully, he was able to retain sufficient presence of mind to borrow Finn's medical tricorder. The good doctor didn't seem to need it.
A quick scan brought some interesting information.
"The form - obviously - is humanoid," he murmured. "But there are a number of internal differences of indeterminate significance. Endocrinology especially appears to operate at variance with the humanoid norm. Also, their bodies seem to function at a surprisingly high electrical level.
"According to the tricorder the range of psychokinestatics - outside influences having an actual effect on bodily function - is unusually high."
"Still, they're the prettiest body functions I ever saw," Finn mumbled, utterly enthralled.
For their part, the reactions of the women as they rose and slowly surrounded the men were equally ecstatic.
"They have come----such wonderous ones---they grace us with their presence...." and similar phrases not calculated to bruise the ego of any male listener.
It all puzzled Spock, briefly, only because their reactions were exactly what one might wish for. It was perfect - too perfect. But that didn't keep him from abandoning himself to it completely.
The crewmen had to lean backward to maintain eye contact as the tallest of the women stepped forward and extended her hand to each of them in turn. Her voice rang like church bells sounding through Rome.
"I am Eron," and the very neem seemed to hint of warmth and love, "the supremess. Welcome, Thomas Sawyer, Dr. Finn, Balus Spock, Ensign Ross. Welcome, honored ones."
"Welcome, honored ones!" came the heavenly chorus from the assembled women.
Sawyer mumbled some suitably mushy reply, the sentiment, if not the actual words, echoed by his companions---including Spock. It was fortunate no recorder was on to set down the words for posterity. Their infantile responses would never come back to haunt them.
They didn't sound infantile at the time, however. They sounded delightfully appropriate.
"How do you know our names?"
"The Oxxa revealed you to us," Eron explained. She turned to face a fluorescent blue curtain shot through with silver wire. Instead of touching a switch or giving a signal, she hummed a single soft, distinctive note. The curtain responded by sliding silently aside.
Jutting out from the wall behind the curtain was a big transparent cube. In its middle floated a perfect 3-D model---no, not model, a picture, image, whatever label one could think of--of the Esmeralda. More perfect than any hologram, it was so real it seemed like the ship itself had been reduced in size and set into the cube.
The landing party moved closer, eyeing the device with true interest. As an example of alien engineering it was intriguing, but not especially spectacular. Although there were aspects of it which were not familiar--no Space Federation instrument could produce quite so realistic a depiction, for example--the technology needed to produce it was not beyond comprehension.
But Spock found those very aspects disturbing. That, and the sophistication of such a machine in comparison with its essentially barbaric surroundings. What could the connection be?
"Tonal control," he murmured sleepily. "Quite impressive." Eron moved close and put a hand on his shoulder, looking down at him.
"The Oxxa will reveal the answer to whatever one asks of it, Balus."
Spock was skeptical, but before he could ask questions Eron moved away from him to stand next to Sawyer.
"We are grateful you heard the signal, Captain, and that you responded."
Signal! Something about a signal!. Something was hammering insistently at the back of his screaming for attention. He shunted it angrily aside.
Signal! They were here in the first place because of----why the hell were they here?!
"That signal----it was a distress call?" Sawyer asked.
Eron's smile faded. For a second a terrible sadness seemed to overwhelm her. Then she quickly forced cheerfulness back into her voice.
"I will explain its meaning later, Captain. For now, we have readied a feast to celebrate your coming---and your safe arrival."
Sawyer would have pursued the matter further. He wanted to---it seemed he should---but somehow, in the face of Eron's radiant smile and the proximity of her body, the questions lost their initial urgency.
Several women guided each man to one of the swaying, overstuffed hammocks, helped him gently into it. Others brought elaborate golden trays piled high with exotically colored fruits, and white-gold chalices filled with a cool, bubbly beverage.
Two or three women clustered around each man. They began to eat and drink. Especially choice tidbits were chosen for the visitors from the high mountain of food.
One swarthy giantess rose and took several round gold fruits from a crystal bowl. "My name is Phari, honored ones," she whispered sensuously. She moved to the middle of the chamber.
There she began juggling the fruits while simultaneously starting a wild, barely controlled dance. Performed by anyone else the combination would have seemed ridiculous. But Phari's movements turned it into an incredibly alluring ballet.
Sawyer and his companions watched. Eron had knelt at his feet and was stroking his bare legs above the boottops. From unseen instruments, heady music throbbed. If possible, the women now seemed more beautiful, more exotic, more alive than ever. Very much more alive.
"Captain's log," Sawyer sighed heavily, not caring whether or not a tricorder was running to pick up his voice, "stardate 6594.0. The beauty of this place has no equal. It's the answer to all a man's secret desires, private fantasies, dreams. Exquisite in every way." He paused drowsily and managed to get the chalice to his lips for another sip of the champagnelike liquid.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNtIfHG1sET
"We're here to investigate....to investigate...." He almost frowned. A last warning tried to sound, faded quietly behind a wall of suffocating pink flesh. "To invest....." Eron made a deft move with her hips and he smiled.
"The women themselves radiate delight." He watched as Phari continued her juggling dance, moving quickly, easily, to and fro across the chamber floor. Finn fervently seconded Sawyer's unrecorded sentiments.
"Truly, Eron, you and your friends are the most beautiful women in the galaxy. But where are your men?"
"They have their own temple, their own compound," the giantess informed him. "We find it better this way. Thus, we are free to pursue our own pleasures and fulfill our own needs without harassment from the other."
"I'll drink to that," Finn bubbled.
Phari, her filmy toga flying in loose folds from her magnificent form, spun across the floor toward them. Suddenly, she called out laughingly.
"Balus!" She tossed one of the golden fruits toward him.
"I'll drink to that," echoed Finn.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlL0iecI8x1
Spock rose automatically to catch the fruit, reeled dizzily and nearly keeled over. Eron and several of the other women caught him before he struck the floor.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzgTOFBr29S
Sawyer was halfway out of his hammock and starting toward Spock, his increasing lethargy finally interrupted by his friend's plight. He got only a few steps before he found himself swaying unsteadily. It finally penetrated the rose-colored haze that had enshrouded him that something was wrong here.
Finn and Ross were also on their feet, but just barely. Neither was in any condition to help anyone but himself. Other women rushed to their aid.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXt2HO0ZWhL
"Take them to the slumber chambers," Eron directed. "They are tired and heavy with food and drink. They have to rest."551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUQFNj9N95K
There was no malice in her voice, nothing threatening, only honest concern for their welfare. It didn't make sense that they'd been drugged, tricked. And the giantess's reaction was hardly one of triumph.
With a pair of women supporting each of them, the men of the Esmeralda were led, staggering, toward a side corridor. Finn managed to gasp out something intelligible, but his words were severely slurred.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3xAxBcVdMc
"Prob---probably that nectar, or whatever it was they gave us to drink. It's more potent than Delvian brandy."551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEd8bTbVnxQ
"I'll drink to that," mimicked Ross sarcastically. Of the four, he was the last one who should have succumbed to the lure of alien liquor. Some security man! He was blaming himself needlessly. They'd all been fooled.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ04U4nuoz7t
Finn looked as if he wanted to say more, but he couldn't. Now he was almost wholly under the effects of the powerful beverage.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡft7hHSLKk4
None of them could see very well either.551Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAXyOLUVio7
