The Three-Minute Universe

by Barbara Paul

  "What's that?" Kirk demanded.

  He was told it was a temporary pain reliever. The two Sackers carefully placed Chekov on the gurney and took him to the nearest turbolift. They themselves stepped into another, even though Chekov was unconscious and would not have been aware of their presence in such close proximity.

  Kirk whirled on the two black Sackers. "All right—which one of you did it?"

  Rasputin hung his head. "I regret exceedingly that I have damaged the Chekov. It was not done intentionally."

  "Of all the stupid, careless things to do!" Kirk fumed. "You know what happens when you touch a human! You have to be on guard all the time!"

  "It was an accident," the Sacker said in a pleading tone.

  "It's the kind of accident we can't afford to have!" Kirk snapped. "Now who's going to plot our course back to the Beta Castelli system? You?"

  A dead silence hung over the bridge. Kirk turned to Babe. "What does that message say?"

  "It does not concern you, Captain."

  "Dammit, Babe, how can I—"

  "I repeat, it does not concern you."

  He turned his back to her. "Uhura—what does it say?"

  Uhura didn't bat an eyelash. "One of their ships that has been having engine trouble is now repaired and in orbit around Starbase Four," she said evenly. "All other Sacker ships are in position and ready to proceed to step three of the Plan."

  Rose made a sound. "How long have you understood our language?"

  Uhura didn't answer.

  Kirk said, "What's this plan? What are you up to?"

  "The Plan will be revealed to you at the proper time, Captain," Babe said. "There is another matter to be attended to first."

  "And what's that?"

  "That too will be revealed in its proper time."

  Kirk realized he wasn't going to get any more out of her. Whatever they were up to, they simply weren't going to tell him about it until they were good and ready. Here was one area where bullying wouldn't do the trick. Abruptly he headed for the turbolift.

  "Where are you going?" Babe called. "I did not give you permission to leave the bridge."

  "I'm going to see about Chekov, so you'd better call down and have one of your armed muscleheads meet me at whatever level sickbay's on, because I'm going."

  "Level ten," Brownie said helpfully.

  "We are still in starburst mode," Babe protested. "It is causing a drain on the engines."

  "Let it," Kirk said coldly as the turbolift doors closed.

  Chapter Nine

  CAPTAIN KIRK FOUND CHEKOV lying on an air mattress in sickbay, between two of the vats of gelatinous substance the Sackers used for beds. The young navigator's helmet was off and he was conscious.

  Kirk removed his own helmet and breathed in air only slightly tainted with the Sacker smell. "Chekov? How are you feeling?"

  "Not too bad, Kepten. A little shaky, but the pain has been neutralized. Permission to kill Rasputin?"

  "Granted," Kirk smiled. "What are they doing for you?"

  "Vell, the doctor vants to make sure there is no infection before spraying on the false skin. She vill know soon, she says."

  "A kid doctor," Kirk muttered.

  "But a good vun, I think. She says she has been studying burn treatment for humans ever since ve beamed aboard, because she vas afraid something like this vould happen."

  "Thank heaven for that. I'll bet you've named her."

  Chekov smiled innocently. "I call her Bonesovna."

  "Don't tell me. Daughter of Bones?"

  "Da. Do you think Dr. McCoy vill be pleased?"

  "I'd … just as soon not be around when you tell him. Speaking of names, why did you name your two black Sackers but not the orange one?"

  "Sewing dissension in the ranks, Kepten. Ivan and Rasputin now look down on the orange vun and treat her like an inferior, and she grows more resentful of them by the hour." Chekov sighed. "But it is not fair. The orange vun vorks harder than the other two and is the vun I vould pick to do any real navigating. I vill give her a name vhen I get back."

  "Are you feeling sorry for her? Chekov, we can't feel sorry for them. It wouldn't make any sense to feel sorry for them!" Kirk gnawed his lower lip. "So why do I feel like a rat every time I give Babe or Blue a hard time?"

  "Is wery difficult," Chekov agreed.

  The captain accepted his navigator's assurances that he would be able to return to his post before long. In the corridor, he told his escort he'd like a look at the baryon reverter; the Sacker flatly refused. Kirk had tried getting in to see it before, always with the same result. He was worried that the reverter might be too large to beam over to the Enterprise.

  On the bridge, the first thing Kirk noticed was that the yellow Sacker—Jon?—was seated at the communications station. Then he saw Babe, Brownie, Rose, Iris, and Misterma'am forming a half-circle around the hatchway leading to the head. "What's going on?" he called out.

  The Sackers divided enough to let him see Scotty standing before the hatchway, his arms flung out in a protective posture. "Ah, Captain!" the engineer sighed in relief. "Will ye tell these … people to back off!"

  "Babe, please get your people away from him," Kirk said. "Do you want to send another of us to sickbay?"

  Babe gave an order; the others fell away. "It's the Uhura, Captain," the Sacker commander said angrily. "Misterma'am found out she'd lowered the visuals shield!"

  "Well, of course she lowered the shield," Kirk said reasonably. "Our friends have been worrying about us. That was the only way we had of letting them know we were still alive."

  "The Enterprise has been watching everything we've done! They'll know we are trainees now!"

  "They'd figure that out anyway, Babe. Just from watching the maneuvers. It's nothing to get excited about."

  "I want the Uhura placed under restraints! Order her to come out immediately."

  "Whoa, wait a minute! Lieutenant Uhura was just following my orders. If anybody's going to be placed under restraints, it'll have to be me."

  "An' I knew about it as well," Scotty said stoutly. "So y'might as well restrain me too."

  "Well?" asked Kirk. "What's it going to be? Are you going to lock us all up? It's your decision, Babe. You're the commander."

  Babe thought it over, without consulting with Brownie. "No," she decided. "You are still needed. But if there is any other irregularity—"

  "It's the brig for all of us. Understood."

  "And starting right now, you will train us in the use of the weapons systems."

  "But there are still several other—"

  "Right now, Captain."

  He didn't press; her voice had danger signals in it.

  Scotty stuck his head through the hatchway. "It's all right, lass. Y'can come out now."

  Uhura emerged, looking shaken. She and Scotty both wanted to know how Chekov was doing. Kirk told them he'd be all right.

  When he returned to the command chair, he found Chekov's orange Sacker waiting for him. The Sacker asked, "Sir, did I understand you to say the Chekov will recover?"

  "Correct. He's going to be all right."

  The Sacker made a noise that might have been a sigh. "This one is much relieved."

  Kirk examined her closely; she really did look woebegone. "Ah … why don't you go down to see him? I think he has something to tell you."

  The Sacker made a murmur of surprise, but checked with Babe and then left. Ivan was seated in the navigator's chair, but Rasputin was nowhere in sight. When he asked, Kirk was told the latter had been temporarily banished from the bridge for his carelessness in burning Chekov. Kirk nodded; that seemed right. He took his seat and announced, "Target practice."

  In addition to the usual phasers and photon torpedoes, the still-unnamed Sacker ship had short-burst laser flares for close fighting. Kirk decided to ignore the latter for the time being. He ordered targets released, and the weapons training was under way.

  This time the forefinger of Kirk's lef
t hand stayed down. Scotty did his bit, and the helm was agonizingly slow to respond. The two young Sackers manning the weapons-system station showed a good sense of timing. They got so they could hit the moving target from a stationary position; but every time they had to fire on the run, they missed by a mile. And the reason was that the ship was always too slow in getting to where it was supposed to be; weapons and helm were out of synch. Everyone on the bridge was staring at Blue.

  "Blue, I don't know what to say to you," Kirk said with simulated sadness. "I tell you and I tell you, you must anticipate these moves. You have to develop a touch for the helm. Mr. Sulu would have made twelve turns in the time it took you to complete one."

  Blue was steaming. "The helm is sluggish in its response! I would like to see the captain do any better!"

  Aha! A challenge. "Well, I'm no Sulu," Kirk said, getting up from the command chair, "but I think I can make a simple turn faster than that."

  Blue slid out of his seat. "Please."

  Kirk sat at the helm. "Babe, you give the order."

  She waited a few moments and then said, "Hard to starboard."

  The ship whipped around nicely. "You see?" Kirk said innocently. "The helm does respond."

  "But … but you did nothing more than what I do!" Blue protested.

  "I anticipated. You don't anticipate." Kirk moved back to the command chair. "Let's try it again."

  They tried it again. And again. And again. Kirk didn't even have to yell at Blue, because Babe was doing that for him. And then Brownie joined in. Then Misterma'am. Before long every Sacker on the bridge was yelling at Blue. Kirk let it all go on for a few minutes before standing up and raising his hands to silence them.

  "Blue," he said, "if Mr. Sulu were in command of this vessel and saw what you were doing at the helm, he'd be using you for target practice. I've been trying to figure out what your problem is—and as far as I can see, you're just not concentrating."

  "I am concentrating!" Blue yelled.

  "We should have taken the Sulu with the others," Brownie said to Babe.

  "But you're obviously not concentrating enough," Kirk went on. "You're allowing yourself to be distracted. You've got to learn to shut out all other sights and sounds—only the helm matters. When Sulu is on duty, he never—"

  "Sulu! Sulu!" Blue screamed. "I am choking with nausea at the name of Sulu!" He jumped out of his seat and whirled to face Kirk.

  "You're away from your post, mister!" Kirk snapped.

  "Sir?" said Misterma'am.

  "Not you. Him. Return to your post, Blue. You'll never be a Sulu if you act like this."

  "That name again!" Blue shrieked. "I am tired of hearing about your wonderful Sulu! And I am tired of having to wear these ridiculous things because of you!" He ripped off his cloak and his translator and stood there defiantly.

  Kirk's stomach heaved at the sight of the white wormlike objects oozing around in Blue's intestines, but he forced himself not to look away. "And I am tired of having to wear this thing over my head because of you."

  "He cannot understand you, Captain." Babe switched over to her own language and said something to her rebellious helmsman. He started to answer her without the translator—and all three humans on the bridge instinctively tried to slap their hands over their ears, but ended up just smacking their helmets. Babe stopped Blue with a sharp word, and he charged toward a turbolift and was gone.

  A tension-filled silence reigned for a moment or two, and then Babe said to Rose, "Consult the duty roster and summon the next helmsman trainee."

  Kirk sighed. "We're going to lose a lot of time, you know."

  "I know," Babe said. "But it is clear to all of us that Blue cannot do the job."

  "She's on her way," Rose reported.

  "I think you'd better get Blue back up here," Kirk advised. He hadn't thought Blue would break so soon. Kirk swore to himself; he must have lost sight of the fact that in spite of his seven-foot-plus, Blue was still just a kid. His bolting like that—well, it was something to worry about. If the replacement was no better than Blue had been, Babe might start suspecting there was indeed something wrong with the helm.

  They waited, until the turbolift doors opened and a Sacker shorter than the others walked on to the bridge. "Here I be!" she announced.

  Kirk, Uhura, and Scotty all did a double take. "Pinky?"

  Babe turned to Rose. "I thought [untranslatable] was next up."

  "She is," Rose said, "but she has been in sickbay the last two days. Pinky is next."

  Pinky plopped down at the helm. "So what do I do?"

  Kirk looked up at Babe and cocked an eyebrow.

  "I had not anticipated this," the Sacker commander said agitatedly. "The one who backs up Blue has had some training. Pinky has had none."

  "You have a problem, Babe," Kirk said expressionlessly. "Part and parcel of being a starship captain."

  That was the moment one of the other turbolift doors opened and Chekov's orange Sacker came bouncing in. She was excited and impervious to the air of gloom on the bridge. "I am named!" she announced gleefully. "Do you all hear? I have been given a name of my own! Henceforth you will address me as Orangejuiceandwodka!"

  Kirk groaned and covered his eyes. "I could use one," he said.

  Dr. Leonard McCoy sat glumly at his desk in the chief surgeon's office, staring at his terminal that he'd keyed in to the main viewscreen on the bridge. The screen showed the Sacker ship changing shape, releasing a practice target, firing, missing. Over and over. Endlessly. What did Jim have in mind? Was he just trying to wear them down?

  A shadow fell across his desk. McCoy glanced up and said tiredly, "Ah, sit down, Mr. Spock. Sit down and tell me what's going to happen next."

  "I shall sit down," the Vulcan said, doing so, "but I fear I know no more of the future than you do. Once we lost interior visuals, we also lost knowledge of what is occurring on the Sacker bridge."

  "More of the same, I'd guess. Jim's waging some kind of psychological warfare over there."

  "That is what I came to see you about, Doctor. Our record banks contain no information about the Sacker young. We cannot assume they will react to pressure the same way human young do."

  "The human young don't always react the same," McCoy said.

  "Exactly. Human and Vulcan youngsters would either withstand the pressure or else break and run. Or—they could rebel, although for Vulcans that would be unthinkable in most circumstances. But we don't know what the Sacker young might do. They could turn on Jim. I am concerned that his tactics may be placing him and the others in danger."

  "I've been wondering about that too. But we don't know the situation over there, not really. Jim knows what he's doing, Spock. He always does." McCoy thought a moment. "Well, almost always."

  Spock shook his head. "Three men and one woman against perhaps a thousand Sackers? The odds are too great."

  "So what do you want of me?"

  "An explanation. I want you to tell me how the sonic hypnosis-inducer works."

  McCoy smiled tiredly. "You're gonna hypnotize the Sackers? Good luck."

  "Doctor. As long as the Sackers' defensive shields remain operational, the only access we have to that ship is through their communications system. Sound is our only possible weapon at the moment. If there is any chance that we can put the Sackers into a trance—"

  "That's crazy, Spock! The sonic hypnosis-inducer is configured to the human brain and auditory system. Any fool can tell just by looking at them that the Sackers aren't built the same way we are!"

  "I am well aware of that, Doctor. But the hypnosis-inducer's configuration can be changed, I assume."

  "Yes, but to what? We don't have anything to go on!"

  Spock pressed his lips together. "We may have one thing. The record banks say the Sacker voice is piercing, penetrating. That would suggest a higher pitch than a normal human range."

  McCoy looked interested for the first time. "Raising the frequency level of the sound waves th
e hypnosis-inducer sends out is easy. I can even adjust it up to ultrasonic if we need to go that high, but it will take a little work. There's no therapeutic value in the ultrasonic for humans, so the designers didn't build it in."

  "We can use only the frequency levels higher than those liable to produce a trance state in Jim and the others," Spock pointed out. "They have to remain conscious in order to lower the shields, or else the whole exercise will prove futile."

  McCoy scowled. "Is that a problem? They're wearing helmets."

  "Helmets that evidently do not block sound. They are able to converse."

  "Mm, that's right." McCoy thought about it a while and then slowly nodded, realizing the plan just might work. "It might make our people drowsy, but we can keep it high enough not to send them into a trance."

  They both fell silent, staring at the Sacker ship on the viewscreen. It had resumed its rectangular shape. As they watched, one section unfolded from the bottom to a perpendicular position, and another unfolded from that, parallel to the ship. The ship looked for all the world as if it were kneeling on one leg.

  The doctor stirred. "You understand, Spock, I don't have the foggiest notion of what it takes to hypnotize a Sacker."

  "Understood. I would suggest an escalating scale of various frequencies, each to be transmitted for the same time duration."

  "It will be hit-and-miss, you know—trying to find the exact level that induces a hypnotic trance in monsters."

  "If, indeed, they can be hypnotized," Spock remarked with something close to a sigh. "I shall be happy to assist you if my services are needed."

  "Oh, I can use your help, all right," McCoy said, getting up and heading toward the lab. "Come along, Svengali—let's get started."

  Blue was back.

  Nothing had been said on the bridge, no explanations were offered. But Babe had got him back, one way or another. Now Blue sat stonily silent at the helm, defiantly not wearing his cloak. Iris—the rebellious one—had also cast his cloak aside; Uhura was on her rest period or he might not have found the courage to try it. But when the two Sackers seated at the weapons systems station saw Iris, they'd quietly slipped out of their cloaks as well—giving Scotty a few bad moments, as he was seated at the station next to theirs.