Harper's mind began making connections: the things they sent off that ship, rumors about HQ, the news from Life City, and that empty shuttle-this was all adding up to something, something awful.
"Oh, God, Fred. what have I done?"
Ashen faces filled the comm screens. From Spacedock Nogura presided at a conference table with Admiral Komack and three other flag officers of Starfleet Command; the Council President and two more admirals attended on monitors. Aboard Enterprise Spock bent over his viewer. In the Vault, Kirk tapped his teeth and waited. Ongoing news coverage flickered in the backgrounds, including an interview with a hastily assembled panel of "experts" on potential causes of the disaster.
Ayla Renn scanned a sealed-off section of corridor on HQ's 18th floor and verified the signals from two new probes floating at each end. Twelve cylinders of oxygen sat waiting in that improvised laboratory, a hallway between the lab and offices already isolated by the maintenance shutdown and free of control switches, circuit panels, or anything electrical that could possibly malfunction. In the presence of so much oxygen, even the tiniest spark would cause a conflagration.
"Clear signals, Mr. Spock," she said, activating visual. The corridor appeared on monitors. She tried to shut the fury and grief out of her mind; at least the teams at Sciences were on the job. Even if they didn't know the whole story, there was no brainpower going to waste. "Stand by, Sciences. Cross-checks on everything."
"Just what will we be seeing, Dr. Renn?" asked Nogura.
"As I understand it, sir," Kirk spoke up, "the new probes should tell us what this contamination is, and then we can determine what it will take to exhaust or neutralize it. Mr. Kinski has graphics for us on the readouts."
"Yes, sir." Kinski kept an eye on the news while he keyed an overlay onto the corridor's image. "We'll be seeing blue dots, and yellow dots, and black dots. Blue's for oxygen, which we don't see now, because there's none in there yet. Yellow is everything else, black is the contaminant. And each dot represents the parts per billion."
As the first cylinder of oxygen began to empty, the display showed a denser sprinkle of black dots around its valve, growing, spreading into a cluster, then a cloud. Like a swarm of virulent insects, the cloud hovered, thickening at its center, dispersing at its edges to fill the enclosed space in a matter of seconds. Renn watched the data, horrified.
"Are you getting this, Sciences? Verify that-"
"The probes are functional, Dr. Renn," Spock confirmed.
"Kinski," Kirk whispered, "where are the blue dots?"
"I don't know! I set it up right!"
"Your display is also correct, Mr. Kinski. Please be still."
Another tank, another cloud, another swarm-and darker and darker grew the screen. As the cylinders emptied, one by one, the graphic's overlay obliterated the image of the corridor itself.
"Remove the display, Mr. Kinski," Spock finally said. Screens cleared. The corridor looked the same as before, deceptively normal. Probes still winked and functioned, impervious to an environment filled with death. The only sound was the muffled murmur of a newscast.
On board the Enterprise, Spock stared into his science station's viewer, assimilating the flash-fed data as rapidly as it came in. At last he turned to the main screen.
"Mr. President, sirs," he said, "we were wrong." He keyed a computer simulation to their monitors, a helix of globular constructs of molecules in twisting rope-like skeins. "Here is our X-factor, gentlemen."
"Well, what is it, Spock?" asked Nogura.
"The identifiable component is silicon, but an isotope-a variant of elemental silicon, which has been engineered into a weapon. It has absorbed all the oxygen in the air supplies at HQ and Life City. And it is an isotope I have never seen before."
The significance of the news sank in: if Spock hadn't seen it before, no one else had either.
"When exposed to oxygen and to sub-microns of normal silicon, it reacts so rapidly that by the time our instruments record it, the process has already taken place."
"What process, Spock?" Nogura was growing impatient. "What, exactly, are we dealing with? Some kind of chemical warfare?"
"Reproduction, Admiral. As I said, we were wrong. In a sense it lives, as a gaseous, silicon-based organism-thus unidentified by our med probes. It is not metabolizing glass or other construction materials. But in the presence of oxygen and minute, airborne particles of silicon, it forms this complex chain of molecules similar to genes. It is a virus, gentlemen, a molecular virus. And it proliferates at an incredible rate."
"So we stop it. What will it take to do that?"
"Admiral," said Spock, "I have no idea."
"Commander Spock?" the president of the Federation Council spoke for the first time. "How do you know this was deliberate?"
"My. empirical evidence," Spock answered carefully, "is the weapon itself. Please observe." He touched a key.
And shining, beautiful, innocent as a rainbow, a clear box sparkled before their eyes. In its transparent depths, a point of light broke apart and grew, turned and twisted and teased the mind. Colors rippled in vibrant chains, from vermilion to violet and the scintillating spectrum between. "What you are seeing," Spock continued, "is, of course, unreal. The virus is visible only to instruments. The color and movement are aesthetic. enticement, probably generated from the inner layer of its shielded casing by holograph or energy field. But look."
Superimposed upon the patterns, the simulation appeared in stark, functional monochrome. The technicolored lights inside the box unwound into an identical molecular chain.
"An ironic touch, is it not? Yes, Mr. President, it was deliberate. Molecular warfare, an entirely new class of weapon."
"And this. virus. was meant to escape into the atmosphere?"
"And would have," Spock said, "if Starfleet and Life City's environments were not self-contained-or if someone had walked through a door at the wrong moment. I suspect the weapon is also photosensitized to detonate under a high-intensity beam of light. An ingenious design, since worlds of advanced technology would be defended and difficult to conquer. But they would also possess instruments for spectrochemical analysis and inhabitants curious enough to use them. Make no mistake, sir, this weapon was meant to find its way to Earth. A bold strategy, but logical: what worked here would work elsewhere, with Federation defenses severely compromised. But the Empire seeks expansion, worlds to colonize. Perhaps the designers planned for this as well. Perhaps that virus has a limited life span, or some remedy exists to neutralize it-after which a planet's atmosphere could be reengineered. That is what we must discover, and quickly. If it escapes, there will be no time to stop it."
"How. long, Commander Spock?" the president asked.
"I fear the question is academic, sir, but. total oxygen depletion of Earth's atmosphere would occur within. ten hours."
In the Vault Kirk watched the faces on his monitors. Renn was nodding grimly as she pored over the stream of data still flowing across her screen. Kinski was biting his nails. Spock was back at his viewer. Everyone else wore angry, puzzled expressions of denial and disbelief, the looks of patients hearing their doctor diagnose an incurable disease.
"Spock," he began, "I know the virus can get the oxygen it needs to reproduce. But maybe if there's no silicon-"
"But there is, sir. In every cubic centimeter of the atmosphere, everywhere on Earth-even in the cleanliest computer rooms: dust. Common dust and oxygen are all it needs."
There was silence for a moment.
"Gentlemen." In Spacedock Nogura addressed the admirals around his conference table. "Our scientists have their work cut out for them. We have other issues to consider. First, the question of security. I think we can all agree that."
"Admiral Kirk?" In Room 2103, Kinski moved close to Kirk's screen. The young man was clearly frightened to death. "I'm-I'm sorry, sir, but I don't agree with anything these people are talking about! Sir, this isn't just some industrial accident! We're talking about th
e end of the WORLD!" Kinski's gaze met Kirk's, locked with it. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" he implored.
From the empty reaches of the Vault, Kirk nodded.
"Yes," he said. "I do."
Chapter Seven
"I RECOMMEND standard procedure, Admiral. Quarantine regulations specifically state-"
"Thank you, Doctor," Nogura said quietly, but a vein in his temple throbbed. "I know what they state. You and Mr. Kinski will remain at your posts for the duration of this crisis. Around that partition, you'll find all the comforts of home. That will be all." Nogura cut off their channel. "Is Enterprise operational, Mr. Spock?"
"For what?" Kirk leaned into his screen.
"Marginally, sir. Nearly half the crew was on twelve-hour leave. The transporter situation has slowed their recall."
"Understood. I'll assign you additional-"
"Operational for WHAT?"
"Jim." Nogura silenced him with a look, "you and your first officer have matters to discuss. You may do so now." And at a touch of his hand, two more screens went dark. "Gentlemen," he said to his admirals, "alert all starbases and outposts. Without more data on this new cloaking device, we must assume capability-and anticipate the use of unmanned craft aimed at Federation targets." With a courteous nod he switched off all the screens but one and waited until the conference room had cleared. Then he turned to face the Council President. The burden of command never weighed more heavily, and his old colleague seemed to sense it.
"You face a dilemma, Heihachiro, do you not?"
Many, in fact, but only one he would discuss now.
"Yes. Earth is not the sum total of Starfleet's obligations. The Romulans monitor our media broadcasts. If they learn of the situation at Headquarters, they may be tempted to press their advantage. However, the quarantine must be invoked."
"You will find a way. And Council will convene off-world in emergency session-at an undisclosed site, I am told."
"Delegates are on their way up to Dock. Ships are standing by. Admiral Komack will be briefing the Council."
"Send me all your best minds, Heihachiro. I need them now."
"And I need time, sir. Other options are being explored, and other voices will be heard. Sarek is coming."
"I see. And you, Heihachiro?"
"No, Mr. President. I believe my place is here. I'll keep you informed." The screen winked out. Nogura left his conference room by a private door and stood motionless when it closed, focusing his thoughts upon a sight designed to calm them.
In his Spacedock office grew an ancient piece of Earth, a family treasure handed down through generations. The elfin bonsai lived on a table of black onyx against a window full of stars. Gnarled and tinged with emerald moss, his willow trailed bare branches on its habitat's rocky ground. It should have been an oak, Nogura always thought, always knowing his ancestor had something else in mind. This lowly willow taught a lesson the mighty oak could not: how to bend. For Heihachiro Nogura that lesson was slow in coming. And it would not happen tonight.
TO DOCK CENTRAL/STARFLEET SPACEDOCK/0155 HRS. RE: TRANSPORT OF COUNCIL DELEGATES. ENTERPRISE, CONSTITUTION, POTEMKIN TO DEPART ON SCHEDULE: ENTERPRISE 0300, CONSTITUTION 0330, POTEMKIN 0400 HRS. DESTINATION COORDINATES FOLLOW. TIMETABLE CRITICAL. CONFIRM ALL DEPARTURES. HEIHACHIRO NOGURA, COMMANDING ADMIRAL, STARFLEET.
"Stand by for boarding: crews of Enterprise, Constitution, and Potemkin. Enterprise personnel have priority on the pads. All leaves are canceled. Repeat: now boarding crews of Enterprise, Constitution, and Potemkin."
The queue for Sector 20's transporter room backed up into the corridor. Harper squeezed his way through the milling crowd. Maybe if he'd just looked harder, maybe just a few more minutes, maybe there was still time.
"Over here, Harper! I packed your gear." DiMuro pulled him into line and lowered his voice. "Look, you don't have to do this, Bobby. Forget what I said about-hey, where's Obo?"
"Couldn't find it." Harper shook his head, very close to tears. "It won't understand me leaving like this. They should've arrested me, Fred. God, I wish they had. I killed my own-"
"Stop it!" DiMuro snapped. "You'll go crazy if you keep that up. Look, you don't have to go."
"No! I have to do this! Find Obo for me, Fred. Make it understand. You promise?"
"Sure. And don't worry-that kid's tougher than we think, like you always-"
"You have business here?" A security guard's firm hand landed on DiMuro's shoulder.
"I do," Harper said. "Enterprise-but wait, Fred! You're leaving too! And I don't even know which-"
"Then get in there, mister! Enterprise people go first." The guard began hustling him down the corridor to the transporter room, with DiMuro tagging along. "Move it-they're waiting on a sixth."
"Here, take your gear." DiMuro looped the duffel bag's strap over Harper's neck and hugged him hard. "Do good, buddy."
"Board that platform, Lieutenant. Hey, you-you can't go in there!" The guard barred DiMuro's way. Harper clutched his bag, stumbled up onto the pad, and turned back to see his friend ducking under a muscular, outstretched arm.
"Stand by to energize, hold positions please."
"What ship, Fred?" Harper shouted over the crowd. "What-"
The guard grabbed DiMuro, who held a triumphant thumb aloft.
"Reliant, Bobby! Five years! See you out there."
The transporter's whine filled the air. The room dissolved around him, and Bobby Harper left the world he knew behind.
". transmit a reply if hailed; otherwise, maintain silence. Beyond Vulcan disable your tracking signal and depart charted spacelanes. From there, Spock, you're on your own."
"Admiral," Kirk listened to the orders, trying to control himself, "if you could just give Enterprise some tactical-"
"I can't, Jim, and you know it. If you get caught, Spock, you'll be on your own, in Romulan space. Unauthorized. Command would never sanction this."
"Understood, Admiral. Telepathic evidence alone-"
"Spock's evidence!" Kirk shouted in frustration. "I don't understand about this eyewitness, but you can do better than-"
"Jim. All I can do is buy time. And hope the Council does nothing irrevocable. Spock, I'm making a statement to the press at 0255. I want Enterprise out those spacedoors at 0300, sharp. And Commander. Godspeed." Abruptly, he switched off.
Kirk felt the Vault closing in around him. irrevocable.
"War, Spock?" he whispered.
"Uncertain, Captain. The odds that those weapons remain on Hellguard are slim indeed. We must try to reach that planet before any chance to destroy them is lost. Jim. I would prefer to serve here." An old, familiar struggle crossed Spock's face: how to express in logical terms the emotion he wouldn't allow himself to feel. In all their years together that sight had never failed to touch Kirk-and to delight him. Now he couldn't stand it.
"Spock, most of engineering is still planetside. Nogura's sending you personnel?"
"They are boarding now, Captain. Shall I check in before departure?"
"Yes. Do that. Go on, Spock. You've got things to do."
Things to command. All Kirk had left to command now was a testy doctor and a nervous ensign. Well, by damn, command them he would. He reached for the intercom.
"Yes, Admiral," Kinski answered. Renn looked up from her work, hoping for some news.
"Doctor, Ensign. It looks like we're going to be here for a while."
Renn nodded. "Do we report in to you, sir?"
"Yes. I want to know what you know, when you know it. I'll be sitting in from time to time. Don't let it cramp your style." He smiled at them. "You have my comm-code. Call me if you need to."
"Anytime, sir?"
"Yes, Kinski, anytime," Kirk said, thinking how young they both seemed. "I'll be right here."
"Clear the pads, please. Clear the pads. they're all aboard, Mr. Spock," McInnis said into the comm. Enterprise's transporter room was shoulder to shoulder with uniforms and no one going anywhere. ". yes, sir.
I'll tell them. Mr. Spock's on his way, ladies and gentlemen. Just a few minutes more."
Harper wished he could sit down. He felt shaky, weak in the knees. The room buzzed with comment and speculation. Someone asked if he'd heard about Life City; he nodded, tried to stop the images torturing his mind. The strap of his duffel bag cut into his neck, so he slipped it off, shoved it to an empty corner on the floor, and tried not to think about home or Mom or Obo-or that empty shuttle on the landing pad.
Then the babble of voices quieted to shuffles. People came to attention for a tall, somber Vulcan who stood in the doorway.
"I am Spock," he said, "in temporary command of Enterprise. This ship departs in nineteen minutes. Despite our diplomatic status, this mission qualifies as hazardous duty. Any who wish to stand down may do so now, without prejudice." His gaze swept the room. No one moved. "Very well. Welcome aboard. Proceed down the corridor for cabin and duty assignments. You are off-shift until tomorrow. Lieutenant Robert Harper, please remain. The rest of you are dismissed. That is all, Mclnnis. now then. Mr. Harper."
Star Trek - Pandora Principle Page 14