by Gene DeWeese
For several days, however, he had done nothing about it, laid no plans. This time, because of the utter finality of his situation, his despair had not immediately begun its metamorphosis into anticipation, and for days he had simply indulged in pointless imaginings, fantasizing about what he could do if the Enterprise had self-destruct systems like the alien vessels. When he should have been out probing for an Achilles heel, when he should have been out among the crew, asking questions and talking and observing, no matter how much he was secretly ridiculed by them, he had been hiding in his stateroom virtually twenty-four hours a day, pointlessly dreaming of things that didn't exist.
But then, abruptly, when Kirk announced the return of the Hoshan and the Zeator, everything changed. In an instant, Crandall was jarred out of his fantasy world, and an instant later he realized that the Enterprise did indeed, under certain conditions, have the kind of self-destruct system he had been pointlessly fantasizing about for days.
A self-destruct system that, to his shame, he had already failed to use.
Twice.
Literally, he leaped to his feet in sudden exultation when the realization hit him, and in that instant he vowed that, no matter what, he would not fail the next time the opportunity arose.
He would finally have his victory.
"Never mind what the blasted machine says, Jim. Do you believe him?" McCoy, at his desk in the medical section, watched Kirk pace the length of the room.
"Bones," Kirk said, "there are times when you can evade medical questions almost as well as Spock can evade emotional ones. I'm the one who came down here to ask you if I should trust him. Could he have tricked the machine?"
"And that isn't a medical question, Jim. Medically speaking, Dr. Crandall appears to have recovered from the depression he went into after he tried to give me the Enterprise and found out I didn't want it. Also medically speaking, he appears to be healthy as a horse. As for whether or not he did—or could—get away with a lie while his hand is stuck in that computerized lie detector you call a Verifier…" McCoy's voice trailed off as his eyes widened in mock innocence. "Don't tell me you're losing faith in technology, Captain."
Kirk shook his head. "Hardly, Bones. However, after all the malfunctions I've seen, I don't trust it blindly, either. And out here, who knows how many millions or billions of parsecs from home, possibly in another universe altogether, with everyone—but particularly Crandall—in the middle of his or her own psychological crisis, nothing that depends on purely physiological reactions to determine truth or falsity can be one-hundred-percent reliable."
McCoy smiled faintly. "You know how I feel about the infallibility of machines, Jim, even under the best of circumstances, but it sounds to me as if you've already made up your mind. Now you're just trying to come up with a 'real' reason."
"You may be right, but I'd still like an evaluation from ship's chief medical officer."
"Without full-scale psychological tests, conducted under conditions a lot less stressful than the ones we're all living under now, there's no way of medically removing that last smidgin of doubt. Or confirming it, either."
"All right, then, what do your 'old country doctor' instincts tell you?"
"They don't apply to this sort of thing, Jim. How would you like it if I asked you what your 'captain's instincts' told you when Crandall first suggested he might be able to help in the talks between the Hoshan and the Zeator?"
"I'd say that, logically, his suggestion made perfect sense. After all, he is a politician. According to the computer, before he let things get out of hand on Tajarhi, he'd been a middleman in several negotiations. None on this scale, but big enough. He'd successfully mediated half a dozen disputes on Tajarhi itself."
"That's Spock's logic, not your so-called instinct. What does it say?"
Kirk shook his head with a rueful smile. "My 'captain's instincts' tell me to be suspicious, even though I haven't been able to come up with a single reason other than his own previously erratic behavior. He's obviously not going to try another mutiny, not now that he understands the situation and knows he can't succeed. And he couldn't possibly think he could take over the Enterprise at phaser point and run it by himself. No one, not even Spock, could run it alone, and Crandall knows that. Logic—and the computer—tells me that, this time, he's finally come to his senses and is simply trying to make up for his earlier blunders by trying to be as helpful as he can."
"You're back to logic again. It and your machines tell you one thing, but your instinct tells you another?"
"Exactly, which is why I wanted your professional evaluation in the first place, Bones."
"And you've gotten it. My professional evaluation is that he's healthy. Probably healthier than you, if you don't stick to the diet and the exercise program I laid out for you. Personally and nonmedically speaking, I wouldn't trust him any farther than you could throw one of Lieutenant Woida's barbells, and I wouldn't let him anywhere near the bridge without a full security detail around him, one that's more alert than the one he got the drop on the first time."
Kirk smiled faintly. "Thank you for your candor, Doctor. I'll take it and my own prejudices into account. Now what about the rest of the crew?" he went on, his face sobering. "How are they holding up?"
McCoy settled back in his chair behind the desk. "As well as you could expect, considering the situation. A few more cases of psychosomatic illnesses than usual, but nothing spectacular yet. A few nightmares, a few people who have trouble sleeping. A halfdozen brawls for no reason but the tension everyone's under. But nothing we can't handle. Or rather, nothing the crew can't handle themselves, so far."
"But later, when—if it becomes clear that we have no chance of finding our way back to the Federation, ever?"
McCoy shook his head somberly. "I don't know, Jim, I just don't know. I guess we'll find out if what you said before, about the Enterprise being a sort of extended family, is really true. And if it is, if that's enough to make up for the real families and friends and homes they left behind."
Kirk was silent for a long moment. Then, pulling in a breath, he turned to the door. "It may have to be, Bones," he said as the door hissed open. "It may have to be."
When the Hoshan ships first came into sensor range, Crandall, ever under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Tomson, had been listening attentively to the subspace exchanges between Kirk and the Hoshan and the Zeator for more than an hour. Kirk had been explaining, among other things, why neither the Hoshan nor the Zeator could successfully fake being attacked by the other. So far, Crandall's only contribution had been a comment to the effect that he did not think that the Hoshan had believed Kirk's claim that the Enterprise's sensors could detect the power buildup that preceded the firing of their lasers.
"You have demonstrated you can monitor their antimatter generators," Crandall had said when the communication link was broken, "but there was something in Belzhrokaz's face when he was listening to you that indicated, to me at least, that he was still skeptical."
Kirk had only nodded at the words, since he had reached essentially the same conclusion independently. The incident, however, had strengthened Kirk's logical conviction that Crandall was, in effect, trying to redeem himself and could indeed prove helpful when the two alien groups came together on the Enterprise. It had done nothing, however, to eliminate the instinctual distrust he had discussed with McCoy.
"Twenty-seven Hoshan ships, Captain," Spock said, moments after he had announced the arrival of the first ship within sensor range. "All appear to be essentially identical to those Hoshan vessels we encountered earlier."
Frowning, Kirk swung the command chair to face his first officer. "Twenty-seven?"
"Twenty-seven, Captain."
"Belzhrokaz didn't say anything about bringing an armada with him."
"Nor did he specifically state otherwise, Captain. Perhaps, like humans, the Hoshan believe that massive displays of force are the proper prelude to talks of peace."
Kirk scowl
ed at the viewscreen, where the Hoshan ships were beginning to appear as faint dots. "And how many of their ships did you say our deflectors could withstand? Eleven?"
"For an extended period, that is correct. For brief periods, the number is higher."
"How much higher?"
"It depends on the definition of brief, Captain. Could you be more specific?"
"Let's say the period of time it would take the Enterprise to get out of range of their lasers, taking into account the power that you have to divert from the shields to the warp drive."
"The situation you postulate is even more complex, Captain. There are too many variables to allow any specific number to be considered reliable."
"Some generalities, then. Anything to give me a feel for the situation."
"Very well, Captain. As I am sure you know, the more power that is diverted to the warp engines, the more the shields are weakened and the quicker they will fail. On the other hand, increased power to the warp engines will take us out of range of the lasers more quickly, thereby reducing the time the shields are required to hold. If the situation arises, a calculation of the optimum distribution of power for the specific circumstances that prevail will be a necessity. If the twenty-seven Hoshan ships just detected began simultaneous firing from one hundred kilometers, for example, full power to the shields would protect the Enterprise for approximately fifty-eight seconds."
Spock paused, leaning over his readouts. "If accomplished at the first moment of firing, optimum distribution of power between warp engines and deflectors would reduce that time to thirty-seven seconds but would take the Enterprise out of range within fifteen seconds. We would, however, be able to detect any potential laser firings at least ten seconds prior to the actual firing, which would give us an additional margin of safety."
"You're saying, then, that if we're on our toes, we don't have anything to worry about from the Hoshan ships, Mr. Spock?"
"I would not express it in those terms, precisely, Captain, but what you say is essentially true."
"And if the Zeator have just as many ships?"
Spock studied his readouts again. "If similar numbers of both Hoshan and Zeator fired simultaneously from a similar distance, we would still have sufficient time, but only if we initiated acceleration toward warp speed within one second of the attack."
"And the upper limit of the number of ships we could escape from in this way?"
"Theoretically, Captain, as long as we do not allow ourselves to be encircled, there would be no limit. If all power were diverted from the shields to the warp engines within two seconds of the moment preparations to fire were detected—eight seconds before actual firing—we would be out of their effective range before their lasers could fire."
"Then we had better not let ourselves be encircled, gentlemen. And Mr. Spock, I assume you will have all the necessary calculations ready for immediate implementation by the helm."
"Of course, Captain."
The Zeator, coming within sensor range an hour later, had thirty-one ships.
When Kirk had finally, reluctantly, allowed Dr. Jason Crandall onto the bridge, Crandall had been elated, albeit a bit surprised. On his good days, he had always had a fifty-fifty chance of faking out any lie detector that relied on physiological reactions, whether it was computerized or not, but even after he had apparently succeeded with the so-called Verifier, Kirk had still held back. Obviously, like everyone on board except perhaps Dr. McCoy, Kirk had a rigid faith in the capabilities of his ship and its gadgets, but even so, he had delayed for more than a day before accepting Crandall's offer to help in the upcoming negotiations, by which time Crandall had almost given up all hope of ever getting onto the bridge again.
And the bridge was where he would have to be, if he were going to have any chance of winning his final victory, either now or at some time in the future. For the immediate future, his primary hope centered on the excessively suspicious nature that both Hoshan and Zeator had so far displayed. Neither Belzhrokaz nor Endrakon, he was sure, would blindly accept their subordinates' claims of the Enterprise's powers, particularly its seeming invulnerability to their weapons. They would, Crandall suspected and hoped, ask for another demonstration, and that would be all the chance he would need.
But then, as the messages flew back and forth through subspace prior to the aliens' coming within sensor range, his hopes dwindled. To his surprise, and perhaps to that of Kirk as well, neither of the aliens so much as mentioned the demonstrations of the Enterprise's capabilities, let alone asked for new ones. For whatever reason, there seemed to be an air of resigned acceptance in their attitudes toward the humans.
As they had indicated during the first communications, they trusted the humans only slightly more than they trusted each other, but neither Belzhrokaz nor Endrakon, unlike the earlier, lower-ranking aliens, seemed inclined to challenge, or even question, anything Kirk said. Even when it had seemed, at least to Crandall, that the Zeator commander had doubted Kirk's claims of what the instruments on the Enterprise were capable of detecting, Endrakon had said nothing, had asked for no proof. And proof of that particular claim would have been far easier to supply than the proofs Kirk had originally supplied in regard to the Enterprise's deflectors and weaponry. A simple thirty-second demonstration would have proven it beyond a doubt, but no proof was requested.
It was, Crandall soon began to think, as if both the Hoshan and the Zeator were simply trying not to rock the boat, and that in itself made Crandall suspicious, though he was careful not to mention this to Kirk. The two alien commanders were, he was increasingly convinced, up to something, and each new development, each new uncertainty, only strengthened that suspicion and therefore strengthened Crandall's own regenerating optimism.
Finally, then, both fleets of ships came to a stop just inside transporter range. A pair of Hoshan and Zeator subordinates shared the viewscreen, maintaining communications with each other and with the Enterprise while the two commanders left to join their respective delegations, which would be transported to the Enterprise as soon as they were ready.
"It is understood," Kirk repeated, "that for your safety and our own, all delegates will be rendered unconscious briefly so that we can verify your claim that all personal self-destruct devices have been deactivated."
"Of course, Commander Kirk," the Hoshan subordinate said, as Belzhrokaz had said earlier, and the Zeator quickly agreed.
"Very well. We have a conference room prepared. As requested, it is equipped to allow the delegates to be in constant, virtually instantaneous visual contact with their own ships. Transport can begin whenever you give us the exact coordinates of your delegations."
"Hoshan coordinates already received, Captain," McPhee's voice came from the transporter room. And, a moment later: "Zeator coordinates also received. Ready to transport on your order."
"Security?"
"Ready, Captain," Lieutenant Tomson acknowledged, also from the transporter room.
"Mr. Spock?"
"Ready to neutralize the devices if necessary, Captain."
For a moment, Kirk was silent, his eyes going again to the two aliens sharing the forward viewscreen. As their commanders had been, the two were firmly expressionless.
"Your delegations are ready?"
"They are, Commander Kirk," both aliens said.
"Very well." With a last glance at Spock and Crandall, Kirk swung the command chair to face the helm. "Mr. Sulu, prepare to lower deflectors for transport."
"Ready, Captain."
"Mr. McPhee, take the Hoshan first, and don't waste any time."
"Of course, Captain."
"Mr. Sulu, lower deflectors. Bring them back to full power the moment you hear from McPhee."
"Aye-aye, Captain."
One eye on the aliens on the screen, Sulu tapped in the code that lowered the deflectors, leaving his fingers poised above the keys that would restore them.
For a moment there was total silence. Then McPhee's voice came fro
m the transporter room.
"Having trouble locking on, sir. The coordinates don't—"
"Lasers on all ships preparing to fire, Captain!" Spock said sharply.
"Deflectors up, Mr. Sulu!" Kirk snapped. "Get us out of here!"
Even before Kirk had voiced the order, however, Crandall, his eyes fixed on the controls beneath Sulu's fingers, was lunging forward, slamming past Kirk, sending the command chair spinning. An instant later, he crashed against Sulu, knocking him from his chair before the helmsman had the chance to carry out either order. At the very moment Sulu was sprawling to the deck, Crandall felt the numbing sting of a phaser, but before consciousness faded he knew that it had come too late to help Kirk and his beloved Enterprise.
Chapter Sixteen
TO A GREAT EXTENT, it was Spock's Vulcan mental discipline, his ability to accommodate dozens of sensory inputs simultaneously and to integrate them into logical patterns, that allowed him to so rapidly interpret the countless readings his science station instruments supplied. To Spock's bemusement, Kirk had once compared it to the ability of a great symphony conductor to instantly absorb the mass of musical notations from the sheets in front of him, integrate them into the total sound the orchestra should produce, and then, with his baton, draw the required combination of sounds from the dozens of players, confident that, if even a single horn or string hit a wrong note, he would be able to detect it and pinpoint its source.
It was an aspect of this same ability that now saved the Enterprise from total disaster.
Even as he was announcing that the alien ships were preparing to fire, Spock heard a sudden intake of breath somewhere behind him, and as the captain began to issue his curt orders, the science officer heard a sudden motion, a motion that did not fit the expected pattern of response to his announcement.
Darting a look over his shoulder, he saw Crandall charging forward, lunging toward the helm and Mr. Sulu.