"Excuse me, sirs," Kinski persisted. "I have a suggestion. Maybe we could just-"
". everything else is showing, Mr. Spock," Renn continued. "Nitrogen, CO2-even the traces. Just an X-factor of 22.76-and no oxygen. Med probes can't tell us what's happening in there. This won't be easy, sir, neutralizing some alien element we can't even identify."
"The Romulans are not in the habit of making things easy, Dr. Renn. And these probes are inadequate. I suggest the deep-space 424's for extended atmospheric analysis."
"Admiral Kirk," Kinski appealed to him in a whisper, "if they would just listen a second-"
"Spock, Doctor. Mr. Kinski would like to make a suggestion. I think we can hear him out."
Spock acquiesced with infinite patience, Renn with somewhat less: "Oh, for pity's sake-what?"
"Well." Now that Kinski had their attention, he didn't quite know what to do with it. "There's no oxygen in there, right?"
Spock closed his eyes. Renn wound her fingers in her hair.
"And we want to find out why. But they make it, don't they? For hospitals and life-support packs? Well, maybe we could just beam in some. And put it back in the air!"
After a moment of silence, Spock's eyebrow ascended. Kirk cleared his throat. Renn began relaying a request for oxygen cylinders.
". and put remotes on those valves. They'll have to work on computer signal." She looked up and sighed. "Worth a try."
Spock nodded. "Indeed. Designate a test area and monitor the reaction. With the new probes, we may be able to determine what we are dealing with. A meritorious suggestion, Mr. Kinski."
"Thank you, sir."
"Yes, good thinking, Kinski," Kirk added. "Now set up some graphics on this experiment of yours. I want to see what all these numbers mean."
"Yes, sir."
Spock ignored the conversation. While the data flowed through his computer and his mind, another analytical process occupied his higher realms of thought.
To perpetrate an act of terrorism on a planet they could never conquer, to stab at the heart of Starfleet Command from the safety of an empire half a galaxy away-these things were obvious but short-term gains. No, this was a plan long in the making, beyond random destruction or a single, successful strike. Saavik's buried memories were proof of that. Years ago the Romulans had built an arsenal out there, on that dead, forgotten planet; and their ancient quest for battle was alive today-even after a hundred years of comparative peace. But unlike Klingons in the affairs of war, Romulans tended to take the longer view. Spock believed that in the affairs of peace, humans should learn to do the same. If the weapon could be neutralized here, the Council might resist what Starfleet would propose. If not, it was an open question, and Spock didn't like the odds. And then there was Hellguard.
"-if you'll pardon me, sirs!" Renn was glaring from one screen to the other. "When are we going to let everyone in on this? We're about to run more data and projections than I can handle, and everyone else over at Sciences is sitting on their duffs. We've got guards out there with no idea they're standing on a contaminated building. With all due respect, sirs, this procedure really stinks!"
Doctors, Spock decided, must all take lessons from McCoy. She did have a point, but this was no time for a debate.
"Dr. Renn, we're under direct orders from Admiral Nogura," Kirk said sternly. "And must I remind you that this is a matter of Federation security? The admiral is concerned about preventing undue panic-"
"And I'm concerned about doing my job with my hands tied. This is dangerous, sirs. We wouldn't have armed guards out there if it wasn't. We wouldn't have ordered up probes from supply if we could get in there in suits and find out for ourselves. And now we're asking for oxygen?"
"I am on board Enterprise, Dr. Renn," Spock said, frowning. "And I assure you the contamination is contained. Headquarters is under maintenance lock and cannot be entered. The guards are stationed to insure that no attempt is made. I, too, regret the delay in informing personnel, but the admiral's instructions to me were quite specific. After chain of command is fully briefed, I trust our investigation will proceed in a more orderly fashion. Until then, we must do the best we can. Sir, a word with you, if I may." Spock cut out Renn's channel and waited until Kirk did the same. For the first time since the night's terrible events began, they were alone.
"Jim. Are you. all right?"
"Fine, Spock. Kinski and Renn are doing good work but-how long till you can get down here?"
Spock hesitated. This wasn't the moment to discuss Saavik's evidence-or the possibility of a mission Jim could not command. That would be difficult enough when the time came, if it came.
"There have been. developments, Jim, but I prefer to wait until we know more. I am concerned that local authorities may not have been informed, at least that a problem exists. Obviously the admiral did not order you to do so."
"No, Spock. No, he didn't."
"Then perhaps he already has."
"Maybe, but-you'd better check it out."
"Indeed. And Jim, every attempt is being made-"
"I know it, Spock. Go."
Spock nodded briefly, and went.
"Still in conference, Mr. Spock. He'll return the call."
Spock sighed, then signaled his own quarters. Saavik answered at once, pale and composed. "I must be brief, Saavik. You are at liberty and free to explore the ship. Observe restricted areas. Obey orders from the crew."
"I spoke with Admiral Nogura, Mr. Spock. Do you wish to know what was said?"
"Indeed. You may report."
"Well, first he told me that I could refuse to answer his questions. I did not wish to refuse, so I told him everything-about where I come from and what I saw and how we know it was more than a dream. Then he asked if I would submit to a verifier scan, and I said yes, but that I do not lie and the mindlink is far more accurate. Then he said-"
"Briefly, Saavikam. There is little time."
Saavik frowned, and began speaking faster. "He asked me the same thing you did-about finding that cave again. He asked a lot more questions about Hellguard and the Vulcan mission. He seemed unfamiliar with details. I told him what I know and said he could view my Privacy tape if he wished. I also suggested he contact T'Pau on Vulcan, but he seemed disinclined to do that."
"No doubt," Spock murmured; T'Pau was perhaps the one being in the galaxy that Nogura went out of his way to avoid.
"Then he said my testimony would remain private, if at all possible. That is the substance of our discussion, except for the question of my exact age. Since I. am not certain, he asked who spoke for me in matters of consent. Why?"
"A human technicality," Spock said. "It is of no consequence, except to them. What did you answer?"
"That I speak for myself! And if that was insufficient, you would speak for me. Did I say wrong?"
"No, Saavikam. You have acted correctly in everything." And eliminated a personal dilemma as well. The problem of the Hellguard information was resolved: he was not forced to break a confidence; Saavik was not bound by one. Nor did she stand upon her right to privacy. "I shall not return to my quarters tonight, Saavikam. You may rest or work there as you choose."
"Mr. Spock, I would like to ask a question. Will I be going back to the Academy tomorrow?"
"Nothing is certain, but. I think not. When I-"
"Sir." Uhura turned from her station. "It's Commander Dorish. He wants to speak with you, if you have time."
"Saavik, you must excuse me."
"Yes." Without another word, she cleared the channel. And that, Spock reflected, was the only straightforward conversation this night was likely to bring. It was most informative.
"About dismissing his crew, sir."
"Begin recalling our own personnel. Leaves are canceled on my order. Inform department heads to prepare for departure on short notice. Commander, Spock here."
"Dorish here, Spock. Can you tell me any more about this tragedy?"
"Not at this time, Commander."
<
br /> Dorish shook his head. "I don't understand why you pulled us off that ship in the first place. I mean, we weren't the ones in danger, now were we? It was those people down at-"
"Commander! Are you scrambling this transmission?"
"Well, no. I just wanted to ask-"
"Please do so at once, sir!"
". done, Spock, but-"
"Commander, I was assured that you had been informed."
"About the deaths down at HQ? Yes, Spock, I got the information on that."
"And is that ship off Dock's air feed? Has the access been placed under guard?"
"Under guard? Why, no. The people there are authorized-"
"Shut it down, Commander! And post a guard at once!"
"Now hold on a minute, Mr. Spock. There's no need for that. Dock Four's a restricted area!"
"Commander, I." Spock hesitated. This situation was intolerable, and the danger was clear and present. So was the need to know. "I am committing a breach of orders by telling you this, but-the contamination came from that ship."
"But that's not. no, Spock. We're all just fine!"
"Forgive me, Commander." Spock reached for a tape still lying on his board. "My wording was imprecise. The contamination came from. this object. Three others like it were aboard-"
"That?" Dorish gasped. All the color drained from his kind, ruddy face. "That thing killed people?"
"A great many. Commander?"
"Oh, no, Spock," Dorish whispered. "Oh, my God."
"Lieutenant Robert Harper, report to Commander Dorish in his office. Lieutenant Robert Harper, report to Commander Dorish..."
"Oh, not now!" Harper heard his own name blaring over the intercom. He hesitated in the corridor, then turned into Sector 20's lounge. Dorish could just wait. "Hey, guys, you seen Obo anywhere?"
A huddled group of officers glanced around, shook their heads and went on talking in excited whispers. Harper moved on, searching under the knots of people jammed into the bar, dimly aware that Starfleet's rumor mill was turning more than usual tonight. "Obo? Obo! Where are you?"
". but you can't call down now. You just get 'Circuits are busy, please try again later.' I'm telling you, something's going on..."
At a table by the window, with a prime view of the Enterprise floating in Dock 21, three officers ordered another round of drinks. Their progress was represented by rows of sake cups, vodka flutes, and metallic tumblers.
Harper's gaze wandered to the docking bay outside, and he felt an unaccustomed pang. Festooned with rigging of umbilicals and gantry lines, tended by service modules tracking across her hull, Enterprise floated in opposing gravity fields like a white, iridium queen.
Too bad we didn't pull duty in Dock 21 tonight, he thought. Obo would've liked that. It's a privilege, a real privilege just looking at her. and a small, empty feeling tugged at him, a quick, disloyal thought: tonight just looking at the Enterprise didn't seem. enough. Forget it. Just forget it. I'd never go off and leave Obo behind. Wouldn't be fair. I've got so much-Mom and home and maybe if I'm lucky, a date with Jessie Korbet. But Obo only has me. Where was Obo, anyway? It should have been-
"Harper!" A friendly brown hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Gotta talk to you! Guess what?"
"Hi, Fred. You seen Obo anywhere?"
"Naw. Don't worry, it'll turn up. Listen, something's going on down at HQ. They got guards all around the building-no one's going in or out. Didn't you hear?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I told it to wait right here for me, and now Dorish is paging me to his office. I already filed my duty log and everything! He'll just have to wait!"
"Yeah, let him wait. Obo too. Let me buy you a drink."
"Another time, Fred. I really have to find-"
"That's just it, Harper, there won't be another time! Listen, I just got the word." DiMuro dragged him over to an empty table in the corner, where the only light came from the glow of floodlamps bouncing off the Enterprise, and the only audible conversation came from the next table.
A communicator's insistent chirping accompanied the senior officer's exchange. He finally snapped it open and growled into it. "This better be good, Uhura! This is my shore leave."
"Listen to me, Harper, this is important! I got-"
"Shipping out? We just got here!"
"-new orders-just came through! I'm shipping out tomorrow!"
Harper stared at the excitement on DiMuro's face, and a lump began forming in his throat. It seemed like everyone was shipping out-and leaving him behind. "Way to go, Fred. You really worked for this. It's just. aw, it's just I'm gonna miss you. C'mon, tell me where you're off to," he grinned, "I'd better warn 'em."
"No need. No more pranks, Bobby, you're looking at a changed man. Tomorrow I take a transport out to Starbase Ten, then I transfer off to-" A sudden commotion from the crowd at the bar broke into DiMuro's tale. He glanced past Harper to the vid screen. "Wait, look at that!"
The blinking words NEWS BULLETIN were superimposed on a wide-angle view of Life City's shining domes glowing against a desert night. Searchlights from emergency hovercraft circling overhead swept the scene, picking out the shape and logo of a grounded shuttleliner and the jostling crowd of passengers who were being ordered back aboard by teams of uniformed, civilian police.
"That's home, Fred! What-"
". interrupt our scheduled event for a late-breaking story from California. You see the scene as it's unfolding now, outside the biospheres of Earth's most famous museum-the beautiful, desert community of Life City. This tragic story might have gone undiscovered for hours, except for a simple warning light on a shuttle's control panel." Harper watched, telling himself he'd wake up any minute. But the nightmare went on. ". but no answer from Life City's flight station. We have a tape of that emergency landing, recorded by a photographer on board."
The giant domes of Life City, completely transparent after dark, shone like a cluster of beacons on the desert floor. As the shuttle began its near-vertical descent, the camera's view of the city inside zoomed into focus: scenes of walkways and trees, shops and planted parks-and bodies. Lying everywhere. In mid-stride, in mid-moment, everything had stopped.
In the bar, shocked murmurs ran through the crowd. People began surging forward for a better look.
"Harper! Where you going?"
". gotta. call Mom. make sure she's."
"Wait. See what they-oh, God." As the camera panned down past the massive, closed iris of the hangar dome, the tape froze on a last image, startlingly close, painfully clear.
A Starfleet courier's shuttle sat on the landing pad, its hatch open, its flight compartment empty. Two white-suited ground technicians lay motionless beside it. The agony of death showed plainly on those upturned faces. So did the dark, angry blotches spreading over their skins.
". no official comment, but we have learned that initial scans register no life at all inside those biospheres."
"Harper. hey, Bobby, sit down."
". or what went wrong out here in the California desert. So far all we know is that, apparently, Life City is dead."
Gentle hands pulled Harper down to his seat. The tabletop rose to meet him as his legs gave way. Voices reverberated down a strange black tunnel, reaching him from a long way off. A firm hand closed over his arm. There was a whirring sound in front of his face, the faint odor of bourbon, and a pair of kind blue eyes.
"Take it easy, son. I'm a doctor. you knew people down there?" he was asking, and DiMuro was saying something, and Harper tried to catch his breath to tell them how it must be wrong. But breathing came so hard, and the blue eyes wouldn't listen. ". had some bad news, son. in shock right now. This'll help." Something hissed against his arm.
"Lieutenant Robert Harper, report to Commander Dorish. On the double! Lieutenant Robert Harper."
"Oh, no! Forgot about him! I." The hypo began to take effect. Harper sucked air into his lungs, pleading with the worry in those blue eyes, the fear in DiMuro's face. ". but, see, it's not true. my Mom?
. oh, no."
"I'm afraid so, son," the doctor said, still holding on to him. "Now all you need to do is sit right there a minute. I'm Dr. McCoy."
"From Enterprise?"
"That's right, son. Feel a bit steadier now? That's better. Sounds like somebody's wanting you." The doctor patted Harper's shoulder. "Can you go along with him?" he asked DiMuro.
"Yes, sir. C'mon, Bobby. We'll go see Dorish."
Star Trek - Pandora Principle Page 13