Constellations
Page 34
“My decision to join Starfleet,” said Spock, “grew out of its broader scientific reach, rather than any desire for…adventure.”
The travel pod backed into the station, where its hatch meshed perfectly with the dock, and Spock was reminded yet again of the elegance of standard-issue Federation technology.
The pod’s hatch opened, revealing an Andorian. His blue skin, white hair, and articulated antennae stood out in stark contrast to his Starfleet uniform of black pants and bright red shirt. Bishop introduced him to Kirk and Spock as Engineer Thyner.
Thyner nodded slightly to each. “Welcome, gentlemen.”
“Any change?” asked Bishop.
“None, sir,” replied Thyner.
“Let’s go.”
Thyner turned and led the way down the ivory-colored corridor. Their footsteps echoed through the hall. There did not appear to be anyone else nearby.
Spock said, “I assume you are using the Toliver variances.”
Thyner stopped and turned toward Spock. “That’s right. How did you know?”
“It is the only logical choice if you are attempting to generate a sphere of this size.”
Thyner scratched an antenna and continued walking. “We haven’t been able to get anywhere with it. There’s plenty of hydrogen around, of course. And the plasma relays are set to Toliver’s calculations. The plasma beams go where they’re supposed to, but the gases won’t congeal. I’ve run a complete diagnostic twice.”
Spock was intrigued. A Midnight Sphere of any size had never actually been created, but theoretically, skilled engineers, provided they applied the Toliver protocols and had enough power, should be able to achieve it. It was a remarkable challenge.
“It must have taken your engineering crew some time to construct all this,” said Kirk.
“‘Crew’?” asked Thyner.
Bishop stepped up. “Thyner is the Yard’s only actual engineer. Of course we have a number of skilled technicians…for repairing light fixtures and stuck turbolifts. Things like that. We brought in a few engineers temporarily to assist with this station’s assembly.”
Kirk asked, “You have only one real engineer in a facility devoted to the study of alien technology?”
“We’re a research facility, Captain,” Bishop said dismissively. “Ah, here we are.”
The doors opened and they stepped into a space as large as the engine room of the Enterprise. The floor was circular, and its center had been removed, revealing a glowing white sphere ten meters in diameter. From it, twenty-four rods, each a meter across, extended in all directions, into other tubes and out of sight. There was a computer bank on their right, and to their left a dozen screens displayed various parts of the inside of the structure. The room was filled with a low, throbbing hum.
At the computer station the viewer was already up. Spock approached it and began to read.
Seeing Bishop again after all these years brought back pleasant memories that Spock had swept away along with the unpleasant ones of his conflict with his father. Spock had thought of Bishop on occasion. When he had graduated from the Academy, he had considered sending her a note, just to inform her that her inspiration had indeed resulted in his commencement. But that seemed too much like pride—an emotion that many newly commissioned officers were prone to.
“Mr. Thyner, your plasma valence settings are incorrect,” said Spock, looking up from the viewer.
“They are set to the Toliver variances.”
“Undoubtedly. But this is not a theoretical exercise. You are not working within a perfect void nor an inertial frame. In actual practice—what engineers refer to, I believe, as ‘the real galaxy’—they need to be adjusted.” Spock walked to a diagnostic panel across the room. “The gases are not being properly constrained. While the theory itself is sound, its practical application requires some modification.” Spock would not have called himself impressed, but he did appreciate the way in which the relays achieved maximum efficiency through simplicity of arrangement. Bishop had done a fine design job.
To Thyner, Spock said, “If you will alter the plasma frequency by three degrees, I will reset the relays to accommodate the change. That should suffice.”
Thyner typed quickly at a keyboard. “It’s that simple?”
“What did I tell you?” said Bishop. “Spock knows his plasma constraints.”
“It is merely a matter of applying experience to theory,” Spock said.
Thyner stepped away from the console. “Very well, then, I’ll reboot the drivers. It will take about an hour and a half for the system to come online.”
“And when it does,” said Bishop, “I have faith that it will be perfect.”
Bishop led Kirk and Spock back out to the corridor. “You are welcome to stay and see the Sphere become fully active. It should be quite a sight.” She gave a high click that Spock recognized as the Nasat version of a chuckle. “From the inside, at least.” The travel pod’s hatch opened. “Captain, I will have Dr. Miyazaki show you around if you like. Spock and I have some catching up to do.”
They sat in her office. Bishop had dragged her chair out from behind the desk, and Spock sat comfortably, facing her on one that was similarly shaped.
“It will be remarkable, Spock,” she said. “This will be a temple filled with the technological wonders of the galaxy—and perhaps other galaxies as well. Think of it. The achievements of so many astounding civilizations that have come and gone. Each one so much more magnificent than ours.”
“‘The Golden Age is never the present,’” said Spock. “But the Yard is dedicated to the study of contemporary civilizations as well, is it not? If, for example, a Gorn or a Tholian ship were to be captured, it would be brought here.”
“Yes, of course. There’s much to be learned from them as well.”
“Such as how to defend against their weapons.”
“Perhaps, perhaps,” said Bishop. “Who knows what their artifacts might offer up to the well-trained eye. But just think of the civilization that built the Guardian of Forever, Spock: that simple, bent stone ring that can take you anywhere and anywhen…”
“Surely you do not intend to move the Guardian here?”
“No, of course not. It can’t be done. Turns out the thing extends deeper into the planet than anyone imagined. Now, if only there was a way to move the planet here…”
Bishop stood up and went to look out at the other space stations. “You should be here, Spock. Think about what you’ve accomplished over the years. All the worlds you’ve explored, all the devices you’ve been the first to see. Think about what you’ve seen just because you happened to be there: computers that ran whole worlds, machines left behind by vanished species who were later revered as gods. Think about all you might have missed had you not just stumbled upon them. And now what if…they came to you?” She turned around. “I want you to join me here at the Yard.”
Spock had never seriously considered serving anywhere but on a starship. Yet his entire career had been devoted to the expansion of Federation knowledge, and now here was a singular opportunity to exercise his skills as a scientist. And the Yard would most likely become the very center of Starfleet’s xenotechnology studies.
“An intriguing proposal,” said Spock.
Bishop pointed to the space station nearest them. “Do you see that station? It holds the Smoke Trapezoids from the ruins of Epsilon Sagittarii IV. On the station above it, there are half a dozen Starfleet scientists dedicated to nothing but deciphering the hieroglyphics surrounding the Scepter of Ket’cha. Realm Dialect, you know—a very complex language.” She hugged herself in excitement with all six arms. “These objects are so…well, you’ve seen them yourself. Some are so elegant in the simplicity, and others devilish in their complexity. I don’t know if Dr. Sah will ever figure out what that honeycomb-shaped thing of his does. He’s spent four years on it, and may spend ten more. They have so much to teach us, Spock. There is so much to know. Isn’t that what Starfleet i
s all about? If I recall, you know your Keats. Hyperion? ‘Knowledge enormous…’?”
“‘…makes a God of me,’” said Spock.
Bishop had changed since Spock had last seen her. The idea of waiting for anything to come to her was not one the Bishop of nineteen years ago would have endorsed.
“But knowledge in and of itself,” said Spock, “is purposeless. You were an engineer once.”
“That’s your father talking, Spock.”
Spock froze. Anger touched the edge of his consciousness—old anger at his father for not understanding his wishes and new anger at Bishop for bringing up those memories. Spock was quickly able to stem it.
Bishop continued. “Sarek was always afraid of what we were going to do. But knowledge is pure. I was not an engineer; I was a scientist. I always have been, and there is a universe of difference. True, as it happens, my work made travel between the stars more comfortable.”
“And it has an application now in holding the Sphere together,” said Spock.
“Oh, yes, that too. But what really mattered was that I was able to disprove Occita’s theorem. Oh, what a day when that paper was published!”
“On Vulcan, you encouraged me to go beyond my world and seek out things I had never seen before. You spoke of discoveries waiting to be made, things to be experienced.”
“I still do.”
“You used to be an explorer,” said Spock.
“I still am, but the wonders of the universe come to me now.”
“But you are not the first. You are not the one who discovers them.”
“That doesn’t matter so much,” said Bishop, “if I can be the one who finally solves their mysteries. Which is more important, Spock: to discover the object or to discover what it does and how it works? No offense intended, but anyone can be out there just bumping into things.”
Spock was incapable of taking offense, but he did wonder if it was illogical for him to want that someone to be him.
She continued. “That’s not science. Starfleet is just lucky that someone with your caliber mind is out there.” She returned to her seat and looked him in the eye. “And there’s more, Spock. If you join me here, I will see to it that eventually you will succeed me.”
Spock had never considered himself a leader of anything larger than a landing party. He felt indebted to Starfleet for the opportunities it afforded him and wanted to be of service to it, but he found greater logic in following. Logic was frequently a better basis for implementing plans than conceiving them. Still, leadership of a science station was significantly different from that of a starship.
“I’m doing everything I can,” said Bishop, “to preserve the way I—we—view matters. But today, Starfleet doesn’t seem as interested. They no longer study for the sake of knowledge. Now they ‘reverse-engineer.’ It’s not about ideas anymore. It’s about exploiting technology. You know what that means: science by committee. What about our motto: ‘Ex astris, scientia’?” This is supposed to be a place of study, not a tool shop!”
“But is that not the point of knowledge?” asked Spock. “To use it?” Bishop eyed him warily. Something that had been bothering Spock surfaced and he asked, “Was this a test, Bishop? A ploy to bring me here?”
“No, Spock. The system really wasn’t working. But when I thought of saviors, you immediately sprang to mind. And, after seeing your performance today, I knew that you had not changed, and so I knew you were the one.” She stood up again. “On Vulcan, you wanted what I wanted: to see, to know. That’s why I need you. You think like me, Spock.”
“It has been nineteen years, Bishop. How do you know how I think?”
“You’re a Vulcan, and you’re still in Starfleet after all this time. I knew what you were thinking then. I still know how you think. You know the value of knowledge. You’re a Vulcan; you prize logic and science above all else. Now consider, Spock, which would you rather be: the captain of some starship—or perhaps a perpetual first officer—or the greatest scientist in the Federation? Spoken of in the same breath as Einstein, F3 Red, T’cal.”
This was not exactly the same Bishop that Spock had known nearly twenty years ago. Of course, it was illogical to assume she would not have changed in that time. He himself had changed. Her interests seemed significantly more insular now than they had been on Vulcan. Undoubtedly the demands of the classified positions that had led her here over the years had altered her. Yet, what she was saying made sense to Spock. Spock had let her guide him once before. Why not now? Was she really all that different? And even if she was, that did not make her wrong.
There was the low whistle of an electronic hail, then “Miyazaki to Bishop.”
The Nasat pressed a button on her desk. “Go ahead.”
“Ka would like to see you about the Medevlan gauss cannon. He’s on deck two.”
“I’ll be with him in a minute.” She broke the connection and turned to Spock. “Think about this, Spock. We can discuss it more, if you like. You join Captain Kirk, and I’ll see you in a few minutes when our shell is up.”
On any other space station, it would have been a bar. Here at the Yard, it was just a very large mess hall. Where spirits would have been stored, there was an extra bank of food slots. A female Tellarite took her cup of coffee, walked past Kirk and Spock, and continued to the far end of the otherwise-empty room to join her companion, a female human.
As Kirk took a bite of his turkey salad sandwich, Spock had a long sip of ice water and then spoke. “When I was young,” he said, “I had planned to follow in my father’s path. From an early age, I studied all the disciplines that a Vulcan scientist should master: computers, biology, astronomy…. When not in school, I spent time at the VulcanScience Academy’s library, pursuing my own interests: plasma fields, dissecting the teachings of Surak…. I also spoke with many of the researchers there. Perhaps you are unaware of the V.S.A.’s conservative approach to science. They believe quite resolutely in the ‘brick-by-brick’ approach, wherein every advance is firmly rooted in established and tested fact. All breakthroughs there are anticipated well in advance.”
“I remember something about that from a class at the Academy,” said Kirk.
Spock nodded. Starfleet’s Academy, on the other hand, was a place where innovation and original thinking were actively encouraged and rewarded.
Kirk asked, “After first contact, didn’t the Vulcans initially hold back certain scientific information from Earth, believing we weren’t quite ready for it?”
“Correct. The V.S.A. trained nearly everyone involved in early Earth-Vulcan relations. I, however, wanted to see things that no one had ever seen before. I wanted a chance to make broad but still logical leaps. Bishop showed me that there was another path: Starfleet. Under both Captain Pike and you, I have achieved that. The opportunity to remain here is a remarkable one, and a logical step in my career.”
Kirk said, “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one who holds you back.”
“I have always considered myself more of a science officer than a first officer, and I do not particularly wish a captaincy. Lieutenants Sulu and Hadley would make an excellent first officer and science officer, respectively.”
“I’d be losing more than an officer, Spock. I’d be losing a friend.”
“As would I, Jim. But the Yard may be the place where I can make my greatest contributions to science.”
Kirk said, “Dr. Miyazaki showed me a few things here at this station. They have one of the androids from Harry Mudd’s planet—well, most of one. They have some of Landru’s lawgiver staffs, too.” He looked Spock directly in the eyes.
“Things you had already seen because we discovered them.”
“Exactly. Evidently, your friend Bishop doesn’t believe in taking chances. I’m welcome to stay here and have a guided tour, but even a starship captain can’t be trusted to see the Yard’s real bounty. You didn’t see anything new, did you?”
“We talked in her office.”
“There are other scientists doing work here, Captain.”
“All working for her. Miyazaki told me that everyone here was personally recruited by Bishop. And have you noticed how few people there are?” He waved at the nearly empty space they sat in.
“She said they are not yet fully staffed.”
“True, but I bet she intentionally keeps the numbers low. She doesn’t want too many scientists around.”
“These are high-security items, Captain. It is logical that she does not—Starfleet does not—want too many people here.”
“And yet she summoned a four-hundred-and-thirty-person starship to the Yard.”
“No, Captain, she summoned one person: me.”
Kirk sighed. “And the rest of us just came along for the ride.”
“She apparently does have significant authority in Starfleet Command.”
“Authority to do what? Play with ships like a child in a bathtub?”
“She needed me, Captain. Their relays were not functioning. They did not know what to do.”
“But Bishop could have called in any number of specialists to fix the problem.”
Spock had to concede that point. It could not truly be the case that he was the only plasma constraint expert in the sector. Or even the only one with a high enough secret clearance.
But perhaps he was the only one Bishop felt she could trust. Was she willing to deal only with known quantities? She had not been that way on Vulcan. Spock wondered if, over the years, Bishop had become too cautious in her outlook.
The hall door opened, and Bishop and Miyazaki entered. Bishop’s tail swished slightly with apparent excitement. She glanced at the chronometer on a wall and nodded toward an out-of-reach comm panel, which Miyazaki activated for her.