Star Trek - Log 4

by Alan Dean Foster

  Broken compartments released a small cloud of frost . . . frozen atmosphere bleeding from a broad crack near the rear of the tilted hull.

  On the bridge the shrill whine had been replaced by a wail of another sort—a mixture of the overworked alarm system and the cries of injured personnel. Kirk and Spock were not privy to such cries as they studied the damage to the once powerful battle cruiser, now centered in the main viewscreen.

  For a moment, Kirk's pent-up anger at Kor's earlier actions was replaced by a grudging admiration. "You were right, Spock, but I almost wish they had made it."

  "I am glad they did not," the first officer replied easily. Kirk gasped in surprise.

  "Spock, you hold a grudge?"

  "Not at all, Captain. I would never experience such an unreasonable, long-term emotion. It is rather that their unsuccessful attempt has given me an idea as to how we may be able to break through the barrier."

  Kirk waited a moment, then, "Well . . . what is it, Spock?"

  "I would suggest that everyone concerned with the eventual attempt hear this together. There will be emotional as well as physical requirements."

  "I don't understand."

  "Neither may certain members of the crew, Captain. Especially any who have been involved in serious conflicts with the Klingons before. I suggest, therefore, that we and the principal officers concerned adjourn to the central briefing room."

  "I'm not sure what you're leading up to, Spock, but if you think this is the way to handle it . . ."

  "It is for the best, Captain."

  Unlike previous gatherings in the spacious conference room, no one ventured any jokes in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. McCoy in particular wondered at the absence of Uhura. The reasons for excluding her from the conference would become clear as Spock explained his intentions.

  Uhura had more reason than any of them to dislike the Klingons.

  Beside Kirk and Spock, the conference included Scott, Dr. McCoy, and Sulu. Lieutenant Arex was on duty on the bridge along with Uhura, primarily to keep an eye on the Klothos, though it appeared certain that Commander Kor would be unable to mount any surprises for quite a while.

  Aware the others were watching him expectantly, Kirk began immediately. "Mr. Spock has come up with a formula which has a chance to extricate us from this paradise. Here is one instance where figures speak louder than words."

  So saying, he hit a switch just under the edge of the table top. A standard three-sided viewer popped up in its center. Another adjustment, and a complex set of computations began to appear on the three screens.

  Kirk and Spock already knew what the computations meant. McCoy could hardly follow them at all. So it was a toss-up between Scott and Sulu as to which man would see their significance first. The first expression to become quizzical, then lopsided, then finally appalled was Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scotts.

  "But this involves combining, in close-order maneuvering, with the Klothos, Captain. Closer-order maneuvering . . . hell, it means combining ships!"

  "That's right, Mr. Scott," agreed Kirk quietly. The chief engineer did not try to conceal his disgust at such a prospect.

  "You mean you want us to work hand in hand with those vipers? Engine dregs, murderers . . ."

  "It's our only choice for getting out of here, Scotty." The chief said nothing more, but continued to mumble under his breath. Were Uhura present, further discussion would have been impossible. Someone would have to break the news to her later.

  Meanwhile, Sulu had been working furiously with his pocket computer, occasionally glancing up at the nearest of the three-sided screens to cross-check his own work with the original equations.

  "As a problem in navigation it has more loose ends than a millipede, Captain. Trying to guide two such disparate vessels through such an intricate maneuver . . ." His voice trailed off and he shook his head wonderingly.

  "How difficult, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk pressed. The helmsman tried to hedge his reply.

  "I can't say for sure, Captain." He squirmed mentally. "Just . . . difficult."

  "Impossible?"

  "No . . . no, not impossible."

  "Do you really believe that?" That forced a half-grin from the helmsman.

  "I'm not sure whether I do or not, Captain. But I am sure that if Mr. Spock is confident enough to propose it, then he thinks it isn't impossible—though I'm not going to press him too hard for the exact odds. I think I’d rather not know.

  "If he considers such a plan workable, then it's up to Arex and myself to find a way to make it work."

  "That's that, then." Kirk turned his attention back to his chief engineer. "Mr. Scott, your comments?" Scott appeared to wrestle with himself a few moments longer. He too had little reason to love the Klingons. But eventually, he capitulated.

  "Considerin' that we've only two days left before our supply of dilithium has deteriorated to the point where we can no longer drive the ship, I'd say we've no choice but to go with Mr. Spock's plan, Captain. Though I don't like it. Not one bit."

  "I know how you feel, Scotty," Kirk sympathized. "I'd prefer just about any alternative. We haven't any. If it makes you feel any better, consider that Kor and his people will like it even less." He smiled sardonically.

  "Our dislike of them is founded on reality, which enables us to consider such a plan rationally. Their pathological hatred of non-Klingons would prevent them from thinking of one—but it won't stop them from going along with it."

  "That's just my point, Captain," Scott wondered. "Can we trust them?"

  Kirk spread his hands. "That we don't know." Sulu finished his own figuring, stated his position.

  "I agree with one thing, though, Captain, we have to try it."

  "As for the Klingons being trusted . . ." Kirk turned to McCoy. Having nothing to contribute to an argument on astrophysics, the doctor had sat quietly through the entire discussion. "What do you think, Bones?"

  "Emotionally," McCoy began, "I tend to concur with Mr. Scott. The idea of combining ship functions with that crew of backstabbers automatically sends my hand for a phaser." He looked resigned.

  "But to get out of here, I think they'll restrain their inherent animosity toward us. Anything to escape this elephants' graveyard."

  "Exactly," agreed Spock.

  McCoy shot him a look of surprise.

  "Now there's a reference I would not have thought you'd know, Mr. Spock."

  "Reading the great fantasies of Terran fiction was one of my mother's favorite pastimes, Doctor," Spock informed him. "As a child I read through all of them avidly."

  "Then we're all agreed on this," put in a smiling Kirk. "I'll get in touch with Kor immediately . . ."

  "Escape, escape, escape . . ." Megan fairly vibrated with the violence of the emotions and thoughts she was reading. Devna had to reach out quickly again to soothe the Cygnian.

  "Softly now, Megan," she whispered reassuringly, "softly."

  But Megan had no control over modulating such emotions.

  "It burns them . . . it consumed them . . . it is a . . . fire." Her voice shook dangerously.

  "Return to me now, Megan," Devna husked quickly. "Gently, gentle, return . . . see me . . . now." The bright mirrors shattered like a pool of quicksilver. Their normal light gold color returned, the cat-pupils emerging.

  "It is a violence in them. They have no control over it."

  "Not yet, perhaps," countered Devna, "but they will come to accept. All do, eventually. There is no other choice."

  "What has been learned?" queried a new voice. Both women turned to see Xerius materialize in the chamber.

  "These new ones," Devna went on, "they learn nothing from their first attempt at escape. Now there is a new plan . . . to combine their two ships and try again. Can you not stop them, Xerius?" The speaker of the council looked troubled.

  "It is not against our laws to try to escape."

  "But they may kill themselves in these mad attempts. Already one of their ships has been
damaged and people injured."

  "That is how it must be, then, till they are convinced," Xerius replied stolidly. He looked thoughtful, reminiscing.

  "Remember, Devna, how I tried and tried to flee? Tried till my ship and my people and even I were beaten. Only then did I begin to accept. So long as they do not break our laws we must not impede them. Were we to do so we would be breaking the laws. Not only that, but doing so would lead them to think they were our prisoners, and then they might never come to join us in peace.

  "No, they must learn the futility of escape for themselves."

  "Even if they kill each other in the process?" Devna wondered bitterly. "Our laws forbid violence. Why then do we allow them to do violence to themselves?"

  "It is only violence against others that is . . ." Xerius looked up at Megan. "You have been looking into them, Megan." The Cygnian nodded. "Tell me, then. If a majority are being forced to try these escape attempts . . ."

  But the Cygnian shook her head. "One word branded indelibly in all, their minds, that word is escape."

  Xerius looked slightly downcast. "It is as I remember it, from long ago." He smiled sadly at Devna. "You see, Devna? They must try. They must burn this desire out of themselves. This thing we cannot do for them."

  The main briefing room on the Klothos was far more elaborately decorated than its counterpart on the Enterprise. The central table was inlaid with rough-cut gem-stones. Spotted and striped, diamond patterned and tight-curled furs padded the seats. Archaic heraldic banners were on the walls, sealed in transparent plastic. Only four officers were present. Kor and Kaas representing the Klothos, Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock from the Enterprise. The discussion had been going on for over an hour now—Kor's screeches alternating with Kirk's taut replies, Kaas' aloofness bouncing off Spock's invulnerable calmness.

  At last all suggestions had been made, all inferior arguments rebutted.

  "Then it's settled," Kirk sighed finally. "Our science and engineering teams will get to work immediately at integrating both warp-drives and navigation systems so that we can maneuver as a single ship. Exchange of personnel and beginning of computer interlock will commence as soon as we return to our ship."

  Fourteen natural objections leaped to the fore In Kor's mind. He forced every one of them down. These were extraordinary circumstances. So all he muttered was a curt, "Agreed."

  They rose. Or at least, three of them did. Spock remained seated, his face blank, almost dreamy.

  "Mr. Spock," Kirk said. The first officer suddenly became alert. Rising, he started for the door.

  Spock pushed his way between Kor and Kaas and threw an arm around the shoulders of both men. "I cannot tell you," he confessed, his voice bordering on true emotion, "how impressed I am by your splendid spirit of cooperation." There was total amazement in the room. It was impossible to say whether the two Klingon officers or Kirk stared at Spock with more astonishment.

  "I realize we have had our differences in the past," Spock continued unctuously, "but now we can be brothers in the face of adversity,"

  Kor's natural reaction to such intimate and uninvited personal contact would have been a fast stab to the throat with his nails. Had Kirk tried a similar move, that might have been what would have happened. But coming from Spock, the action so stunned the Klingon commander that all he could do was squirm uncomfortably in the Vulcan's grasp.

  "Mr. Spock," Kor muttered, "if you will please . . ." Kirk, in a state bordering on paralysis, continued to stare. Spock released both mortal enemies then placed his hands on Kor's shoulders;

  "Forgive me, Commander," he said gently. "I was overcome by the import of this moment. May I shake your hand?"

  "I suppose so," the dazed commander replied. He extended his hand as if it were no longer a part of his arm. Spock took it, shook firm and long. Releasing the still befuddled Klingon, he turned to his own counterpart on the Klothos. That worthy was staring silently at him with an expression usually reserved for the more interesting specimens of previously unknown alien life.

  "And yours, Science Officer Kaas." The first officer of the cruiser extended his own hand . . . somewhat reluctantly—and Spock shook it, hard.

  "Goodbye, for now," Spock said. Then, apparently overcome still further, he turned and started for the door, shoulders heaving, concealing his face.

  Kirk followed, glanced back at Kor and Kaas, rather embarrassed. "Goodbye, Mr. Spock," mumbled Kor. "Captain Kirk."

  The door slid shut behind them. Kaas stared at it for several seconds after the two Federation officers had left before breaking the silence.

  "The stories of his being half human must be true."

  "More than true," agreed Kor. "Or perhaps passage through the continuum gate affected his hybrid mind more than most." That shook the first officer from his lethargy. He turned to eye his commander with something less than mindless subordination.

  "I wonder," he began pointedly, "if perhaps we all haven't been affected."

  "Explain yourself," Kor ordered, but not as sharply as he should have.

  "This willingness of yours all of a sudden to work closely with an old enemy like Kirk. With one who has thwarted so many thrusts of the Empire. It is not like you, Commander. What do you really have in mind?"

  Kor relaxed, let out a Klingon chuckle—a sound as devoid of humor as a cobra's hiss. "You've been my first officer too long for me to conceal much from you, Kaas. Very well.

  "What would you think if the Enterprise were suddenly to disintegrate after our dual ship had pierced the space-time window?"

  "I would think my Commander had maneuvered brilliantly."

  "I think the implications are clear?"

  "Perfectly," Kaas responded, understanding what was required, now.

  "And it can be arranged?" The first officer hesitated before replying, ran clawed fingers over the polished wood of the briefing table.

  "It involves a high risk factor, given the lack of time to prepare and Kirk's naturally suspicious nature. Yet I think it can be arranged."

  "Very good, Kaas. I'll leave it to you to attend to the details of the Enterprise's destruction." The two Klingon officers exchanged vows.

  Of all the hundreds of ships drifting in the blackness of the pocket universe, none were stranger than the two that hummed with activity near its center. Blue and purple from tiny phaser welders surrounded the doubled vessels with shifting motes of light, and it wore a corona of suited figures busily weaving about its multiple hull.

  The Enterprise had been maneuvered to a point just above the Klothos. Now the two ships were being joined together with cables and plates, bars and impulse connectors.

  Kirk leaned back in the command chair, studying the changing view on the main screen. Multiple external scanners provided a constantly changing picture of the work in progress. They were racing a clock with too few hours left.

  They had to finish by tomorrow noon, ship time. That was the point at which the power supplies of both ships would be depleted to such an extreme that they could not reach the minimum speed necessary to satisfy Spock's figures. Time and navigational requirements were inflexible.

  If they failed, they would be trapped here forever.

  McCoy was nearby, chatting with Sulu. The doctor was trying for the eighth, or possibly the ninth time, to get an explanation in layman's language of the complicated physics through which it was hoped they could break back into the normal universe.

  "Beg your pardon, sir," came a voice from behind him. Kirk swiveled in his chair, was confronted by Second Engineer Gabler and another crewman he didn't recognize immediately. A drive tech . . . Bell was the name.

  Slouching between them—rather reluctantly, Kirk thought—was a Klingon engineer. With a thousand other things on his mind, Kirk forced himself to devote full attention to the men before him.

  "What is it, Mr. Gabler?"

  "Sir, Bell and I are the relief watch for the dilithium storage tanks." Gabler's way of telling Kirk that the suspi
cious Scott had placed guards at certain vital points in his section. "We arrived a few minutes late and found this one and a couple of his buddies poking around."

  "Where are the buddies?" Kirk inquired, glancing behind the Klingon and seeing no one else.

  "Being watched, sir. This one appeared to be in charge."

  "This is absurd, Captain Kirk," the Klingon engineer broke in. "We were lost, that is all. What is more natural when one is performing hurried work on a strange ship?"

  "Lost, my foot," protested Gabler angrily. "It's clearly posted as a restricted area. You didn't have any trouble reading any of the more complicated symbols. Keep Out is one I'll bet you recognized easy enough. You knew all along you weren't supposed to be in there."

  "Gentlemen, I'm sure there's been a mistake." Everyone turned to stare at Spock as he moved toward them from his position at the library computer station. He put a comradely arm around the shoulders of the Klingon. The engineer couldn't have been more shocked if he'd been bitten by a malachite tree viper.

  Once again Kirk found himself at a loss for words. "Now then, my good fellow," Spock inquired pleasantly, "where were you supposed to be working?"

  "Ah . . . your pardon, sir, but . . ." The Klingon found an answer quickly. "Engineering subdeck five."

  "Close enough to the dilithium storage area. A natural enough error, I'm sure you'll agree, Captain."

  "If you say so, Spock," Kirk responded uncertainly.

  "There, you see?" Spock said to Gabler. "A perfectly natural mistake. Allow me to escort this young man back to his work area, Captain."

  "Very well, Mr. Spock."

  Spock, his arm around the Klingon engineer, turned and steered him toward the elevator, talking easily with the alien. The latter continued to eye the Vulcan uneasily. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Kirk looked firmly at Bell and Gabler.

  "Return to your posts—and don't leave until you've been formally relieved."