Star Trek Into Darkness Page 0,10

did not dwell on the abruptness evident in his communication officer’s response. “Congratulations, Spock. You just saved the world.”

“Captain. You violated the Prime Directive.”

“So they saw us.” The commanding officer of the Enterprise shrugged. “Big deal.”

Before the science officer could respond further, Kirk signaled to the members of the emergency response team. Any further deprecating comments disappeared beneath a whoosh of coolant gas and sprayed decontaminant.

In a way it was a miniature, if technologically far less sophisticated, version of what at that moment took place within the fracturing supervolcano. As the separate elements within the Rankine case Spock had delivered to the mountain’s throat merged, the resultant physiochemical reaction sent a wave of blue energy blasting in all directions. The case and its physical contents disintegrated, but they were no longer necessary. The self-propagating reaction they had initiated spread and expanded, sending waves of force not only throughout the volcano but down into the rapidly expanding magma chamber far below. The effect was to slow molecular motion within the molten rock. In other words, to cool, with remarkable speed and extraordinary efficacy.

Around the rocky pinnacle where Spock had prepared to meet his demise, the lava solidified. Racing down into the depths, the reaction continued to work its magic. The throat of the volcano turned to solid basalt while the vast magma chamber below ceased to boil. Its energy stilled, its anger calmed, the violent eruption that had been building within the supervolcano was aborted. Still farther below, the three continental plates that had been on the verge of shifting catastrophically continued to grind away slowly against one another. The danger of a major quake devastating this portion of the planet and casting its rapidly maturing indigenous intelligence back into the darkness of the primitive hunter-gatherer receded. It might be hundreds of years, thousands, before such a danger to the planet’s rising intelligence raised its threatening white-hot head again.

In the jungle outside, the already overawed natives looked on in astonishment as the sacred mountain belched forth not fire and fury, not flame and destruction, but a mile-high blast of rapidly cooling and perfectly harmless steam. Nor was this to be the last miracle, for truly the surprises of the gods were forever forthcoming. This final marvel was no less startling than the suppression of the looming volcanic eruption or the appearance of the enormous airborne deity. It was something even the simplest villager could reach out and touch.

Around the villagers, on their buildings and children and vegetable gardens and bemused domesticated animals, it had begun to snow.

II

Like the clock itself, the muted cry of the alarm verged on the antique. The ancient digits on its primitive face read 5:00.

The beeping woke a tired man who had long since ceased to be concerned about the latest, the newest, the most technologically advanced version of anything material. His entire world, his entire existence, had collapsed around him.

Unconcerned by such considerations and now equally awake, the dog clambered joyfully over him and the woman who had been sleeping next to him. Dark-haired, dark-skinned, she was more beautiful than the day they had married. She watched as he rose quickly. They did not speak. Speaking would invariably lead to the subject that concerned them most, that had all too swiftly come to dominate their lives: a shared heartbreak they could scarcely handle.

The pain that shone in his eyes did not arise from his back or any other part of his body. The ache that circumscribed his existence came from elsewhere. It could not be assuaged by medicine old or new, by physical manipulation traditional or unconventional. He only knew that he could not live with it. There had to be a fix. There had to be. Otherwise he knew that while his body might live on, his spirit would die.

Under normal circumstances, the silence that now filled the bedroom would have been comforting. That was no longer the case, and had not been so for some time now. Only one thing would now comfort the man. Maddeningly, that one thing was completely outside his control. He was a spectator to the slow, agonizing demise of his own soul, and could do nothing about it.

The knowledge of his own helplessness in the face of the tragedy that loomed over him tore at his gut every waking hour of every day.

Turning, he found himself gazing into the face of his wife, his life partner. They had been through everything together. Despite the anguish that now consumed them,