"What in the Pleiades was that?" Judging from the violence of the flare, alarm horns should have been sounding steadily.
Arex worked furiously to secure an answer. What he learned wasn't exactly encouraging, but neither did it appear they were under attack from some kind of unknown superweapon.
"Unusual energy properties indeed, Captain. It seems certain asteroids are composed of anti-matter. This entire belt is remarkable for having both matter and anti-matter existing side by side—a highly unstable configuration."
"Walking on a field of mined eggshells is more like it," Uhura suggested.
"All fragments explode on contact with each other—decidedly a dangerous place for a chase, Captain," the navigator finished.
"Their maneuverability's reduced, too, don't forget that," Kirk countered, scowling at the screen as if the universe were personally trying to make his life miserable. It was not a new sensation.
"Keep those deflectors on maximum, Mr. Scott." The chief engineer acknowledged the order from his place at the bridge engineering console.
"Captain? There's enough power locked in this belt to run whole fleets of starships. It would require a major industrial effort to tap it, but the amount of potential energy involved—"
"Enough to do a lot of damage, also, Mr. Scott. Steady and easy, Mr. Sulu, steady and easy." Sulu nodded.
They continued on through the belt, crawling impatiently along the still radiant, damning trail. Deeper and deeper into the grouping they moved. Only the occasional flare of antagonistic elements obliterating each other in inorganic suicide registered on the sensors.
Finally something else rocked the Enterprise. It was a substantial jolt, but no one was thrown from his seat, and Uhura was soon able to report all sections in with no damage, no casualties.
This time the buffeting was caused not by matter-anti-matter disintegration, but by a deep blue beam which had struck at the Enterprise from just over the horizon of a large asteroid below and to starboard.
"Mr. Sulu!"
"Fractional calibration completed, Captain. They're running, but I've got them."
"Pursuit speed, Mr. Sulu. Phasers stand by."
It was only a matter of minutes, now. As they passed he considered strategy.
Chances were their assailant had taken his best shot first, hoping to disable the Enterprise before she could retaliate. But the barrage they had taken wasn't anything on, say, the order of what a Klingon battle cruiser could put out—though it could have messed them up pretty badly if the deflectors had not been up.
On the olher hand, the belligerent vessel's commander might be trying to draw the Enterprise into a more tactically advantageous position for him. It was too soon to judge. Best be ready for anything.
First round to the Enterprise, though—the attacker had forfeited the element of surprise.
The starfield pinwheeled on the screen. One glowing blob—blood red, unround, and of irregular outline—was finally locked into its center.
"Hold them, Mr. Sulu." Another probing blue light momentarily erased the view. "Analysis?"
Sulu was working smoothly, efficiently at the controls. "Standard frigate-class phasers, sir, slightly modified.
"Plenty hot enough to make scrap of an unarmed freighter like the Huron. They'll never get through our screens," Kirk noted with satisfaction.
"Captain," Arex broke in, "I've finally placed the ship's markings. It's an Orion vessel."
"Orion," Kirk echoed thoughtfully. The Orions were an isolated, humanoid race who stuck close to their small system of three inhabited worlds and shunned contact with outsiders. There had never been any reason to suspect them of antagonism toward other peoples. They were simply thought to be naturally reclusive—until now, he mused furiously.
They were very human-like, but emphatically not interested in joining up with the Federation, with the Klingon Empire, or with anyone else. The corollary was that members of those and other multistellar political leagues expressed little interest in expanding relations with the Orions.
The perfect cover, Kirk reflected, for some wide-scale, unsuspected piracy. He found himself wondering how many ships had been pushed onto the missing-and-presumed-lost register at Starfleet HQ through the intervention of the indifferent Orions.
"They're hailing us, Captain," Uhura announced, just as he was about to order the first phaser burst.
"Put them through, Lieutenant."
Uhura made the necessary adjustments, and they were rewarded by the face of the Orion captain. It was accompanied by a harsh, defiant voice forming comprehensible words. It affected Kirk, who had been threatened by the commanders of full battle fleets, not in the least.
Had O'Shea or Fushi or Elijah been present, however, the first response to the alien's words would have been immediate and distinguished by its colorful invective.
"Enterprise," the Orion commander began, indicating that their detection instrumentation was working as well as their diffusion beam, "we demand you cease your pursuit immediately. As a representative of a recognized neutral government, I must protest."
Kirk controlled his anger with an effort. For the moment he had to try diplomacy. Besides, the Orion commander was technically correct.
"This is Captain James T. Kirk, commanding. Who said we were engaged in a pursuit?" The Orion didn't change expression. "We detected a malfunction in your phaser systems and thought you might require aid. You are experiencing a malfunction?" He grinned sardonically.
"No—but the way you crept up on us, we could not be certain your intentions were not hostile."
"I compliment you on your method of discovering whether or not they were," Kirk snapped back. "It leaves no room for idle speculation. As for your neutrality, Orion's position has been in dispute ever since the affair regarding the Cordian planets and the Babel Concordance of stardate . . . well, I'm sure you're familiar with both date and circumstances.
"But it's a matter of more recent history that concerns me at the moment, Captain. Yesterday a Federation freighter, the Huron, was attacked in this quadrant, its cargo hijacked. As the first alien vessel encountered in the area, we request you to submit to search, as per Babel Resolution A twelve. Do you require time to consider your response?"
The Orion didn't go for the lead. A request for time would constitute an admission of guilt. Instead, the Orion managed a respectable smile.
"Orions are not thieves. I am sorrowed to hear of the hijacking of the Federation ship. We certainly hope you find the instigators of such villainy. As for ourselves, we hold no Federation cargo of any kind. And our papers permitting us to travel in this sector are quite in order. I must insist, Captain, that you end your hostilities toward us. If this harrassment does not cease instantly, we will lodge a formal protest with your government."
Kirk made a quick slashing motion, glanced back over his shoulder as the Orion's image vanished. "Tell him to stand by, Uhura."
"All right, sir." There was a brief pause, then she looked back at him. "They want to know why, sir."
"Tell them I have some internal bodily functions to attend to. If they want further details, supply them."
"Sir," Uhura responded readily.
"Mr. Sulu, anything yet?"
"A second, sir, I'm reconfirming." The helmsman had been working furiously at the project ever since they had made close contact with the Orions. He proved as good as his word, looked back to the command chair wearing a smug grin.
"Sensors confirm the presence of massive amounts of dilithium on board the alien ship, sir. It must be packed in their spare rooms and empty corridors. They're fairly bulging with it."
"What about the strobolin?" Kirk demanded.
Sulu's smile faded. "According to what I've been told, there was no reason for the drug to be shipped in large amount, sir. If they have it, it's too small a quantity to detect through their hull."
Kirk grunted. "All right. Reopen the channel, Lieutenant."
"Channel open, s
ir," Uhura replied as the puzzled face of the alien commander reappeared on the screen.
"Enterprise to Orion vessel, Kirk here," he began. He had made a mental note of how careful the Orion Captain had been in avoiding the mention of his name, those of any of his crew, or his ship.
"I have a proposal to make. If, by some miraculous chance, you did happen to encounter the Huron and if you decided—in the interests of common decency—to salvage its valuable cargo, and if by chance you overlooked the three—" his voice rose slightly "—critically injured personnel on board, you might also have obtained a small quantity of perishable drugs from a no doubt accidentally opened security chamber. We need those drugs rather desperately."
The Orion commander was manifestly not an idiot. Kirk could see the gears spinning in his opposite number's head while the silence lengthened. Finally, the other commander looked up and ventured softly, "What would this drug be worth to you—frivolously assuming we had experienced the totally unlikely series of circumstances you detailed?"
Kirk leaned forward, his fingers clenching tighter than he wished on the arms of the chair.
"You keep the dilithium shipment. No mention of the entire incident to Starfleet or in my log. Plus an additional standardweight container of dilithium as . . ." he hesitated, grinned tightly, ". . . payment for the salvaged drug."
Another long silence while the Orion commander appeared to consider the offer. When he continued there was a hint of suspicion in his tone—understandable enough under the circumstances. But there was something else, an undefinable something Kirk detected which hinted almost of desperation.
Obviously he understood his strategic position. He had lost the element of surprise. He had lost the chance that the Enterprise might run afoul of an unexpected matter-anti-matter explosion.
Despite his natural instincts he probably found himself in a position where he would have to risk the deal.
"We keep the dilithium," he said finally, cautiously, "plus, our neutrality remains intact?"
Kirk nodded. A briefer pause this time, before the alien commander replied firmly, "We will consider your proposal."
"Very well. But make it fast. Kirk out." He immediately switched to intercom. "Kirk to Sick Bay."
"McCoy here," came the rapid reply.
"Bones . . . how much time?"
"Less than an hour, Jim. The strobolin'll be ninety percent-plus effective right up till the end—not much longer than an hour. His internal collapse is starting to snowball. There's not much I can do to slow it and damn little I can do to halt it. If I had one lousy ampoule—"
"Hold on a little longer, Bones, a little longer. We're close, very close, to getting it."
"The Orion is hailing us, sir," Uhura interrupted apologetically.
"I know you can do it, Bones."
"It's not up to me anymore, Jim," the filtered reply came back. "It's up to that abstract community of proteins we call Spock. Skill doesn't matter anymore—just chemistry."
"Kirk out." He swiveled. "All right, Lieutenant, I'll take the call now." He steeled himself for whatever answer the Orions might give.
"Your proposal is agreeable, Captain . . ."
Kirk slumped a little in his chair.
". . . with one qualification."
Kirk sat straight again, suddenly wary. "What kind of qualification?"
"Whether your people come for the drug or we transfer it to you involves the interchange of at most, minor personnel. Expendables." Kirk started to protest, but the Orion commander made a tired gesture requesting silence and Kirk forced himself to sit back quietly.
"No aspersions intended, Captain. But without assuming any real risk, you could obtain what you want and then turn on us."
"What," Kirk replied slowly, "would it take to convince you of our sincerity?"
"More persuasion than the universe possesses. However, we will settle for a face-to-face exchange, the drug for the container of dilithium. In the absence of available absolutes, risking one's own neck is considered the best substitute. I will meet you myself."
"Face to face." All kinds of danger signals were going off inside him. "Where?"
"An extremely large planetoid close by my ship. You doubtless have it on your screens. It has an atmosphere acceptable to both of us. We can predetermine the time and beam down simultaneously. I will hand you the drug personally.
"Your own presence will be most reassuring, Captain. Compared to it, the extra dilithium crystals are superfluous." A faint, nebulous hint of humor. "I believe we can do without them." He assumed a rigid, waiting posture. "Now it is your turn to consider."
"I'd . . . like to consult with my staff."
The alien made a sign of agreement.
"You'll receive an answer shortly. Kirk out."
VIII
"It's got to be some sort of trap, Jim." McCoy's fist slammed into the smooth wood of the briefing room table top in an uncharacteristically violent gesture.
"I don't buy this business of not trusting 'expendable' subordinates. I don't believe it anymore than I believe this space-pucky about your own presence being required on the exchange to satisfy some inexplicable alien sense of uneasiness. What's wrong with your giving personal assurance by communicator? I'll bet they've cooked up this whole scheme just to get a clean shot at you!"
Kirk's reply was noncommittal. "Maybe my presence is required for spiritual reasons, Bones. We don't know much about Orion culture, you know. Still," he added, forestalling another Aesculapian outburst, "I find myself agreeing with you."
"No doubt of it in my mind," Scott added from the far end of the table.
"Yeah. Sure." Kirk put both hands on the table, leaned forward intensely. "It could be a trap. But we've got no time to consider options, no time to devise means of devious subtlety to secure the strobolin.
"If we don't get our hands on it fast, Spock is going to die. Would he do less in a similar situation for any of us?"
McCoy was shaking his head sadly. "Why did you bother with this meeting, Jim. You had already made up your mind."
"Yes," Kirk confessed, "I had. But I wanted to see if either of you had another option to put forward—however hare-brained. Obviously, you don't."
"Oh, we're not going to do this without precautions—don't worry on that score. My communicator channel will be frozen open so that every word of what goes on will be broadcast on the bridge—even if it seems to the Orion Captain that I turned it off.
"Scotty, you'll be ready at the transporter, which will be locked on me at all times. At the first sign of anything underhanded, well . . ." he stared at his chief engineer, "I'm trusting you."
"If this doesn't work, Jim," McCoy went on worriedly, "we could lose Spock and you."
"Nothing unique about the situation, Bones. Men have been going through similar ordeals since the dawn of civilization." He exchanged glances with each in turn. "Let's go to it, gentlemen, double or nothing."
The bridge of the Orion pirate was considerably smaller than its spacious counterpart on the Enterprise. Its complement was correspondingly reduced.
But the officers who manned its compact consoles and panels had more to worry about.
Everything had gone so well, her captain reflected, brooding in the command chair. The Huron had proven a rich prize, and they had ambushed her well out of communications range of any other ship. With no armament to speak of and a small crew, she had been an easy take.
Only this gisjacheh drug, this strobolin, had been intended not for delivery to some distant world, but for a free-space ship-to-ship transfer. To a ship already dangerously near. To a Federation battle cruiser, no less!
Now, despite his helmsman's best efforts to elude pursuit, the huge vessel had run him down and cornered him here. When he considered what would happen if news of the Huron attack ever reached diplomatic channels, he had made the inevitable decision. The only decision possible, really.
But to be sure first, as is the bya-chee bird before
striking. He looked down to his executive officer.
"Status, Cophot?"
"We can't outgun the Enterprise and we can't outrun it, Elt. Nor can we penetrate her shields sufficiently to discourage her."
"No chance of escape?" he pressed.
"No, Elt, none."
The commander made his racial analog of a sigh, found no inspiration in a moment's meditation. "Orion's official neutrality comes before this ship, its crew—or its commander. There is too much at stake to take the word of one man—any man. He cannot give enough assurances that he will not at some time report the incident to Starfleet."
"No, sir," his exec admitted. "The only way to prevent that now is by achieving the destruction of the Enterprise. And the only way to do that," he hesitated in spite of himself, "is to destroy ourselves, too."
"Agreed. I had thought perhaps, an unexpected surge on our part, at the moment of exchange. Ram, overload their shields—"
"Your pardon, Elt," his first officer objected, "but there is a better way." He looked suddenly reluctant.
"Well, come on, out with all, Cophot."
"These asteroids," the other began, "contain among their number many which are anti-matter. Of those that are matter, many contain a high proportion of unstable radioactives. No danger to a man, they are concentrated in the planetary core, as in—"
"The one below us, that I'm scheduled to meet Captain Kirk on?" Understanding dawned.
"I have ascertained that this is so," the executive officer admitted. "Both ships will lay to hard by the planetoid. So close, if the core is triggered to reaction, both will be destroyed, despite the strongest defensive screens any ship could mount. The difficulty lies in the method of detonation. Mere phaser fire will not suffice."
"What then?"
"An adequately powerful explosive, which would provide the minimum number of high-energy particles. The material to make such a compact device has been providentially provided for us.
"Dilithium, yes," the commander agreed. "How could such a device be triggered?"
"I can manufacture a remote control which will—"
The captain's eyes brightened, and he waved his exec off.
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