Star Trek - Log 7

by Alan Dean Foster

  Spock concurred. "That will take place, taking into account a rapid increase in our regression corresponding to our increasing speed, in approximately eighteen minutes, thirty-five seconds, Captain. However, that will not be the most crucial time."

  "Explain, Mr. Spock."

  "Before that point is reached, we will all have returned to infantilism. And," he concluded, "this means we are losing our knowledge concomitant with our years, and both at an alarming rate. It is possible that we will be too young, mentally, to operate the Enterprise at the crucial stage in our interuniversal passage . . ."

  IV

  Kirk pondered the problem for long minutes, then broke off when he found himself staring with a little too much fascination at the sixteen-year-old boy sitting before the now massive-looking helm console.

  "How's our present course, Mr. Sulu?"

  The youth started to reply, hesitated, and stared blankly at the now bewildering array of instrumentation spread before him. "I . . . I'm not sure," he finally confessed in a shockingly altered tenor. "What am I doing here, anyway? What are all these dials and gauges and lights?" He turned and stared with rising confusion at Kirk.

  "And you . . . you're . . .? Who are you, mister?"

  "He's too young, Captain," Spock interrupted. "Far younger than he was when he entered Starfleet. Not only has he regressed beyond the point of knowing how to operate Enterprise instrumentation, his youthful mind is beginning to doubt its far larger store of memories. Look at Lieutenant Uhura."

  Kirk turned and saw a puzzled young girl running her hands uncertainly over winking telltales.

  "They are turning into children, Captain," Spock concluded.

  "But they just can't lose all their acquired knowledge, Mr. Spock. Our physical makeup isn't the same as the Arretians."

  "I suspect all the knowledge is still there, Captain," his first officer explained, "locked away deep within their minds. But the mechanism for retrieving such information is degenerating as they grow younger."

  "We'll cope, somehow," countered Kirk tightly. "Mr. Arex, take over helm functions for Mr. Sulu. I want a full status report from all sections, Lieutenant Uhura. Lieutenant Uhura?"

  "I beg your pardon, mister?" she replied dazedly.

  "Never mind. Spock, you can fill in for her temporarily. Their replacements would only be as young and ineffective as they. You and Mr. Arex are the only longer-lived crew members on board."

  "True, Captain," admitted Spock. "We will manage as long as we are able. But who will fill in for you?"

  Kirk gave him a peculiar look. "What do you mean, 'fill in for me'?"

  Spock explained patiently something Kirk knew but refused to believe. "You are a deal older than Lieutenant Sulu or Uhura, but at what age did you become a starship captain? How old were you when you entered Starfleet Academy? When did you take advanced navigation, or command mechanics?"

  Kirk chewed that over, then finally nodded reluctant agreement. "We'll lose control rapidly, all right. By the time we reach the vicinity of the potential star, I'm not going to know what we have to do, let alone how to do it."

  "As a Vulcan, I age the slowest, true," Spock commented. There was no hint of pride or racial arrogance in that statement. It was merely fact. Merely Spock. "I will be capable of retaining my effectiveness longer than anyone else.

  "But I fear even I will become too young to know what to do at the crucial moment. It will be close . . . very close." He glanced at his controls, wondering idly at what moment they would become only glassed-in numbers for him. He wished he could divorce himself from his body to study the no doubt intriguing phenomenon at leisure.

  "Ten minutes, fourteen seconds," he announced finally. "We may just make it, Captain, according to the final computer projection. At the appropriate moment it will be vital to activate the weaponry on board the Arretian scout. That must be handled by someone other than myself."

  Kirk blinked at the strange words. He saw things plainly, but his thoughts were masked by thicker and thicker layers of uncertainty. Nothing related to anything else. He found he could describe but not explain, see without understanding, perceive but not evaluate.

  Children surrounded him, at the helm, at Communications. And at the navigation console, even Arex was beginning to look decidedly cuddly.

  "Captain," a demanding voice said, "do you think you will be able to handle the Arretian engine overload functions?"

  "Overload . . . engine overload? How do we do that, Mr. Spock?"

  The first officer inhaled deeply. In his still-exacting mind, their chances dropped a few percentage points. "I fear I must assume control, Captain. You are no longer able to command the Enterprise."

  Kirk retained enough maturity to readily agree. "Whatever you say, Spock. What shall I do?"

  A new voice spoke up. Its master had just now appeared on the bridge, had only taken stock of the recent developments.

  He was tall, straight, supremely confident. The voice was new and at the same time familiar. A bit softer now, perhaps, its timbre sharp and precise. Kirk thought he recognized it, thought he recognized the stranger as well.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Spock," the voice said commandingly. "As long as I'm aboard, I'm still senior officer here. My subsequent appointment as ambassador-at-large does not supersede my Starfleet ranking, it only complements it. I hate to pull rank, but I'd guess that in another five minutes even you will become incapable of command, much less of performing intricate operations." He checked his madly revolving watch, noting the speed with which the hands were spinning in reverse.

  "That's not soon enough to execute the few but vital maneuvers essential to our hope of return."

  Spock did not argue; there was no reason to. The commodore's logic was unassailable. "You are correct, of course, Commodore April. I had forgotten all but regular crew under the stress of the moment. I would be grateful if you would assume command."

  "I hereby do so officially, Mr. Spock." He sounded slightly bemused now. "But why the 'commodore'? It's Captain . . . Captain April."

  "Who?" muttered Spock.

  "Bob . . .?"

  The young commodore-captain turned.

  "We seem to be the only adults left on the bridge," Sarah April observed. "They're all children now, or teenaged."

  Her husband nodded. "Make sure they don't hurt themselves, Sarah." He turned his attention to the instruments at the helm. "If we're going to go home, instead of to blazes, we have to ignite this star at just the right moment. Mr. Spock, I realize your reasoning powers are now impaired, but how are you at still following orders?"

  Spock strained visibly. "Information . . . is vanishing rapidly, sir. For the moment . . . yes, I can function. The sensation is somewhat akin to submitting to anesthesia."

  "Right. Assume the navigator's position." The adolescent Vulcan proceeded to do so, gently moving a squawking, feathered protester out of the chair.

  "Report, Mr. Spock," April said from the helm.

  "The potential star is directly ahead, Captain." The first officer's manner and inflection were steady as ever. Only a close acquaintance would have noted the lighter, slightly less serious tone in his speech. "Bearing, mark," and he strenuously recited the readings, unsure of their meaning. But observation did not require as much knowledge as interpretation, and another pair of eyes was what April needed now.

  "Activate the weaponry on board the Arretian ship."

  That almost . . . almost defeated Spock. Knowledge was draining from him like water from a cracked pitcher. It took a long minute of painful thought before he was able to key the relatively simple command required to arm the awesome energies packed into the tiny scout.

  "Activated, Captain," he finally acknowledged.

  "Nine seconds to ignition," April recited, staring at the helm readouts. "Seven, six . . ." His gaze rose to the main screen, as did Sarah April's and Spock's.

  A black flower blossomed before them, its stretching petals tinged with violet and royal blu
e. The unnatural colors were startling against the pure white background of space.

  April spared a split second for a survey of the bridge. No longer did it resemble the hub of one of the Federation's most storied, most efficient ships. Instead it had taken on the appearance of an undisciplined interspecies nursery.

  Children and in some cases infants now babbled and struggled within the confines of baggy clothing grown monstrously large for their tiny forms: Naturally, the inorganic materials had not shrunk along with the crew members. If anything, April noted with alarm, the rate of reverse was accelerating. Surely the first officer now fumbling confusedly at the navigation console was no older than seven. He was past following even simple commands.

  There was, however, still one other person on the bridge who could perform the remaining crucial maneuvers. One whose ability matched if not exceeded his own. He looked over his shoulder at the radiantly beautiful woman watching him.

  "Sarah, do you remember any of your basic navigation?"

  "Like it was yesterday, Bob." She moved to the navigation console while the commodore-captain assumed the command chair.

  "Keep us on course, whatever else happens, whatever might happen to me," April told her. She studied the instrumentation briefly, moved her hands over the dials and switches. It seemed like only yesterday she was tested on similar boards to pass her basic command functions classes at the Academy.

  A small adjustment was called for here. The computer identified the deviation and brought it to the attention of its human masters. It could do no more. It needed an organic mind to order the necessary shift in course. Sarah April moved almost automatically to provide that command.

  Satisfied, the navigation computer realigned the Enterprise. Once more it was on the course prescribed for its eventual salvation . . . or destruction.

  Tail first, the great cruiser plunged into the center of a rapidly heating mass of pressurized gases and particles. The tremendous release of energy produced by the volatized Arretian ship had kindled strange reactions among the mass of already unstable material.

  As a tremendous shaking suddenly gripped the Enterprise, fusion began.

  Sarah April felt like a pebble in a tin can as she clung tightly to the navigation console. But Commodore-Captain April locked himself into the command chair and exulted in the glory conveyed by the main viewscreen.

  For what seemed like hours, but was mere seconds, they rode the shock wave of ruptured space.

  Abruptly, without warning, the buffeting ceased. There was only the soft hum of monitors, the quiet beeps and mutters of unstressed instruments.

  April became aware that he was still frozen to his seat. Slowly he relaxed his muscles, let his body slump. He became aware of something else: His eyes were closed tight enough to hurt.

  He opened them slowly, and as usual his eyes registered the view forward before his mind comprehended.

  Black space flecked with colored suns.

  They were home again.

  Sarah April left the navigation console and moved slowly to his side. "The computer can hold us steady here. I didn't have enough navigation to be able to reprogram us from wherever we are, Bob. That may be a problem."

  She nodded to where the seven-year-old Spock was sitting near the navigation station, staring back at them with precocious, wide eyes.

  April's attention was still focused on the screen. "I never thought pure blackness could look so lovely." Finally he looked away, down, and embraced her as hard as he had the rocking command chair only moments before.

  "We did it. We're back in our own universe again," he finally sighed, releasing her. Now he could turn his attention to Spock and the rest of the ship's youthful crew.

  "The reverse aging process seems to have stopped, but I see no signs of rapid aging beginning. The effect apparently operates only in the negative universe."

  "Does that mean they're all going to remain children?" Sarah asked.

  "No . . . no, that doesn't make sense, either," he said thoughtfully. He gestured at Spock, who amiably gestured back. "I have no doubt that Spock, Captain Kirk, and the others will return to their normal ages naturally—but at our universe's normal speed.

  "That would mean, for example, that Mr. Spock will have to grow up all over again. Unless . . ."

  "The transporter records!" Dr. April exclaimed. "It retains the records of their original molecular structure. It could return them to the age they were when they last transported."

  "It could," he agreed. "But the entire ship's crew . . . it will take some time. We're going to be busy for a while, my love."

  "You think it will work, too, Bob?" She appeared uncertain now. "Hasn't it been tried before, and found not to? I seem to recall experiments. If it worked, everyone could have near immortality, simply by having their youthful selves recorded for transporting and then, upon aging, entering transporters to be reintegrated according to their preserved youthful records."

  "Yes to everything you said, Sarah," April concurred. "But one exception should—has to—make a difference. Remember, the molecular structure of everyone on board has been altered by unnatural, extrauniversal forces. Those fountain-of-youth experiments with transporters weren't carried out on people who'd been exposed to the accelerated time-flow and radiations and who-knows-what of the negative universe.

  "It's those molecular changes that should be reversible, Sarah. At least, the theory seems sound, if I remember my transporter mechanics correctly." He smiled. "As you say, it seems like yesterday. But we don't have to use the transporter, Sarah. We can remain young, live our lives over again. To be able to do that, have a second life—it was worth the trip to the negative universe and the difficulties of returning. We've found a true fountain of youth, Sarah—in mathematics and spatial physics, instead of an obscure plot of mythical topography."

  "And all anyone has to do to make use of it," she said sadly, "is to have a great amount of daring and a ship that can travel at warp-thirty-five. I'm afraid that our experience is going to prove unique."

  "I'm afraid you're right, Sarah. Actually, we're not going to live our lives over again, are we? We're going to live a second life. That's good." He smiled, warm, loving, a together-understanding smile. "I wouldn't want to live the other one over again. I don't see how we could ever improve on what we've had already. No, Sarah, we've been blessed beyond any other people, been granted a special privilege. We mustn't abuse it."

  "We didn't abuse it the first time around Bob. I'm not at all worried about a repeat performance."

  April's theory about the action of negative-universe forces turned out to be correct. They started with the bridge crew, and breathed sighs of relief when the adult analogs reappeared to take the place of the children who had entered the transporter.

  Each member of the crew exited from the alcove with a splitting headache. This was the only noticeable side effect—headache, and a uniform sometimes badly askew. Both ailments were easily treated.

  It was slow going at first, carefully reprogramming according to old records and then reintegrating with equal care. But once the engineering officers had been brought back to true maturity, they were able to take over the task and proceed with greater speed and efficiency.

  So it didn't take overlong for the Enterprise to return to normal strength, experientially as well as in numbers.

  Kirk leaned back in the command chair and reflected on his brief but profound reentry into childhood. Everyone on board had reacted differently to the experience, and not a few were undergoing psychiatric outpatient treatment for traumas incurred as a result.

  "I don't think we have any serious cases, Jim," McCoy had informed him. "But if you see any of the younger ensigns walking around sucking their thumbs, try not to be too harsh on them."

  Once again it was McCoy whose easy humor had shattered a tense, potentially nerve-racking situation. Any lingering worries among the crew vanished in laughter as the good doctor's comment passed around the ship.<
br />
  Most of the experience had faded to the memory of a distant dream for Kirk, but there was one resurrected bit of personal history that had stuck with him.

  He had a picture of a small, feisty boy in preschool, with the instructor hovering over his computer terminal, bawling him out for running mock battles with the math keys instead of practicing computation tables.

  "Jimmy Kirk, I've told you and told you," she scolded. "If you keep wasting your time with such nonsense you'll never amount to anything!"

  "Something amusing, Captain Kirk?"

  "Hmmm . . . what?" Kirk started, then glanced back and up at a youthful Robert April. "No, Commodore, I was just thinking that among your other numerous distinctions, you're now going to be regarded as the youngest commodore in the fleet. But of course, you're not. Let's see, extrapolating from your present recorded age, as opposed to your new actual one, I'd estimate that you can probably retire at the natural age of one hundred and thirty. That should give you over a hundred years in the service, Commodore.

  "I'd give a lot to see what Starfleet accounting's going to do with those figures! Either they'll have to refigure the basis for computing pensions, or else you can retire tomorrow with a full commodore's pension and a whole lifetime to enjoy it in."

  "There is a host of fascinating ramifications, Captain," April agreed. "But as you can guess, financial considerations are not foremost in my mind." He looked downcast.

  "The Minerva Nova's not far from Babel. And we'll be there shortly. I know that should make me happy, Jim, but it doesn't any more. I don't care much about money." He looked up, and his sorrowful eyes bore into Kirk's own, the same light of deep space glowing in their depths.

  "You, of all people, can understand what does."

  Under pressure of that pleading stare, Kirk couldn't hold back any longer.

  "Well then, I might as well tell you that we've been in contact with Starfleet ever since we regained control of the Enterprise. Naturally, they were most interested in the details of our journey into the negative universe. All the details, Commodore."