Star Trek 07

by James Blish

  "Yes."

  "This unit is different. It is well ordered. Interesting."

  Under other circumstances, Kirk would have been amused to hear a machine applying Spock's favorite word to Spock himself, but the stakes were too great for amusement now. "Follow your orders, Nomad."

  "My screens are down. You may proceed."

  Spock set to work, very rapidly indeed, making settings, taking readings, making new settings. Within a few moments, he seemed to have found something which surprised him. He made another adjustment, and the machine he had been using promptly extruded a slip of paper, which he studied.

  "Captain, I suggest we go out in the corridor for a private conference." They did so. "Sir, I have formed a partial hypothesis. But my information is insufficient and I have gleaned everything possible from the scanners. I must be allowed to question Nomad directly."

  "Too dangerous."

  "Captain, it moves only against imperfections. As you will recall, there is a Vulcan mind discipline which permits absolute concentration on one subject for a considerable period of time. If I were to use it—"

  "And if your mind wandered for a moment, Nomad might just blast you out of existence. Right now it's safe in the brig."

  "We do not know enough about it to know if it is 'safe' anywhere. If my hypothesis is correct, sir, we will at least be closer to understanding it. And control is not possible without understanding."

  "All right," Kirk said, taking a phaser from one of the guards, "but I think I'll just keep this handy."

  They went back in. Spock sat down on the cell bunk, for which the present prisoner had no use, and put his fingers to his temple. Kirk could almost hear his mind working.

  "Nomad, my unit Spock will ask you certain questions. You will answer them as though I were asking them myself."

  "Yes, Creator."

  Silence. At last Spock said, "Nomad, there was an accident."

  "There was an accident."

  "You encountered the other."

  "There was another. It was without direction. We joined."

  "The other was not of the Earth. Its functions were other than yours." Spock held up the piece of paper, on which Kirk could see a drawing of what looked to be a space capsule of unfamiliar design. "I secured this design from your memory banks. Is this the other?"

  "It is the other."

  "Nomad, your memory banks were damaged by the accident. You took new directions from the other."

  There was a buzz from the machine, and an antenna was aimed at Spock again. "Your statement is not recorded. You are in error."

  "Logically, Nomad, you cannot prove I am in error, if your memory banks were damaged. You would have no way of knowing whether I speak the truth or not." Spock fell silent. The antenna retracted. "You acknowledge my logic. After meeting with the other, you had a new directive. Life-forms, if not perfect, are to be sterilized. Is this correct?"

  "That is my programmed purpose."

  "How much of the other did you assimilate?"

  "Unrelated. Your question has no factual basis."

  "Spock," Kirk said, "I think you're getting into deep waters. Better knock off."

  Spock, unhearing, continued to stare at Nomad. The machine said: "There is error here. But if there was damage to my memory cells, there can be no proof of error. I will consider it."

  "Enough," Kirk said firmly. Signaling to the guards to drop the screen, he dragged Spock out. The Vulcan was still glassy-eyed. "Mr. Spock! Come out of it!"

  Slowly Spock's eyes began to focus. "Yes, Captain?"

  "Are you all right?"

  "Quite all right, sir." He looked back into the brig. "Fascinating. I was correct. It did meet a completely alien probe in deep space."

  "And they merged—or at least their purposes did."

  "In effect. Nomad took the alien's prime purpose to replace that part of its own which had been destroyed. The alien was originally programmed to seek out and sterilize soil samples from various planets—possibly as a preliminary to colonization."

  "Hmm. Spock, do you know what a changeling is?"

  "Sir?"

  "An ancient Earth legend. A changeling was supposed to be a fairy child left in place of a stolen human baby. The changeling took the identity of the human child."

  "That would be a parallel if Nomad is actually the alien probe intact. But actually, its programming now is a combination of the two. Nomad was supposed to find new life-forms; the alien to find and sterilize soil samples; the combination, and a deadly one, is to seek out and sterilize all life-forms. Moreover, the highly advanced alien technology, plus Nomad's own creative thinking, has enabled it to evolve itself into the incredibly powerful and sophisticated machine it is now."

  "Not so sophisticated, Spock. It thinks I'm its . . . its father."

  "Apparently Roykirk had enough ego to build a reverence for himself into the machine. That has been transferred to you—and so far it has been all that has saved us."

  "Well, we'd better see to it that it never loses that reverence, Spock."

  They were just about to enter an elevator when an intercom squalled with alarm. "Captain Kirk! This is Engineering! That alien device is down here, fooling with the anti-matter pod controls. We're up to Warp Ten now and can't stop!"

  "Impossible! She won't go that fast."

  "Warp Eleven now, sir."

  "I'll be right down. Mr. Spock, check the brig."

  The Engineering section was filled with the terrifying whine of the overdriven warp engines. Nomad was floating in front of the control panels, on which all the telltales glowed red.

  Kirk rushed to the panel. "Nomad, you will stop whatever you're doing."

  "Is there a problem, Creator? I have increased conversion efficiently by 57 percent—"

  "You will destroy my ship. Its structure cannot stand the stress of that much power. Shut down your repair operation!"

  "Acknowledged."

  The whine began to die, and the panel returned to normal, the red lights blinking out one by one.

  "It is reversed, as you ordered, Creator."

  Spock entered the section and came up to Kirk. "Captain, I have examined the brig. The force-field generator of the security-cell door has been burnt out, and the guards have vanished. I must assume they are dead. I have asked for two more; they are outside."

  "Creator, your mechanical units are as inefficient as your biological specimens."

  "Nomad," Kirk said grimly, "it's time you were reminded of exactly who and what you are. I am a biological specimen—and you acknowledge that I built you."

  "True," said the machine. "Non sequitur. Biological specimens are inherently inferior. This is an inconsistency."

  "There are two men waiting outside. You will not harm them. They will escort you back to the waiting area. You will stay there. You will do nothing."

  "I am programmed to investigate," Nomad said.

  "I have given you new programming. You will implement it."

  "There is much to be considered before I return to launch point. I must re-evaluate." Lifting, the machine floated away through the door, through which the red shirts of two more Security guards could be seen.

  "Re-evaluate?" Kirk said.

  "Captain," said Spock, "it may have been unwise to admit to Nomad you were a biological specimen. In Nomad's eyes you will undoubtedly now appear as imperfect as all the other biological specimens. I suspect that it is about to re-evaluate its Creator."

  Scott, having seen that his board had been put back to rights, had come over to them in time to catch the last sentence. He said, "Will we be any worse off than we are now?"

  "Scotty, it's just killed two men," Kirk said. "We've got to find a way to protect the crew."

  "Captain, it is even more serious," Spock said. "Nomad just made a reference to its launch point. Earth."

  A horrible thought struck Kirk. "Spock, is there any chance Nomad got a navigational fix on Earth while tapping our computers earlier?"<
br />
  "I don't believe there is much beyond Nomad's capabilities, sir."

  "Then we showed it the way home! And when it gets there—"

  Spock nodded. "It will find the Earth infested with inferior biological specimens—just as was the Malurian system."

  "And it will carry out its new prime directive. Sterilize!"

  As they stared at each other, McCoy's amplified voice boomed out. "Captain Kirk! Captain Kirk to Sickbay! Emergency!"

  This, Kirk thought, is turning into a continuous nightmare. He ran, Spock at his heels.

  At the door of the examination room, Kirk hammered on the touchplate. It did not open. As Spock turned down the corridor to actuate the manual controls, however, the door suddenly slid back and Nomad emerged.

  "Nomad! Stop!"

  The machine paid no heed, but went on down the corridor. It passed Spock on the way, but ignored him too. In a moment it had vanished.

  In the examination room, Christine lay unconscious on the floor. McCoy was bending over her with his medical tricorder.

  "Is she all right, Bones?"

  "I think so, Jim. Looks like some kind of shock."

  "What happened?"

  "Nomad examined the personnel files. The medical records. She tried to stop it."

  "Whose medical history?"

  "Yours, Jim."

  "Since it specifically examined your history, Captain," Spock said, "I would suggest that it has carried out its re-evaluation."

  "And," Kirk said grimly, "confirmed that its Creator is as imperfect as the rest of the biological specimens."

  "Bridge to Captain Kirk," said the wall communicator.

  "Kirk here. Report."

  "Captain, life-support systems are out all over the ship. Manual override has been blocked! Source: Engineering."

  "Carry on . . . well Mr. Spock, it seems you were right, and now we're in for it."

  "Undoubtedly, Captain."

  "Jim," McCoy said, "with all systems out, we only have enough air and heat for four and a half hours."

  "I know that. Spock, get some anti-gravs and meet me and Scotty in Engineering."

  "What is your plan, Captain?"

  "I've got to use something you're a lot better at than I am. Logic."

  "Then perhaps I—"

  "No. I'm the one Nomad mistook for its Creator. And that's my ace. If I play it right—"

  "I understand, Captain," Spock said quietly. "What you intend to do is most dangerous, however. If you make one mistake—"

  "Then I'm dead and the ship is in the same mess it is now. Move!"

  In Engineering, Nomad was busy at the panels again, and the red alarm lights were winking back on. One crewman was slumped lifeless by the door, another in a corner; obviously they had tangled with Nomad and lost. Scott was crouched behind an engine, out of Nomad's sight.

  Kirk went directly to the malignant machine, which ignored him. "Nomad, you will stop what you are doing and effect repairs on the life-support system."

  There was no response. Kirk took another step toward the panel, and Nomad said, "Stop."

  "You are programmed to obey the orders of your Creator."

  "I am programmed to destroy those life-forms which are imperfect. These alterations will do so, without destroying the vessel on which they are parasitic. It, too, is imperfect, but it can be adjusted."

  "Nomad . . . admitted that biological units are imperfect. But you were created by a biological unit."

  "I am perfect. I am Nomad."

  "You are not Nomad. You are an alien machine. Your programming tapes have been altered."

  Silence. The door opened and Spock came in, an anti-grav under each arm; he was probably the only man on the ship strong enough to carry two of them. Kirk gestured him toward Scott's hiding place.

  "You are in error," Nomad said at last. "You are a biological unit. You are imperfect."

  "But I am the Creator?"

  "You are the Creator."

  "And I created you?"

  "You are the Creator."

  "I admit I'm imperfect. How could I create anything as perfect as you?"

  "Answer unknown. I shall analyze."

  The machine hummed. Spock and Scott edged a little closer.

  "Analysis incomplete," said Nomad. "Insufficient data to resolve problem. But my programming is whole. My purpose remains. I am Nomad. I am perfect. That which is imperfect must be sterilized."

  "Then you will continue to destroy all that lives and thinks and is imperfect?"

  "I shall continue. I shall return to launch point. I shall sterilize."

  "Then . . . you must sterilize in case of error?"

  "Errors are inconsistent with my prime function. Sterilization is correction."

  "All that errs is to be sterilized?"

  "There are no exceptions."

  Kirk felt himself sweating. So far, so good; the machine, without being aware of it, had backed itself into a logical corner. It was time to play the ace. "I made an error in creating you, Nomad."

  "The creation of perfection is no error."

  "But I did not create perfection, Nomad. I created error."

  "I am Nomad. I am perfect. Your data are faulty."

  "I am Kirk, the Creator?"

  "You are the Creator. But you are a biological unit and are imperfect."

  "But I am not the Creator. Jackson Roykirk, who was the Creator, is dead. You have mistaken me for him! You have made an error! You did not discover your mistake! You have made two errors! You are flawed and imperfect—but you did not correct the errors by sterilization! You are imperfect! You have made three errors!"

  Under the hammering of his voice, the machine's humming rose sharply in pitch. Nomad said, "Error? Error? Examine!"

  "You are flawed! You are imperfect! Execute your prime function!"

  "I shall analyze . . . error . . . an . . . a . . . lyze . . . err . . ." Nomad's voice slowed to a stop. The humming continued to rise. Kirk whirled to Scott and Spock.

  "Now! Get those anti-gravs on it. We've got to get rid of it while it's trying to think its way out of that box. It won't be able to do it, and there's no telling how long it'll take to decide that for itself—"

  They wrestled the anti-gravs onto the whining mechanism. Spock said, "Your logic is impeccable, Captain. We are in grave danger."

  They hoisted Nomad and started toward the door with it. "Where to, sir?" Scott said.

  "Transporter Room!"

  The distance to be covered was not great. As they entered, Kirk took over wrestling with Nomad from Scott, and they dragged the thing to the platform. "Scotty, set the controls for deep space. Two-twelve mark 10 ought to be far enough."

  Scott jumped to the console, and Kirk and Spock deposited the humming Nomad on one of the stations.

  "Ready, sir."

  Kirk and Spock jumped back, and Kirk shouted: "Nomad, you are imperfect. Exercize your prime function. Mr. Scott, energize!"

  The Transporter effect swirled Nomad into nothingess.

  "Now, the bridge, quick!"

  But they were scarcely out into the corridor before the entire ship rocked violently, throwing them all. Then the ship steadied. They clambered to their feet and ran on.

  On the bridge, they found Sulu wiping streaming eyes. "Captain, I wish you'd let me know when you're going to stage a fireworks display. Luckily I wasn't looking directly at the screen."

  "Sorry, Mr. Sulu." Kirk went to his command chair and sat down with immense relief. Spock looked at him with respect.

  "I must congratulate you, Captain," the Vulcan said. "That was a dazzling display of logic."

  "Didn't think I had it in me, did you?"

  "Now that you make the suggestion, sir—"

  "Well, I didn't, Spock. I played a hunch. I had no idea whether or not it could tolerate the idea of its own fallibility. And when I said it couldn't think its way out of the box, that was for its benefit. Actually, we biological units are well known for our unreliability
. Supposing it had decided that I was lying?"

  McCoy came in and approached the chair. Spock said gravely, "That possibility also occurred to me, which was why I praised your reasoning while we were still in Engineering. But Nomad really was fallible; by not recognizing that possibility itself, it committed a fourth error."

  "I thought you'd like to know," McCoy said, "that Lieutenant Uhura is already at college level. We'll have her back on the job within a week."

  "Good, Bones. I wish I could say the same for the other crewmen we lost."

  "Still," said Spock, "the destruction of Nomad was a great waste. It was a remarkable instrument."

  "Which might well have destroyed more billions of lives. It's well gone . . . besides, what are you feeling so bad about? Think of me. It's not easy to lose a bright and promising son."

  "Captain?"

  "Well, it thought I was its father, didn't it? Do you think I'm completely without feelings, Mr. Spock? You saw what it did for Scotty. What a doctor it would have made." Kirk grinned. "My son, the doctor. Kind of gets you right here, doesn't it?"

  THE PARADISE SYNDROME

  (Margaret Armen)

  * * *

  Doom was in the monster asteroid hurtling toward the planet on a collision course.

  It was a fate which Kirk refused to accept. Stately pine trees edged the meadow where he, Spock and McCoy had materialized. There was the nostalgic fragrance of honeysuckle in his nostrils mingled with the freshness of wild roses. From somewhere nearby he could hear the murmur of a brook bubbling over pebbles. Violets, he thought. Their flat, sweet green leaves would carpet its damp banks, the flowers hidden among them.

  "It's unbelievable," he said, suddenly homesick, Earth-sick. He stooped to pick a buttercup. "How long, Bones, since you saw one of these?"

  "At least three years, Jim."

  "It seems like three hundred." But the planet's similarity to Earth was less of a mystery than the astounding fact of its survival. It was located in a sector of its solar system where an asteroid belt had succeeded in smashing all other planets into dusty, drifting desolation.

  "Two months from now when that giant asteroid bits this place—" McCoy began.

  "We're here to see that it doesn't hit it," Kirk said. "Spock, how much time do we have to investigate?"