Mutiny on the Enterprise

by Robert E. Vardeman

  "Kirk, I won't have you ordering me about like this. I—"

  "Lieutenant Patten," Kirk called, punching his intercom button on the arm of his seat, "send five security personnel to the bridge to escort Ambassador Zarv to his quarters."

  "This is an outrage!" protested Zarv, but the sight of the security team caused him to snort, spin and stalk off, flanked by the armed men.

  "Mister Spock, why hasn't this planet been cataloged? An obviously advanced civilization shouldn't have gone undetected by Federation scouts." Kirk relaxed a little now that the Tellarite ambassador had been removed. In spite of their dangerous position, he felt more at home dealing with problems concerning his ship and crew than he did with recalcitrant diplomats.

  "Unknown, sir. This star system is not too far from the Starbase One—Ammdon route. Certainly traffic along this path has increased after Romulan incursions began. Even behind the obscuring dust cloud, some evidence ought to have been noted."

  "Perhaps no one bothered to do more than monitor radio and subspace channels, Mr. Spock," suggested Uhura. "Before being assigned to the Enterprise I worked on a scout ship. We often hurried through a sector, mapping only the stars with likely Class M planets, and those we always scanned for radio activity first."

  "Shoddy procedure," muttered Spock.

  "But sometimes necessary," Kirk said. "The galaxy is big and there will always be systems right on our doorstep that we've overlooked. Let's hope that this planet works out for our benefit."

  The door to the turboelevator opened. Kirk stiffened slightly, thinking Zarv had returned. He looked back and immediately relaxed. Dr. McCoy strode up, clipboard in hand.

  "Got the life-sensor readings analyzed, Jim. It looks like good news. Those people down there aren't human, but they register more so than does Spock."

  "Atmosphere, aquasphere, the entire ecosphere, any problems for us?"

  "Difficult to say without samples to study, but I'd say this was a prime planet, just about tailored for humans like us—or aliens like them down there." He used his clipboard to point at the viewscreen. "Outwardly humanoid, some slight deviations. Some oddities, but nothing outrageously dangerous."

  "Be more specific in your report, Doctor." Spock glanced over McCoy's shoulder at the clipboard containing the preliminary results. "What do you consider an 'oddity'?"

  "Well, nothing I can put my finger on. Just feelings, like the ones you're always wishing you had and don't. There's too much life down there."

  "I do not wish to be hindered by your human emotions. And I do not understand what you mean by 'too much life,' Doctor."

  "I don't, either, Bones." Kirk looked up at his friend.

  The doctor shrugged and said, "Seems like too high a life-form reading for the number of people sampled. Might be they're more intense."

  "How unscientific," scoffed Spock.

  "But no one has discovered any threat, either biological or otherwise? Mr. Spock, Bones, get a security team together and beam down."

  "Aye, aye, sir." Spock was already on his way to the transporter. McCoy followed, looking more reluctant.

  "You know what we want. Negotiate for the shielding. Lead if they can supply it. Anything better if they've developed it. And solid rock if there's no hope of anything else."

  "Since they employ fission reactors on a wide scale, such shielding is logically an available commodity."

  "What would they want in return?" asked McCoy. "Without a proper contact team, we can't offer them any of our technology, and they're advanced enough that they won't want glass beads and trinkets."

  "Doctor," said Spock, "I believe the Starfleet Regulations are specific on this point. As we are endangered, our mission is in jeopardy and there is a distinct potential for greater harm when the Romulans are considered, Standing Order One is modifiable so that we can offer items not in this culture. We must be cautious in the items or knowledge offered for trade, but our actions do have the sanction of law."

  "Makes me feel damn good," protested McCoy. He stared at the transporter platform and added, "That makes me feel damned good, too."

  "Good luck. Keep a complete tricorder record of your meeting. The Federation Contact Department will be very interested. This is the first truly advanced technological culture discovered in more than twenty years."

  "All ready, Captain," came Spock's level voice from the transporter platform. Surrounding him and McCoy were four security men.

  "Activate transporter," ordered Kirk. Shimmering columns of energy formed around each of the men. They vanished from sight. Kirk wished he could be with them, but of course that wasn't possible. He was captain of a starship; his duty lay aboard his vessel. He hurried back to the bridge to monitor their first contact.

  Leonard McCoy stumbled and fell to one knee, cursing. "When will they design a machine that works like it's supposed to? Damned thing dropped me an inch too far off the ground."

  "You positioned yourself off balance while still aboard the Enterprise," said Spock. "If you would not fear the transporter, such occurrences wouldn't happen."

  "Why shouldn't I fear it? Kyle said it was being modified because of the power situation. Damn thing rips apart all my atoms, juggles them like some performer at a circus, then tosses them back together who knows where. A miracle all my enzymes are still functioning. That'd be something to look into. If you use a transporter very much, are enzyme levels affected adversely?"

  "Doctor, such studies have been done on Vulcan and elsewhere and indicate no deleterious effects caused by the action of the transporter beam."

  "Sir," said Neal, commander of the security team. He indicated several humanoids approaching.

  Spock studied them carefully, his tricorder working the while. He and the others had beamed down on the outskirts of a large city. Soft, velvety green turf under their feet spread out as far as the city streets, which appeared to be a more familiar glossy black glasphalt power strip. Buildings nearby had the same soft texture to them; nowhere did Spock see the hardness of brick or steel in construction.

  "Peculiar life-form readings," he muttered. "Most intense, as you mentioned previously, Dr. McCoy."

  The humanoids drew nearer, then stopped. Hairless heads gleamed in the dim afternoon sunlight. The effect of no eyebrows caused their eyes to appear larger than human norm, but the lack of ears came to Spock as the most striking difference. The aliens stood equidistant apart, not talking, not looking at one another. They studied Spock, McCoy and the others with no discernible expression, either of curiosity or of fear.

  "How do we approach them?" asked McCoy. "I haven't read Robinson Crusoe in a long time."

  Spock stepped forward and said, "I am science officer of the starship Enterprise now orbiting your world. We desire commerce." No response. Spock fiddled with his tricorder, then tried once more. No visible emotion crossed the faces.

  "You're a real crowd pleaser, Spock. I'm not getting any new life-form readings. You're not much good as a standup comic."

  "Your ridicule is misplaced, Doctor. I get no indication from them that they even notice us. Telepathy is not unknown. Their lack of ears indicates communication other than we employ."

  "Are you going to try the Vulcan mind meld?"

  "I must attempt it, though it does not seem a fruitful approach at this point of contact."

  Spock stepped forward, hesitated, then took another few steps to stand before the humanoid on the extreme left. The Vulcan reached out. The humanoid didn't stir. Spock touched fingers to the humanoid's forehead; the response was instantaneous.

  A heavy fist lashed out and struck the Vulcan in the stomach. He staggered back, trying to recover balance and breath. He gasped out to the security team, "Wait! Don't fire!"

  His voice wasn't strong enough for them to hear and obey. They fired phasers, set on stun. The humanoids trembled under the energy onslaught but didn't fall unconscious.

  "Their nervous systems must not be the same," yelled McCoy. "Don't try the p
hasers."

  By this time Spock had recovered, but nothing he could do prevented the humanoids from surging forward and seizing the security team. From thin air appeared more and more aliens until the entire landing party had been seized and subdued.

  "A fine mess this is," grumbled McCoy. "Now how are you going to get us out?"

  "I see no logical course of action to follow except to submit and wait for a chance to speak with those in power. Rather, to communicate in some fashion with their leaders."

  "Fat chance we're going to see the light of day again," said McCoy as they were dragged along the soft green velvety turf underfoot and toward the bowels of the city.

  "They were taken prisoner, sir," came Chekov's immediate report. "What action do we take?"

  "Prisoner? What happened? I came straight from the transporter room. They haven't had time to get into trouble."

  "Sir!" barked Chekov. "Mr. Spock attempted to communicate using Wulcan mind-merging techniques. He was struck. Security team opened fire with hand phasers. All were grabbed and taken into city."

  "Sulu, any activity in orbit or near space?"

  "None, Captain."

  "Uhura, radio messages?"

  "Negative, sir."

  "Put the full tricorder tapes onto the forward viewscreen. I want to see whatever Spock and McCoy saw prior to the incident."

  Kirk watched the few minutes replayed. He shook his head. It seemed improbable that such a disaster had struck without warning. Spock had approached slowly, intent clear. If he was correct about telepathy being the method of communication, it explained much. A telepathic culture needed radios the way outer space needed more vacuum; but if they were telepathic, why hadn't they read his peaceful intent? Some cultures had taboos against touching, but Spock's appearance indicated an alien presence and he had not abruptly forced himself on the humanoid. If touching was forbidden, why hadn't the humanoid backed away or otherwise indicated that Spock should halt?

  "Dammit," he said, fists tightened into straining balls, "they followed first-contact procedures. That shouldn't have happened."

  "What do we do, sir?" asked Chekov.

  "Ready phasers. Shift energy from all level-six and lower priority items."

  "Photon torpedoes also, Captain?"

  "No, Mr. Chekov. The phasers are more precise. I don't want to start a war. I want to get radiation shielding from those people down there. This is not an armed aggression. Not yet."

  Kirk watched as Chekov began flipping switches and getting back ready lights indicating the phasers were powering up and getting readied for action. Then red lights blossomed like flowers in the spring.

  "Sir, phaser crews are not at their posts."

  "Why not?"

  Pavel Chekov turned and shrugged, indicating he had no idea.

  "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. I'm going to see about those crews personally. You will not open fire unless the landing party is in danger of losing their lives."

  "Aye, aye, sir." Sulu slipped into the command seat as Kirk rushed to the turboelevator. He whished down and across the broad dish of the main portion of the Enterprise and hurried out toward the fire-control nodule fastened under the structure.

  Empty. The room had been evacuated as if there'd been an alarm.

  He slipped into a seat and prepared the phasers. "Mr. Sulu, status."

  "Nothing has changed, sir. The aliens have penned up the landing party as if they were farm animals. They didn't even put them into a prison cell. It looks like a corral with a three-meter-high fence."

  "I've activated the phaser firing circuits. Get a security force down here on the double. I want a crew manning the phasers immediately, and then I want the names of whoever abandoned this post. They are to be put on report immediately, pending further disciplinary action."

  He savagely cut the intercom link with the bridge and turned his attention to readying the phasers. When light footsteps sounded behind him, he said, "Take over. I have to return to the bridge." Kirk spun in the seat and saw Lorelei standing quietly in the door.

  "James, the crew has finally discovered the True Path. None will man your weapons. They have discovered a way better than violence."

  "Spock, McCoy and four others are in danger below. Use of our phasers might be the only way of getting them free. Are you willing to condemn them to death?"

  "If it means exchanging their lives for others, yes. Such trades are never worthwhile."

  "Those are my friends, my crew members!" Kirk cried.

  "It is unfortunate such a situation has arisen, but violence will not solve the problems. Violence will only aggravate an already tense condition."

  "You talked my crew into abandoning their posts?"

  "James, I will not lie to you. I spoke earnestly with many of them, answered their questions, eased their doubts. None will return to do harm to other living creatures. You must seek out another—a peaceful—solution."

  "Security!" he said forcefully. "Show Lorelei to her quarters and see that she stays there. You, take over phaser bank one. You, man the second bank." He didn't wait to see if his orders were being carried out or not. Those in security weren't easily swayed by arguments. They knew their duty and performed it well.

  As did Captain James T. Kirk.

  Yet, as he returned to the bridge, Lorelei's words gnawed away at his rock-solid mental defenses. What if she were right? What if there were a way that didn't involve using force?

  He shook himself angrily. "I'll explore all peaceful ways before using the phasers. That's the way I've been trained, that's the way I believe."

  Still, Kirk found himself doubting even as he resumed his command seat on the bridge.

  Stickiness penetrated his tunic and turned his skin tacky. Startled, Kirk turned to see Mek Jokkor standing beside him. The alien's expression was one of consternation. He was as upset as Kirk had ever seen him. The hand tightened and tiny prickly tendrils danced across sensitive skin. Kirk guessed it was the plant man's way of communicating; to him it meant nothing.

  "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

  "There's much you do not understand, you raving space worm!" Ambassador Zarv thundered onto the bridge, trailing Donald Lorritson behind. "Is it true that you've lost your science officer in an abortive attempt to talk those bumpkins out of a few cubic meters of radiation shielding?"

  "I have not lost my science officer, as you put it, Ambassador. He, Dr. McCoy and four others have been taken prisoner by the inhabitants of this planet. We have been unable to figure out what taboos were broken to cause such action on the natives' part."

  "Amateurs. They are all amateurs in Starfleet. I sometimes wonder why I remain in the Federation diplomatic service."

  "Captain," said Lorritson, cutting past his superior's tirade, "we have examined the tricorder tapes and cannot discern any reason for the action taken by the natives. However, the tricorder does not record subtleties we are trained to observe. Small facial twitches, slight movement, even the relative distances between personnel. Millions of data are our stock-in-trade."

  "Get to the point, Mr. Lorritson."

  "We wish to beam down and arrange for the release of your crew members. In the process, we feel it possible to obtain the radiation shielding required to repair the Enterprise."

  Kirk considered this for a moment. The offer seemed reasonable enough. These three were trained negotiators. Let them get Spock and McCoy and the others out of hot water. Zarv, Lorritson and Mek Jokkor knew the ropes, knew how to get things peacefully. They wouldn't require the use of force to back them up. That was the only way: peacefully.

  He shook his head, as if to clear cobwebs in it. The words echoing inside his skull sounded precisely like those Lorelei had uttered. Insidiously she had intertwined her thoughts with his and blurred the decisions he had to make. He wanted a quiet settlement of this problem, but he could not rule out force if it became necessary.

  Unlike Lorelei, he believed force sometimes did solve problems.
It was to be regretted, but force sometimes held the answer to otherwise intractable dilemmas.

  "I appreciate your offer, Mr. Lorritson, but I cannot take the risk of sending another party down immediately. A second group, following on the heels of the first, might incite the natives. We will try to figure out what happened; then one of you will be permitted to accompany the second party. As a group, you three are too valuable to risk."

  "We work as a team, Kirk." Zarv's belligerence increased. "You got us into this mess. We do no good sitting on our thumbs. Let us get your crew free and get us on our way. We have to be in the Ammdon council chambers in less than two weeks. If we fail to arrive, war is the only possible outcome."

  "If you're tossed into the prison corral with Spock and the others, you'll never make it to Ammdon. Your safety is my responsibility, Ambassador, whether you like it or not. Please present an analysis of the situation for my evaluation. Lieutenant Avitts will run your findings through the computer." He pointed to the woman at Spock's station. While she wasn't as able as Spock—who in all of Starfleet was?—she had learned much from him. She'd perform as well as anyone could under the circumstances.

  "We have no time for such time-wasting maneuvers. We will not form a committee to study forming a committee, Kirk. That's for seatbound bureaucrats. We must go to the planet's surface and have a face-to-face meeting with their leaders."

  "We haven't even identified their leaders, Zarv," Kirk said, his patience wearing thin.

  "We can have this misunderstanding cleared up quickly, Captain," cut in Donald Lorritson. The man smoothed his impeccable red silk doublet, picking off imaginary specks of lint. "It is what we have been trained to do."