Star Trek: The Original Series - 147 - Devil’s Bargain

by Tony Daniel

  The planet surface became a mosaic of nanotech-driven insanity, terrible transformation, and total destruction. Whole swaths became uninhabitable, filled with dueling nanotech-animated zombie armies in perpetual, preprogrammed struggle with one another. Humans who ventured into such areas entered a killing zone out of a surrealist nightmare.

  That had been Merling’s training ground, thought Sulu. No wonder he had turned out to be such a troubled soul.

  But what did any of this have to do with the current mission?

  Sulu was not sure, but something did not smell right, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  To do so, he had enlisted the aid of Chekov and the ship’s interior sensors. He was expecting the ensign at any minute.

  Sulu ordered up hot water and was preparing to make himself a cup of tea when Chekov arrived. “Come in.” The door to his quarters slid open and the Russian ensign entered. He saw Sulu’s teapot and his eyes lit up.

  “Is that the special blend your grandmother sent you?”

  “It is,” said Sulu. “Would you like a cup?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Chekov replied. Without waiting to be invited, Chekov pulled up a chair and sat down across from Sulu at the cabin’s small worktable. Sulu didn’t mind. After three and a half years of working together, he and Pavel had become close friends and had saved each other’s lives more than once. Neither stood on ceremony.

  Sulu carefully placed the tea in the cup and poured hot water over it. This tea was matcha, the thick tea his grandmother used in her ceremonies, and it was wonderfully rich. Sulu liked to carry his own supply of tea. After Sulu carefully mixed the tea he nodded. Chekov took a sip and sighed in contentment.

  “My compliments to your grandmother,” he said. “So, how did your research go?”

  “Deneb II,” said Sulu, shaking his head. “What a sad story.”

  “A civil war?”

  “Yes, a terrible one,” Sulu answered. “The worst part about the conflict was that the humanoid government and rebels were not merely from the same background, but were blood relations in many cases. None of that seemed to matter once the fighting started.”

  “And what were they fighting over?”

  “Water,” said Sulu. “Plain water.”

  Sulu explained further that at issue had been rights to the planet’s limited fresh water supply. For a century, wells were owned and controlled by certain families. But after the Federation discovered the planet, and despite the Prime Directive, the outside world trickled in as the locals sought to adopt modern ways of doing things. The trouble was, what was modern on Deneb II turned out to be centuries out of date within the larger Federation.

  Eventually, the planetary government, never strong to begin with, divided into two factions. The Water Holders were those who still believed in family rights to wells. But they took it a step further and proclaimed that individual well water must only be drunk by the family that owned it.

  The Water Sharers, on the other hand, believed in communal ownership of all wells. Upkeep of wells, which was a continual nuisance on Deneb II with its frequent choking sandstorms, was to be a task all must help with. In Sharer territories, instead of everyone keeping the wells clear, no one did. The Sharers blamed the Holders for their bad wells, and the Holders believed the Sharers sacrilegious polluters who drank unpurified water and had turned into demons as a result.

  When war broke out, it was ugly, for by this time, both sides had used the planet’s considerable wealth from dilithium mining to purchase advanced weaponry. Those weapons had all come with contingents of “advisors.”

  Chekov sipped his tea. “This is all very interesting, but what does it have to do with our Major Merling?”

  “Let’s cut to the chase,” Sulu said. He finished his own tea and continued the tale.

  “Johan Merling had been one of those outside advisors. After serving an extremely undistinguished stint in his homeworld’s militia, Merling had put himself on the market as a mercenary and had ended up on Deneb II as advisor to the Sharer government. His expertise was in unconventional warfare, and, according to official records, Merling had trained a special forces unit whose mission was to poison Holder wells and knock them out of commission as water sources.

  “I followed the trail easily enough to this point, but then things get murky,” Sulu said. “Merling disappears from the official records as Deneb II descended from rebellion to chaos to complete collapse.”

  “Perhaps those records were altered?” Chekov offered.

  “It’s more likely all the record keepers were killed,” said Sulu.

  “And Merling had a hand in killing them?”

  “Possible,” Sulu answered. “In any case, the Holder faction seemed to have the upper hand for a time, but the Sharers resurged. They consolidated their power, and a mass execution of Holders was begun. What started as a war became genocide. Then, as the Holders fought back in desperation, out came the forbidden military nanotech.”

  “And you think it was Merling? Cossack!”

  Sulu nodded in agreement. “No one knew if it was the Sharers or the Holders who struck first, but someone dropped nano into the wells. The restricted military nano spread and destroyed all in its path, as if the very world had caught the plague. An infected well was literally turned to a poisonous jelly. Those who drank from it died writhing in pain, and then their bodies became infected, zombie-like ‘walkers’ that traveled about spreading the contagion.” Sulu sat back and shook his head. “That’s all I have, however. All circumstantial evidence, I’m afraid.”

  “Perhaps I can bring us up to date.” Chekov finished his tea and then raised his data slate. “I have some interesting findings to report.”

  That was Chekov—a man made for easy enjoyment but able to turn on a dime to full engagement if the situation called for it. Sulu appreciated these qualities in his friend. Sulu was not so much a master of relaxation as he was a man with hobbies, many hobbies. He had caught the collecting bug at a young age and used it to alleviate the tension of his duties, ensuring the safety of the ship. He had an interest in weaponry long before he’d become a weapons officer himself, and he had an interesting assortment.

  “What have you discovered?” Sulu asked his friend.

  “First, I examined corridor playback during the shuttle bay incident,” Chekov said. “Our Major Merling was nowhere near the shuttle bay or the Horta while on the ship except for one brief visit, where he’d been accompanied by Captain Kirk, Hannah Faber, and her aides. What’s more, Bellamy Hox definitely did slip away for a moment during that tour. Hox probably planted the nano in the control room then.”

  “We know Hox is guilty of attempted murder. When he wakes up from that phaser stun, we’ll find out more, I’m sure. But we’ve got nothing on Merling?” Sulu asked. His instincts told him Merling was somehow involved.

  “I didn’t say that,” Chekov replied with a smile. Sulu filled his cup again, and Chekov took another sip of tea.

  “Well, go on,” said Sulu, keeping the impatience from his voice. You didn’t get anywhere from ordering Chekov about when he was off duty. According to Pavel, nobody could ever be more harsh and dictatorial than his own father, and he considered those who tried to lord it over him only pale imitations of his old man.

  The ensign set his teacup back down. He held up a plastic computer card. “The log record for personal locker 57A.”

  “Enlighten me,” Sulu said.

  “Since Merling didn’t want to be anywhere near Spock or the Horta, we had to put him on deck eight in the technician and ensign berths. As you know from your days down there, Lieutenant, these are not the roomiest of spaces. Major Merling beamed up with personal luggage that had to be stored elsewhere.”

  “In personal locker 57A,” Sulu said.

  “Exactly,” replied Chekov. He slid the card into his computer and the two watched a speeded-up recording of the locker’s access record. Merling came several time
s to the locker and each time was careful to open it only when no one else was in the corridor. Sometimes this required waiting a good ten minutes. Privacy was more important than quick access, it seemed.

  “The interesting point is coming up,” Chekov said. His hand hovered over the control button on the monitor. “Here,” he said, and he pressed the button, freezing the display.

  Merling’s hand was just coming out of the locker, holding something. “Can we zoom in on what he’s got there?” Sulu asked.

  “Certainly,” said Chekov. He framed and zoomed the image to the item in the major’s hand.

  The enlargement showed an instrument with silver trimming on a coal-black body. He’d seen something like this before. Sulu studied it closer. It had a splayed muzzle-like area on the front that was colored bright red, as if to mark the dangerous end.

  Sulu’s collector instinct awoke. He was looking at a weapon of some sort. But from where did he know this?

  Deneb II. He’d briefly considered what it would be like to own one of those weapons for his collection—discharged and decommissioned, of course.

  “A little more, down where he’s gripping it.”

  Chekov obliged, and the enlarged image came into focus. And there it was.

  “The maker’s mark,” said Sulu. “Rendar Armory. See the curly silver R there with the numeral 7 beside it?”

  “I do,” Chekov said. “But what is it?”

  “That, my friend, is a military nanotech injector pistol,” Sulu said. “A Rendar Mark 7. They were outlawed fifty years ago. The only contemporary use on record was a decade ago—on a troubled little planet called Deneb II.”

  “Merling has outlawed weapony,” said Chekov. “We must arrest him.”

  Sulu smiled and put a hand on Chekov’s shoulder. “We must confront him. We have no evidence other than my hunch.”

  “You are an expert in such matters,” Chekov replied.

  “Thank you,” Sulu said. “But for now, let’s go have a talk with Major Merling in his quarters, shall we?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And bring your tricorder,” Sulu added. “We may be able to sniff out any nanotech in the area, even if it’s deactivated.”

  • • •

  They took the turbolift to deck eight and were walking down the corridor when Chekov’s tricorder pinged. They paused as Chekov checked the readout.

  “Nanotech?” asked Sulu.

  “No,” Chekov replied. He turned a knob and pressed a button to switch modes. “This is strange.”

  “What is it?”

  “I am picking up subspace transmissions. On a very low frequency. We would normally not monitor it on the ship, but since nanotech programming can be triggered by a subspace signal, I had it set to receive.”

  “Is it a trigger signal?”

  “No, it’s modulated,” said Chekov. “A message.” He popped up another readout. “It’s coded.”

  “Can you break the code?”

  Chekov examined the device screen. “It seems to be an older code, and the key is in the database.”

  The two stood in the corridor while Chekov adjusted his tricorder. A few curious faces passed them by, but Sulu just smiled and waved them along.

  “Yes, I have it,” said Chekov.

  A tinny voice arose from the tricorder, soft in volume, but unmistakably Major Merling’s.

  “Yes, I understand. But the bombs did their work. The tunnels are unusable.”

  Another, harder voice from the other end. It was a man’s voice, and it seemed to drip with cynical disdain. “Now they scramble for this new solution. We can never count on the idiots to do what they must. All hope must be lost for a general evacuation to be ordered.”

  “Many will die. The vaccines do not work beyond a few days.”

  “The strong will adapt,” said the voice. “Vesbius must fall, or there can be no progress.”

  “Yes, yes, I do agree,” Merling replied.

  “The Federation ship must not arrive. These creatures must not pollute our system. You must see to it. Are you strong?”

  “I am strong,” Merling replied.

  “Then do your duty. For yourself and for Exos.”

  A pause, then a quiet mumbled reply: “I will obey.”

  Chekov looked at Sulu. “Looks like your hunch has become proof.”

  “Let’s get in there!” said Sulu.

  They rushed to the door using Sulu’s weapons officer override and burst through into the cabin.

  There was no one in Merling’s quarters.

  “What is going on?” said a bewildered Chekov. But there on a desk sat the answer: a large metallic cylinder. Sulu picked it up. “A transceiver relay,” he said. “Too big to carry about. This unit is the primary sender and receiver, however. Merling must have a portable unit with him. Can you trace it?”

  Chekov already had his tricorder working on the problem. “I am getting a faint carrier signal.” He looked up in surprised concern. “From engineering, access tube D.”

  “Isn’t that—”

  “Life support,” Chekov said. “But Merling is confined to this deck.”

  Sulu got security on the way, but that would take time. He considered. “Aren’t we close to engineering?”

  “Yes,” Chekov replied. “The ensigns complain of the vibrations all the time when they are trying to sleep, although it has never bothered me.”

  “That tube is vertical. There ought to be an access to a Jefferies tube on this deck.” Sulu ran down the corridor. “Here.”

  The tube was sealed with a hatch. This was nothing a phaser couldn’t handle, and Sulu had brought his along—just in case. He was about to blast the latches when he noticed that they were already loose. Someone had come this way, and recently.

  Pulling the hatch off, Sulu climbed inside the Jefferies tube. Chekov was about to follow. “Get security to meet me in engineering,” he said. “We’ve got to stop him. I’ll do what I can. You come at him from below.”

  Chekov hesitated for a moment. Sulu could see that he didn’t want to let his friend go into the tube alone, but he turned to find an intership communicator panel. Sulu began climbing down the ladder.

  Below him, he heard more muttering. “Shaft A or B? Damn these schematics. I’ll infect them both.”

  This was all Sulu needed to hear. He launched himself from the ladder and shot straight down through the tube. His feet connected with something solid, then pounded into the relative softness of a head and shoulders, and Sulu felt the shudder of contact travel throughout his body. There was a startled cry of pain, and then Sulu continued falling—now entangled with another.

  There was a thud as the two reached the bottom of the tube. This entrance was to the Jefferies tube and was not covered with a hatch. The two rolled out of the tube and on to the deck of main engineering. Mister Scott was surprised to see them.

  “Mister Sulu, what are you—”

  But Merling recovered first. He shook Sulu off like a wild man, then scrambled around until he saw the weapon he had dropped and yanked it up. It was the Rendar Mark 7 Sulu had recognized.

  “Back off!” Merling yelled, pointing the red muzzle at Scott and Sulu. Sulu pulled himself to his feet just in time to stop Scotty from charging at the major.

  “He’s got a nano weapon there, Mister Scott,” Sulu said. “It can be deadly.”

  “Damn right.” Merling stalked over to the main engineering panel and placed the muzzle against it. “All I have to do is pull this trigger, and your ship and all those aboard . . . die.”

  Chekov rushed in with two red-shirted security officers wielding phasers.

  “Wait,” called Sulu. “Nano.” They stopped in their tracks. Even after being outlawed for years, the threat of military nanotech was enough to scare anyone.

  “Don’t you see, this didn’t have to happen?” said Merling.

  Yes, keep him talking, Sulu thought. Keep his finger from pulling that trigger.

&nb
sp; “If you people hadn’t shown up with your ship and your plans, we had everything in place to save them all.”

  “They are trying to save themselves.”

  Merling shook his head sadly. “Sheep. Genetically enhanced sheep hiding in their underground sheep pens. But the next step, a necessary step, to what we are about to become as a species. We must set the wolf upon them. Selection must take place.”

  “And you’re the wolf?”

  “Exos,” said Merling. “That is our purpose.”

  “You’re willing to kill children, to kill an alien species that did you no harm?”

  Merling shrugged. “I learned on Deneb II an important lesson,” he said. “Sometimes you must be cruel to be kind.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s a thankless task, but future generations will be grateful.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Sulu said. And then the lieutenant noticed something: The Rendar 7’s casing was cracked, probably from the fall. “Major, if I were you, I’d be very careful—”

  Sulu took a step forward.

  With a snarl, Merling pulled the trigger on the device.

  Nothing happened.

  He pulled it again, with the same result. Then he raised the weapon to look at it.

  That was when Merling knew: The nano had leaked. Merling screamed in fear and attempted to toss the weapon away. No good. His hand was now fused to the handle. In fact, it was impossible to tell flesh and weapon handle apart.

  And then the melting effect began to travel up Merling’s arm.

  “No!” he screamed.

  He turned to Sulu, a look of abject horror on his face. “Help me,” he said.

  Sulu slowly shook his head and backed away. He turned to the security officers. “Phasers on full,” he said to them. Both quickly followed orders.

  “Please, it’s . . . I can feel it . . . eating me alive,” Merling said. He tried to take a step forward, but his legs only moved slightly, as if they were made of hot wax. His entire body was quickly losing its form, turning to primordial goo. Dangerous goo, should it get loose on the ship. It could eat through decks, walls. And if this were the Deneb II master strain, it could turn the entire crew into the shambling dead.