“We’re informed, Spock,” Kirk said. “What have you found out?”
“The Starfleet central computer system on Earth’s moon has been compromised.”
“That’s impossible,” McCoy sputtered.
“Apparently no longer,” Spock replied calmly. “Starfleet Security has learned of unauthorized data-retrieval worm programs that have somehow been inserted into the system. How or why this has been done is unknown. However, it is known that one of the triggers for a particular program was the reference ‘Gamma Canaris.’ ” Spock paused and looked at Kirk.
Kirk understood the significance of Spock’s information. “I included that on the filing data for the personal log.”
“Precisely,” Spock said. “And though the actual contents of your log were not uploaded to the system, its filing data were, giving the source of the item, the time and place of its creation, and—”
“Its location within the archives storage stacks,” Kirk concluded grimly. “And since the information it contained was not available in the computer itself, someone needed to physically break in to obtain the log.”
“But you said the log wasn’t missing,” McCoy objected.
Spock regarded McCoy with extreme forbearance. “Doctor, the log was in the form of a standard, unencrypted data wafer. A simple tricorder could record its data in seconds without leaving any trace of the process.”
Kirk was deeply troubled by Spock’s revelation. “Why would anyone be so interested in the Gamma Canaris region, Spock? And who would have the technical ability to compromise Starfleet’s central computer?”
Spock appeared almost apologetic. “I have been able to arrive at only one, extremely tenuous connection between Gamma Canaris and current events,” he said. “According to celestial navigation charts as they were used one hundred and fifty years ago, the Gamma Canaris region is almost directly opposite the course that would be set at the time between Centauri B II and the colony of Stapledon Center at Wolf 359.”
Kirk understood instantly. “If Zefram Cochrane had been intending to … throw off anyone who might be following him, for whatever reason, what better way to gain some distance and some time than by heading off in the opposite direction from the one anyone would suspect?”
“Without subspace sensors,” the science officer agreed, “the possible volume of space Cochrane might be found in would grow exponentially with each passing second.”
“You’re saying Cochrane was running from someone?” McCoy asked, clearly astounded at this sudden expansion of his foul-play theory.
Spock crossed his arms, clearly not eager for a debate. “I said it was only a tenuous connection, Doctor. If it is real, I do not pretend to understand its significance.”
But the events of one hundred and fifty years ago weren’t Kirk’s immediate concern. “What about Starfleet’s computer system, Spock? Who has the capability to enter it without detection? Klingons? Romulans?”
“It is inconceivable that any hostile force could get operatives close enough to the system’s programming units. Such a force would have to infiltrate key input stations on Earth’s moon in order to upload the sophisticated worm programs Starfleet has detected,” Spock said.
“Then who?”
“Only someone working within Starfleet would have both the opportunity and the capability to circumvent existing security protocols.”
The logical outcome of Spock’s reasoning hit Kirk like a phaser blast. There was no other explanation.
McCoy leaned forward, his voice an urgent whisper. “Do you know what you’re saying, Spock?”
“I am well aware of the conclusions that can be drawn from the information I have uncovered, Doctor.”
Kirk stated those conclusions out loud, as repugnant as they were. “There is a possibility that Admiral Kabreigny herself is involved in a conspiracy at the highest levels of Starfleet, and that that conspiracy has something to do with Zefram Cochrane.”
McCoy was incensed. “That’s madness. Next thing you’ll be saying that it’s up to us to find the conspirators on our own because we can’t trust anybody!”
Spock nodded. “Indeed, Doctor, you have anticipated me. I suggest we proceed with utmost caution, pursuing these affairs outside of normal channels, as I have already begun. By acting against Admiral Kabreigny, it is possible that we are helping to preserve the stability of Starfleet and the Federation itself.”
“But,” Kirk warned, “if there is no conspiracy, it is just as possible that we’re engaging in treason.”
On that encouraging note, Kirk recalled uneasily, the meeting had ended.
As Kirk, Spock, and McCoy rounded the ridge to the west, they didn’t need their tricorders to tell them what had happened to Cochrane’s home.
The jewel-shaped prefab shelter had been torn apart by phaser blasts. Half of it had fallen in on itself and the remnants were streaked with soot from a long-extinguished fire. Two standing wall sections were partially melted, and the ripples of solidified metal that had formed around the beam blasts bore the unmistakable glitter of phasered metal.
“Good Lord,” McCoy whispered.
“We didn’t give them any weapons,” Kirk said with bitter regret. Before leaving orbit six months earlier, he had personally beamed down two pallets of supplies, with seeds, farming implements, a computer reader, a library of data wafers, even a subspace radio in case Cochrane changed his mind about communicating with the galaxy. But he had included no phasers.
Spock checked his tricorder. “Judging from the ferocity of the attack, Captain, hand phasers would not have offered much in the way of defense.” He pointed to a rise in the distance. “Note the disturbance in the soil on that small hill.” Kirk saw it. “I surmise a craft of some kind landed there. Most likely armed with a phaser cannon.”
Kirk felt sick. Is this how the twenty-third century had welcomed Cochrane? Is this what Kirk had done to him?
Spock squinted at his tricorder screen. “Doctor, are you still detecting no life signs?”
McCoy broke out his medical tricorder. “I … I don’t know.” He looked at Spock. “The Companion?”
“Captain, there appears to be something in the wreckage of the shelter which is alive. Barely.”
Kirk was scrambling through the loose, sandy soil before Spock and McCoy had shut off their equipment. “Cochrane?!” he shouted. “Companion?!”
He looked down as he sprinted toward the shelter. There were dozens of bootprints in the soil, overlapping, many switching directions, all the signs of a fight. Most were softened by the wind, but no more than a few weeks old.
Kirk came to the melted doorway of the shelter. There was no way in. He called out again.
There was an answer: a moan from the back.
Kirk swung around to the left. Spock and McCoy went to the right. One fallen wall panel had been propped up like a lean-to against an empty supply pallet from the Enterprise. Empty water packs were strewn around it along with wrappings from Starfleet emergency rations.
“Cochrane?” Kirk asked of the shadows beneath the wall panel. Someone—something—moved within the darkness. A thin, white hand fell out. There was another moan. Spock and McCoy ran up from the other side as Kirk dropped to his knees and reached in to gather the small figure in his arms.
“Companion,” he said gently. “I heard your message. I’ve come for you.”
Kirk stood up with the limp form of Federation Commissioner Nancy Hedford in his arms. She was dressed in a torn, pale orange jumpsuit similar to the one Cochrane had worn. Her face was smudged with dirt, dried blood at the corner of her mouth and under her nose. On one side of her head, her dark hair was caked with blood. On the other side, it was little more than singed bristle, with angry red blisters visible on her scalp. She was also at least five kilos lighter than she had been when Kirk had seen her last, on a frame that could not remain healthy with that loss.
McCoy held a scanner delicately to her temple, ran it above her c
hest, adjusting the device’s sensitivity to block out Kirk’s readings.
“Companion, what happened?” Kirk asked. “Where’s Zefram?”
The Companion’s eyes fluttered open at the name. The white of one eye was dark red with broken capillaries. She had been hit by a strong phaser blast, Kirk realized; probably left for dead by whoever did this.
“Zefram …” the Companion whispered. Her voice was dry, weak, but there was still the faint, haunting overlay of two voices speaking at once—the energy being and Nancy Hedford combined as one.
Kirk glanced at McCoy. McCoy shook his head grimly. He pulled a hypospray from his medical kit and held it to the Companion’s arm. It hissed softly.
“They took him,” the Companion said weakly. “They took the man and he is gone.” Then whatever McCoy had injected her with took hold. For a moment, awareness blossomed in her eyes and she looked directly at Kirk.
“We are alone,” the Companion cried out in anguish. Tears cut furrows through the smudges on her cheeks. Kirk felt her frail body tremble in his arms. “How do you bear it? How … ?” Her body shuddered, then went limp. Kirk looked at McCoy in alarm.
“I can’t tell you why she’s still alive, but she is,” McCoy said. “Extreme symptoms of exposure bordering on hypothermia. Dehydration. Starvation. Massive phaser damage to the central nervous system. Jim, she was hit by a beam set to kill.”
Kirk looked at his officers and made his decision. “We can’t keep this to ourselves any longer.”
“No,” McCoy agreed. “She must be treated on the Enterprise.”
Spock disagreed. “She draws her life from this place, Doctor. She cannot remain apart from it.”
“Damn it, Spock—if I can’t stabilize her, it won’t matter where she is. Besides, look around you. Whatever it is she draws from this planetoid, somehow it must be getting something from her in return. And the way she is now, she’s in no condition to keep it functioning. It’s all going to blazes.” McCoy turned to Kirk. “Jim, if I keep her in isolation, we can probably avoid Admiral Kabreigny hearing any mention of Cochrane, but I’ve got to treat her up on the Enterprise.”
“The admiral can’t be our main concern now,” Kirk said. “But keeping her in isolation is worth a try. Call for a beam-up, Doctor. Medical emergency. Mr. Spock, I want a full security detail down here. I want to know what kind of phasers were used, what landed on that hill, and how many attackers were involved. I also want a full orbital scan, looking for any ionization traces of a ship that might have left here in the past four to five weeks.”
“I shall remain here to coordinate,” Spock said.
McCoy spoke into his communicator. “Enterprise, three to beam up at these coordinates. Mr. Spock is staying on the surface. Alert sickbay we have a medical emergency. The patient is … human.”
Kirk shifted his grip on the Companion’s unconscious form. She felt so fragile he was afraid she might break in his grasp.
Spock stepped away from Kirk and McCoy to give the transporter technician on the Enterprise an easier fix. “Good luck, Captain,” he said.
Kirk regarded his friend with a slight smile. “That’s not very logical, Spock.”
“Perhaps,” Spock agreed. “But I have found there are times in human affairs where logic does not apply. This, unfortunately, may be one of them.”
“They came for him,” the Companion said, her voice twinned in eerie harmony with Nancy Hedford’s. “At night, a ship landed, not far, on the hill. Zefram was so happy, so excited.” She looked over at Kirk with a bittersweet smile. “He thought it might be you, Captain Kirk.”
Kirk squeezed the Companion’s gaunt hand. Her pulse as amplified by the life-sign monitor above the medical bed was regular, though weak. She had been cleansed of blood and dirt, and McCoy had worked his magic so that there was color in her face again, but the glittering bandage around her forehead and over her phaser-damaged eye still attested to the seriousness of her condition.
However, McCoy was certain she would pull through, if only because the effect of the Companion on Nancy Hedford’s human body had a cumulative, restoring influence, no doubt the same process by which Sakuro’s disease had been vanquished. But Kirk didn’t know if the Companion would maintain the will to survive. The security detail on the planetoid’s surface had found no trace of Zefram Cochrane. Only indications of wanton destruction, as if whoever had come for the scientist had wanted to leave no trace of his presence there.
“Do you know who they were?” Kirk asked, keeping his hand closed over the Companion’s, trying to help her fight the desperate aloneness he knew she must be experiencing.
“Part of us does not,” the double voices sighed, “but part of us says … ‘Orions.’ ”
Kirk tried to stay calm. McCoy was by his side and had been firm in his insistence that Kirk not alarm or tire his patient. “Did they have green skin?” Kirk asked.
The Companion nodded. “And they came with phasers … phasers …” She closed her one exposed eye. “Such a hateful thing it is. The man ran to them, he welcomed them to our home, and they used energy against him, made him fall. We heard his thoughts cease. We were so alone….”
Kirk wasn’t sure what she meant by hearing Cochrane’s thoughts cease. “Was Zefram alive?” he asked. “Did he … continue?”
The Companion looked up to the ceiling of sickbay. “The man continues,” she said. “We can feel him still. But he is so far away.”
“How far?” Kirk asked.
The Companion opened and closed her mouth as if trying to answer. “Part of us knows, but the other part cannot say.” She sighed again. “We will not feel him for long. He is that far away.”
“Could you take us to him?” Kirk said.
But that was crossing McCoy’s line. “Jim! You know she can’t leave the planetoid.”
“Companion,” Kirk said, leaning closer to her, “how long can you remain away from your home?”
“Without us there to tend it, care for it, our home is dying,” she said wistfully. “We will know death. Without the man, how can we have a home? How can we live?”
McCoy took over. “Companion, listen to me. I’m your doctor. Part of you has to know what that means. And as your doctor, I guarantee you you’re not dying. You’re strong, getting stronger. You’ll be able to continue. But what I need to know is, how soon must you return to the surface?”
“A tiny march of days,” the Companion said. “Less than a year, less than a month. You have so many names for what is the same thing, this passage of time. How do you keep it all in your mind, worrying about such things?”
“Less than a week?” Kirk asked. “Can you stay off your home for no more than a single week? Two weeks?”
“We do not know.”
“Try,” Kirk implored her. “Both parts of you must work together if you ever want to see the man again. Do you understand me? Nancy Hedford must listen to the Companion, translate her thoughts into terms we can understand.”
The Companion stared straight up in silence. At last she spoke. “Six days,” she said. “If we do not return in six days, we will not continue.”
“And how far away is the man?” Kirk said. “Ask the Nancy Hedford part to remember what she knows about starships. Can we reach the man and return with him here in less than six days?” Kirk felt McCoy’s hand on his shoulder, silently warning him not to continue this pressure on the woman much longer.
“It is so confusing,” the Companion said. “Zefram would help us when this happened.”
“Can I help?” Kirk said urgently, knowing that McCoy would act to stop him soon. “Is there anything I can do to make this easier?”
“He is close,” the Companion wept. “He is in such pain.”
“How close?” Kirk demanded.
“Captain! You can’t push her like this,” McCoy finally snapped.
Kirk ignored the doctor. “Companion, talk to Nancy Hedford again. Wherever the man is, can this ship go t
o him and return here in six days?”
“Yes,” the Companion whispered after a moment. “At your fastest speed.”
“Can you tell us where to go?” Kirk asked, excited to finally be getting somewhere.
“We do not have the words,” the Companion replied. “No part of us has the words.”
Kirk squeezed her hand. “That’s all right. We’ll teach you the words.” He looked at McCoy. “Do whatever you have to to get her to the Auxiliary Control Center.”
“What?!”
“I’ll have Sulu meet us there. He can go over the charts with her, work out some sort of mutually understandable coordinate system we can feed into navigation without being on the bridge.”
Refusal was in McCoy’s eyes. “She won’t be able to take the strain.”
“She loves him, Bones. She’ll be able to take the strain. Or neither of them will continue.”
“This is insane,” McCoy said. But as Kirk had known he would, the doctor was weakening at the mention of the power of romantic love.
“Only for six days. Then … it won’t matter.”
“And what will you tell the admiral? I can’t keep saying that Commissioner Hedford is in a coma.”
“We’ll tell the admiral we’re searching for the missing liner. And we will be. It has to be connected with this.” The heartbeat from the medical board began to slow. Kirk felt the Companion’s fingers loosen in his.
McCoy checked the board. His tone was stern, filled with medical authority no captain could override. “She’s sleeping again. It would be advantageous if she were allowed to continue to do so.”
Kirk thought it over. “Spock needs another hour on the surface. But then I want her working with Sulu.”
McCoy nodded though it was clear he wasn’t pleased. Then he took on a different expression, troubled, wondering. “Who do you think has him, Jim?”
Kirk shrugged. “Orion pirates? Smugglers? They were behind the attempt to derail the Babel Conference.”
“But if Spock’s right about the Gamma Canaris connection to Cochrane, then this has been going on for longer than we’ve even known about Coridan. Longer than there’s even been a Federation.”
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