Three days later, a one-man ship drifted deep in Federation space, where it had come without alerting the network of probes and inspection stations monitoring the Neutral Zone. Its sensors scanned that vast and empty sector, overlapped and retraced, scanning again; when a single, moving dot appeared at the outer limits of their range, the automatic beacon responded exactly as programmed, sending the one message that would not be ignored:
. MAYDAY. MAYDAY. SHIP IN DISTRESS. MAYDAY.
Chapter Eight
IT WAS THEIR third day out from Earth. With Spock at his science station and senior crew on duty, the command chair sat strangely empty. Enterprise was crossing parsecs of star desert, heading "up the Line" behind inspection stations monitoring the Neutral Zone. Blind spots existed in that surveillance net (Sulu called them "smugglers' gaps"), where ion interference or passing comets obscured sensor drones-although some malfunctioned for less natural causes-and where outposts' eyes and ears could be outwitted, and sometimes were. Beyond Substation 36, ion storm NZ14 had been raging for months, scattering its noisy particles into surrounding space. There Enterprise would enter the Neutral Zone and skirt the outreaches of the Empire to make starfall at 872 Trianguli.
Spock had briefed his officers on the extent of Earth's crisis and the objective of their mission. Everyone on the bridge today knew the fate of worlds was riding on the Enterprise, but only Spock and Saavik knew that Enterprise was riding on a dream.
She spent her time working on lessons at the board next to Spock's, watching shipboard routine with endless fascination, and trying to learn the reason for his long, private consultations with Mr. Scott. Yesterday she asked if she could attend. But Spock only raised a frosty eyebrow, pointed out a syntax error in her essay on symbolic syllogisms in the poetry of T'Larn, and informed the crew that routine maintenance would be conducted in his absence. Then he left. And in light of what happened next, Saavik forgot all about those mysterious meetings.
The lift Spock summoned contained a passenger, the oddest being she had ever seen. Its eyes glowed bright yellow; its webbed fingers waved in greeting, and its voice gurgled, as if it were speaking under water.
"Hi, Ssspock! Watch me eeeasy fix?"
"No, Mr. Obo. I am due in a meeting. You may carry on."
"Okay. Bbbye. Hii, ggguys!"
And with that it worked its way around the bridge, chatting, using the hair-like extrusions on its gracile fingers and toes to remove panel covers, probe consoles' workings-often several at once-and reassemble them with impossible speed. Instrument response time increased. Uhura's board no longer screeched; it chimed. A passing hand banished the sticky action of Saavik's chair, which she hadn't mentioned to anyone. At the science station Obo found nothing to adjust. It stopped, turned a remarkable shade of pink, and stroked the viewer with great respect. "Ssspock!" it inferred correctly. After repairing the conn's armrest panel, it climbed up into the captain's chair and fell asleep. Which was where Spock found it when he returned to the bridge.
"Our stowaway appears fatigued," he observed mildly. "Commander Uhura, perhaps you could assist it to its quarters." Then he sat down to work, ignoring the openmouthed stares of the crew.
Saavik hadn't seen the amazing person since. Today was just beginning, and she was wondering what would happen next.
"I'm getting comm, Mr. Spock. Starfleet channels," Uhura said into the quiet of the morning watch.
"New information, Commander?"
"Yes, sir. All nonessential travel's been suspended, and ships are being recalled to starbases." She listened, frowning. "It sounds like they're building up the fleet."
The news cast a pall. And the story behind it was apparent to everyone: no breakthroughs on Earth. Their captain was still trapped, their world still in danger of extinction.
"Is there going to be a war?" Saavik asked.
"We hope not," said Uhura.
"But you are preparing for one. It will not save your world."
"It might save someone else's," said Sulu grimly. "No one wants war, Saavik, but there's a principle involved: no one gets to wipe out planets either. It's Pandora's box, all over again."
"An apt allusion," Spock agreed and glanced across the bridge. Today Lieutenant Harper sat at engineering, the only new member of the watch. McCoy had declared him fit and in need of active duty, and Scott's in-flight checks were diverting all but the most nominal tasks below. Harper looked up, pale under his freckles, then bent to his board again. He seldom spoke at all.
"What is pandorasbox?" Saavik seized the opportunity to slip under the railing for another look at helm's controls.
"An old story," Sulu explained. "One of our creation legends says Pandora was the first woman on Earth, and she was given all the gifts of the gods. She was very clever and very beautiful. But the gods also gave her a little box, and the only thing they forbade her to do was to open that box and look inside."
"Why?" Saavik frowned. "If it was hers?"
"I'm coming to that. Now, besides being clever and beautiful, Pandora was willful-and very, very curious. And maybe she asked herself the same question you just did. So she opened the box. And in it was evil-plagues, and troubles, and wrongs. She shut it as fast as she could, but by then only hope was left inside. Evil escaped into the world, and it's been with us ever since."
"And this is what humans believe?" Saavik was appalled.
"Uh. no, not really. That's only a story, Saavik, a myth. But myths are part of our heritage, and they've stayed with us so long because there's some truth in them."
"And what truth is that, sir? I fail to see it."
"Oh, well." Sulu was feeling a bit out of his depth. "I guess the point was that too much curiosity isn't a good thing, and, uh, that the gods should be obeyed, and-"
"The point of that story, Saavik," Uhura turned with mischief in her eyes, "which of course some man invented, is that all the troubles in the world were caused by a woman."
"In Kiev," Chekov muttered, "who vill not return my calls!"
Judging by the laughter his remark provoked, Saavik deemed it intentionally irrelevant. She turned back to Uhura.
"But surely that is erroneous. In fact, an overview of your planet's political history would seem to suggest-"
"Saavik," said Spock, without interrupting his work, "humans consider it impolite to discuss their politics."
"Oh." She frowned, dissatisfied. "I beg your pardon. Then I would like to ask a question about your deities."
Uhura smothered a grin. "What would you like to know?"
"I would like to know why they would do such an immoral thing in the first place! And why should curiosity, which is a proper function of the intellect, not be considered a good thing?"
"Because those old gods didn't want questions, they wanted obedience. And people used to think that some things mere mortals just weren't meant to know. But Pandora didn't leave well enough alone, so the gods punished the whole human race for being curious, and hope is all they left us-or so the story goes."
"Hope?" Saavik's eyebrow arched. Uhura suppressed a smile. "But as I understand it, hope is an emotional attitude, a belief that all will be well, whatever evidence to the contrary."
"Yes, that's what it is." Uhura nodded, suddenly serious.
"I have no reference for gods or hope," Saavik admitted; her eyes smoldered, and her opinion of human rationality was being revised, sharply downward. "But when evil comes in boxes, people put it there. Perhaps this Pandora only wished to learn. Why does legend blame her, when it was your gods who were so treacherous?"
"Now, that's a very good question, Saavik." Uhura smiled, and Harper gave them both a look of undying gratitude.
"I also do not comprehend this worshiping of deities in the absence of any proof that they exist. And if superior beings did actually engineer-create your planet, would not intellectual accomplishment and advancement of your species please them more than worship, or mindless obedience to-"
"Saavik," said Sp
ock from the depths of his viewer, "humans also consider it impolite to criticize one another's religious beliefs. We shall review acceptable topics of conversation at your tutorial this evening."
"No doubt," Saavik murmured, clearly frustrated. "Forgive me. I am unfamiliar with your cultural taboos. I must learn and abide by them. Even among Vulcans," she frowned at the back of Spock's head, "certain subjects are considered too embarrassing to discuss. I have difficulty with the concept, because it seems to me that if a thing exists one should be able to-"
"Saavik." Spock turned, noting general disappointment at his interruption. "The data you requested is now on your screen."
Saavik went silent. Yes, some subjects were embarrassing. She caught Spock's eye and flushed, feeling dishonest and ashamed. Without a word she went back to her seat. Spock watched her a moment then turned, arms folded and eyebrow raking the bridge, which sent everyone back to work covering their smiles.
Just then Uhura's board gave an unusual chime, but the irate voice ranting in her ear was familiar enough. She flipped a switch to let it rant at them all.
"Why didn't somebody tell me we had a Belandrid aboard this ship?"
At his console, Harper turned in alarm.
"What seems to be the problem, Doctor McCoy?" Spock asked.
"The problem is it's unconscious on my table, and I don't know how to treat it!"
"Mr. Harper, you may report to sickbay," Spock said. Harper stammered a hasty 'thankyousir!' and dashed for the lift. "What is Mr. Obo's trouble, Doctor?"
"Obo. well, I don't know that either! Close as I can figure out, Scotty yelled at it!
". didn't mean the beastie any harm!" Scott paced in sickbay and fretted. "'Twas havin' its wee fingers in m'engines! We're recalibrating the drive y'know."
"No sign of injuries," McCoy said, running his scanner over the limp form. "What happened, Scotty? Did it get a shock or something?"
"Now don't start insulting my engines, Dr. McCoy! You've no call to be talkin' of shocks!"
"Obo?" A patter of footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Harper rushed through the door. "Obo, I told you. uh, Doctor, Commander Scott. I'm awful sorry about this." He peered down at Obo, and began rubbing the top of its head. "Come on," he said, "time to wake up now."
"You don't sound too worried. This happens a lot? This little fellow gets fainting spells?"
"Not exactly, sir. See, well. Obo is kind of different."
"You don't say!" McCoy was examining its fingers. "What's wrong with it?"
"Well, if Commander Scott. uh, yelled, that would-"
"The beastie was sittin' atop my dilithium regulator, an'-"
"Fixing it, sir. But Obo forgets to ask permission."
"We don't know the problem yet, laddie, so it couldn't know what to be fixin'! An' no tellin' the damage it's done! Recalibratin' the drive is a very, very delicate-"
"Hush, Scotty. It's coming around. Don't scare it again." McCoy shooed the engineer toward his office, and Scott went, muttering indignantly under his breath. Yellow spots began brightening beneath Obo's eyelids. Tiny fingers rippled and reached. Like shutters opening on a window, one neon eye parted and shone up at Harper and McCoy.
". Bbbobby?" Both eyes flew open. "A bbbig man yelled at me."
"You didn't ask first," Harper said firmly. "And that man didn't know you. You scared him, too. Ever think of that?"
"Nnnoo, Bbbobby." Obo hung its head.
"Well, you ask next time. Obo tries to be good, Doctor, honest. But when people yell-"
"Hurt fffeelings! Sssadness! Bbbad, bbbad-"
"Now, that's all over, Obo. I have to go back to work. You do what Dr. McCoy says, and I'll come back as soon as I can."
"Oookay, Bobby."
McCoy stopped Harper on his way out the door. "How're you feeling, by the way?"
"I'm okay, sir, thanks, only."
"I know, son. Some things take time. Stop by this afternoon, if you want."
"I will, Doc." Harper waved at Obo. "Bye."
"Bbbye, Bbbobby!" Obo called out.
"Now, Obo, you be real good and let me have a look at your little-aw, no! Now put that down! It's expensive, and it's on the fritz."
"Eeeasy fix!" pronounced Obo, holding up a partially disassembled scope: rings, lens elements and circuitry fanned out like playing cards in spidery, webbed fingers.
"No! That's my DNA analyzer, see. I have to send it back-" Tears welled in Obo's eyes; its whole being seemed to droop. ". Aw, shoot, go on and play with it. Damn thing never worked right anyway." Hands maneuvered above McCoy's head as he plunked his patient back on the table.
"All dddone!" Obo thrust the scope under McCoy's nose. "Did I ssscare you?" it asked anxiously.
"Lemme see that!" McCoy snatched the scope away. It was all reassembled. Its light shone bright; at a touch, the lenses moved and focused. Readouts began to flow across its small display. "Well, I'll be! Scotty, come on out! You won't believe this!"
"Oh, aye?" Cautiously, Scott sidled from McCoy's office. "What'll I not be believin'?"
"Engineering to sickbay," the intercom interrupted with a squawk. "Doctor, if you see Mr. Scott, would you ask him to-"
"Aye, McInnis," Scott answered. "Do ye have that damage report, or will ye take all day?"
"Uh, got it, sir, but there's no damage! The drive's up to ninety-nine two. We can't figure how. That whateveritis was only in there a few minutes. We'll check it, sir, and run another-"
"Ninety-nine. two?" Scott goggled in awe at Obo, whose eyes began to fill with tears.
"Didn't fffinish," it confessed. "Bbbad, bbbad-"
"Leave it, McInnis! And from now on mind your manners. The wee beastie's worth ten of ye!" Scott switched off and tiptoed across the room. "Mr. Obo," he said gently, "can we start over? I don't know how ye do it, but if ye're feelin'-"
"Oh, no you don't!" McCoy scooped his patient up possessively. "This one's mine. And you already scared the living daylights-"
"Go fffinish?" Obo gurgled ecstatically.
"Aye, laddie," Scott beamed. "Will ye come with me?"
"Ooo, yyyes!" Obo turned to McCoy, eyes bulging. "Please? All wwwell now!"
"Yeah, I guess so." McCoy said reluctantly. He watched the two of them walk off down the corridor together, clearly the best of friends. "Now I'm not finished!" he called after them. "You come back later, Obo-hear?" An answer of sorts echoed down the corridor.
"Easy fix."
Saavik leaned close to the screen, staring hard at the ugly, pitted surface of Hellguard as it appeared to Symmetry's cameras six years ago. Even from orbit it was hideous. She'd never seen these tapes before, never wanted to, never wanted to remember this vile place or the savage, ignorant creature she used to be. Desiccated land unrolled before her: a world already dead, where suns burned cruel and dust swirled thick, blotting out her new life, mocking everything she wanted to become. Panic gripped her, and incoherent rage. She snapped off the screen, but its image hovered in her mind, a malignant ghost that left behind a mockery of its own: You see, I am winning. Just when she'd forced her breathing to slow, an intrusive voice began speaking on the bridge-but what it was saying made no sense at all.
". understanding-and a little human emotion, Spock!
That's all that little fellow needed! Just some good old-"
"Doctor, please." At the science station, Spock closed his eyes. "I am told Mr. Scott's emotion made the Belandrid ill in the first place."
"But you should see them now. And you know what it did? You know my new microscope? That fancy one I-"
"Doctor. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company? Is there some actual purpose to this visit?"
McCoy folded his arms and smiled crookedly. "Why, it just so happens, there is! Some Academy cadet named Sahvek hasn't seen fit to report for his physical yet!"
"Saavik!" said Saavik, whirling in her chair, a green flush spreading over her cheeks. She stared at the human whose demeanor conveyed a profound disrespe
ct for Mr. Spock's authority-which none of the senior officers seemed to think strange. To Saavik, that made it stranger still-and they were all looking at her.
"Omigod," breathed McCoy, "another one!"
"My name," Saavik informed him coldly, "contains two A-letters pronounced as one. And I do not require medical attention because I am never ill." She turned back to work.
"Now just one damn minute! That was a medical order, Cadet! And I'll be the judge of who's sick and who's not around here!"
Star Trek - Pandora Principle Page 16