“Tactic, Lorelei? You speak like a general. A military commander. Are you declaring war?” He motioned for McCoy to leave the room and head for the turbolift.
“War? That is not possible, according to your definition of war. In a way, it might be war, if you redefine it to mean convincing another of your moral superiority. Force solves nothing. We must all reason together peacefully. You are unable to do so. You resist too strongly.”
“Jim, my ears. I ... I feel her voice.”
With the swiftness of striking lightning, Kirk moved. The flats of his hands slammed into either side of McCoy’s head, trapping the man’s ears in a quick slap. The doctor yelped and put his own hands over his injured ears.
“Dammit, you deafened me!” he shouted, no longer able to hear his own voice and control the volume. He subsided when Kirk put a finger to his lips, cautioning silence. McCoy realized then the need for such action.
“Still you persist in opposing my guidance to the True Path. I like you, James. I wish we had met under better circumstances. I must send you, too, to the planet. You disturb the crew with your savage ways.”
The door leading from the transporter room slid shut. Kirk knew Lorelei had control restored over many of the circuits he’d shut down. He never hesitated when he slid the selector switch on the hand phaser to full power. The fuchsia beam lashed out against the door. A smoking hole widened until both men were able to slip through. Bits of burning metal caught on Kirk’s tunic and smoldered through to naked flesh. He swatted them out, hardly noticing what he did as he ran for the stairs leading to the engineering section. If Scotty still held out, there was a slight chance [158] he might be able to use this as a base to launch a frontal assault on the auxiliary bridge.
“No, James, it will not work. Do not harm any of the crew. They are your friends. They mean you no ill. Help them. Work together with them.” He stumbled as he ran, the full force of her voice working on his resolve. In his head, he tried to recite poetry, to go over the crew roster, to think about anything but the softly persuasive tendrils drifting through his mind. Without the wax stoppers in his ears he’d have completely succumbed to Lorelei’s expert ministrations.
“James, you want to believe as I do. Barbarism is not the answer. Friendship is. Working with others gives good feelings. There is more than ...” Shrieking feedback cut through Kirk’s mounting stupor like a knife through butter. The intercom went berserk with high-pitched whines, subsonic whirrings that rattled his bones and vibrated his internal organs. McCoy supported him until he got control of himself.
The shriekings of tormented electrons came as music to his ears. He could not make himself heard over it. He mouthed out, “To the auxiliary bridge.” McCoy nodded and followed.
Kirk phaser-stunned two guards outside the door, then shoved through, ready to continue the fight. There was no need. Lorelei sat in the auxiliary command seat, her face haggard and drawn from effort. She spoke and the words amplified, fed on themselves and blasted forth as twisted gibberish.
“James,” she said, the name screeching like a fingernail on metal finish. He shared her sadness and regret in that instant. His thumb tightened on the trigger and a pure beam of energy bathed the Hylan woman. She collapsed onto the [159] control console. McCoy hurried to her side, checked her vital signs and nodded. She’d live.
So would the Enterprise and its crew-.
Kirk went to the frail form and hoisted it in his arms. McCoy, phaser ready, trailed behind. No words were possible, even if the feedback from each activated intercom had allowed them.
James T. Kirk looked at the woman through the shimmer of a force curtain. Lorelei sat comfortably in the detention cell, unable to communicate with anyone on the outside. Kirk looked at his science officer. Spock nodded, saying, “The circuit is completed. It will work according to your specifications, Captain.”
“Thank you, Spock.” Kirk flipped the switch on a small black box. A single red light came on. “Are you able to hear me all right, Lorelei?”
“Yes, James,” came the muted, frequency-altered reply. It sounded as if a basso profonde spoke and not the normal contralto that was Lorelei’s. “You do not have to lock me up in this fashion.”
“I’m sorry, Lorelei. I do. You threaten our mission. Only by keeping you isolated and in such a way that you can’t use your ...” He hesitated. He had started to say “weapon.” “... so you can’t use your persuasiveness against anyone on the ship can I ensure completion of our mission.”
“You persist in going to Ammdon? A war will result.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“The ambassadors are all dead. They were men of war, not peace. Their aggressions destroyed them.”
“They died, but not from aggression. Humans are different. We don’t fit the mold you tried to carve for us. Ambassador Zarv was a Tellarite. Not human, but enough [160] like us. Mek Jokkor wasn’t even vaguely human, except in exterior form, and he didn’t fit into that planet’s biosphere. Lorelei, it is difficult for you to accept, but there are places in the universe where humankind is not welcome, doesn’t belong, will never belong.”
“Peace is the answer.”
“For the most part, you’re right. It does not pay to pursue a warlike policy of expansion like the Klingons and the Romulans, but a peaceful society must be able to defend itself.”
“Persuasion is enough.”
“For Hyla, it might be. For humanity, it isn’t.” She gave him a pitying look, as if he’d missed the point entirely. He finally said, “I’ll see that you’re returned to Hyla as soon as possible.”
“You will not kill me?”
“If you have to ask, you’ve missed the point.” He flipped the switch on the black box and let the red light fade into darkness. Turning to Neal, he said, “See to it that no one else is allowed to communicate with her. The majority of the crew is still under her influence. According to McCoy’s estimates, the effects will lessen over the next few days, with only lingering guilt by the end of a week. Till then, no chances. Right, Mr. Neal?”
“Aye, aye, sir.” He saluted as Kirk and Spock left.
Once out in the corridor, Spock activated still another force barrier. Only then did he address Kirk. “Sir, Mr. Scott requests your immediate presence in engineering. His repair work has reached a crucial point.”
“Very well. Carry on, Mr. Spock. Make certain that those with you on the bridge are absolutely loyal—to the Federation.”
“Uhura, Sulu and Chekov are all cleared. I have used the Vulcan mind fusion to ascertain their true allegiances.”
[161] “Excellent.” Kirk dropped down a stairway and worked his way through the confused jumbles of crew until he reached the engineering deck. The door had been pried open after Lorelei had been incarcerated. Repairing it might take as long as fixing the engines.
“Ah, Captain, I have something for ye to see.” Scotty gestured for him to study the computer readouts.
“What is it? Hmm, here’s the power level. Rising nicely. The port engine is fine. Good work.”
“Captain, look at the starboard engine. The one we’re workin’ on now. The wee bairn’s nae doin’ so fine.”
Needle-sharp power fluctuations confirmed Scotty’s opinion. Kirk knew little about the details of the engines, but he’d trained long enough and had commanded a starship for enough years to recognize dangerous malfunctions when he spotted them. He looked up, frowning.
“Aye, sair, it’s bad. I request pairmission to personally go out and dig about in the starboard matter-antimatter pod.”
“There’s no way you can use robot probes?”
“None, sair. ’Tis delicate work. Too delicate to trust to robotic waldoes.”
“When you complete the matter-antimatter mixing balance the engine will run smoothly?”
“As smooth as a baby’s bottom, sair!” he said proudly. Kirk had his answer. Scotty wanted his hands on the sensitive equipment in the pod, but he also had to do t
he work personally. None other had his talent, skill or experience.
“Do it. Keep the number of technicians accompanying you to a minimum. You know why.”
“Their recovery from the wee lass’s voiced brainwashing. Aye, sair. Uh, all the aid I’ll be requirin’ is Chief McConel.” Kirk turned and sharply looked at the engineering chief. She stood to one side, chewing on her tongue as she adjusted [162] part of the stabilizer circuit. “She’s the best I’ve got, Captain.”
“I know. Get on with it. And stay in contact with Spock. He might be able to suggest something if you have any troubles.”
“Sair, what we have to do isn’t hard. It’s just dangerous.”
“Well, Spock, how’re they coming?” Kirk demanded. He bit down on his thumb as he watched the tiny spacesuited figures moving about on the starboard engine pod. “What’s their status?”
“Matters have not materially changed since you asked three point two four minutes ago, Captain.” Spock seemed impervious to the tension that sparked like electricity around the bridge.
“Dammit, this is important. They’re in mortal danger out there.”
“Yes, sir, they are.”
McCoy snorted. “Don’t pay him any mind, Jim. He’s got cryogenic fluid running through his veins. They took out any human feelings and put in machinery.”
“Doctor, all my parts are original. As to your implication that nonorganic parts are somehow inferior, allow me to recommend several competent papers on the topic.”
“Quiet,” snapped Kirk. “Report, Spock. How’s Scotty doing?”
As if in answer, the engineer’s voice crackled over the ship’s intercom. “The magnetic bottle has been reestablished, but ’tis not the proper configuration. The MHD flow is constricted.”
“What’s that mean?” asked McCoy. “MHD’s got something to do with the bottle?”
“It is the magnetohydrodynamic system that is out of [163] adjustment. Without perfect symmetry in the magnetic confines, the matter-antimatter reaction will be able to punch out and destroy the entire pod. The field must be uniform and totally symmetrical.”
“Now I know as much as I did before I asked,” grumbled McCoy.
“Scotty,” spoke up Kirk. “Can you adjust it?”
“Aye, Captain. Heather’s got the touch to do the fine adjustin’ after I take care of the initial configuration. The only problem’s gonna come when the flow starts. The slightest bit off and ...” His words trailed off. There wasn’t any need for him to spell it out. If Scotty failed to make the proper adjustments prior to energy flow being restored, they were all goners.
In silence they waited. Eventually Scott said, “Ready to try it? Good. Spock, give me one paircent flow.”
“One percent flow now.” The science officer watched his instruments and made minute adjustments. Lights began flashing on the engineering board. Chekov hurried over and, hands shaking slightly and sweat dripping from his face, reached out to press the large red button.
“Energy level reached,” the young ensign reported. The tension faded from his face, a smile replacing the look of worry and stress.
“How’s it doing, Scotty?”
“A bit more fiddlin’, sair. There. Have it. Spock, give me another four paircent.”
The slow escalation of power continued until they hit twenty percent; then alarms rang.
“Scotty!” yelled Kirk.
“Radiation leakin’ from a thin spot in the bottle. Heather’s workin’ on it. She ... she needs help.” The radiation scrambled the rest of the engineer’s words. On the [164] viewscreen a tiny figure jetted toward the far end of the matter-antimatter pod. The two suited figures merged and became indistinct.
“Radiation level is increasing,” reported Spock in a clear, level voice. “Mr. Scott, Chief McConel, return to the protection of the shields.”
“Negative,” came the faint response. “Gotta do it now or never. Will start chain reaction ... don’t try. Now!”
“Fluctuating power. Swings running eighty percent RMS values. Ask permission to shut down, Captain.”
“No, Spock. Let it run for a few seconds more.”
“It’ll destroy the ship. Scott and McConel cannot possibly have survived the surge.”
“I trust Scotty. I trust him.”
“Sir, power’s leveling at twenty-three percent,” reported Chekov. “The fluctuations are gone. Stabilizer circuit is working now.”
Kirk heaved a deep sigh. “Scotty, are you there?”
“Aye, Captain. Had a mite of a problem, but we worked it through. Heather’s tunin’ the dilithium crystal for proper resonance now.”
“When will we be up to full warp power?”
“Hard to say, Captain. We still need to do the complete restart. This is just checkin’ out the bottles.”
“The Rotsler technique for warm restart of the engines is untried, Captain.”
“Mr. Spock, I’ve just seen miracles worked out there. What’s another one? I’m sure Mr. Scott can bring us to full power, whether this procedure works or not.”
Within forty hours, the Enterprise had powered up to full warp capability. Within fifty, Sulu laid in a course for Ammdon.
Chapter Eleven
Captain’s Log, Stardate 5011.1
The run to Ammdon was anything but routine. Mr. Scott performed services above and beyond the call of duty maintaining the warp engines. The condition of the MHD bottles is, at best, dangerous. He and his staff will receive commendations for their superb efforts. The remainder of the crew slowly returns to normal, with only occasional relapses attesting to the power of Lorelei’s persuasiveness and sonic-laden words. Dr. McCoy assures me no one remains totally under the spell and that all show remarkably stable psycho-trace patterns, considering the rigors they have been through. Lorelei remains in her detention cell, unable to speak directly with anyone. And, in spite [166] of everyone falling back into line, one major obstacle remains: the Ammdon-Jurnamoria peace talks. Without Ambassador Zarv and his diplomatic team, chances are slim that we can prevent the war. However, it is our duty as a Federation vessel to do all we can to avert this war and hold the Romulans at bay in the Orion Arm.
“Status report on the ships around us, Mr. Chekov.”
“Captain, I do not know what to make of them. All warships. All heavily armed.”
“Spock, comments?”
“Only that this armada is capable of destroying us. Even with the warp engines running at eighty percent full power, we must hold our energy use to a minimum. Use of power for the deflector shields might initiate instability in the magnetic bottles.”
“War, Mr. Spock, is what we were sent to stop.” James T. Kirk stared at the viewscreen. Moving dots showed the shifting patterns of warships in the Ammdon system. The Jurnamorians had come to the peace talks with most of their navy, it appeared. The Ammdons weren’t taking it lightly; most of their fleet, more primitive than that of Jurnamoria but more numerous, maintained defensive positions to prevent mass bombardment of their home. The positions were well chosen, Kirk saw. Both sides had admirals of surpassing ability. In any confrontation there would be tremendous loss of life on both sides.
“Any way of defusing this powder keg?” asked McCoy, peering over his shoulder. Kirk turned and looked back at the doctor.
“Hardly. Turning back such large fleets isn’t done in the blink of an eye. They’d also need a reason to return to their home bases.”
[167] “What are you going to do, now that Zarv and the others are gone?”
“That is something I haven’t figured out yet, Bones. Suggestions? No? Mr. Spock, any ideas?”
“Sir, we ought to beam down to the surface and do what we can. I advise such a move be taken soon. I detect many aboard the Jurnamorian vessels priming their space cannon. Even if no direct order to fire is given, accidents do happen.”
“And an accident can cause a war as easily as a direct command. Very well. Bones—you, Uhura, Spock and I will beam d
own. Mr. Scott is still in the engine room, I take it?”
“He is, sir,” came Sulu’s quick reply.
“Very well. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. If anything happens which is not of an engineering nature, get Scotty up here on the double. Otherwise, keep a close lookout on us. Beam us up if the situation merits it.”
“Do you think it will, sir?” asked the Oriental.
Kirk heaved a deep sigh and rose to his feet. “I hope not. But my skills as negotiator aren’t as sharp as they are in command. I doubt either side will allow me to order them to cease and desist.”
He motioned with his head toward the turboelevator and got the small band of officers together to beam down.
“Is he trying to be obtuse, sir?” asked Uhura. The Bantu woman worked the translation computer to give all from the Enterprise precise rendering of the rhetoric. “He talks in circles. It is not my computer’s fault that it comes out gibberish.”
“I know, Uhura. Calm down. Diplomacy seems to be ninety-nine percent hot air and one percent insanity.”
“I’d argue the point and change it around, Jim,” mumbled [168] McCoy. “There’s more insanity in this room than you can shake a stick at.”
“While I see no functional value in doing as Dr. McCoy indicated, I do agree with his evaluation of the situation,” said Spock. “No amount of talk will sway either side.”
“But I’ve got to give it a try.” Kirk rose to his feet, signaled for the privilege of speaking and was recognized by the moderator of the shouting match—Kirk could never call it a debate. It took several seconds for the echoes to die down in the immense room. The Ammdon chambers of state stretched for hundreds of meters. The high-arched roof gave the room the feel of a cathedral, and the coldness of the air added to that impression. The intricately carved wooden table held not only the sundry rubble of papers, portfolios and analyzing devices but also a fair number of small heating units to keep diplomatic hands free of frostbite. The Ammdon chambers had never been heated; no matter that the middle of winter gripped this side of the planet, the Council of Ammdon did not alter tradition by bringing in warmth.
STAR TREK: TOS #12 - Mutiny on the Enterprise Page 14